He caught her in his arms and swung her around in a circle before placing her on her feet. He knew she wasn’t lying, but he still asked the questions. “Are you sure? Is it really true? We’re going to have a baby?”
“Yes. Yes. And yes,” Paisley replied.
“Oh, butterfly. I’m so happy for you.”
The smile fell from Paisley’s face.
“What’s wrong?” Braxton’s eyebrows turned down.
“You said you were happy for me, not us.”
He immediately understood the impact of his words. Braxton hadn’t meant anything by it; he had just said the first thing that popped into his head as his heart sped up then dropped to the pit of his stomach at the news.
“I didn’t mean it that way, honey. I’m elated. This is great news for us.”
“Are you sure? Be honest.”
“Yes.” He reached out, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her tightly to him. “I’m very happy for us.”
They both stood, embracing; Paisley cried tears of joy and Braxton prayed to the man upstairs to make sure she survived the pregnancy. Once a pessimist, always a pessimist, I guessed.
Chapter 33
An excited Paisley sat on the edge of the examination table as she and Braxton waited for Dr. Erickson to come into the room. The morning after she’d shared the news with Braxton, she’d called her gynecologist to make an appointment. It had taken a couple of weeks, but now here they were, ready to confirm the double pink lines were accurate.
A tall, thin gentleman entered the room, wearing teal-colored scrubs. He appeared to be in his early forties. His hair was a sandy blond, and it looked as if he hadn’t combed it in weeks.
“I’m Doctor Erickson. Nice to meet you”—he glanced at the tablet in his hand briefly— “Braxton.” He extended his other hand to Braxton, giving him a firm shake. “Good to see you again, Paisley.”
He sat his tablet on the counter and took a seat on a rolling stool. As he asked questions and Paisley answered, his fingers typed quickly, adding the information into their system. Braxton sat nervously in a chair beside his wife, trying not to compare this moment to his past experience with Alissa.
“Ready to see what’s going on?” Erickson asked as he stood and moved toward the ultrasound machine next to Paisley.
Paisley glanced at the machine as the warm glob of goo was being spread around her belly.
“Looks pretty good to me,” Dr. Erickson said. “This is your amniotic sack, where your baby will grow.”
Paisley and Braxton looked at the monitor and he only saw a black obscured emptiness amongst all the light and dark grey matter that was Paisley’s uterus. Braxton zoned out as Paisley and Erickson spoke about what the future held for them. He’d seen all he needed to see: the confirmation that he’d once again be a father.
As the weeks passed, the initial joy Braxton had felt began to be replaced with anxiety. Paisley’s morning sickness had started almost immediately and hadn’t let up. She found herself constantly throwing up, and it became a struggle for her to keep weight on and food down.
One particular evening, Paisley was unable to stop vomiting. She’d spent most of the day in the bathroom, and now, before bed, she was once again in their en suite.
“Braxton,” Paisley called out to him as she sat straddling the base of the toilet, her head resting on the cool porcelain seat. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Unable to do anything other than sit beside her and rub one hand over her back as he held her hair with the other, he tried to comfort her. “I’m here, butterfly; it's going to be okay. I promise.” He knew he couldn’t guarantee anything, but somehow just saying the words made him relax.
She raised her head enough to meet his eyes. “Something is wrong.”
They waited just a bit longer before Paisley begged Braxton to take her to the emergency room.
A quick examination determined that she’d become dehydrated from all the vomiting. They waited for the doctor on-call to come and discuss the ultrasound the nurse had done to ensure everything was fine with the baby. And in the meantime, they hooked her up to an IV of fluids and anti-nausea medicine and let it run its course.
Just as the bag of fluids was nearing the end, a very aged doctor appeared in the room. His face was weathered and wrinkled.
“So, you’re having a bad bout of morning sickness, are you?” He smiled at Paisley. It forced his cheeks to squish together but showed his yellowed teeth. “Well, aside from the dehydration, I want to reassure you that your twins are just fine.”
Paisley quickly jerked her head toward Braxton who stood beside her. He began to sway on his feet, quickly reaching behind him with one hand to find the chair he knew was somewhere close by. He stumbled back, falling into the chair, half slumped over.
“Nurse,” the doctor yelled. The partition swung open and a very short overweight woman entered the room. “Get Mr. Michaels some water, please. He looks as if he’s going to be ill.”
Braxton reached for the trash can just in time to empty the contents of his stomach. Everyone in the room watched patiently, waiting for him to finish.
Without a flinch, the doctor reached over, snagged a couple of Kleenex from the box, and held them out. “Are you going to be alright, boy?” the doctor asked.
“Did you say, twins?” he questioned.
The doctor looked between Braxton and Paisley. “Oh my, you had no idea you were having twins?”
Both of them shook their heads.
“I see. When was your last ultrasound?”
“Right after we found out we were pregnant. We were around twelve weeks then.”
An aged hand rested on Paisley's shoulder. “Well, that explains it then. Sometimes when you have only one amniotic sac, the second twin can be hidden behind the first that early on and not easily detected.
