mine {h.s.} | {b3}

CHAPTER SEVEN

n. please remember to comment as you read🥺 because that makes me happy. love you, mean it

— CHAPTER SEVEN —

january, year one.

As often as I am in surgery as a maternal-fetal specialty fellow, I am out of it. Half of my time is spent consulting on high-risk pregnancies, just as much as time as I spend diagnosing different fetal anomalies. Every time that I walk in the room, I can feel that a sort of ease washes over the mother. I myself am pregnant. Already I have this bond with the mother that I would have never walked in the room with my stomach flat. This is the kind of bond that I will forever be able to bring to my consultations, the knowledge that I myself am a mother who went through a pregnancy.

When I walk in the first room of the day, a sort of giddiness washes over me. Recently, Heidi has taken to letting me do these consults on my own—as is my right having graduated on from my residency years and progressed into my fellowship. "Hi Mrs. Tahir," I say, snapping blue gloves over my hands after I wash them. "How are you feeling today?"

Laleh Tahir is a woman that I've met with frequently over the course of her pregnancy. A diabetic, the pregnancy has been very taxing on her body. Time and time again we come to the realization that we need to have a plan for her given the realistic possibility that carrying to term is not an option for her. "Call me Laleh," she answers, giving me a pointed look. We've had this conversation many times now.

"Maybe next time," I respond, sitting down on the chair at the base of the bed. Her legs are already in the stirrups. "Let's see what we've got today. Are we just in for a—" I cut off in the middle of my sentence, my hand falling to cup my stomach. Eight months pregnant, I'd been insistent on working until it became impossible. I'd go crazy sitting at home alone all day. Harry understood this which was why he never pushed me to slow down. Not so long as it wasn't hurting my health.

"Dr. Styles?" Laleh asks, sitting up to look at me. "Are you alright?"

The feeling in my stomach is uncomfortable. Painful. A sort of churning that resembles a more painful period cramp. My entire body begins to flush a red color and sweat automatically begins to cling to my skin. A fight or flight response, I realize first that my body is trying to tell me that something is wrong. "I'm alright," I say, remaining calm as I lie through my teeth. "I'm just going to finish you up, okay?" When I reach out to look at her, I notice the way that my hand is shaking.

She notices it, too. "You don't look alright."

My lips purse, uncertain of what to do. "Will you excuse me, Laleh?" Automatically I refer to her by her first name and I think that's how she knows that this is serious. "I'm just going to page Dr. Yamamoto and have her finish this consult with you, if that's alright?"

"Of course," she agrees, her eyebrows creasing with concern as she watches me exit the room. "You'll let me know if everything is alright, won't you?"

I'm nodding my head, blindly agreeing with her as I push myself out of the room. Dazed, I first page Heidi. Immediately after, I send the three numbers to Harry—paging him and alerting him of the situation. In front of Laleh, I fought to remain calm. I didn't want her to assume that my reaction had anything to do with her own pregnancy. Realistically, it had everything to do with mine.

The feeling hits again. A weird sort of surging that causes me to hunch over.

Blindly I stumble along the hallways, settling in a random, empty room. In my pocket, I can feel my phone beginning to buzz as Harry calls me back in response to having received my page. "Where are you?" Harry asks, no nonsense in his voice as though he just knows. He's straightforward, cutting to the chase. I've not paged him 911 since July; the time in which I called him to the room under the emergency that I couldn't bring myself to do the first ultrasound alone. He'd reminded me that I was never alone.