Unthinkable

My head is humming. I feel the buzz of noises like a an avalanche within my skull, resounding off the walls of my brain and creating a pressure like none I’ve ever felt before. My body is heavy, resting on something soft and relatively comfortable, but the sensation does nothing to calm the chaos of pain echoing within my brain. I try to move an arm, a leg, a finger, any limb on my body, but they remain stubbornly stationary and I quickly give up, my energy depleted within seconds. I contemplate trying to open my eyes when a voice catches me off guard.

“No, nothing new yet.”

He sounds tired, the weight of a thousand burdens resting upon him.

“I’m sure she’ll be alright,” a different voice replies.

Silence fills the room, speaking volumes about the doubt in both of my visitors minds. Though I can’t seem to move my body, a tingling sensation is spreading like wildfire through the tips of my fingers and across the palm of my hand. It’s warm, soft like a breath, yet undeniably sturdy and when it twitches suddenly, I become aware of the fact that someone is holding my hand in their own, softly caressing their thumb over my own cool skin.

The room grows quiet. I try to focus my hazy mind on the sounds surrounding me: a steady beep from somewhere on my left; faint, ragged breathing on my right. The ocean is calling me back to its depths. I want to succumb to the cool, inviting waves of silence but I’m held firm in reality by the voices again.

“I’ve never…I can’t…”

He struggles to say the words aloud but I am desperate to hear them.

“This is my fault,” he settles on, quietly and full of guilt.

“This could have happened to anyone, this is not your fault,” the stranger reassures.

“I made her get the test. I pressured her into it. I should have just believed her when she told me the baby was mine but I didn’t. And now…”

His sentence hangs like rope from the gallows and I feel my heartbeat quicken beneath my skin.

“I’ll never forgive myself if…” His anguish fills the rest of his sentence he dared not to speak.

“The doctors are taking good care of her. I’m sure everything will be okay. Listen I need to head out or I’ll be late for practice. Coach knows what’s going on, he said to take the time you need.”

The weight from my hand disappears.

“Thanks,” Sidney says.

The weight is back.

“See you soon.”

Sensation is slowly returning to me. I can feel the familiar ache of my muscles, stiff with immobility, the gentle groan of my spine, pressed parallel to a foreign surface, the faint pressure as something stirs deep within my abdomen. I blink and to my stark surprise, find my eyes open and staring into the blinding lights above me, quickly close them and turn my head to the side to shake off the stars pressed against them.

“Blake?”

His voice sounds started and full of hope. I slowly open my eyes so I won’t be overwhelmed and blink him into focus. He looks rough. There is stubble growing over his full lips and across his chin, his eyes have dark circles beneath them and his hat is low over his eyes, casting a dark shadow across his already dark face.

“Blake.” My name sounds breathy and full of relief when he says it.

I am faintly aware of his hand against my cheek, his thumb stroking soft lines against my cheekbone, his eyes locked on mine.

“What happened?” I manage, and even to my own ears my voice sounds weak and fragile.

He swallows, his hand and eyes leaving me at once, folding neatly into his lap.

“There was a complication,” he says softly and I can hear the catch in his voice. “With the test.”

Terror is seizing me. Though I can feel the baby moving deftly inside of me, I am horrified by the possibility that I have compromised my morals and my baby’s safety to prove something to a man. “Please Sidney,” I beg, tears in my eyes. “Please just tell me.”

I can see the tears in his own eyes and my heart misses a beat.

“Maybe the doctor…” he looks swiftly behind him for a way out. “Maybe he can explain it better.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

He takes off his Pens hat and runs his fingers through his hair, placing his cap back on and pulling it low over his eyes so I can barely see his face when he hangs his head.

“It’s called RH sensitization. RH is a protein in the red blood cells. Your blood is RH negative but the baby…” he hesitates. “The baby is RH positive.”

From the depths of my mind stirs something from a biology class in another lifetime and dread fills me.

“When we had the DNA test done, some of the baby’s blood and some of your blood mixed. Since you’re RH negative, your body didn’t recognise the baby’s RH positive proteins.”

I finish the rest for him because he is clearly struggling. “So my body is making antibodies against the baby because it think it’s harming me.”

He rubs his hands over his face. “Yes. Basically your body is attacking the baby because it thinks it’s trying to kill you.”

I want to cry. I want to burst into tears until this problem goes away and my baby is safe. But I am numb, astounded by the fact that my body, which has housed and harboured this child since its conception, is now trying to destroy the life it created. I can’t look at him, can’t stare into his face and admit the fault we are both in for this. I am so ashamed of myself. So ashamed that I put aside my baby’s safety to prove something that I already knew; that I couldn’t be strong and patient and selfless. That I put my baby’s life at such risk over a crib.

“Blake.”

I feel his hand reach out and touch me but I recoil.

“What now?” I whisper, my eyes on the ceiling tiles. “What happens to the baby?”

I can hear him swallow as he struggles to find the words to tell me. “If any of the antibodies that your body is making cross the placenta, they will start to destroy the baby’s red blood cells. If the antibodies destroy the red blood cells, the baby…” I can hear the tears he is choking back. “The baby won’t get enough oxygen. If the baby doesn’t get enough oxygen, then she could die.”

I inhale deeply, noticing with a pang as I turn to the side that his eyes are glassy and his hands shaking. I am numb but I cling to one word that left his mouth, perhaps the one word that had such little relevance in everything he said, but the one that gives me more hope than all the others.

“She?”

He starts and sits upright, wiping a hand over his tired face and blinking rapidly at me. “You didn’t… I’m sorry, I thought…”

“It’s a girl?” I ask, heart fluttering rapidly as I wait for him to answer.

“You didn’t know?”

I shake my head.

“I’m sorry, the doctor let it slip while you were unconscious. I thought you knew.” He looks immensely guilty but I don’t care. I place my hand over the rolling sensation in my belly and smile.

“It’s okay,” I say with a small laugh. “It’s okay. It’s a girl.”

“Blake did you hear what I said about the diagnosis?”

I ignore him. My mind is scarred, numb with denial and heavy with guilt. I am terrified for what is going to happen during the rest of my pregnancy but for the moment, all I can feel is pure elation at the prospect of having a daughter. I turn to look into his face, a small smile pulling up the corners of his lips.

“They dropped this off while you we’re out too,” he says shyly, holding up a plain manila envelope. We both know what it is.

“Did you open it?”

He looks down as though toying with some great debate. “I don’t think I need to, Blake. This whole thing,” he gestures wildly around the hospital room, “It’s made me realize that it doesn’t matter. I want her to be mine. She can be mine no matter what.”

I sigh, exasperated. “She is yours no matter what, Sidney. Just open the envelope so you will never have a doubt in your mind again.”

We stare placidly at each other for a few moments before his eyes dart down the envelope and he slips a finger inside, pulling up the paper and gently sliding the contents out into his palm. Without looking up his eyes quickly scan over the results and a breathtaking smile breaks out on his face.

“She’s mine,” he says with a relieved laugh. “She’s my daughter. I’m so sorry Blake, so sorry. I just needed to be sure. But she’s mine.”

I smile back at him, happy that he seems to be so excited by the prospect.

“She’s ours,” I say with a smile.

My fear is that I have no idea how long she will even be ours for.

Notes