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This story is dedicated to
all the women out there that contacted me after “Just Let Go,” telling
me that they could relate to that plot. I hope you enjoy this story. March
18 Stretching
and yawning like a contented kitten, Diana Belden’s eyes fluttered open. She
was comfortable, and the bed was warm, but unfortunately, it was time to
begin her day. Mister Peepers, her Valentine’s Day present from Mart, snoozed
beside her. He’d curled himself into a ball, nestling himself cozily against
his mommy. For something so small, Mister Peepers’ furry warmth was like an
additional blanket. Yearning for a baby,
Diana unleashed her frustrated ambitions of being a mother on Mister Peepers,
but he didn’t seem to mind. He basked in his mommy’s attention. Anytime Diana
was sitting down, he was snuggled in her lap. If she was walking through the
house, he was clipping at her heels. However, he most enjoyed their early
morning ritual of snuggling in bed. The man that lived with Mommy often
hogged her attention, but once he was gone, Mister Peepers had her complete
attention. Enjoying his favorite time of the day, the kitten head purred as
his mother stroked the patch of fur under his chin, and when he sensed the
petting was coming to an end, he gently latched his claws around her finger,
urging her to continue. “For one so little,
you sure are demanding,” Diana giggled. “I’ll pet
you for a few more minutes, but then Mommy needs to get ready for work.” Mister Peepers
looked up at her as quizzically as a kitten could. He simply couldn’t
understand why Diana didn’t spend her entire day showering him with attention.
Surely lavishing him with love was more enjoyable than getting pelted by
water in the magic rain machine. Unfortunately for
Mister Peepers, a quick glance at the clock told Diana that she was late.
“Uh-oh. I must’ve fallen back asleep after kissing Daddy goodbye, and that
was nearly an hour ago.” Normally Diana woke
up with her husband so she could fix him a big breakfast. However, the
previous evening the couple had enjoyed a late supper at a Mexican
restaurant, and they’d overeaten. As penance, Mart had promised to eat a
light breakfast this morning, which was fine with Diana. She preferred to
sleep in, and the extra hour of shuteye had sounded wonderful to her. The
additional sixty minutes she’d gained by oversleeping was just a bonus, but
unless she hurried, she would be late for work. “Ah,
this was good while it lasted, but it’s time to get up, Mister Peepers,”
Diana murmured to her fur baby. “Mommy certainly can’t go into work looking
like this.” She had forty-five minutes until she needed to leave, and her
lengthy beautification process took almost an hour to complete. Even if she
wore her hair in a ponytail, she’d be lucky to arrive on time. “Up and at ‘em, lazybones,” she encouraged herself. The
impromptu pep talk came to an abrupt end as soon as Diana sat upright. She’d
felt just fine minutes before, but now her stomach churned like the ocean
during a tsunami. “Blech, I shouldn’t have eaten those enchiladas last
night,” she muttered. The distinct unpleasant taste of metal caused her
nausea to worsen, and the need to vomit became dire. “Oh, God!” The
words were a prayer rather than an accusation or a complaint. With speed
Diana didn’t know she possessed, she raced into the adjoining bathroom. She
barely made it in time to lift the lid. Using precious seconds to grab her
hair out of the line of fire, she leaned over the toilet and emptied the
contents of her quaking stomach. After
puking up what she was sure once had been a lung, she stood upright. She
flushed the commode and rinsed her mouth out at the sink. “Yuck. Those
enchiladas weren’t nearly as tasty the second time.” Suddenly
weary, she decided to lie back down just for a minute, but before she even
had the chance to leave the bathroom, she raced back to the toilet and
hunched over the bowl. There wasn’t time to grab her hair. She felt it
falling in her face as she retched violently, but she couldn’t do anything
about it. “Ugh,”
she moaned, as she flushed the commode. “I’m never, ever eating at that Mexican place again, no matter how Mart begs.” She
staggered over to the sink. Her hair felt sticky as it brushed against her
cheek, and its sickening smell made her already
queasy stomach do flip-flops. Grabbing a rubber band, she pulled her thick
hair into a ponytail. She turned on the faucet and got a mouthful of water.
Before she could swish it around in her mouth, she had to make a mad dash
back to the commode. Dry heaves wracked her body, bringing tears to her eyes. When
the nausea finally had subsided, she was too weak to stand. The room spun
like a top, so she leaned back against the tub to support herself. The
jangling of the telephone caused her to jump. Groaning, she crawled back into
the bedroom to answer it. The
distance from the toilet to the nightstand was a mere ten feet. However,
after throwing up three times in a row, she was exhausted, and it felt like
she was walking all the way to California. She barely got to the phone in
time. “Hello?”
she answered weakly, still lying down on the floor. “Kitten?”
her husband greeted. “Is that you?” “Yeah.” “I
just wanted to make sure you were awake. You looked like you were going to
conk back out when I was leaving, and I was worried you’d oversleep.” “I’m
up.” “Sweetheart,
are you okay?” Mart’s voice took on an edge of worry. “You don’t sound so
good.” “I’m
sick, really sick,” she rasped out,
the lining of her throat raw. “I
hope it’s not strep.” Anytime anyone complained of any sort of ailment, Mart
immediately assumed the prognosis was strep throat. “It’s
my stomach.” Diana hated the quiver in her voice, but was unable to steady
it. “I…I can’t stop throwing up.” “Do
you think it was the enchiladas?” Mart asked, hoping the answer would be
“no.” Diana hadn’t wanted to eat at the Mexican restaurant last night, but he
had changed her mind. Or rather he’d pestered her until she’d finally
relented… “No,
I don’t think so.” He
breathed a sigh of relief. “Maybe you caught that stomach bug that’s been
going around.” “I
don’t think it’s a bug,” she sniffled. “I have a bitter taste in my mouth.
