What We Deserve

Part 63: Lower Standards, Higher Risks

My entire body aches horribly.

My jaw and mouth feel bruised and the back of my head stings with a deep throbbing sore.

I hear my heart beat on the monitor- steady and slow.

The buzz of electricity flowing through the industrial ceiling bulbs tickles my ears in this overly quiet space.

Slowly blinking my eyes a few times, I turn and find myself hooked up to a saline drip as well as a bag of dextrose.

"Baby?" Max softly calls and I hear him get up from his spot. Turning to look at him, I feel so weak and heavy- just barely moving my head.

"Mhm...ow..." I slowly reach up and feel my jaw and chin. "Feels like...I've been hit with a baseball bat..."

"Try your marble countertops." He corrects with just the slightest hint of humor to his voice. I open my mouth to start communicating my feelings on the matter and he simply takes my hand and interrupts me. "Before you start with dramatic decision making or trying to 'relieve me' of being hurt by your previous words and actions that you probably overwhelmed yourself subconsciously..."

He says directly because he know me too well at this point.

"You passed out twice. Severely dehydrated. Low blood pressure. Low blood sugar. Over emotional and mood swings." He states and before he can get to the point I put my hand over his mouth to just stop him.

"Menopause."

"No." He says as he removes my hand. "We did a blood panel on you."

"Cancer." I state and his face elongates and pales. "Leukemia."

"Will you stop." He sternly puts his hand on my mouth now and looks me over. "You had an HCG readout of 1,500 IU/L."

What?

No.

That's impossible.

"Helen?"

"No..."

"No?"

"It's wrong. It has to be wrong." I state and his smile slowly grows and I just shake my head- unable to believe it.

"You've been very dramatic and moody lately. Very emotionally unstable for at least the last few days if not weeks. You've been overly tired."

"You're not funny- Max. I don't find any of this humorous." He kisses my hand that he has in his and just holds it to his face.

"And I'm not trying to be. Helen, you're pregnant. We're having a baby." I don't know what's wrong with me.

I half want to cry out of relief and half of me wants to just yell at him for fucking with me.

"But...but I started..."

"Implantation bleeding, Babe."

"But 1,500 is way too high for four weeks." I state.

"True...unless your about 8 weeks."

"Or have multiples." He sours a bit.

"Let's just say your 8 weeks."

"But that wouldn't make sense because I had my period last month and..."

"Helen- mistakes happen- things get over looked..."

"It's multiples, Max. Twins probably."

"No...nope. You're farther along than we thought. Let's just be happy that we're having a baby."

"We could be having two babies. Wouldn't that be wonderful- four children. Everyone would have someone to..."

"But we're not. We're having one." I glare at him and yet I understand his panic. We hardly sleep with the two we have. Adding two more would be hectic.