The Truth About Ever After (14 page)

“It’s
very normal this early,” Dr.
Bishop
told me half an
hour later. She had examined me and listened for a heartbeat before determining
that I had, in fact, had a miscarriage. “Especially for a first pregnancy.” Her
voice trailed off when I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I felt numb, like I was
moving through a dream. This couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t.

“The
good news,” she continued, “is that you were able to get pregnant quite easily
in the first place. That usually means you won’t have trouble getting pregnant
again. I see no reason you couldn’t start trying in a month or so.”

I
stared at her kind, calm face and was suddenly struck with the urge to slap her,
to claw at her perfectly made-up skin. She thought it was that easy, huh? That
I could just forget all about this and move onto the next baby? Better luck
next time?

“I’m
very sorry, Kimberly,” she said, and she sounded sincere at least. “I know this
is extremely hard.”

I
felt the anger leave me as quickly as it had appeared. She was just trying to
do her job. It wasn’t her fault I had… that my baby was…

“Can
you tell what it was?” I asked, my voice raspy. “The baby, I mean. Can you tell
if it was a boy or a girl?”

“No,
I’m sorry,” she said. “He or she was still too little, too undeveloped.”

I
nodded, the numbness returning and settling over me like a comforting blanket.

“You
probably won’t need a D and C,” she continued, more business-like now, and I
grasped the numb blanket like a lifeline, scared to let her words register.
“Everything will probably happen naturally. You’ll have some bleeding, but
other than that you won’t notice anything amiss. I’ll want to see you again
next week for a follow-up.”

“What’s
a D and C?” Eric asked, his voice jarring me. I had nearly forgotten he was
there.

The
doctor looked at me before answering. “A procedure,” she said. I knew Eric
didn’t understand, and I silently begged him not to ask. I didn’t think I could
bear to hear it described. “It would remove the baby if the body couldn’t do it
naturally.” I felt my stomach swoop at her words. I suppose it could have been
worse, she could have been more graphic, but the very thought of—
 

“I
really am very sorry,” she said, interrupting my spinning thoughts and patting
my shoulder. Then she was gone, leaving Eric and me alone in the exam room. It
wasn’t the same room we had been in the day before, thank God, but they looked
almost identical. How could that have only been yesterday? That we had sat
there listening to the sound of our baby’s heartbeat?

“Kiki,”
Eric whispered, his voice thick. I looked over at him and was surprised to see
tears in his eyes. “Kiki, I’m so sorry, babe—”

“Can
we just go home?’ I asked dully. “I don’t want to talk—please, just take
me home.”

He
nodded, helping me to stand up and get dressed. A nurse came in before I had
finished, and she handed me a piece of paper. “There’s your appointment for
next week,” she said, her tone flat and emotionless. “You can take ibuprofen
for the cramps, and feel free to call us if you have any concerns or
questions.”

I
could see Eric glare at her, obviously concerned that her demeanor was
insensitive to me, but I actually felt relieved. I didn’t want more sympathy,
more knowing looks. I just wanted to be out of there.

As
I settled into the car, Eric kept shooting me worried looks. I knew I should
reassure him, that I should say something, but I just couldn’t bring myself to
open my mouth.

“I’m
so sorry,” he finally said, reaching over to grab my hand. I didn’t respond,
couldn’t find any words. Instead, I squeezed his hand back as he drove me home
in silence.

***

Eric
called Jen for me, to let her know I was ill and wouldn’t be able to make it in
to work. “She’s lying down now,” I heard him say firmly from the living room.
He had insisted I go straight to bed when we got home, even going so far as to
tuck me in like a child. “Sorry, Jen, but she can’t come to the phone.”

I
was grateful I wouldn’t have to talk to her. It seemed insane to me that my
entire life had just changed and Jen didn’t even realize it, that she didn’t
even know there was anything to change in the first place. I wondered if it
would have been better to
have told
her about the
baby. It would mean telling her now about the miscarriage, which would be
awful. But it seemed wrong to me that she not know there was something to grieve.

My
mother, I thought suddenly. I wanted my mother. She knew about the baby, she
and Daddy both. I had to tell them.

“Kiki,”
Eric said, standing in the door to the bedroom. He looked exhausted, older
somehow than he had looked that morning. I felt a rush of sympathy for him, and
guilt that I wasn’t doing anything to comfort him. It was his baby, too. “I
need to call in to work,” he went on. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to tell
your dad, or make an excuse.”

“You
can tell him,” I whispered. “He’ll need to know, and I don’t think I—I
don’t think I can. I’m sorry.” I knew it was a lot to ask of him, knew it was
my own father and I should have the guts to tell him, but the thought of saying
the words out loud… I was suddenly so grateful that we hadn’t told his parents
yet,
hating the thought of him having to tell his mother she
wouldn’t be a grandmother yet after all.

“It’s
okay,” he said, walking over to the bed. He leaned down and kissed me. “I don’t
mind.”

I
merely nodded, turning my head so I wouldn’t have to see the sadness and worry
in his eyes. I heard the sound of his footsteps, muffled on the carpet, as he
made his way back to the living room. After a moment, I heard his voice, on the
phone with my father.

“Dad?”
he said. “It’s Eric. Something happened this morning.” I heard his voice crack,
knew he was close to breaking down. Fully aware that I was being a coward but
unable to help myself, I pulled the covers up over my head, desperate to block
out the rest.

***

Eric
was worried about me. He was treating me like a doll that he was afraid might
break, or maybe like a wounded animal he wasn’t sure was safe. I tried to smile
at him, to act like everything was normal, but it was exhausting. I knew, more
often than not, that I was slipping away into brooding whenever I let my guard
down. I tried not to do it when he was around, but I was sure he noticed.