It’s horrible.” “That’s
normal after being sick, hon.” “No,
it tastes like metal. And… my puke is yellow. It looks like… like… like an
alien embryo!” Trying
to hide his concern, Mart managed a nervous chuckle. “Well, the next time we
go to La Carreta, if I were you, I wouldn’t order
those enchiladas again.” “You’re
laughing at me!” “No,
I’m not, sweetheart.” “Yes,
you— Oh, no!” With a sense of desperation, Diana threw down the phone to grab
the wastebasket by the nightstand. Her entire body shook as she retched.
After she finished, she heard her husband’s frantic voice coming out of the
mouthpiece. Equally worried in his own feline way, Mister Peepers sat beside
the receiver, curiously pawing at it the mysterious object that projected the
man’s voice. Diana picked up the phone to let her husband know she was still
clinging to life. “Mart,
something’s wrong with me! I’m throwing up yellow goo!” she wailed. “Oh,
Kitten…” Mart murmured sympathetically. “Will you be all right?” By
now she was crying in earnest. “No! I think I have that disease that they
were talking about on the news last night.” As
he did anytime he was nervous, Mart resorted to humor. “I’m not a doctor, nor
do I play one on TV, but I’m fairly certain you don’t have the Ebola virus.” “Yes,
I do; I just know it!” Diana sobbed. “I’ll probably be dead by the time you
get home, so you’ll have to go to your mother’s for dinner.” “Di,
that Ebola outbreak was in Africa. I think you’re safe since you’ve never
been there.” The constant stream of tears made it
difficult for her to speak. “My parents probably picked it up during their
last vacation, and they gave it to— Oh!” Miles
away, Mart winced as he listened to the dry heaves on the other line. Even
though he couldn’t see what was happening (thankfully), he could tell by the
sound that it was bad. He waited until he heard her pick the phone back up.
“Sweetheart?” “I’m
here,” she whispered hoarsely. “My throat hurts… Last time I got sick, I saw
blood in the trashcan…” Her voice trailed off weakly. The
palms of Mart’s hands prickled. In the pit of his stomach, he knew something
was wrong, seriously wrong. “Di, I’m driving to Albany to cover a story. I
wish I could come home, but I can’t. Do you want me to call your mom?” “She’s
with Daddy. He had to go to China for business…” Mart
gripped his cell phone so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “Are you
still there? Di?” “I’m
here…” Even Diana could hear that her voice sounded dreamy. “My head’s
killing me…and I’m so tired…” Although
he was of the opinion that only those with a limited vocabulary used curse
words, he let a particularly bad one slip out. Afraid and frustrated, he
tried to think of a solution. “Di, I’m going to—” “Oh,
Mart! I need to go!” “Are
you—?” “Call
in sick for me!” “Okay,
Kitten. I love…” Mart
faltered as he heard the click of the phone. Frantic with worry, he did as
his wife had asked and called the museum to let them know that she was ill.
When that task was accomplished, he hit the speed dial for Crabapple Farm. “Hello?” “Thank
God you’re home, Moms!” Mart exclaimed. “Di needs you right now! Hurry up and
go to our house!” “Calm
down and tell me what’s going on, son.” “She’s
sick, Moms, the sickest she’s ever been,” Mart said, his voice quavering.
“I’m afraid she’s going to pass out, and I’m on my way to Albany, so I can’t
check on her myself.” “Does
she have a stomach virus? There’s a bad one going around, you know.” “If
it is a bug, then it’s a really bad one,” Mart told her. “I think it’s food poisoning. We had dinner last night at La Carreta, and she had some indigestion last night before
bed.” “Oh,
Mart! You should know better than to eat there. That place is one violation
away from being shut down by the health inspector.” “Can
you go check on her, Moms?” Mart’s voice was laced with desperation. “I’m
worried about her. She was really scaring me on the phone.” “I’ll
leave right away, dear.” Mart
breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Moms! And would you mind calling Brian?
Maybe he could stop by the house later.” “Your
brother is busy tending to his own patients,” Helen chided gently. “If Di
needs to see a doctor, I’ll take her to the hospital myself.” “Let
me know if you do.” “Of
course I will.” “And
tell her that I love her.” Helen
stifled a laugh. “Di’s not on her deathbed, Mart. You’ll be able to tell her
that you love her when you get home.” “Just
tell her for me, Moms,” he pleaded. “Okay,
I’ll tell her.” “Moms,
when are you going over there?” “As
soon as I get off the phone.” Helen
smiled as she heard Mart disconnect the line. “I guess that’s my cue to
leave.” Guessing
that Diana was probably dehydrated, Helen went into the kitchen to gather a
few things. She didn’t know what foods her daughter-in-law had in her pantry,
so she selected a jar of homemade chicken soup hoping it would soothe Diana’s
stomach. Just as she was putting on her sweater, the phone rang. With a grin,
Helen picked up the extension in the kitchen. “Hello,
Mart,” she answered sweetly. “Why
aren’t you at my house with Di?” “Because
I’m talking to you on the phone.” “Hurry
up and get over there now, Moms! This is a life or death situation! Goodbye!”
Helen
chuckled as she hung up the receiver. When he was younger, her middle son
could only think about food. Now that he was married, he could only think of
his bride. And
I suppose that’s how it should be, she thought to
herself with a smile. It
took less than ten minutes to get to the shaker-sided Cape Cod. Helen knocked
on the front door, but there was no answer. She turned the knob and stuck her
head inside. “Yoo-hoo,
Diana!” she called. “Are you here?” Helen
listened for a response. When she didn’t hear one, she entered the house and
searched for her daughter-in-law. She walked into the master bedroom. “Di?
