Now
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Evangeline
“So, when did you first notice the spotting?” the obstetrician asks with his French accent.
“A couple of days ago. It wasn’t much at first, kind of brownish, so I tried not to panic. But this morning there was more of it, brighter too. I’ve also had some cramping and this weird pressure in my lower stomach since yesterday.”
“Any pain?”
“Not severe. Just … tightness? And lower back pain on and off.”
“You did well coming in. We’ll run some tests and do an ultrasound. I see in your file that your complications started about a month ago?”
“Yes. My husband got into a really bad accident. He almost lost his eye, had a concussion, sprained his wrist, and broke two ribs. I was constantly at the hospital for days and then taking care of him at home. I wasn’t eating or sleeping enough, and I had elevated blood pressure.”
“I see. Did things improve?”
“For him or for me?”
“Both.”
“He got better, yes. But I didn’t. He immediately began talking about returning to work as soon as he could. Which added to my anxiety.”
“What’s his job?”
“Formula 2. He’s a driver.”
“Ah, hence the accident … Listen, stress by itself usually isn’t dangerous for a pregnancy. But high blood pressure can be, and chronic stress can contribute to that. Hypertension during pregnancy can lead to complications we want to avoid, like preeclampsia or placental abruption.”
I watch as he stands from his desk to take out a blood pressure monitor from a cabinet. Familiar with it, I extend my arm so he can wrap it around it. “It was too high when I took one a couple of weeks ago.”
“I saw the readings in your file, yes. Let’s see whether things improved or worsened.”
I stare at the numbers while he does the test, unsure how to read them. “Hm … You’re one-forty-five over ninety-five. We’re entering concerning territory.”
“Really?”
He nods. “We’ll run urine and blood tests, and I’ll arrange for an ultrasound today. I’ll need to take your tension again in four hours. Are you okay to stay?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Alright. I’ll find a nurse to handle your samples.”
He leaves me alone in his office, and I’m pretty sure that if the blood pressure monitor were still strapped to me, it’d be sky-high. Maybe I can do prenatal yoga. Or meditation. Something to help me learn how to control my anxiety.
Taking a deep, soothing breath, I pass a hand over the curve of my belly. “Daddy’s job is stressing us out, isn’t it?” I softly ask.
I’m still waiting for a nurse when my phone goes off. It’s Jackson’s ringtone. I grab my bag from the empty chair next to me and take my phone out of it. When I pick up, he immediately asks, “So? How is it going?”
“I’m not sure. He said we need to run tests. But my blood pressure wasn’t good. He talked about preeclampsia and placental rupture or something. Jax, I’m scared it might be something bad.”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “I’ll finish as fast as I can over here and come to the hospital, okay?”
I look up at the ceiling, trying to contain the tears that gather in my eyes. He immediately knew I needed him. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s nothing, princess.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “See you soon, Jax.”
“Love you, Evie.” He hangs up, and I’m alone in the office again.
I shouldn’t let his job affect me so much.
His accident wasn’t even his fault, but the fault of the two drivers in front of him.
They’re the ones who messed up, not Jax.
Yet they got to walk out of their cars that day, as if nothing happened, while Jax was covered in blood and rushed to the hospital.
And in three days, he’s flying to Qatar for his first race since the accident. He only missed one race during his recovery, Budapest, which is good for his stats. I’m sure Altron already wants him for their Formula One team, but he still has to prove himself in the long run.
Deep down, I knew his job was dangerous.
How could driving that fast not be? But he’s never been in a serious accident before.
Nothing more than some light contacts or minor collisions.
His car flipping around right before my eyes was a reality check I never saw coming.
And then the way his car was on fire, or how he couldn’t get out on his own …
It scared me beyond words. When someone came to get me, I was a nervous wreck, unable to think straight.
I’ve seen the nurse, and my samples have gone to the lab by the time Jackson arrives. I’m actually back in the obstetrician’s office, on the examination table by the ultrasound machine, when he finds me.
Concern is on his face, eyebrows knitted close together. The scar on the right one is still pink, like the one below on his cheekbone. Despite everything, the doctors said he was incredibly lucky that day. He came close to losing not only his eye but also his job. His dream.
“Hey,” he says softly, crossing the room in three quick strides.
“Hey.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m waiting for the doctor. He needs to look for what could be causing the spotting.”