“It
will get easier,” my mother had said that first night. After Eric had called my
dad, he had, in turn, called her. She waited a few hours before coming over,
wanting to give us some time together. Eric and I had
laid
in bed, him holding me tightly, not talking. I held onto the numbness for as
long as I could, scared of the pain I would feel if I let it go. When I felt
Eric shaking slightly behind me, I knew he was crying. Not just crying, full-out
weeping, though silently—something I hadn’t seen him do since his
grandfather had died two years ago.

“Eric,”
I had whispered into the quiet of the room, and I heard an audible sob slip
through.

“I’m
sorry,
Kiks
,” he whispered. “I don’t want to upset you.
I just can’t stop thinking—” His voice broke into sobs. “I’m just so
sad.”

“Me
too,” I said, turning over so I was facing him. “Me too.”

I
let myself cry then, knew I couldn’t hold it in any more. Eric held me
tight,
my face buried in his chest, as our collective sobs
shook the bed. We stayed like that for hours, finally falling asleep in each
other’s arms, not waking until my mom arrived.

“I
know it’s hard to believe, baby,” she told me that night, brushing my hair out
of my eyes. “But it really does get better.”

“I
don’t want it to get better,” I said fiercely. “You sound like the doctor,
going on about when I can start trying again. This was my
baby
. I don’t want to just get over it.”

“Oh,
sweetie,” she sighed, rubbing my arms. She was sitting next to me on the couch,
my head on her shoulder. “Of course you don’t. And you won’t. You won’t just
get over it; it will always be there with you. But eventually it won’t hurt
quite as bad. And when you are ready to try again, the joy will be bigger than
the pain.”

“How
did you get through it?” I asked, shaking my head. My mother had had three
miscarriages before she finally had me. I didn’t think I could stand to go
through this again.

“I
don’t know,” she said, her voice soft. “It was very hard. Your father helped.
He never lost faith that we would eventually get there.”

“Was
it worth it?”

“Having
you?” She sounded surprised. I nodded against her shoulder. “Oh,
Kiks
, of course it was. I would have gone through anything
in order to have you. Being your mom is the best thing that ever happened to
me.”

I
cried some more after that, but the weight in my chest somehow didn’t feel
quite as bad.

The
next night I started having the nightmares.

I
would wake up, panting and terrified. The dream was always the same: I was
looking and looking for my baby. I could hear her crying, but I couldn’t find
her, no matter how hard I looked. I felt bad, waking Eric up so many times
throughout the night, but he would never complain, just holding me until I
finally fell back asleep.

I
didn’t go back to work for three days. I felt bad, knowing Jen needed me, but I
just couldn’t bring myself to see anyone. How could I manage without telling
her? And once I told her, how could I manage not breaking down? Eventually Eric
convinced me that it would probably be good for me to get out of the house, try
to get back into some semblance of a normal routine. I agreed, but only to make
him feel better. I thought it would probably scare him if I told him that all I
wanted to do was lie in bed and sleep until the pain went away.

So
I went back to work and I managed to convince Jen that I had simply had some
kind of stomach bug. I knew I would need to tell her eventually, but I wanted
to put more time between
myself and the hurt
. Maybe on
the weekend, away from the office, I could invite her over for lunch or
something, and tell her what had happened. In the meantime, the office was busy
and hectic, which I was grateful for. I worked as hard as I could, losing
myself in the details of weddings and parties. Eric had been right—it helped.

“Kiki,”
Jen said, standing in the doorway to my office. It was nearly six on Friday.
Somehow I had made it through the whole wretched week. I had a brunch meeting
with a potential client in the morning, but other than that, I could just
wallow at home.

“You
heading out?” I asked, looking up at her. I plastered a fake smile on my face.
Her own smile faltered a bit, almost as if she could sense I wasn’t being
honest, but she seemed to brush it off.

“Yup.
What about you?” She looked down at her watch. “You don’t want to overdo it,
not when you’ve been sick.”

“Yeah,”
I said, shrugging. “I’m almost done.”

“So,
what are your weekend plans?” she asked, coming over to sit on the edge of my
desk.

“Not
a lot,” I said. “Meeting with those new restaurant people in the morning, but
mostly relaxing.”

“Matt
and I are having the girls over for dinner tomorrow,” she said. “Want to come?”

I
felt a pang, thinking of seeing Ginny and her children. I wasn’t sure I was up
for that.

“Um,”
I said, my brain spinning, trying to come up with an excuse when I had already
told her I didn’t have plans. “I would have to check with Eric,” I finally said
lamely.

She
looked at me closely for a minute. “You okay, Kiki?” she asked, her voice soft.

I
immediately felt a lump in my throat. “Yeah,” I said, struggling to keep my
voice even. “Of course.”

She
watched me, wordless, and then finally nodded her head. “All right,” she said.
“Well, let me know if you can come, okay? It’s nothing fancy or anything, but
there will be wine.”

I
returned her smile, even though I felt like crying. Wine, which I would now be
able to drink.

“Oh,
and no kids, either, if that makes a difference to Eric,” she went on. “That’s
part of the reason we’re having everyone over. Ginny’s parents are taking the
kids for the weekend, and they’re celebrating their freedom.”

I
felt a rush of relief. Maybe I wouldn’t have to think of an excuse after all.
In fact, maybe this would be the perfect chance to tell Jen. I could stay after
the girls had gone and tell her what had happened. I knew Eric wanted Matt to
know. I felt guilty demanding he keep it a secret from his own brother just
because I wasn’t ready to tell Jen.

“It
sounds fun,” I told her. “I’ll talk to Eric.”

“Good,”
she said, standing up. She walked to the door before turning back to look at
me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Of
course,” I said, smiling that same fake smile that was almost starting to feel
real to me now. “I’ll call you, okay?”