Eighteen
The journey to the hospital seemed to take forever, anxious knots continued to twist in my belly. Why was I bleeding, what was wrong?
Melanie had messaged Nixon to ask him to call her as soon as he could. She was so supportive and kind. She questioned how long we’d known about the baby and what the doctor had said when we had visited him. I told her about my anaemia and low blood pressure, but neither of us said anything about Nixon’s past injury. This led me to believe that she wasn’t aware of how his accident could have affected the chances of him fathering a child.
I wasn’t stupid, I knew it was early days in the pregnancy and that there was so much uncertainty due to Nixon’s situation. The doctor did mention that depending on the compatibility of the sperm and the egg there was a chance that the pregnancy may not settle. The doctor spoke at length about how important the quality of the specimen from the male was. I hated having that discussion with Nixon there in the room. He’d looked uncomfortable. The doctor's words almost ruffled his masculinity.
That discussion swam around my mind. I had been so shocked when the pregnancy had been confirmed, that I hadn’t heard half of what the doctor had said.
The memory of the fire came back and that stabbing pain I had felt in my stomach. There was of course the fact that I had been under extreme levels of stress. That too could have had an impact and caused me to haemorrhage.
Thoughts of helplessness and guilt cocktailed in my head. Had the way I’d panicked during the fire damaged my baby? If I did lose it, was I responsible? I didn’t have to get in the car that night. I could have stayed home like Nixon had wanted me to .
As Melanie parked the car, an extreme headache kicked in. There were too many thoughts for me to process.
She led me through to the emergency room and the lady at the desk took my name, date of birth and address. I was still listed at my parent’s house. As she started to ask me a list of other questions, I started to become dizzy. Was this the hospital where Nixon was with Amy and Mason? I hadn’t even seen where she was taking me. It didn’t appear to be very busy to say I was at the ER which was usually overcrowded. I remember having to take Amy to the accident and emergency department once when she had broken her toe. On Mason’s McKenna’s steel toe-capped boots of all things. This didn’t look like the same place.
My head swam and my legs felt like jelly.
A staff nurse who was at the desk must have seen me wobble and she helped me to a seat whilst Melanie carried out giving the desk my information. A wheelchair was then produced and I was assisted into it.
My body had started to feel heavy and I settled my head back against the rest as I was pushed down a long corridor. The lights were so bright and I closed my eyes to shut out the glare. My head was now banging.
Feeling like I was about to connect with the ground, I pushed further back into the seat. Not relishing the idea of face-planting on the hospital tiles.
I could hear Melanie speaking with a man behind the chair as we continued to travel. As we turned a corner and approached what appeared to be a lift, with large silver double doors, blackness overcame me and there was nothing.
*****
The first thing I noticed when I started to come around was that my chest felt ominously tight. A thickness clogged my throat .
“She’s never passed out before.” Nixon’s voice swept into my consciousness, warming my insides, and helping to expand my lungs as I drew in a deep, uneven breath.
Sweat prickled the back of my neck.
“It was possibly due to her blood pressure, it’s extremely low,” I heard an unfamiliar voice say.
“Nixon,” was the first word that left my lips as I reluctantly opened my eyes. The light was bright and I squinted against that intrusion. That sharp chemical smell you got in hospitals filtered into my nostrils. The memory of what I was doing there struck me like a lash.
“I’m here,” my husband replied. His voice was a welcome sound. Even though it was tight and strained. As my eyes locked on his, he looked different. That usual tidy thatch of dark brown hair was messy. Like he had run his hands through it a thousand times. And his expression was drawn and pale. His lips were pressed flat.
He was casually dressed in jeans and a T-shirt but he didn’t look like himself at all. Nixon usually dominated every room he inhabited but just then, he looked like he’d been drained of strength, broken almost. His entire frame was wracked with unease.
He was sitting on the bed I was lying in, his body half crowding my own. A hospital bed in a small private room I had established immediately. I didn’t feel stifled even with the covers tight around my lower body and I welcomed Nixon’s nearness.
“How are you feeling Jenna,” Nixon’s mum questioned, her face full of sympathy. I noticed her voice shook slightly. Melanie was standing with a doctor, a tall foreboding grey-haired man with an expressionless face.
“How long was I out,” I questioned. A slight twinge of pain at my temple caused me to flinch .
Nixon moved forward and stroked my hair back from my face, helping me to shuffle into a sitting position against the large cushions at my back. He stood and plumped the pillows before lowering his body back down onto the bed.
There was a definite atmosphere, almost like a nervous energy.
I could see Nixon trying to control the savage bite of his emotions, “Not long. Thank God you were sitting down when it happened. How are you feeling? Any pain?” he asked, innate concern laced through his tone. He was worried which you would have expected, bearing in mind his wife had been unconscious in a hospital bed. But his expression contained another emotion, one I didn’t want to see. Sadness, immense grief.
And I knew. I couldn’t say exactly how I knew, but I did. It may sound ridiculous, after only a few weeks, but I felt empty inside. Hollow. Even without that despondency which orbited the air around me.