Mart called and said you were sick.” Something
resembling a moan came from the adjoining bathroom. Helen rushed in and found
Diana lying on the floor by the commode. She knelt down and patted the young
woman’s hand in an attempt to rouse her. “Di,
sweetie!” Helen’s voice sounded unusually high-pitched. “Are you conscious?” Diana
moaned as she struggled to lift her head. “Don’t come near me, Moms,” she
panted. “I think I got the E-coli virus from the Mexican food I ate last
night. If I’m contagious, I don’t want to give it to you.” Helen
breathed a sigh of relief. Diana looked awful, but at least she was
responsive. “I’m sure it’s not E-coli, dear.” “Then
it must be that fish disease.” “Fish disease?”
Helen repeated. Fear gripped her heart. Diana wasn’t making sense. Perhaps
the situation was as serious as
Mart had thought. “Yeah, that fish
disease.” Diana’s voice was weak, and she had to struggle to keep her eyes
open. “Salmon something…” “Salmonella?” Helen
suggested, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, that’s it. I
hope Mart doesn’t get it. He ate a lot more than I did.” “Do
you want me to help you get to the bed?” Helen offered. Diana’s
ashen complexion brightened slightly. “Yes, please. I was too weak to keep
going back and forth, so I just lay down here.” Helen
gently helped Diana sit up. She wrapped an arm around the girl’s slender
shoulders, worried that she would fall back down. “Oh,
oh, oh!” Panic filled Diana’s face. Her mother-in-law recognized the look and
handed her a trashcan. She leaned over the wastebasket, her body almost
convulsing as she retched. Tears—Helen didn’t know if they were from
embarrassment or exhaustion—filled Diana’s eyes. With
the trained eye of a woman who had raised four children, Helen watched as
Diana suffered through another bout of dry heaves. “Let’s get you into bed,
dear,” she suggested once her daughter-in-law was finished. Diana was too weak
to accept or reject her idea, but Helen knew she’d be more comfortable in her
own bed. She had to pull Diana to her feet, and for a minute Helen wondered
if she’d have to be carried to bed. Thankfully, Diana mustered the strength
to walk. Helen helped the
nearly unconscious woman to the bed, making sure to set a trashcan within
reach. She wasn’t any more of a doctor than Mart, but Diana’s chapped lips
were a dead giveaway that she was seriously dehydrated. She pulled the cool
sheet over her daughter-in-law, but Diana immediately kicked it aside. “I’m… too… hot,” she
rasped. Helen brushed back
Diana’s bangs. She didn’t want to panic, but her daughter-in-law’s appearance
was beginning to frighten her. Except for an occasional moan, Diana was listless.
Her eyes, usually so full of life, appeared sunken in, and sweat glistened
from her clammy forehead. Her high cheekbones accentuated how gaunt her face
looked. Several long, black strands of hair had slipped out of her ponytail
and were matted with some mustard-colored substance. Helen knew it wasn’t
run-of-the-mill vomit; to her untrained eye, it looked like bile. Eyes full of pity,
Helen went into the bathroom and got two washcloths wet with cold water. She
laid one on Diana’s sweaty brow, and used the other to clean the yellow gunk
from her hair. Diana didn’t appear to notice. “Do you feel any
better, dear?” Helen asked hopefully. Diana murmured
something unintelligible about alien embryos. Worried that perhaps
something was seriously wrong, Helen picked up the phone to call Brian. After
filling him in, he affirmed her suspicions that Diana was dehydrated, and
said she needed liquids. He advised Helen to take her to the hospital if she
couldn’t keep anything down. Helen quickly
prepared a tray with some chicken soup, crackers, and a can of Sprite. She
carried it into the bedroom and set it down beside Diana. “I brought you some
soup,” she said. “Your stomach might feel better if you get something in it.” Diana opened her
eyes, but didn’t respond. Too weak to sit up by herself, Helen helped her
rest against the headboard. Diana took a few hesitant sips of the pop. At
first, she was afraid to eat, but after she swallowed some of the broth
without feeling nauseous, she allowed Helen to feed her a few spoonfuls of
soup. “I feel a little
better now,” she murmured sleepily. “I think I’ll take a nap.” Helen knelt down to
kiss her forehead. “Let me know if you need anything.” But Diana was already
sound asleep, Mister Peepers cradled in her arms. Helen picked up the
tray to carry it back to the kitchen. Not wanting to disturb her patient, she
tiptoed out of the room. She paused in the doorway to scrutinize her
daughter-in-law’s dozing form. Diana’s color had already improved and she
appeared to be resting comfortably. Helen breathed a sigh of relief. Her
son’s entire world lay on that bed, and Helen loved Diana almost as much as
Mart did. Two hours later,
Helen opened the bedroom door and peeked inside. The hinges squeaked softly.
Diana heard the noise and woke up. Helen opened the
door the rest of the way and went inside. “How are you doing, dear?” she
asked with a smile. Diana felt well
enough to return the smile. “Much better. In fact, I think I’m ready for more
soup, if it isn’t too much trouble.” Happy to see such a
marked improvement, Helen hurried to the kitchen. She’d kept the soup warm on
the stove, so it didn’t take long to make another tray. When she carried it
into the bedroom, Diana was able to sit up on her own without any assistance.
She eagerly accepted the food and began eating. “Slow down,” Helen
advised. “Your stomach has been through a lot. It may need some time to
adjust to having food in it.” She sat
down at the foot of the bed. “I can’t believe how
much better I feel,” Diana commented as she gently nudged Mister Peepers away
from her tray. “Mart will be
relieved. He’s called twice to check on you.” Diana’s chapped lips
parted in a sheepish grin. “I probably worried the poor dear to death. I’m
afraid I wasn’t making much sense when he called this morning.” “You worried us all!
