69. Gabrielle
Gabrielle
It’s been days, and I still can’t shake this feeling. At first, I thought it was just stress, the weight of everything catching up to me, the grief settling so deep into me that my body was physically reacting to it.
But this feels different. It’s not a cold. It’s not the flu. It’s something I can’t put my finger on, and the longer it lingers, the harder it is to ignore.
I try to push through it, try to convince myself it’s nothing, but the thoughts won’t stop spiraling.
What if something is wrong?
What if my body is failing me?
What if I’m slowly dying of a broken heart?
What if…what if my cancer is relapsing now, too?
The thought makes my stomach turn violently, and suddenly I can’t breathe, my chest tightening like hands are wrapping around my throat and squeezing.
I fumble for my phone, my fingers shaking as I dial Kinsley’s number.
She picks up on the second ring. “Hey, we’re heading over soon to help with the move—”
“Kinsley.” My voice comes out strangled, barely above a whisper.
“I—I know we’re supposed to move today, but I just can’t shake this feeling.
I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I thought it was just stress, or I was just sick, or something, but it’s not going away.
And now I’m starting to panic. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I think I need to go to the hospital. I…I just want to get checked out.”
There’s a pause. Then her voice softens, instantly soothing. “Okay, breathe, babe. We’ll figure this out. I’m coming to get you right now.”
“It’s just…what if my cancer came back?” I whisper it like I’m afraid for the universe to hear and get any ideas.
The words make me nauseous. “What kind of cruel joke would that be? After everything—what if—”
Kinsley cuts me off before I can spiral further. “Don’t go there. You’re okay. I’ll be there in twenty. If going to the hospital will give you peace of mind, then we’ll go.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Okay.”
* * *
The waiting room is too bright. Too warm. Too cold. Too much. Too familiar.
I sit in one of the plastic chairs, trying to keep my breathing steady, not wanting to fall apart.
I keep falling apart.
When will I stop falling apart?
Kinsley is next to me, her arm around my shoulders, trying to keep me calm. But my mind won’t stop racing.
I’ve sat in waiting rooms like this before. I’ve felt this exact fear before, it just wasn’t for myself.
As if my own mind is punishing me, the memory hits me like a wave crashing down—the night we brought Cam here. The night everything changed. The night he collapsed at the clinic’s event and I held his hand in the back of an ambulance, begging him to stay with me.
The beeping monitors. The sterile smell. The waiting.
The stupid waiting.
The panic rises in my throat.
“Gabrielle, look at me,” Kinsley says firmly, shaking my knee. “You’re here. You’re okay. You are not Cam, and this is not then.”
I nod, blinking fast, trying to pull myself back to the present.
A nurse steps out, clipboard in hand. “Gabrielle Hayes?”
I stand, my legs unsteady beneath me.
Kinsley stands with me, her hand gripping mine.
“I’m right here.”
And together, we follow the nurse inside.
I tell them everything—my medical history, my symptoms, my worries.
I tell them I just need some tests for peace of mind, and the nurse nod, understanding. Then they start running through every possible test. Scans, blood work, everything they can do given my history.
And then we wait.
And it feels like forever.
I chew on my thumbnails, my knee bouncing up and down. Kinsley leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching me carefully.
Finally, the doctor comes in with a chart in hand. “All your scans and tests came back normal,” he says. “Everything looks good.”
Relief rushes through me so fast I feel lightheaded.
But I still don’t understand. “Then why have I been feeling like this?”
The doctor gives me a small, knowing smile. “We did find one thing that explains your symptoms.”
My heart clenches, scared. “What?”
He glances down at the chart. “Your urine test came back positive for pregnancy.”
I stare at him, not processing the words. “Come again?”
He smiles gently. “You’re pregnant.”
I shake my head, trying to make sense of the words. “No…no, that’s not possible. I can’t get pregnant. I was told I couldn’t after everything. And Cam—” My voice breaks. “My husband wasn’t supposed to be able to either.”
The doctor nods sympathetically. “In cases like yours, it is extremely rare to conceive naturally. But nothing is ever impossible. And by your HCG levels, I would say you’re about three months along.”
Three months.
I feel like the air has been stolen from my lungs.
How did I not know? How did I miss it?
Kinsley gasps beside me.
Then, suddenly, she’s screaming, practically tackling me in a hug.
“Oh my Gosh! Gabrielle! You’re pregnant!”
Her excitement is a stark contrast to the shock still paralyzing me.
I sit there, numb, my hand trembling as I press it to my stomach.
I’m pregnant?
Me and Cam…made a baby?
* * *
The car is silent for a long time.
I just stare out of the window, my mind running in a thousand different directions.
Eventually, Kinsley finally breaks the silence. “Gabs…talk to me.”
“All I ever wanted was a family. A real one…with Cam.” My throat tightens. “And now he’s gone. And I have to do this without him.”
Kinsley watches me carefully. “But you’re not without him.”
A tear slips down my cheek at the thought—I don’t get to do this with him.
He didn’t get to find out with me. He doesn’t get to go to any of the prenatal appointments.
I don’t get to watch him pace the hospital room, nervous and excited.
I don’t get to see him hold our baby for the first time, don’t get to hear him whisper lullabies in the middle of the night, trying to soothe a crying baby.
I don’t get to have the life we were supposed to have.
But—but he left me something. He left me with a real piece of himself. He left me a love so strong it created life.
I press my hands over my stomach, fresh tears slipping down my cheeks.
Kinsley squeezes my knee. “Are you okay?”
I let out a small, breathless laugh, my heart aching and so full all at once. “Yeah,” I whisper, nodding. “It’s happy tears, I think.”
I look at her, a smile breaking through the grief. “I’m having a baby, Kinsley. Cam and I… we made a baby. He may be gone, but a part of him is still here. A part of him is growing inside me.”
Our love, the one we built…it didn’t end. It’s still going. It’s still alive. It’s growing legs and arms as we speak.
Thank you, God…
Also…would you mind telling Cam he’s going to be a dad for me?