Somehow, she would pick herself up and go on. Somehow...but not tonight. Tonight, she would grieve, and if she was lucky, perhaps she wouldn’t dream about the good doctor at all.
Twelve
When morning came, she tried to avoid looking in the mirror. She knew she was haggard and pale. At least she was strong enough to drive. Her stomach was a little queasy, but that had more to do with heartbreak and a sleepless night than her pregnancy.
She showered and styled her hair on autopilot. Choosing something to wear, once a pivotal point in her daily routine as a young twentysomething, now barely merited a moment’s thought. The only reason she cared at all was that she didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for her.
With that in mind, she chose a sunshine-yellow dress, sleeveless with white trim, and paired it with cork-heeled sandals. Normally, she used foundation only for special occasions. She’d been blessed with good skin.
Today, though, she needed help covering up the deep shadows beneath her dull eyes. Mascara and brightly colored lip gloss gave her a semblance of health, but if anyone looked closely enough, they wouldn’t be fooled.
Frankly, she was terrified. She knew the ultrasound itself was painless, but what the test would reveal was a mystery. If she had asked either Naomi or Cecelia, both would have volunteered to come with her. Was it pride or a need to lick her wounds that kept her from contacting her two best friends?
She would see them later today. If the news she received at the hospital was bad, she wouldn’t be able to hide her grief. Maybe that was for the best. They were the only people who would be able to help, the only ones who knew her inside and out.
Much like before, the ultrasound tech was professional but frustratingly uncommunicative when it came to explaining the images on the screen. Simone lay on the table with her eyes closed and prayed.
At last it was over. She dressed again in her cheerful outfit and managed a smile when the tech escorted her to an exam room. Then came the usual pokes and prods. Her blood pressure was a tad low. The scale showed she had lost ten pounds since her last visit. The nurse’s expression of consternation was quickly masked, but Simone knew she should be gaining.
The last hurdle was waiting for Dr. Fetter. There was no need for a pelvic exam today. The only reason Simone had come to the hospital was to discuss the ultrasound. So she clasped her hands in her lap and waited.
Twenty-seven-and-a-half minutes. Could have been worse. Janine Fetter burst through the door with a quick apology. “I’ve got two babies in progress, one about to deliver three weeks early. But we have a few hours yet. Let’s take a look at these pictures so you can be on your way.”
The other woman opened Simone’s record on the laptop. The tech had already uploaded the images. The doctor studied them for interminable minutes, flipping from screen to screen, and finally looked up with a smile. “Congratulations, Simone. As far as I can tell, you have three extremely healthy fetuses. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, I think we’re past the immediate danger point.”
“But what about all the weight I’ve lost?” Simone asked, afraid to give in to relief too fast.
Dr. Fetter stood up and tucked her reading glasses in the pocket of her lab coat. “That’s the wonderful thing about babies. They’ve been taking all the nutrition they need. You’re the one who’s fragile right now, not them. Since your nausea is easing to a great degree, I’m confident we’ll see your weight bounce back in the coming weeks.”
“Oh...”
The doctor cocked her head. “Simone?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“You can drop the ma’am. I’m not that old.”
“Sorry.”
“My job is to take care of you and your babies, not to pry into your personal business. But...” She trailed off with a wince.
“But what? Go ahead. Say what you’re thinking.”
“I don’t think you understand what you’re facing.”
The doctor’s lack of faith hurt. “I’m doing my best,” Simone said stiffly.
“It’s not that. I’m talking about after the pregnancy. Having triplets is not a solo event. It requires coordinated teamwork. For quite some time.”
“Naomi and Cecelia have promised to help me.”
“That’s lovely, and I’m sure they mean well, but neither of them knows babies, do they?”
“No. Isn’t it a kind of learn-as-you-go thing?”
“Yes and no. Giving birth to triplets means having your life scheduled beyond belief. It means at least three adults holding, feeding and diapering three babies around the clock until they begin sleeping through the night. Are your parents physically capable of helping you?”
Simone shook her head. “Physically, maybe, but not emotionally. They won’t be the warm, fuzzy kind of grandparents.”