In fact, Brian’s stopping here on his way home.” “He doesn’t need to
do that,” Diana protested. “I’m feeling fine now.” Helen studied her
carefully. “You don’t feel sick to your stomach?” “No, not at all.” “And you don’t have
cramps?” Diana shook her
head. “No, my stomach hasn’t hurt at all today.” “How about
diarrhea?” “No, none of that,
either.” Helen narrowed her
eyes thoughtfully. “That doesn’t sound like a virus or food poisoning.” “Maybe I caught the
Ebola virus after all,” Diana said with a giggle. “I’m beginning to
think you caught something, but I
wouldn’t call it a virus,” Helen muttered under her breath. A shadow crossed
Diana’s face. “What’s wrong?”
Helen automatically reached for the trashcan. “Are you feeling sick again?” Diana shook her
head. “No, not exactly.” “Then what’s wrong?” “Nothing, and that’s
what’s wrong.” Diana tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You probably
think I’m a big faker, since I’m feeling better so quickly.” Helen was thinking something, but it wasn’t
that Diana was faking her illness. “This morning I was
so sick that I thought I’d die, but now I feel perfectly fine,” Diana
remarked. “Why, I almost feel guilty for missing work.” Helen nodded her
head knowingly, certain that her hunch was correct. “I just don’t
understand it,” Diana mused aloud. “I’d never felt like that before. It
must’ve been some weird bug that lasted only a few hours, but it was awful. I
don’t think I’ve ever been so sick.” “Di,” Helen began in
her gentlest tone, “your symptoms don’t sound like a stomach virus. Is there
any way that you could be expecting?” Unsure of her voice,
Diana merely shook her head. “Are you absolutely
certain?” “Yes,” Diana
whispered. “It just isn’t possible.” After having four children
of her own, Helen had perfected the art of being blunt. “The only way it
isn’t possible is if you and Mart never have sex, and I sincerely doubt that
that’s the case.” Diana’s blush said
it all. “I don’t mean to
pry,” Helen began gently, “but how often do you and Mart…spend special time
together?” “Uh…At least four or
five times a week,” Diana confessed. “Well, in that case,
it would be a miracle if you weren’t pregnant.” Diana’s eyes went
from almond-shaped to round. “No, that’s not possible,” she whispered sadly. Helen chuckled.
“Considering how frequently you and Mart show your affection for one another,
I’d say that’s it not only possible,
it’s probable.” Diana’s eyes misted
over. She and Mart had never told his parents about their inability to conceive.
“Moms, as much as Mart and I would love to have a child, I know I’m not
pregnant. We’ve been trying to have a baby for ages, but I simply can’t get
pregnant. According to the fertility specialist we’ve been seeing, there’s a
slim to none chance that I’ll ever conceive the old-fashioned way.” “But there’s still a
chance?” “A tiny one.”
Diana’s shoulders sagged in defeat as she recalled the odds. “The doctor
recommended that we try assisted reproduction, but it’s very expensive, and
it’s not even guaranteed to work.” “In vitro?” Diana nodded glumly.
“I prayed about taking the treatments, but I never had any peace about it. If
I didn’t get pregnant right away…I just couldn’t handle the disappointment.” Helen laid her hand
on Diana’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell us about this sooner?” Her voice held no
trace of accusation, only concern. “We didn’t want to
worry you until we made a decision about what we should do,” she answered.
“I’m sorry, Moms.” Helen patted her
daughter-in-law’s leg. “There’s no need to apologize, dear. Who you choose to
tell isn’t our business. I just wish you would’ve shared this with someone so
you didn’t have to carry this burden by yourselves. I’ve known for awhile now
that something’s been bothering you, and I’ve been worried. I worry about all my children, you know.” Salty tears trickled
down Diana’s cheeks. “Mart and I kept…” Her chest heaved from the effort of
holding back sobs. “We kept praying for a miracle.” “Well, maybe you got
it.” Diana looked up in
surprise. “But the odds…” “Odds, schmods,” Helen scoffed. “But the doctors—” “Doctors don’t know
everything,” Helen informed her tartly. “Just ask Brian.” Diana still looked
doubtful, so Helen moved closer to her and gripped her hands tightly. “Di, did
you and Mart pray for a child?” “Yes.” Diana said
that little three-letter word with such sincerity that Helen’s eyes misted
over. “Sometimes I wake up at night and find myself in the middle of a
prayer. And when I reach for Mart, he isn’t there because he’s kneeling by
the bed, his eyes closed and the sheet wet with his tears. We want a baby so
badly. So very, very badly…” Moved beyond
measure, Helen choked out, “Then don’t be surprised if your prayer has been
answered.” Diana gazed down at
her flat stomach. Her hands trembled as she touched the womb that had been
empty for so long. Tears streaming, she looked back up at her mother-in-law.
“Do you really think I could be pregnant, Moms?” “Well, you certainly
don’t have E-coli or the Ebola virus,” Helen chuckled. “It sounds like
morning sickness to me, although it’s the worst case I’ve ever seen.” “Oh, I hope it is
morning sickness.” Diana’s eyes shone at the thought. “That would be
wonderful!” Finding it amusing
that someone could actually wish for morning sickness, Helen smiled. “I hate
to ask such a personal question, but when was your last period?” Perplexity furrowed
Diana’s brow. “I… I don’t know,” she stammered. “I was under so much stress
trying to conceive that my cycle became irregular. I would miss my period,
and then I’d assume I was pregnant. I don’t know how many tests I took, but I
kept thinking that eventually one would be positive. I finally got so
discouraged that I stopped keeping track.” “It might be a good
idea to take another test,” Helen advised. Lips twitching, she added, “I have
a feeling that you’ll pass this one with flying colors.” The phone rang,
startling both women from their intense thoughts. Helen answered it, and
wasn’t a bit surprised that it was Mart. “Hello, dear… Yes, I
think she’s doing better… I’ll see if she’s able to talk.” With a wink, Helen
handed the receiver to Diana. “Hi, honey… Yes, I’m
feeling better… No, I was able to eat some soup… Oh, just a nasty stomach
bug, I think… I love you, too… See you soon.” Diana handed the
phone back to Helen, who had a confused look on her face. “I didn’t want to
get his hopes up until I know for sure,” she explained. “If I’m not
expecting, then I’ll be disappointed enough for both of us. There’s no need
for both of our hearts to be broken again.” Helen patted her
arm. “Do you have a pregnancy test?” “I think there’s one
in the bathroom,” Diana told her. She smiled sheepishly. “I shoved it to the
back of the drawer so I wouldn’t have to look at it every day. I considered
throwing it away, but I guess I was saving it for a rainy day.” “Unless I miss my
guess, monsoon season just began,” Helen teased. “I don’t want to rush you,
but why don’t you go take that test?” Anxious, Diana
swallowed hard before nodding her head. “I have to pee anyway, so it might as
well be on a stick.” Her legs shook as she walked to the bathroom, but this
time, it was because of nerves rather than weakness. Helen gave her a smile
of encouragement as she closed the door behind her. In less than five
minutes, the door opened. “Well, that didn’t
take long at all,” Helen said in surprise. “As many of those
tests as I’ve taken, I’m an expert,” Diana answered, mustering as bright a
smile as she could. “I could probably take it with my eyes closed.” “Is it…?” Diana shrugged her
shoulders. “It takes about three minutes, so now we wait.” And wait they did.
