“Is everything okay?” he whispered.
I gave him a confused smile. “Everything’s fine.”
His voice remained a whisper as he said, “I meant with your pregnancy.”
I froze.
How did he know?
“What… what do you mean?” I whispered, unable to keep the fear out of my voice.
“Have there been any complications?”
I tried to smile, but couldn’t quite pull it off. The corner of my mouth trembled. “I… my blood pressure is a little high, so I’ve been going to the doctor every week.”
He looked over at the kitchen staff to make sure they weren’t listening in before he spoke. “Preeclampsia?”
The word struck terror into my heart.
“…yes,” I whispered. “How did you know?”
“You have unusual amounts of swelling in your hands. Your complexion is a bit pale, and you’ve held your forehead a couple of times during the meal as though you have a headache. You also seem…” He gestured towards the rosary in my left hand. “…a little bit worried.”
I pulled the rosary off the counter, feeling unexpectedly vulnerable, and buried it in the folds of my dress. I must have been rubbing the beads absentmindedly, which I tended to do a lot these days.
“It could have been a dozen different things,” he continued, “but when you mentioned high blood pressure and weekly monitoring, I figured it was preeclampsia. When did they diagnose it?”
“The 24thweek,” I said nervously.
He was quiet for a second.
From his silence, I knewheknew how dangerous that was.
Dr. Aiello was my OB-GYN. I remembered what he had told me:
The earlier in the pregnancy this happens, the more careful we have to be. Anything before 28 weeks, we need to monitor you closely.
Raffaelo finally spoke. “You’re going for weekly monitoring, so that’s good. That’s the most important part. Are they doing ultrasounds to check on the baby?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “Every two weeks.”
“Urine tests and blood work?”
“Yes, every week.”
“Excellent. Do they have you on any medications?”
“They have me on labetalol for blood pressure and dexametasona for the baby,” I said.
The names of the medications had been so strange-sounding just a month ago, but now they tripped off my tongue. After all, they were a daily part of my life.
“Good. The dexametasona will help mature your baby’s lungs. It sounds like you’re in good hands.” He peered into my eyes and smiled kindly. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
Maybe it was his kindness…
Maybe it was talking to someone in a safe place, outside the frightening confines of my doctor’s office…
But my eyes suddenly welled up with tears.
