Till Death Do We Part

Chapter Two

My baby is dead.

Nurse Linda Crook didn't have to say those words as she stepped into the hospital room for me to know that the baby growing inside my belly had passed. It was written on her face, in the way she slowly walked towards my bed, shoulders slumped, head hung low. It was in her voice as she spoke my name, her delicate fingers touching my free hand while my husband held the other firmly in his grasp.

"Mrs. Pierson?" She said gently. I closed my eyes and waited for the pin to drop, waited for her to utter those dreadful words as her wrinkled hand clutched mine.

My entire abdomen was painfully sore and throbbing, the inside of my thighs still smeared with blood from the moment I had fallen. The doctors had quickly ushered me into an operation room, took images and ultrasounds without disclosing the condition of my baby. I was taken into a room to lay in, strung up with IV's pumping fluid in me, my head dizzy and mouth dry as the stream of nurses and doctors filed in and out of my room. My husband sat silently in the chair beside me, stone-faced and sullen as the rage in his eyes glowed. But he always put on a show when others were in the room with us, always pretended to care as he stroked my ashen face and kissed my forehead.

If I hadn't known better, I would've believed he meant every action, every caress to my cheek and kiss to my head. But I knew who he really was, and all I could do was sit quietly as the show went on for the outsiders, while inside my head I screamed and begged for someone to see that something was wrong.

"Mrs. Pierson?" Nurse Crook repeats. Her kind, soft voice manages to pull me out of my memories and I slowly open my eyes.

"Yes?" My voice is barely above a whisper.

"I'm... I'm so sorry to tell you this, Sienna... I'm afraid the baby didn't make it."

"Oh, God!" Joseph wailed, and in a second I was brought into his strong, lean chest, my nose inhaling the familiar scent of spice, Downy detergent, and a hint of rum. He played it up while Nurse Crook explained how the fall had done severe damage, that the three month old growing inside me had suffered severe bleeding which, in turn, became my own. She said unfortunately one wrong fall could cause miscarriages --among other things-- but there would always be hope for the future once my body had healed enough.

"Just make sure you get plenty of rest," she assured me with a pat of the hand, then quickly dismissed herself.

I would've cried had I been able to. But my tears washed out a long, long time ago. All I could do was shut my eyes and feel the crushing weight of pain and disappointment press onto my chest, pushing harder and harder until there was nothing but a dull, numb feeling that followed me as I slipped into unconsciousness.

After a couple more days of observation and more tests, I was finally discharged with strict rules to avoid any strenuous work, or sex, for at least three weeks. I was also given a prescription for medication that should alleviate the pains, and was advised to go back to the ER should further bleeding occur. I was to schedule with another doctor after three weeks for a check up, and give myself plenty of rest.

Joseph thanked the doctors and nurses as he wheeled me out to his car, making promises that I knew he'd dismiss the moment we were alone in our home. I tried not to think of what was in store for me once he eased me into the passenger seat and shut the door behind me,  but I knew the drive would be insufferable, to say the least.

My husband sighed as he climbed into the driver's side and started the engine with a flick of his wrist, let out a dissatisfied hum as the car vibrated alive and the radio spoke softly of the weather. "Oh, what an eventful start to our weekend," he mused, though more to himself than to me. The pills the doctor had given me just before leaving the hospital had begun to kick in, and I was too drowsy to do anything more than to loll my head back against the headrest and stare out the window, watching the hospital fade away as we turned left on 156th Street, then made another left turn onto West Dodge. I didn't listen to anything Joseph had to say, couldn't focus on any of the words that swam drunkenly through my ears. The only thing I could hold on to was the buildings and cars we passed by as we drove closer to our home, and my own thoughts about my baby.