Helen kept track of the time on her watch. The seconds ticked by slowly, and
she suspected that it was the longest three minutes in recorded history. At
long last, three minutes had passed. “The test should be
ready now, Di.” Diana’s eyes filled
with tears. “Can you check it, Moms? I…I’d rather not look.” “Of course I can,
dear.” Although she’d obviously never struggled with infertility herself,
Helen knew the emotional pain would be unbearable. Her children meant
everything to her, and she couldn’t imagine life without them. “If it’s a plus
sign, I’m pregnant, and if it’s a negative sign…” Diana’s voice trailed off.
Helen had four children; surely she knew how to read a pregnancy test. Helen gave her
daughter-in-law an impetuous hug before going into the bathroom to read the
results. However, it was much more difficult than she expected when she saw
the minus sign in the window. She picked up the stick and gave it a shake,
hoping another line would appear. Unfortunately, none did. “It’s negative,
isn’t it?” Helen’s heart ached
as she looked into Diana’s misted over eyes. Except for the tears, her
expression was blank, as if she’d been expecting bad news. “I’m sure there’s
some mistake…” Helen murmured. Diana shook her
head. “It’s 99% accurate. I’m not pregnant.” “Di, there’s still a
chance for error.” “A very, very small
chance,” Diana whispered. “But there’s a
chance nonetheless.” Helen clasped her daughter-in-law’s hands. “Would you
mind if I asked Brian to bring one when he stops by? I’m sure the tests the
hospital uses are more accurate.” “I don’t know,
Moms…” “Please, Di,” Helen
implored. “I don’t care what that test says. You’re pregnant; I’m willing to
bet my life on it!” Diana pursed her
lips thoughtfully. “Okay, but I’m only agreeing to prove to you that it just
isn’t possible.” Helen nodded. “And you and Brian
have to promise not to tell Mart that I took the test,” Diana added. “If he
finds out, he’ll only worry more about me, and he’s already hovering over me
like a mother hen. I don’t think I can handle much more concern.” “Although it won’t
be easy for Brian, I’m sure he’ll do as you wish.” When Brian arrived
an hour later, he insisted on giving Diana a thorough examination. Although
it was slightly weird to have her brother-in-law poke and prod her, she
allowed him to perform his medical duties. “It’s a good thing
you came, Moms,” he said once he’d finished. “I can tell that she was badly
dehydrated.” “I’m feeling much
better now. Moms’ chicken soup can fix anything,” Diana joked with feigned
cheerfulness. Brian leveled his
liquid brown gaze on his sister-in-law. “Well, Moms’ soup is good, but it can’t work miracles. I
think we need to get you checked in the hospital so we can rehydrate you more
quickly.” “Are you sure that’s
necessary?” Helen asked. “I prefer to err on
the side of caution, especially when I’m dealing with family,” Brian
answered. “And if you are pr—” Diana shook her
head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m not expecting, Brian. It was just a bad stomach bug.” Brian’s smile was
sympathetic. His mother had explained the situation to him on the phone.
However, in spite of the negative result Diana had gotten, his gut told him
that this wasn’t a virus. “As I was saying, if you do happen to have a certain condition that may last anywhere from
thirty-six to forty weeks, it would be quite beneficial to you, as well as to
any other unnamed party, to receive intravenous fluids.” Diana blinked away a
fresh round of tears. “I’ll be fine in another twenty-four hours, not weeks. I already told you, I’m not pregnant.” “And should you ever
find yourself in this predicament again,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard
her, “please go to the hospital immediately. There is a slight possibility that one or more lives could be at stake.
While nausea and vomiting are common side effects of pregnancy, some
expectant women have a severe form of morning sickness called hyperemesis. It causes can cause extreme dehydration and
requires immediate medical attention.” “Boy, you sure are Mart’s brother, and you have the
vocabulary to prove it,” Diana grumbled. “And I don’t care how fancy you word
it; I have a virus, not a baby.” Brian squeezed her
hand. “I’d like to do a blood test at the hospital to make sure.” “You still think
there’s a chance I could be pregnant?” Diana gasped. “It’s possible,” he
told her. “Almost six percent of women who take one of those over-the-counter
tests get a false negative. A small percentage of pregnant women always get a
false negative when they take the urine test, and a blood test is necessary
to check your hCG levels. Would it be okay if I did
one of those tests on you?” A mask of caution
stole the softness from Diana’s features. “Only if you agree to my terms.” Some people tended
to underestimate Diana, but Brian knew that she could be a tough cookie.
