“It’s okay. I understand. Thank you, Dr. Lee.”
As they wheeled Dani out of the room, heading for the operating room to perform the D&C, I followed next to her bed as far as they would let me.
At one point Dani looked up at the nurse and said, “I want to know what the sex is.”
The older female nurse nodded and smiled sympathetically. “Of course, honey.”
Right before they took her in, I bent and kissed her forehead, but it was like she wasn’t there. She was staring off into space.
They scheduled an appointment for a week later for her to see her OB-GYN. My mom was there to help her. At that point, Irene’s symptoms were becoming obvious. We realized she had been suffering from early-onset Alzheimer’s probably since around the time Ben died, so my mom started helping Dani a lot more and she took care of her after the second miscarriage.
When Dani came home from the hospital, she mostly just slept for that entire week.
The day of her follow-up appointment to plan next steps, I got a text message from a urologist’s office. It was an appointment reminder that I had a vasectomy scheduled for the following Friday. This was news to me. We had never had a singleconversation about a vasectomy or about not having any more kids.
I called Dani immediately. “Hey.” I was gentle with her.
“Hi,” she said.
“What is this appointment you made? We haven’t even talked about this.”
“Fine, then you don’t have to do it. I’ll go get my tubes tied. I don’t want to be on birth control and I don’t want any more kids. It’s my choice. I’m happy with our two. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t think they would call you. I was going to talk to you about it tonight.”
“Dani, do you think you should be making this decision right now?”
In a flat voice, almost monotone, Dani said, “I just thought since I spent years on birth control, I’ve given birth twice, unmedicated, and I’ve lost two babies…I thought maybe you could just go ahead and do this. It’s a much simpler procedure for you than it is for me anyway.”
I was stunned into silence. Dani made decisions easily, so I knew she was serious. She wasn’t the type to act fickle or hem and haw.
“I’ll do it, okay?” I told her.
It felt strange that she was essentially taking the decision away from me.What about me? Do I still want kids?
As if she was reading my mind, she said, “I don’t think anything will happen, but if for some reason you end up with someone else, someone who wants to have kids, then you should consider that now, before you do it. I know I don’t. I am a hundred percent certain I do not want any more children.”
“How can you be so sure right now, Dani?”
“I’m sure right now because this feeling is fresh in my mind, in my gut, coursing through my veins. I don’t want to get downthe road, having forgotten this hellfire I am living in, and decide I’m strong enough to go through it again. I don’t want to forget that I saw a tiny, dead baby girl the size of a fucking Yukon Gold potato wrapped in a blanket. Do you remember that?”
Right before the D&C was about to be performed, Dani’s body started to deliver the baby on its own. She started to actively miscarry while in the operating room. They called me in to support her, but she didn’t need it. She was drugged up and unengaged, but I stood next to her head anyway and held her limp hand. I guess because Dani asked to know the sex earlier, when the tiny baby came out, the nurse showed it to her and said, “Do you want to hold her?”
Dani was heavily sedated and just glanced at the baby for a second and then mumbled, “No. Cremate her.”
That’s what they did with the first one.
Dani shoved the box containing the ashes from the second miscarriage into the back of the hallway closet, next to the box from the first one. Out of sight, out of mind. We didn’t talk about it until we were having the vasectomy conversation a week later.
“Of course I remember seeing her. I’m sorry. It was horrible.”
“I’m just glad I didn’t tell anyone except you this time. I don’t want any more kids, Alex. I want to be a good mother to the two we have. I don’t want to be a damaged, heartbroken person like this. I need to move past it.”
“I understand. I’ll get the vasectomy, Danielle. I know I’ll never want kids with anyone else.”
“We can always adopt.” Her voice got higher, like there was a hint of hope in it. Looking back now, I realize it wasn’t hope, it was surrender and relief. I know because I felt it too.
—
In the clinic waiting room, Dani is still holding a sleeping Sophia while the boys are sitting on each side of her, playing on their phones. I’m wrapping up paperwork on a patient and Jenna is working faster than I’ve ever seen her. It’s that mom efficiency—she knows at any minute, Sophia is going to wake up screaming, so Jenna is utilizing the time.
