I replay the conversation with Dr. Rogers in my head.
“He said it might not mean anything. That it’s not unheard of for the heartbeat to be slow this early, that we wouldn’t know more until after a few tests. But it didn’t sound good, Lucy. I could tell.”
“Or maybe you’re just a terrified mother. Which makes everything sound worse than it is.”
I don’t answer, because maybe she’s right, but there’s also a high chance that maybe she’s wrong, and I don’t know which is worse.
“I’ll call you later, okay? I just… I need a minute to process everything.”
“Sure thing. But promise me you won’t Google anything else.”
I don’t answer, and she groans.
“Riley—”
“I’ll try. I promise.”
“Okay. Well, call me later?”
I only manage to nod before hanging up the call.
But the second the line goes dead, I curl up into a ball on the floor and let the tears fall.
I cryto the point of exhaustion, but that still isn’t enough for sleep to come, so I turn back to Google and dive deeper into every unanswered question I have.
By the time the sun shifts in the sky, my search history is nothing but an endless list of medical terms I don’t understand.
My eyes blur as I read the same sentence over and over again:slow fetal heartbeat in early pregnancy often indicates impending miscarriage.
My stomach twists, and I press my hand against it like I can shield the baby from all the statistics and percentages and terrifying medical jargon.
I should have told Kieran about the pregnancy from the start.
If something happens, how the hell am I supposed to explain any of this? That I knew I was pregnant and hid it from him? That I didn’t give him the chance to come around to the idea of being a father before it was ripped away from him?
I’m still sitting on the floor at the base of the bed, drowning in guilt, when Ciara appears in the doorway, wearing a set of pink and white striped pajamas with her hair wet and loose around her shoulders.
“You should be in bed,” I mumble when she closes the door behind her. “Ronan will be mad.”
“Ronan can get over it. I wanted to see you.”
“Why?”
“Because I was worried when you didn’t come and tell me about your appointment with Dr. Rogers.” She waddles over to me.
When I say nothing, she places her hands on her hips and gives me a look I know her kids will one day come to fear.
“Please don’t make me sit on the floor because you and I both know I won’t be able to get back up.”
I bite down on my lower lip as I get to my feet and move to sit at the end of the bed.
Ciara eases herself down beside me and places an arm around my shoulders. “I’m guessing the appointment didn’t go well.”
The dam breaks, and everything comes spilling out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop it.
My voice cracks as I tell her of the low heartbeat and the high chance of miscarriage, but Ciara doesn’t interrupt. She just lets me talk until the words run dry.
I wipe my cheeks. “God, listen to me. I’m unloading all of this on you when you’re about to give birth to twins. You don’t need this.”