Feeling a little like he was negotiating with a terrorist, he asked, “What
are your demands?” “Like I told Moms
before, if the test is negative, Mart doesn’t need to know I took it.” Brian’s brow
wrinkled as he considered keeping a secret from his brother. Knowing exactly what
Brian was thinking, Diana continued. “I don’t want him to know, Bri. We both want a baby so badly, and not being able to
conceive has been hard on us. After our last visit to the fertility
specialist, I had a little breakdown, and ever since, Mart has been worried
sick about me. He’s constantly asking me if I’m okay, and I feel like I’m
being smothered by all his concern. If you tell him that I failed yet another
test, it would only make the situation worse.” Brian stroked his
jaw as he considered her words. “Please, Bri?” Diana begged, her eyes
misty. “Mart’s been through enough. The least I can do is spare him more
disappointment. He’d do the same for me.” “Okay,” Brian agreed
reluctantly. “What else?” “I know this will
probably sound silly, but if by some great miracle I am expecting, I’d prefer for you not to know. That way, you won’t find out before Mart.” Brian patted her
arm. “That’s not silly at all. I give you my solemn word that I won’t peek at
the results. I’ll ask one of the nurses to give you the verdict.” Once Diana had given
her consent, Brian looked over at his mother. “We should get her to the
hospital as soon as possible. She still looks pretty peaked to me.” Helen nodded. “You
two go ahead. I’ll pack a bag for her and let Mart know what’s going on.” “Remember, don’t
tell him about the test,” Diana reminded her. “I won’t tell him
anything except that Brian’s checked you into the hospital,” Helen promised. “And be sure to tell
him to drive like he has some sense,” Brian advised wryly. “We don’t need him
to wreck on the way here.” “I’ll tell him,
although I doubt it will do any good.” Brian insisted upon
carrying Diana to the car. He drove even more carefully than usual, taking great
pains to avoid potholes. Using his clout as an attending physician, he got
her settled in a private room in record time. He carefully supervised the
insertion of the IV and held her hand as the lab technician drew blood for
the pregnancy test. “I hope the ninth
time’s the charm,” she quipped when it was over. Although he didn’t
know everything she and Mart had been through, Brian could tell that Diana
desperately wanted a positive result. He squeezed her hand, praying he hadn’t
gotten her hopes up for nothing. “Well, the important
thing is that you’re getting the fluids you need,” he reminded her. “I guess so,” Diana
murmured. As the drugs to abate her nausea took effect, she felt her eyelids
grow heavy. “I think I’ll take a little nap.” Once Brian heard the
even breathing of sleep, he quietly slipped out of the room. The current
shift was about to end, and he wanted to make sure the new crew processed
that test as soon as possible.
If there had been an
Olympic event for rushing to the hospital, Mart would’ve taken home the gold.
He slid his SUV into a parking space, and he didn’t care that the right side
of his Jeep Cherokee was over the yellow line. Barely remembering to shut off
the engine, he slammed the door shut with the seatbelt sticking out the
bottom. He barely made it out of the parking garage alive. Had it not been
for the mercy of God, he would’ve been a new hood ornament for a Dodge
Charger. Zigging
and zagging his way through hospital staff, Mart
practically ran into the information desk in the hospital lobby. “I’m here to
see Diana Belden,” he proclaimed a bit too loudly. Had he not been
prepared for this visitor, the security guard likely would’ve had the
frazzled-looking young man arrested. Mart looked more like a crazed drug
addict needing a fix than a concerned husband. “We’ve been
expecting you, Mr. Belden,” the man said. “Follow me.” Mart’s blood ran
cold as he followed the security guard to the elevator. Hospitals were
usually so busy that a visitor was lucky to get a question answered, much
less be escorted to the correct room. Having a mind just as suspicious as his
sister’s, Mart guessed all kinds of explanations for such treatment, and none
of them were very hopeful. Once the elevator
stopped, the guard stepped out long enough to motion down the hall. “She’s in
room 472.” “Thanks!” Mart
wasted little time scrambling down the hall, letting nothing stand in his
way. He hurdled over a wheelchair, jumped aboard an empty bed and rode it
until it crashed into the wall, and then nearly toppled over a cart of
Jell-O. However, none of that mattered as he skidded into room 472 (after a
brief stop in room 471). In spite of the
commotion outside, Diana never stirred. Her long, sable lashes cast a shadow
on her delicate cheekbones as she slept. Mart choked back tears as gently
took her hand in his, careful not to disturb the tubes that were sending
fluids into her veins. Her hair was disheveled, her complexion gray, and her
hospital gown ragged, but she had never looked more beautiful to Mart. As he
leaned down to kiss her forehead, a single teardrop fell from his eye onto
her cheek. The sooty lashes
fluttered like a butterfly’s wings, parting to reveal Diana’s distinctive
violet-colored irises. A sweet smile edged her lips when she saw her husband. “You’re here.” Her voice was like
the sound of rain after a long, dusty drought. Mart returned the smile,
thankful to be at her side. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.” “Don’t worry about
that,” she murmured. “Moms and Brian took good care of me.” Mart tenderly
brushed her bangs away from her forehead. “I thought you were feeling better.
