The Christmas Baby Bump. Lynne Marshall
hoped for, a show with brightly colored puppets with smiling faces and silly voices. Maybe the fist-size knot in her gut would let up now.
She sat on one of the waiting-room chairs, and Robbie invited himself onto her lap. Every muscle in her body stiffened. She couldn’t do this. Where was Phil?
His warm little back snuggled against her and when he laughed she could feel it rumble through his chest. She inhaled and smelled the familiar fragrance of children’s shampoo, almost bringing her to tears. Someone took good care of this little one. Was it Phil?
She couldn’t handle this. Before she jumped out of her skin, she lifted him with outstretched arms and carried him to another chair, closer to the TV.
“Here. This seat is better. You sit here.”
Fortunately, engrossed in the show, he didn’t pick up on her tension and sat contentedly staring at the TV.
It had been a long day. She was exhausted, and didn’t dare let her guard down. Robbie rubbed his eyes, yawning and soon falling asleep. She paced the waiting room, checked her watch every few seconds, and glanced at the boy as if he were a ticking time bomb. Her throat was so tight, she could barely swallow.
Several minutes passed in this manner. Robbie rested his head on the arm of the chair, sound asleep. Stephanie hoped he’d stay that way until Phil returned.
A few minutes later, one of the puppets on the TV howled, and another joined in. It jolted her. Robbie stirred. His face screwed up. The noise had scared him.
Oh, God, what should she do now?
After a protracted silence, he let out a wail, the kind that used up his breath and left him quiet only long enough to inhale again. Then he let out an even louder wail.
“It’s okay, Robbie. It was just the TV,” she said from across the room, trying to console him without getting too close. She patted the air. “It was the show. That’s all.” She couldn’t dare hold him. The thought of holding a child sent lightning bolts of fear through her. She never wanted to do it again.
Flashes of her baby crying, screaming, while she paced the floor, rooted her to the spot. Robbie cried until mucus ran from his nose, and he coughed and sputtered for air, but still she couldn’t move.
It took every ounce of strength she had not to bolt out of the clinic.
Phil’s patient had been set up and ready for him when he’d arrived in the nearby E.R. The dental crown had been easy to locate in the trachea at the opening of the right bronchus. He’d dislodged it using a rigid scope and forceps, and done a quick check to make sure it hadn’t damaged any lung tissue. He’d finished the procedure within ten minutes, leaving the patient to recover with the E.R. nurse.
He barreled through the clinic door, then came to an abrupt stop at the sight of Robbie screaming and Stephanie wild-eyed and pale across the room.
“What’s going on?” he said.
She blinked and inhaled, as if coming to life from her statue state. “Thank God, you’re back,” she whispered.
“What happened?” He rushed to Robbie, picked him up and wiped his nose.
“I was ‘cared,” Robbie said, starting to cry again.
“Hey, it’s okay, buddy, I’m here.” Phil hugged his brother as anger overtook him. “What’d you do to him?” he asked, turning as Stephanie ran out the door. What the hell had happened? Confused, he glanced at Robbie. “Did she hurt you?”
“The cartoon monster ‘cared me,” he whimpered, before crying again.
Phil hugged him, relieved. “Are you hungry, buddy? You want to eat?”
The little guy nodded through his tears. “’Kay,” he said with a quiver.
What kind of woman would stand by and let a little kid cry like that? Had she been born without a heart? Phil didn’t know what was up with the new doc, but he sure as hell planned to find out first thing tomorrow.
Chapter Two
STEPHANIE snuck in early the next day and lost herself in her patients all morning. She gave a routine physical gynecological examination and ordered labs on the first patient. With her first pregnant client, she measured fundal height and listened to fetal heart tones, discussed nutrition and recommended birthing classes. According to the chart measurements, the third patient’s fibroid tumors had actually shrunk in size since her last visit. Stephanie received a high five when she gave the news.
Maybe, if she kept extra-busy, she wouldn’t have to confront Phil.
Later, as she performed an initial obstetric examination, she noticed something unusual on the patient’s cervix. A plush red and granular-looking area bled easily at her touch. “Have you been having any spotting?”
“No. Is something wrong?” the patient asked.
To be safe, and with concern for the pregnancy, she prepared to take a sample of cells for cytology. “There’s a little area on your cervix I want to follow up on. It may be what we call an ectropion, which is an erosion of sorts and is perfectly benign.” She left out the part about not wanting to take any chances. “The lab should get results for us within a week.”
“What then?”
“If it’s negative, which it will most likely be, nothing, unless you have bleeding after sex or if you get frequent infections. Then we’d do something similar to cauterizing it. On the other hand, if the specimen shows abnormal cells, I’ll do a biopsy and follow up from there.”
“Will it hurt my baby?”
“An ectropion is nothing more than extra vascular tissue. You may have had it a long time, and the pregnancy has changed the shape of your cervix, making it visible.”
“But what if you have to do a biopsy?”
How must it feel to have a total stranger deliver such worrisome news? Stephanie inhaled and willed the expertise, professionalism and composure she’d need to help get her through the rest of the appointment. Maybe she shouldn’t have said a thing, but what if the test result came back abnormal and she had to drop a bomb? That wouldn’t be fair to the patient without a warning. She second-guessed herself and didn’t like the repercussions. All the excitement of being pregnant might become overshadowed with fear if she didn’t end the appointment on a positive note.
“This small area will most likely just be an irritation. It’s quite common. I’m being extra-careful because you’re pregnant, and a simple cervical sampling is safe during pregnancy. I’ll call with the results as soon as I get them. I promise.” She maintained steady eye contact and smiled, then chose a few pamphlets from the wall rack on what to expect when pregnant. “These are filled with great information about your pregnancy. Read them carefully, and afterward, if you have any questions, please feel free to ask me.”
The woman’s furrowed brow eased just enough for Stephanie to notice. She wanted to hug her and promise everything would be all right, but that was out of her realm as a professional.
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you your expected due date.” She gave the woman the date and saw a huge shift on her face from concern to sheer joy. Her smile felt like a hug, and Stephanie beamed back at her.
“This is a very exciting time, Mrs. Conroy. Enjoy each day,” she said, patting the patient’s hand.
The young woman accepted the pamphlets, nodded, and prepared to get down from the exam table, her face once again a mixture of expressions. “You’ll call as soon as you know anything, right?”
“I promise. You’re in great shape, and this pregnancy should go smoothly. A positive attitude is also important.”
Stephanie felt like a hypocrite reciting the words. Her spirits had plunged so