“What’s going on?” Lexie whispered. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Jeremy said.
“Is something wrong with the baby?”
“She didn’t say that,” Jeremy said as much to steady himself as her. He swallowed through the sudden dryness in his throat. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Lexie seemed on the verge of tears. “Then why’s she getting the doctor?”
“She probably has to if she sees something.”
“What did she see?” she asked, almost pleading. “I didn’t see anything.”
He thought about it again. “I don’t know.”
“Then what is it?”
Not knowing what else to do or even what to say, he scooted his chair closer. “I’m not sure. But the baby’s heartbeat was fine, and she’s growing. She would have said something earlier if something was wrong with the baby.”
“Did you see her face? She seemed . . . scared.”
This time, Jeremy couldn’t respond. Instead, he stared at the far wall. Despite the fact that he and Lexie were together, Jeremy suddenly felt very much alone.
A moment later, the physician and the technician entered the room, forced smiles on their faces. The technician took her seat as the doctor stood behind her. Neither Jeremy nor Lexie could think of anything to say. In the silence, Jeremy could hear his own breathing.
“Let’s take a look,” Dr. Sommers said.
The technician added a bit more gel; when she placed the hand piece on Lexie’s stomach, the baby came into view once more. When the technician pointed to the screen, however, it wasn’t toward the baby.
“Can you see it?” she said.
The doctor leaned forward; so did Jeremy. Again, he saw the wavy white line. This time, he noticed that it seemed to be coming from the walls encircling the baby in the surrounding dark space.
“Right there.”
The doctor nodded. “Has it attached?”
The technician moved the hand piece, and various images of the baby came into view. She shook her head as she spoke. “When I was looking earlier, I didn’t see that it had attached anywhere. I think I checked everywhere.”
“Let’s make sure,” the doctor said. “Let me take over for a minute.” The technician rose, and the doctor took her place.
The doctor was silent as he moved the hand piece again; he seemed less adept at the machine, and the images appeared more slowly. Like the technician, he leaned toward the screen. For a long time, no one said anything.
“What is it?” Lexie’s voice trembled. “What are you looking for?”
The doctor glanced at the technician, who quietly left the room. When they were alone, the doctor brought the white line into view. “Do you see this?” he asked. “This is what is known as an amniotic band,” he said. “What I’ve been doing is checking to see if it’s attached to the baby anywhere. If it does attach, it’s usually on the extremities, like the arms and legs. So far, though, it seems that it hasn’t attached, and that’s good.”
“Why? I don’t understand,” Jeremy said. “What do you mean by band? What can it do?”
The doctor exhaled slowly. “Okay, this band is made up of the same fibrous material as the amnion—the sack that holds the baby. See it here?” He ran his finger in a roughly circular manner over the sack, then to the band. “As you can see, one end of the band is attached here to the sack, the other end is floating free. This free-floating end can attach to the fetus. If that happens, the baby will be born with amniotic band syndrome, or ABS.”
When the doctor spoke again, his tone was deliberately neutral. “I’ll be perfectly frank: If that happens, it greatly increases the odds of congenital abnormalities. I know how hard this is to hear, but that’s why we really took our time examining the images. We wanted to be sure that the band hasn’t attached.”
Jeremy could barely breathe. From the corner of his eye, Jeremy saw Lexie bite her lip.
“Will it attach?” Jeremy asked.
“There’s no way to know. Right now, the other end of the band is floating in the amniotic fluid. The fetus is still small right now. As it grows, the likelihood of attachment increases, but true amniotic band syndrome is rare.”
“What kinds of abnormalities?” Lexie whispered.
It wasn’t a question the doctor wanted to answer, and it showed. “Again, it depends on where it attaches, but if it’s true ABS, it could be serious.”
“How serious?” Jeremy said.
He sighed. “If it attaches to the extremities, the baby could be born without a limb, or with a clubfoot, or with syndactyly, which is webbing between the fingers. If it attaches elsewhere, it could even be worse.”