How did you end up in the hospital?” “Brian insisted, but
it’s only a precaution,” she replied sleepily. “I’m sorry to worry you so.” “When can I take you
home?” “I’m not exactly
sure. According to Brian, I’m badly dehydrated. He wants to keep me hooked up
to an IV for a day or two until I can keep down solid food.” Mart ran his thumb along
the back of her hand. “Do the doctors know what’s wrong?” Diana closed her
eyes tightly, like she was forcing back tears. She nodded in affirmation. Fear washed over
Mart. Swallowing hard, he asked, “Are you… Is this something that will need
treatment?” “Yes, I’m afraid
that I’ll require constant medical attention for quite some time.” “So this is more
serious than a stomach bug?” “Brian thinks I
could be in the hospital from time to time the next several months,” Diana
answered. “Is there any way to
get rid of what’s causing your… sickness?” Somehow Diana
managed to keep a straight face. “Nothing that I want to consider.” Mart weaved his
trembling fingers through his closely-cropped sandy locks. “How long…” “There’s no way to
know for sure, but the general timeline is thirty-six to forty weeks.” “Oh, God.” The room
began to spin, and for a moment, Mart thought he would be sick. “Was it
salmonella poisoning?” Diana shook her
head, amazed that he hadn’t figured it out by now. “E-coli?” “No.” He breathed a quick
prayer. “Surely it’s not Ebola.” “No, it’s not that
either.” “Then what’s wrong
with you, Kitten?” he squeaked out through a constricted throat. “What do you
have?” Diana smiled
serenely at her husband. “A Belden.” Mart drew back in
horror. “They named the disease after you? Is it really that bad?” “No, silly,” she
corrected with a giggle. Her eyes were full of love as she guided his hand on
top of her belly. “I’m pregnant.” Mart’s mouth flopped
open, but no words came out for several seconds. Finally he blurted out,
“With a baby?” “I certainly hope
it’s a baby!” Diana laughed. “As sick as I was today, surely I threw up all
of the aliens in my stomach.” “You’re having a
baby?” The words were more of a question than a statement. She laid her hand on
his jaw. “No, love. We are having a
baby. You’re going to be a daddy.” Mart shook his head,
his eyes void of any understanding. “But how did it happen?” “You never had to
ask questions before,” she teased. “Of course, it has been a day or two since our last session, but as I recall,
you seemed to know your stuff.” “We’re having a
baby,” Mart repeated weakly. After he said the words aloud, he seemed to
understand what they meant. The sparkle returned to his eyes and a broad grin
accentuated his dimples. “We’re having a baby!” Too excited to sit
still, he ran out in the hallway. He ducked his head in the doorway of the
next room. “We’re having a baby!” The two old ladies
inside exchanged a worried look. “Did they move us to
the psychiatric ward?” one asked the other. Her roommate immediately reached
for the button to call the nurse. The elderly women breathed a sigh of relief
as Mart left the room as quickly as he had entered it. He nearly knocked
over the nurse that had come to answer the ladies’ call. “My wife’s having a
baby!” he exclaimed. “That’s wonderful,
sir, but you’re on the wrong floor. Labor and Delivery is upstairs,” the
nurse informed him politely. After giving the
plump woman a kiss on the cheek, Mart raced off to spread the news to anyone
else that would listen. His progress was halted as he ran smack dab in the
man who had been stationed at the security desk. Mart clutched the
larger man’s shoulders. “My wife’s having a baby!” “Congratulations,
but you’re frightening the patients,” the security guard said gruffly. “You
really need to calm down or—” “Calm down?” Mart
repeated in a squeaky voice. By now, he was hoarse after all the yelling.
“But I have a lot more people to tell!” “Sir, if you don’t
stop yelling, I’ll be forced to escort you to the parking lot.” “You can’t kick me
out! My wife’s a patient here! She’s having a baby!” “Sir, I can and I will kick you out unless you calm
down.” Before the security
guard could follow through with his threat, Brian ran up to them. “Jerry,
it’s okay. I’ll take it from here.” “Are you sure, Dr.
Belden?” The security guard hitched his thumb in Mart’s direction, and then
used his forefinger to draw circles by his head to signify Mart’s mental
state. “If you ask me, this guy’s nuts!” Brian chuckled.
“You’ll get no argument from me, Jerry, but I’ll be fine. He may look like he
belongs in the loony bin, but he’s harmless.” “Okay, if you’re
sure,” Jerry mumbled as he walked away. “Brian, have you
heard the news!” Mart exclaimed. “Tell me.” “My deposit was
good! Di and I are pregnant!” Mart paused for a moment, a quizzical
expression on his face. “Well, actually she’s the one that’s pregnant, but
I’m the one that got her that way! We’re having a baby!” Brian clapped his
younger brother on the shoulder, hoping that his brother would calm down now
that he had shared his news with a family member. “That’s wonderful news,
Mart. Congratulations!” “Can you believe it,
Brian?” Mart was still too excited to lower his voice. “We’re having a baby!
An honest-to-goodness baby! And Di’s eggs didn’t even need to be fertilized!
We did it on our own!” “That’s great, Mart.
I can’t wait to be an uncle. But don’t you think you should keep your voice
down?” “Keep my voice
down?” Mart repeated. “Are you crazy? I’m too excited to keep my voice down.
Why, I’ve got to find someone else to tell!” Brian couldn’t help
but chuckle at Mart’s enthusiasm. He almost hated to play the part of the
proverbial wet blanket, but if he didn’t do something, Mart’s exuberance would
get him thrown out of the hospital. “Why don’t you go
check on Di?” Brian suggested. “I just gave her something to help the nausea,
and it makes her woozy. I told her not to get out of bed unless it was
absolutely necessary. You might want to make sure that she doesn’t need
anything.” “Right! I should
make sure she doesn’t need anything, because pregnant women shouldn’t walk!” “Well, normally it’s
okay for her to walk around, but that medicine…” There was no use for Brian to
continue his explanation because Mart had already begun the fifty-yard dash
back to Diana’s room. Shaking his head in amusement, Brian watched as Mart
jumped in the air and clicked his heels together. Oh,
to be an expectant father! Brian thought
wistfully. Will I ever know that joy
firsthand?