“The baby?” I whispered; my eyes wide as they searched my husband’s drawn face. He released a long, pained patchy breath. That reaction to my question bludgeoned me with the grim truth. Our own personal miracle was gone.
“We will give you some privacy,” the doctor said with a nod to Nixon’s mother.
Our eyes remained locked together, connecting us as we were left alone in the room.
As soon as the door clicked closed, Nixon drew me into his embrace and my arms clawed around his back, my fingers rigid. He cradled the back of my head, raining kisses against my hair.
I trembled, pulled in a breath, and then sobbed against him until his chest was damp.
“I’m sorry Jenna, I’m so sorry. I love you so much, you do know that don’t you,” Nixon almost hissed as he squeezed me. There was a bleakness in his voice which I had never heard before. My cheek was pushed against his firm chest and we remained like that for a moment as I processed that he had confirmed what I already knew.
Absorbing the truth that we had lost our baby was indescribable. Why, was the main question? What did I do wrong? Anguish shimmered in the air between us. The sheer brutality of what had happened hit me like a sledgehammer.
Despair rocked my body and I cried. Wept in my husband’s arms and he just held me. Neither of us said anything for a while. We just shared that moment of loss together.
We hadn’t planned the pregnancy; it had been an accident. But that accident had been wanted wholeheartedly and now he or she was gone.
Sadness gnawed at my insides like acid.
Nixon cleared his throat; I could hear the catch in it. He was deeply upset too. And as he pulled away and looked down into my face, I could see the haze in his eyes. Leaning back, I gave him a weak smile, he had lost something too and I wanted him to know that I was there for him.
I stroked his face with my fingers, “I know you do. And I love you. I always have and I always will.”
There was a thunderous brokenness to his gaze, “How are you feeling, physically I mean? Do you have any pain anywhere?”
I shook my head and leaned back against the pillows, “None. Apart from the pain in my heart of course.”
Nixon flinched and dashed a hand down his face, “I know love. Me too.”
“Did they say why it happened?” I questioned, feeling a hint of strength. The right to know why I miscarried pushing to the surface.
“No. They don’t know. The pregnancy was in the early stages. The doctor said that it isn’t uncommon. It could also have been caused by the stress you’ve experienced over the last few days. ”
I pursed my lips, the reality of the fire creeping back into my thoughts. Of course, my parent’s house. How I wished we could have turned the clock back. I would have stayed at the house as Nixon had ordered me to.
He must have been able to see where my mind was wandering and he seemed to grow where he was sat. His spine stiffened and his back became straight. Those broad shoulders of his squaring, “I don’t want you to worry about the house. The fire is out and they managed to save most of the outbuildings. It is bricks and mortar and can be rebuilt, just like us and our life together. We have both suffered a huge loss today, Jenna, but we will overcome it with time. I am here for you, we all are. If you want me to call your parents, I can have them here in minutes.”
I dashed a hand through my hair, digesting what Nixon was saying. My emotions were stripped bare.
“No,” I said.
“What do you mean, no?”
Releasing a breath, I pinned my eyes on Nixon’s, “I don’t want anyone to know,” I said with my heart in my mouth.
Nixon frowned, “But, don’t you think you should at least tell your mother? You may need that extra support?”
I smiled and took his hand. Wrapping my fingers through his, “I have all the support I need right here, Nixon. My parents knowing isn’t going to make any difference now. They will be devastated and they have enough to deal with now. I don’t want to worry them.”
A silence stretched between us and Nixon squeezed my hand.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
After a beat or two I replied, “Yes.” My unhappiness at that point felt too big for my body.
My husband pulled me close again, his hands gently cradling my face .
“We will take things slow and not rush the healing process. Who knows, we may never fully heal but it will get easier with time. If you ever want to talk about it, talk to me. I am here for you. We have the rest of our lives to look forward to. There will be ups and downs and we will face those together. I love you, Jennifer McKenna, you are everything to me.
“As you are to me.”
I had no idea what the rules were in respect of how to cope with the shocking loss of a pregnancy, but Nixon and I would deal with it together in our own way. What worked for us? And at that point, involving anyone else was not what I wanted. Melanie was the only other person aware and I knew she would keep our secret. She’d already covered for me once.
We spoke at length about Mason and his recovery. They had operated on him and drained some fluid that had been on his brain. The procedure had gone well and Amy was with him by his bedside. They were officially boyfriend and girlfriend.
Nixon popped out to fetch me some water and explained to Melanie that Mason was asking to see her. He then suggested she take Amy back to Lamb Hill when they left. Mason was in a room on the opposite side of the hospital.
My limbs trembled as Nixon’s mouth met mine and he kissed me with gentle abandonment. The emotions spinning inside me were chaotic and jumbled, but the one clear message that stood out was that losing my heart to this man was the best thing that had ever happened to me. What we had was real and special.
Nixon McKenna, the man, the monster and most importantly…mine.
What can I say, my world began and ended with him. It always had and it always would.