He presses a kiss against my forehead before sitting beside the bed, his hand immediately finding mine while the other comes over my bump. “Did you get the results from the test?”
I shake my head. “He should have them with him.”
A knock sounds at the door before it opens again. The obstetrician walks in holding a thin file. “Ah, Mr. Reyes. Welcome.”
Jax nods. “Doctor.”
“We’ve received the blood and urine results.
” He places the file down near the computer before washing his hands at the sink.
“Your blood pressure is still elevated, and there are traces of protein in your urine. Not enough for me to diagnose preeclampsia at this stage, but enough that I want to monitor you carefully.”
I swallow, resting a hand over Jackson’s on my stomach. “Okay.”
He pulls the ultrasound machine closer to the bed. “Let’s have a look at your baby.”
Used to this, I lift my top all the way and lower my already opened jeans. The gel is cold when he squirts it on, and I jump a little. This, I’m not getting used to.
He spreads it with the probe. The sound and the image are all over the place until he stabilizes his motions. Then, we hear the fast pulse of our baby’s heartbeat.
I exhale, some tension releasing from my body. And next to me, Jax also seems reassured, his hold on my hand tightening.
The doctor studies the screen in silence, moving the probe slowly across my stomach. His expression doesn’t change much, but I notice the way his eyes narrow slightly in concentration.
“What is it?” I ask immediately.
“Baby looks alright,” he says first. “Heartbeat is good.”
“But?”
He pauses the image. “There’s a small area behind the placenta where bleeding has occurred.” He points at a dark, crescent-shaped shadow on the screen. “It appears to be a minor partial abruption.”
My stomach drops. “What does that mean?” Jax asks before I can.
“It means a small part of the placenta has lifted away from the uterine wall. Right now, it’s limited.
The baby is developing normally, and there’s no immediate distress.
The separation area is small enough that it shouldn’t be a problem for the baby’s growth.
If it gets worse, there could be complications. ”
“Like what?” Jax asks.
“The baby might not get enough nutrients and oxygen, in which case the fetus’ development might be affected or stop completely. You’ve just entered the second trimester, which means there’s still a long way to go until the baby is fully formed.”
“Can it reattach?” I ask.
“Alas, no. But it could worsen and detach more.”
“How can we make sure it doesn’t?”
“Reduced activity. Rest as much as possible. No unnecessary physical exertion. No traveling. I also want your stress levels kept under control. More frequent monitoring moving forward. And if the bleeding increases, if the pain worsens, or if you experience contractions, come back immediately. Day or night.”
“Okay.” I stare at the screen, at the dark area that’s jeopardizing everything. “Did I do something wrong?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
The doctor shakes his head. “No. This is not your fault.”
“But I can’t stop stressing.”
“Which isn’t something you can control. But it might help if you talked to a therapist. I’ll recommend you one or two when this is over.”
He unfreezes the screen and drags the probe around again. “I know this sounds bad, but if you do as I said and rest, everything should be alright.”
“Okay.”
“Now, I like to counterbalance news like this with something good. Did you want to know the sex of your baby?”
Jax and I look at each other, not expecting the offer. “Isn’t it too early to tell?” he asks.
“Not necessarily. We usually schedule that ultrasound later in the pregnancy to be sure we can get an answer, but I have a pretty clear view right now. I can tell you.”
We meet each other’s eyes again. We’ve decided we wanted to know, yes. It’s not like we can have a whole gender reveal party with friends and family from over here. Not that it would be our style, I think.
With a small smile, I offer Jax a single nod. “We want to know, yes,” he tells the doctor, squeezing my hand.
“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” the doctor asks, as if to make the suspense last a little longer.
“I think it’s a girl,” Jax answers first.
“I really don’t know,” I say then. “I thought pregnant women had some kind of instinct about it, but I have no idea.”
“Well,” the obstetrician says, adjusting the probe. “Dad is the one with the instinct this time. You two are having a girl.”
My heart flutters at the thought, almost as fast as the heartbeat we can still hear. We’re having a baby girl.
Jax stands from his chair with a luminous smile to bend over and kiss me, thrilled at the prospect. He’ll get to become a girl dad and spoil us both.
With a hand cradling my face, he pulls up just a little, eyes planted on mine. “We’re having a girl.”
“You were right.”
My grin is as wide as his, but it doesn’t stop us from sharing another kiss.