By
the time Mart returned to room 472, Diana had drifted off to sleep. Her
catnap came to an abrupt conclusion as Mart banged a chair into the metal
bedside tray. “Sorry,”
he said in a dramatic stage whisper. Diana
giggled sleepily. “So, did you shout it from the rooftops that you’re going
to be a daddy?” “Hey,
I never thought about going up to the roof and yelling the news from there. I’ll
bet I could yell loud enough for Dad to hear at the bank!” Although Diana had
been joking, Mart was dead serious. His brow wrinkled thoughtfully as he
pondered that possibility, but after some consideration, he shook his head
sadly. “That might not be a good idea. I’ve already made the security guard
really mad, so if I’m going to get on that roof, I’ll need to think of a plan
to get past him, and there’s always the risk of him throwing me off…” “Oh,
Mart,” Diana murmured. Her attempt to sound stern was ruined by a laugh.
“Instead of getting yourself banned from the hospital, why don’t you sit here
beside me. We have a lot to talk about.” Mart
obediently plopped down in the chair beside the bed. He reached out and
gently clasped Diana’s hand. “Do you need anything?” “No,
I’m okay.” “Are
you sure?” he prodded. “I could go down to the snack machine and get you a
candy bar or something.” “I’m not supposed to
eat anything solid just now, but if you want to go get yourself something, I
understand.” “For once I’m
actually not hungry.” Diana came out of
her wooziness for long enough to shoot her husband a quizzical look. “Are you
serious?” Mart nodded. “I
think I’m too excited to eat. Do you want me to get you another pillow or
maybe a cool cloth for your head?” “No, thank you,
sweetheart.” “How about some
pickles?” Mart offered. “Pregnant women are supposed to like pickles. I know
you aren’t supposed to eat anything yet, but maybe they’d let you have
pickles. I can go see if they have any in the cafeteria―” “Mart, I promise
I’ll tell you if I need anything,” Diana assured him. “For now, just having
you here makes me feel better.” “All right. But if
you want to watch TV, I could turn it—” “I think I’m going
to close my eyes for a little bit,” Diana interrupted. “This medicine’s
making me a little loopy…” “While you’re
napping, I’m going to go outside and call our families to let them know
what’s going on.” He stood up, but Diana tugged on his hand. “Mart, can you stay
with me until I fall asleep?” “Sure, Kitten.” Mart
reclaimed his seat. Having nothing better to do, he sat back and watched his
wife sleep. He was content to remain silent for several moments, but he
couldn’t keep himself from thinking about the miracle that was currently
growing inside Diana’s once-barren womb. Overcome with emotion, he sang the
words of a song that had been going through his head since he’d learned the
news. “Havin' my
baby “Mart,
what are you doing?” “Singing
to the baby. I heard once that they’re supposed to be able to hear from the
womb.” “I’ve
heard that, too, but unfortunately, I
can also hear you, and if you don’t quit singing that ridiculous song, you
won’t live long enough to see this child born,” Diana warned him. “But
I didn’t even get to the good part.” “There
is no good part in that song.” Mart
grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, dear. Go back to sleep. I promise not to sing
that song anymore.” “Thank
you.” As
Diana floated away into a medically induced sleep, she couldn’t help but
giggle as she heard what was either the worst imitation of Axl Rose she’d ever heard or the best imitation of a
wounded animal known to man. “Whoa, oh, oh,
sweet child o’ mine Whoa, oh, oh, oh,
sweet love o’ mine…” Diana
smiled. Mart might be an annoying nitwit sometimes, but he was her nitwit, and she loved him with all
of her heart. And, even though she really wished he’d shut up so she could go
back to sleep, she found his enthusiasm endearing. Something tells me that it’s going to be a long nine months, she mused. But it’s hard
to be angry when you’re expecting a miracle.
A huge “thank you” to the
lovely Country Girl, who graciously agreed to edit this for me on the spur of
the moment. You rock, my dear! As a reminder, Mart gave
Diana Mister Peepers in this story. This story is very much a Mary
Sue moment for me. After struggling with infertility, I had given up on
getting pregnant. Imagine my surprise when I woke up one morning, puking my
guts out. And yes, I was positive that I was puking up alien embryos. Once it
was established that I wasn’t throwing up some unknown life form, I was
positive that I had contracted some strange illness. Fortunately, that wasn’t
the case. La Carreta
is a popular Mexican restaurant in our area. The Mexican mob supposedly runs
it, so I’m risking my life by bashing their establishment, so if I ever
disappear, please investigate them first. (And, in all fairness to them, I’ve
never heard that the conditions there are unsanitary, but I just happen to
dislike Mexican food.) The biggest difference
between Diana’s experience and mine is that I didn’t have Helen Belden to
help me. And that’s all I’ll say about that. If you’d like a recap of
Diana’s struggles, you can read about them here and here. Hyperemesis is a rare, potentially life-threatening
condition experienced by a small percentage of pregnant women and accounted
for the majority of mother/infant fatalities before the age of modern
medicine. Unlike normal morning sickness, hyperemesis
doesn’t end after the first trimester and is much more severe. With hyperemesis, once you start puking, you can’t stop, and
both mother and child risk dying of malnutrition. Typical treatment involves
receiving fluids intravenously, and the most severe cases require medication.
I had hyperemesis with both my children. With my
oldest, I thought I had normal morning sickness. I didn’t stop vomiting until
a week after giving birth. It was even worse with my second child. The
vomiting was so bad that my husband found me passed out by the toilet, and he
rushed me to the ER. My OB-GYN diagnosed me with hyperemesis,
and it took months to get it under control. He said I had the worst case he’d
ever seen during his career, and I even had an intern at WVU write her thesis
on me. A fun fact for you… Kate
Middleton, wife of Prince William, also has hyperemesis. I wasn’t stretching the truth
about that 6% of women who need a blood test to affirm pregnancy. My mother
was among this 6%. “Having My Baby” by Paul Anka is, in my candied, opinion, a very annoying song.
Thankfully, Damon never sang that me. “Sweet Child of Mine” by Guns ‘n Rose
is more tolerable, but I’m glad Damon didn’t sing it to me, either. J
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