As the doctor answered, Jeremy found himself growing dizzy. “What do we do?” he forced out. “Is Lexie going to be okay?”
“Lexie will be fine,” he said. “ABS doesn’t affect the mother in any way. And as for what to do, there’s really nothing we can do except wait. There’s no reason for bed rest or anything like that. I will recommend that we get a level two ultrasound, which will create a clearer image, but again, all we’ll be looking for is to see whether the band has attached to the fetus. And again, I don’t think it has. After that, we’ll do serial ultrasounds—probably one every two or three weeks, but that’s all we can do for now.”
“How did it happen?”
“It wasn’t anything you did or didn’t do. And keep in mind that so far it doesn’t look like it’s attached. I know I’ve said that before, but that’s important to understand. So far, there’s nothing wrong with your baby at all. Her growth is fine, her heartbeat is strong, and her brain is developing normally. So far, so good.”
In the silence, Jeremy could hear the steady, mechanical hum of the ultrasound machine.
“You said it could get even worse if it attaches elsewhere,” he said.
The doctor shifted in his seat. “Yes,” he admitted. “It’s unlikely that it will, though.”
“How much worse?”
Dr. Sommers slid his file off to the side, as if deciding how much to say. “If it attaches to the cord,” he said at last, “you could lose the baby.”
Seventeen
They could lose the baby.
As soon as the doctor left, Lexie broke down, and it was all Jeremy could do to keep his own tears in check. He was drained and speaking on autopilot, reminding her again and again that so far the baby was fine and she would probably stay that way. Instead of calming her, his words seemed to make her feel worse. Her shoulders heaved and her hands trembled as he held her; by the time she finally pulled back, Jeremy’s shirt was soaked with her tears.
She said nothing as she dressed; instead, the only sound in the room was the raspy intake of her breath, as if she were trying not to cry. The room felt unbearably close, as if all the oxygen were being sucked away; Jeremy was unsteady on his feet. When he saw Lexie buttoning her blouse over the rounded bulge of her belly, he had to lock his knees to keep from falling over.
The fear was suffocating and overwhelming; the sterility of the room struck him as surreal. This couldn’t be happening. None of it made sense. The earlier ultrasounds had picked up nothing. Lexie hadn’t had so much as a cup of coffee since she’d found out she was pregnant. She was healthy and strong, she got enough sleep. But something was wrong. As he stared, he could imagine the band floating in the amniotic fluid like the tentacles of a poisonous jellyfish. Waiting, drifting, ready to attack.
He wanted Lexie to lie down, to cease all movement, so the tentacle wouldn’t find its way to the baby. At the same time, he wanted her to walk around, to keep doing what she had been doing, since the tentacle was still floating free. He wanted to know what to do to increase the chances that their baby would be okay. The air in the room was almost gone now, and his mind was going white with fear.
Their baby might die. Their little girl might die. Their little girl, the only one they might ever have.
He wanted to leave this place and never come back; he wanted to stay here and talk to the doctor again to make sure he understood everything that was happening. He wanted to tell his mother, his brothers, his father, so he could cry on their shoulders; he wanted to say nothing, to carry the burden with stoicism. He wanted his baby to be okay. He repeated the words over and over in his mind, as if willing her to stay away from the tentacle. When Lexie reached for her purse, he caught sight of her red-rimmed eyes and the image almost broke his heart. None of this was supposed to have happened. It was supposed to be a good day, a happy day. But the joyous anticipation was gone now, and tomorrow would be worse. The baby would be bigger, and the tentacle would get closer. And every passing day would increase the danger.
