Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
“I had a dream.” I want to fall back into it and enjoy the happiness my mind created while I was unconscious. I could use a little rest. Just for a few minutes.
“What did you dream about?”
Remembering the dream brings back the image of Daniel, me, and our baby curled up in bed, and my gut flip-flops, remembering everything much more clearly. I don’t know what to say, but I’m suddenly scared. Am I okay?
Luckily, the doctor comes in, saving me from answering Daniel’s question but hopefully able to answer some of my own.
“Hello, welcome back, Miss Young. I’m Dr. Patel. How are you feeling?”
I wave my free hand, the one that doesn’t have IV tubes running out of it, and wiggle it back and forth. “A little tired. My head hurts.”
Dr. Patel nods. “Understandable. The tiredness is probably from your blood sugar dropping. We’re fixing that.” He points to the IV bag and the tube going down to my arm. “I understand you bumped your head when you lost consciousness. That’s probably adding to your headache.”
He moves to the bedside, flashing a light in my eyes and ears, having me squeeze his fingers to check my grip, and asking me a bunch of questions like what year it is and my name. When I pass the neurological exam, he smiles. “Good, good. I think you’re going to be just fine, but we’ll want to keep you overnight for observation to do concussion checks. Any questions?”
“Uhm.” I desperately want to ask about the baby. But I haven’t told Daniel, and this is not the way to do it. I look from the doctor to Daniel, not sure what to do.
Ultimately, Daniel makes the decision for me. “The baby is fine, Tiffany.”
I try to curl up and sob in relief, but hospital beds really, really suck for that, so I have to settle for burying my face in my hands. “Really?”
Daniel stands, wrapping his arms around me to pull me into his chest. “Yes, my love. Oh, Tiffany, you scared the shit out of me twice in less than a half hour. But our baby is fine, and you’re going to be fine. I’m going to take care of everything.”
With my cheek pressed to his chest, I can hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
He runs his palm over my hair soothingly as I cry into his shirt, holding onto him for dear life. “You’re sure?”
Dr. Patel says gently, “Yes, Miss Young. Both you and the pregnancy appear healthy. The blood sugar drop appears to be related to your lack of food, partnered with the excitement of the day. And it actually isn’t uncommon for pregnancy hormones to wreak havoc with blood sugar levels. You’re not showing any of the other markers, so it seems to be a fluke occurrence, but you’ll need to monitor your intake carefully and follow up with your obstetrician. I’ll have a medical report ready for them. But if you take care of yourself, everything will turn out fine.”
“Thank you, Dr. Patel,” Daniel says. “I’ll make sure she takes care of herself and do it for her if she doesn’t.” He says it so seriously, it could be a threat, but it’s not. It’s a vow, a promise . . . to me and our baby.
“Good, then . . . I think I’ll leave you two to talk.” The door opens and closes quietly as the doctor leaves.
Alone again, a fresh wave of tears racks through me. “I’m sorry, Daniel. So sorry.”
“For what, exactly?” Daniel questions.
I look up at him, and he gently swipes at the tears tracking down my cheeks with a thumb. “I won’t apologize for our baby. I won’t. But I should’ve told you.”
Daniel nods, his voice tight even as his touch stays feather light and tender. “Yes, you should’ve. Why didn’t you?”
Before we can talk further, the door swings open again, filling with worried faces. In a semi-organized rush that can better be described as ‘assholes and elbows’, Ace, Harper, Mom, Dad, and Elle come in. Daniel helps me lie back in the bed, fluffing the pillow around my head and smoothing my blanket.
“Tiffany!” Elle says, hugging me immediately.
“I’m okay.” To Harper, I offer her an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry I ruined the wedding.”
Harper, the angel that she is, smiles, laughing lightly. “Oh, honey, you didn’t ruin anything.”
“Harper, you’re being too nice. You should be leaving for your honeymoon, but you’re at the hospital, in your wedding gown, because I passed out during your reception. I ruined your special day.”
Harper pins me with a piercing look I’ve never seen on her. “Today was about Ace and me getting married, and we did. That’s all that matters. I kept telling you the rest of it wasn’t important. It was beautiful, and I appreciate everything you did, but all I needed was Ace.”