Sabrina #2
I shifted, forcing myself to look at the screen. All I saw were shades of gray. Some spots formed blobs and some formed streaks. Strange shadows and textures. This was inside my body? It wasn’t anything I recognized.
She pointed to a weird comma-shaped blob. “Right here.”
In the middle of it, the screen flickered subtly.
“That’s cardiac activity,” she said. “A heartbeat.”
My body locked up and my head spun. I closed my eyes, so damn confused. “What?” I croaked, my voice scratchy and thin.
“This is the embryo,” she said, adjusting the wand again. “It’s tiny right now, probably the size of a pea. But that flicker is the heart beating.”
I stared at the screen. All I saw were the blobs and streaks and endless gray.
Not a baby. Not even close.
But the flicker persisted. Steady and relentless. Was there really a tiny heart beating inside me?
Quietly, she continued clicking away.
“I’m taking measurements,” she eventually said. “Everything looks consistent for early pregnancy.”
Early pregnancy?
For a moment, I was sure my soul left me. Like an out-of-body experience. I couldn’t feel my hands or feet. But then sensation flooded back in, my throat tight and my racing heart pounding in my ears.
Just my heart. And the tiny, steady one I was staring at on the screen.
A heart.
A baby.
Inside me.
It wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be real.
“That’s not—” I swallowed, searching for the right words. “What about my IUD?”
She moved the wand again, pointing to a bright white T-shape in a sea of gray.
“There is it.” She clicked the mouse again. “But it looks like it moved. It should be over here.” She pointed to more gray streaky space on the screen. “See how it’s in this area? It migrated or got knocked out of place.”
“But it’s supposed to be 99 percent effective,” I whispered.
“It is. When properly placed. But in the wrong position,” she said, “research shows a higher risk of adverse outcomes.”
Adverse outcomes. I gaped at the image of the medical device that was supposed to prevent this exact outcome and the flickering heartbeat that proved it hadn’t done its job.
“So.” I dropped my head back and squeezed my eyes shut.
“You’re pregnant,” she declared.
“No shit.”
“Based on these measurements, you’re about six or seven weeks along. So very early.”
“And that’s why I’ve been so sick.”
“Possibly. We’ll still do the blood work and monitor hormone levels. But your symptoms look a lot like early pregnancy. GI distress, nausea, food aversion, exhaustion.”
Fuck. I checked every one of those boxes perfectly.
“Would you like some images?” she asked gently.
“Of the IUD?” I asked in a panic.
Her lips twitched. “The pregnancy.”
I liked that she didn’t say baby. It was a fetus or an embryo. What was the difference between the two? Either way, it was a little alien creature growing inside me.
With a very steady and persistent heartbeat.
“Sure,” I said, looking back up at the ceiling tiles.
After a few more clicks, she gently removed the wand and took care of it. “I’ll give you a few minutes to get cleaned up and dressed. Then let’s sit in my office and talk. I’m sure you have a lot of questions and concerns.”
I blinked back a sheen of tears. Dammit if that wasn’t an understatement.
Ten minutes later, I found myself seated in her warm office, sipping from a fresh bottle of water.
“What are my options?”
“This is Vermont,” she answered easily. “There is no timeline requirement for termination.”
“So I have time to decide?” A frisson of relief seeped into me. I needed time. A lot of it. My brain still hadn’t accepted the situation.
“Yes… and no,” she hedged. “With the IUD still implanted, you have a higher chance of dangerous infection. Or miscarriage.”
My stomach rolled.
“So I’d strongly suggest having it removed as soon as possible. It’s in a good position, with the strings visible and accessible. You are very lucky.”
Lucky? I fought the urge to bark out a laugh. I felt like a dumbass.
What kind of irresponsible person ended up accidentally pregnant at thirty-five?
I wasn’t a hormonal teenager. I was a grown-ass woman, and I could have sworn I had made an evidence-based decision about my health.
Should I sue the manufacturer? It was worth looking into.
It sounded like this had happened to other women too. Maybe a class action was necessary.
“Sabrina?”
Doctor Storrow’s kind voice brought me back to earth. I wasn’t sure how long my mental side quest had taken, but she looked concerned.
“You’re not alone, and you have options. I’m happy to help in any way you need it. I can imagine you’re in shock.”
I straightened. Yes, I was in shock, but I was also Sabrina Monroe. I’d deal with this. Decisively and strategically. Like I did any challenge that came my way.
“Can you take the IUD out now?”
She shook her head. “No, you’d need to see a high-risk ob-gyn. Probably in Burlington. Just in case.”
My breath caught in my chest. “Is the baby in danger?”
Baby? Why had I called it a baby? It was a fetus. Fetus, Sabrina.
“Fetus,” I corrected.
“Not necessarily,” she said. “But removal needs to be supervised by a doctor with experience in this situation, and the sooner it can be done, the better.”
My stomach churned, great, more fucking nausea.
Why was the idea that the baby could be in danger so alarming? I didn’t want this baby. I didn’t want any baby, really. But here I was, and I’d be damned if I didn’t do everything I could to keep it safe. The thought of it being hurt alone had my adrenaline spiking.
My mind raced, flipping through every contact and connection I had. I could locate the best specialist, the best everything.
“Burlington?” I asked. “Where are the best specialists for this situation? Maybe someone who teaches the procedure at Harvard? Or the Mayo Clinic? That’s where the best doctors are, right?”
She smiled softly. “Please breathe. I’d rather you not pass out in my office.”
“I’m just trying to figure out the logistics,” I countered. “Should I charter a jet?”
Her eyes widened. “A jet?”
“Yes. A private plane. So I can get to the doctor. You said the sooner the better. There’s got to be someone who never gets it wrong, who knows exactly what to do. I can’t trust this medical procedure to a country bumpkin doctor.”
Her expression remained neutral.
“No offense,” I hastily added.
She smiled. “I’m a mom. I get it. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my child.
But this is a relatively simple procedure.
Yes, there are complications and risks, but my advice is to take twenty-four hours to process this and decide how you want to proceed.
Then, if you’d like to continue the pregnancy, we will get you to Burlington as soon as possible to give everyone the best outcome. ”
She spoke so easily, like this was no big deal. When, actually, it was an enormously big deal and I was freaking the fuck out.
“Do you need a ride home?” She leaned closer. “Can I call your mother?”
“No,” I said, shooting to my feet. “I’m okay to drive.”
I marched straight to my car, where I sat as every option flew through my head. Termination would probably be the smart choice, the logical choice. I believed deeply in a woman’s right to choose. I couldn’t raise a child. I wasn’t built for that.
Or I could proceed and experience pregnancy and childbirth.
The idea was terrifying, sure, but I prided myself on being tough and strong.
Yeah, I’d been sick, but I was growing a human.
It was a small price to pay. And I wasn’t one to do things halfway.
If I was going to grow a human, I’d grow the best human ever, God dammit.
Raising a tiny person who depended on me for everything? Unthinkable.
My mind circled around and around as I considered my health, finances, and every other practical element related to the situation.
Over and over, I kept going back to one image.
The flickering heartbeat.