I jumped, not expecting him to have followed me.
“How much of that did you hear?”
“All of it. It seemed like a doctor. Is everything okay?”
The right thing to do would be to slowly explain to him everything that I had just been told. That would have been logical. I could have also said something about not following me next time. However, my pregnancy brain didn’t work on logic. It worked with feelings, it seemed.
I knew I’d been lucky that more hadn’t gone wrong. I knew that I’d been lucky to skate past the first trimester and not notice that I was pregnant at all. Plenty of people didn’t.
Butthis?
This was scary.
And all I could do was burst into tears.
16
DEAN
Dad Company (But Sometimes Good Advice)
James Marson:How to keep from feeling the crushing fear of something going wrong?
Comments:
Robert Colt:You don’t. Hope this helps.
Oliver Brian:It happens, but worrying about it won’t change anything. Try some meditation and deep breathing.
Dean Briggs:You could also take a step away and get your head on straight.
Robert Colt:Don’t know if that’s a good idea, Mr. Insecure Attachment.
When Grace burst into tears,all I could do was stare. This entire time, she had been taking every shock with ease. Or at least it seemed that way. I had a feeling she wouldn’t show me if she was struggling.
Until now.
I didn’t usually do well with women crying. A few had shed tears when I’d reminded them that I didn’t do relationships. And I would leave before anything got messier.
But this wasn’t because of me; Grace was crying because of ourbaby. And something was wrong.
Walking away wasn’t an option here. It hadn’t been since I found out. So, my normal reaction was out the window. I had to do what felt right.
My legs carried me to her before I could stop myself.
Instead of keeping my distance and trying to stay friendly with her, I immediately pulled her into my arms. She let me do it willingly. And if she wasn’t fighting me and trying to keep distance as well, then this wasn’t good news.
I despised more than anything that I didn’t know everything that was going on with her. I hadn’t had a chance to ask her about her appointments or what tests she had gotten. I knew nothing, and I hated that. She was growing my child, and what was I doing?
I held her in my arms and let her cry. I worked through my own pounding heart and tense shoulders, and I gave her time. But the second she told me what was going on, I wasn’t going to let it go. Whatever it was, it was getting fixed. Either by me or by some doctor that I would find.
There were reasons I shouldn’t be thinking this way, but as she was crying into my shirt, I couldn’t remember them. In fact, I didn’t care about them.
“I-I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be sorry,” I replied softly. “Just tell me what happened.”
“Glucose test. I failed it.”