In the hallway, the technician immersed herself in paperwork as they passed on their way to the doctor’s private office. As they sat across the desk from the doctor, he showed them the printouts from the sonogram. He walked them through the same descriptions, told them the same things about the amniotic band. He liked to go over things a second time, he said. Most people didn’t really hear him the first time around because of the shock. He emphasized again that the baby was doing well and that he didn’t think the band had attached. This, he said again, was good news. But all Jeremy could think about was the tentacle floating inside his wife, drifting, moving close to the baby, and then veering away. Danger and safety, playing a deadly game of tag. The baby growing, getting larger, crowding the sack. Could the band float freely then?
“I know how hard this is to hear,” the doctor said again.
No, Jeremy thought, he didn’t. It wasn’t his baby, his little girl. His little girl in pigtails and kneeling by a soccer ball was smiling in a picture frame atop the doctor’s desk. His daughter was fine. No, he didn’t know. He couldn’t know.
Outside the office, Lexie broke down again and he held her tightly. They said almost nothing to each other on the ride home, and later Jeremy barely remembered the drive. At home, he went straight to the Internet and searched for information on amniotic band syndrome. He saw pictures of webbed fingers, stunted limbs, missing feet. He was prepared for those; he wasn’t prepared for the facial deformities, abnormalities that made the baby look barely human. He read about spinal and intestinal deformities in those instances where the tentacle attached to the body. He closed the screen, went to the bathroom, and ran cold water over his face. He decided to say nothing to Lexie about what he’d seen.
Lexie had called Doris the moment they got home, and the two of them were now sitting in the living room. Lexie had cried when Doris came to the door, and she cried again later as she sat on the couch. Doris began crying as well, even as she assured Lexie that she was sure the baby would be okay, that there was a reason the Lord had blessed them, that Lexie should continue to have faith. Lexie asked Doris not to tell anyone, and she promised not to. Nor did Jeremy tell his family. He knew how his mother would react, how she would sound on the phone, the regular calls that would follow. But even if his mother believed she’d be supporting Jeremy, to him it would feel the other way around. He couldn’t handle that, couldn’t imagine having to support someone else right now, even his mother. Especially his mother. It was hard enough to support Lexie and keep his own emotions in check. But he had to be strong, for both of them.
Later that night, as he lay in bed with Lexie beside him, he tried to think of anything but the tentacle that was waiting to ensnare the baby.
Three days later, they went in for the level II ultrasound at East Carolina University Medical Center, in Greenville. There was no excitement when they checked in or filled out the forms; in the waiting room, Lexie moved her purse from the end table to her lap and back again. She walked toward the magazine rack and picked one out but didn’t open it once she returned to her seat. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced around the waiting room. She tucked another strand behind her other ear and looked at the clock.
In the preceding days, Jeremy had learned everything he could about amniotic band syndrome, hoping that by understanding it, he would no longer fear it. But the more he learned, the more anxious he felt. At night he tossed and turned, sick not only at the thought that the baby was in danger, but at the knowledge that more than likely this would be the only pregnancy Lexie would ever experience. This pregnancy wasn’t supposed to have happened, and sometimes, in his blackest moods, he found himself wondering whether it was the universe’s way of paying him back for breaking the rules in the first place. He wasn’t meant to have a child. He’d never been meant to have a child.
He said nothing about any of this to Lexie. Nor did he tell her the complete truth about ABS.
“What did you find out on the computer?” she’d asked the night before.
“Not much more than the doctor told us,” Jeremy said.
She nodded. Unlike him, she was under no illusion that knowledge would lessen her fears.
“Every time I move, I wonder if I’m doing something I shouldn’t.”
“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” he said.
She nodded again. “I’m scared,” she whispered.
Jeremy slipped his arm around her. “I am, too.”
They were led into the room, and Lexie pulled up her shirt when the technician entered. Though the technician smiled, she could sense the tension in the room and went straight to work.
The baby appeared on the screen, and the image was much clearer. They could see the baby’s features: her nose and chin, her eyelids and fingers. When Jeremy peeked at Lexie, she squeezed his hand with painful intensity.
The amniotic band, the tentacle, hadn’t attached yet. There were ten weeks to go.