The screen flickered to life with hazy grays and blacks, and Charlene moved the sensor slowly, methodically.
Please, God. Please let the baby be alive and okay.
He didn’t realize how much he wanted that until the words formed in his head.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” Charlene murmured, concentrating on the screen.
Eli squinted at the shadows, but it was a blur of greys and shifting light.
Charlene moved the wand again, slower this time, scanning from one side to the other. Her brow furrowed.
“Charlene?” Kate asked. “What are you seeing?”
“Well…for about six to eight weeks… Am I right about that?”
Meredith nodded, a little fear darkening her green eyes.
“I’d expect to see something in the uterus,” the woman said. “A gestational sac, at least.” She paused, adjusted the depth on the screen. “I’m not seeing that.”
“What does that mean?” Meredith asked weakly. “Is it too early?”
“Sometimes dating is off,” Charlene said carefully. “But…I’m also seeing quite a bit of free fluid in the pelvis.”
“Fluid?” Eli asked.
Charlene nodded, eyes still on the screen. “It could be blood. It’s pooling in the cul-de-sac behind the uterus.” She angled the wand again. “And possibly tracking higher. The doctor needs to see this.”
“Wait,” Kate said, leaning in. “Are you saying this could be…internal bleeding?”
Charlene looked at her, taking her eyes off the screen. “Yes. It’s possible. Meredith’s blood pressure is trending low and her heart rate’s up. We’re on it, I promise.”
Meredith turned toward Eli. “I feel dizzy. And I have to pee.”
Charlene gently pulled the probe away and set it down. “I’m going to help you do that because we want you flat.” She turned and grabbed something plastic, then lifted a microphonehanging around her neck. “And I’m paging the on-call OB, then I’ll help Meredith relieve herself.”
Eli backed up. “We’ll be right outside,” he murmured, placing a trembling hand on Meredith’s shoulder. “We’re here. Just breathe, sweetheart.”
Stepping outside the room into the hushed heaviness of the ER, Eli managed a shaky breath.
Vaguely aware of an intercom page and an orderly rolling an empty gurney, Eli stepped to a window that looked out on a courtyard, his eyes burning.
“We need to pray,” he said.
“We need to prepare for surgery,” Kate volleyed back.
“Surgery?” he gasped, blinking at her. “What are you?—”
“She has every sign of an ectopic pregnancy.”
He stared at her, digging into anything he knew about obstetrics—next to nothing—for what she meant. “Is that a tubal pregnancy?”
“Exactly. The pregnancy implanted somewhere other than a uterus, usually a fallopian tube”—she lifted her phone as if referencing it—“and that tube may have ruptured and she’s bleeding internally. This is life-threatening.”
He felt blood drain.
“Enough Dr. Google,” he said, holding up a hand. “I need to pray. For this baby, for my daughter, for her very life.”
“I know you do,” she said, trying to lower a strained and tense voice. “But we need to be responsible here and not get wrapped up in hospital waiting. She needs immediate attention.”
