I obeyed, moved when instructed, then braced myself when a foreign object entered me.
“There we go,” the doctor said, not talking to me. “I see the uterus. Now move it around. Yes, like that.”
I tuned them out, concentrating on the poster as well as silently singing a song to help distract me. It worked. So much that before I knew it, the whole thing was over, and the tech was removing the ultrasound wand and handing me tissues.
“You can get dressed when we head out.”
I removed my feet from the stirrups and sat up. “Everything okay?”
I wasn’t even sure why I asked because I didn’t care. Well, that wasn’t true. I did care because whatever their answer was, it would affect me. Affect my body.
“We’ll have to wait for the blood tests to tell you anything,” the doctor answered for the technician, but a look was exchanged that I didn’t miss and couldn’t interpret. Even so, it had my scalp prickling.
Before I could ask anything, the door was pulled open, and the doctor hurried out, calling over his shoulder, “You can take care of this, can’t you, Mrs. Tantor?”
“Of course,” Hilary said in her brightest tone before turning to me. “Get dressed and we can talk about what happens next.”
Then she and the tech exited the room, leaving me with a sinking feeling in my gut.
Twenty-One
Hilary was standing just outside the door when I stepped into the hall, her focus on her cell phone, which she quickly stuffed in her pocket. “All set?”
It wasn’t a question that needed answering since I was standing right in front of her, but I replied anyway. “Yup.”
“Good.” She waved down the hall as she started walking. “Let’s talk in the consultation room.”
Sitting across from Hilary in the miniature waiting room filled me with a sense of déjà vu. Only a little over two months had passed since the first time I sat here, and yet I felt like a totally different person. Like I was living someone else’s life. It was so surreal, but even crazier was that it was going to get worse before it got better.
“We should have the results of your blood work tomorrow at the latest, but they could be ready as early as this evening,” Hilary said once she’d settled into the oversized chair.
“That soon?” I asked, surprised even though I shouldn’t have been. The Department of Fertility had unlimited resources, and as one of the fertile ones, I was a priority. No, that wasn’t true. The baby growing inside me was a priority.
“One of the benefits of having everything we need under one roof,” Hilary replied, radiating pride like she was personally responsible for my medical care and not just a glorified paper pusher. “We’ll give you a call when we get them. Until then,continue what you’re doing.”
“Okay,” I said, shifting. Wondering why I’d had to come to this room just so Hilary could tell me to carry on.
“If we have concerns about anything,” she continued after a slight pause, “we’ll have you come in, but that’s rare.”
“And if there are concerns?”
“Depends on what it is,” she replied. “Sometimes the doctor will want you to come in more often, so he can monitor the baby more closely, and occasionally, a D&C is required.”
“And if that’s the case?” I prompted, an uneasy feeling in my gut.
“No need to worry about that. It’s so rare and we do everything in our power to make sure our babies are healthy. Have you heard the latest statistics about births defects?” When I shook my head, she tapped the screen of the tablet she carried everywhere. “Thanks to the Department of Fertility’s efforts, we’ve eradicated most birth defects and neurological disorders. Under the new regime, all babies are born healthy.” The click of her nail against the glass followed her statement, then she looked up, beaming. “I’ve emailed the article to you.”
I wasn’t sure what article she was talking about, and I really didn’t care, but I couldn’t help thinking it all sounded like bullshit. How was it possible that they’d eradicated all birth defects yet couldn’t do a damn thing about infertility?
“But you can’t control everything,” I replied instead of asking the real question. “In the event that a D&C is necessary, what does that mean for me and my time in the program? How does that change things?”
Hilary frowned as if displeased or even annoyed by my questions. “If that happens, you’ll be given time to recover. Six weeks, to be exact. The doctor will examine you, and if it’s determined everything is normal, we’ll start the process over.”
I didn’t know what I was expecting – not to be released from the program, that was for sure – but I still felt let down by the news. Six weeks wasn’t long.
When I said nothing, Hilary clapped her hands. “If you don’t have any other questions, I think we’re done.”
Feeling dismissed, I stood. “Okay.”
