Change of Heart

A smiling Liam with a loose tie draped around his neck, framing his handsome features, walks into our bedroom as I’m swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. “Breakfast, for my queen.” He’s carrying a tray of whatever he’s prepared for me today. He’s been taking my rest seriously and preparing breakfast before he leaves for work.

“I was on my way out to the kitchen, but thank you. I have to get up, anyway.”

Those words aren’t lost on him. He is as painfully aware as I am that today is the day I go for my advanced fetal imaging scan.

Thankfully, his mom could relay what the doctor said on Tuesday, because if I had to do it, I would have infused my panic level into the retelling and made Liam panic too. He’s been as level-headed as ever the past two days though, taking whatever practical steps he can to make sure the babies and me are looked after.

He’s already a phenomenal father. Then there’s me. The can’t-do-a-dang-thing-right mother. Chelsea, whatever-my-last-name-is—Wells, Haynes, Davis—doesn’t make a difference. The only thing I don’t fail at is failing. When it comes to failure, I’m always a success. I’m worried that will follow me into my new role as a mother.

I can’t be responsible for three babies. I’ve never been around babies in my life. What ever made me think I’d be able to handle one—let alone three?

“Are you worried about today?”

That’s a ridiculous question. I’m worried about everything. All. The. Time. “Of course, I’m worried. I’ve tried to be logical and remember what your mom and Dr. Steel said, but you know my worry doesn’t respond well to reason.”

Liam steps forward, placing the plate of fresh fruit and a bagel on the bedside table before pulling my head toward his chest. He cradles me, stroking my hair, trying to ease the mental storm raging inside me. “Whatever the results say, we’ll handle it together. You and me, Babe.”

“It’s not us I’m worried about.” I choke back my threatening tears. “I’m afraid our baby is going to have either a short life, or a miserable one, and neither option is something I can wrap my head around.”

Liam heaves a deep sigh at the same time he releases me so he can lean back and meet my eyes. “Our babies are going to have the best life we can give them, and that’s all we can focus on. Anything that’s out of our hands, we just have to face it. But one thing I know for sure is that our babies will never feel unloved.”

His intentions are good, I know that. My complicated mind can only focus on two things. First, that I spent most of my life feeling unloved, and can only hope I’ll never leave any of our kids knowing that pain. Second, regardless of Liam’s confidence we’ll handle things, I can’t just ‘go with the flow’ when it comes to the quality of life our children will have.

In order to placate my husband, I reply, “I know. I’ll call you as soon as our appointment is finished.”

Liam’s face drops, and I know how hard it is for him to not be with me today. His work is pushing him to finish an extensive project, and we want to bank his time off for once the babies are born. His mother has, once again, offered to accompany me, and I’m relieved to have both her expertise and love for what lies ahead today.

With a gentle kiss, Liam tells me everything he wants to say before straightening his tie, grabbing his suit jacket, and heading out the door for work. My stomach churns at the thought of not having him with me, but I know this is for the best. Logical thought is just not my strong suit.

I munch on the food Liam brought me before I get up to shower. Eating before I get out of bed has helped to curb my nausea, but that has eased in my second trimester. Mercifully. Standing in front of the mirror, I examine my burgeoning belly. I’m curious how much bigger it’s going to get. I’ve reached the halfway point of the expected term for triplets, but I anticipate my stomach will double its current circumference by the thirty-two-week mark.

Just as I pull my shirt over my head, our doorbell rings and I waddle-jog to answer. On the other side of our door stands the woman who raised the man I love; the grandmother who makes my future children incredibly lucky.

“Hi, Love. Are you ready?” Dola leans in, giving me a peck on the cheek and a gentle hug, which is what I’ve come to expect each time I see her.

“I guess so. I am eager to get this over with, but at the same time, ignorance is bliss.”

She gives me an understanding smile before telling me what I need to know. “Remember what Harvey said. The imaging equipment is not perfect, and there could be nothing wrong at all. In my experience, that’s often the case. This is just a precaution.”

I swallow the anxiety-induced lump in my throat, nod, closing the door behind me and walk to Dola’s black Range Rover, ready to go see my babies again.

As we enter the receptionist’s office of the Fetal Medicine Unit at Mount Sinai, ready to check in for my scan, Dola keeps a tight hold on my hand. I wonder if women who have that mothering instinct can ever turn it off, because I’m not inclined to run into traffic in my mid-twenties, so I don’t think she’s holding my hand for safety reasons. I could be a flight risk if my nerves get the better of me, but I wouldn’t make it any further than the nearest bathroom. If Zara were here, she’d be holding my hand too, but I didn’t tell her about my appointment today, not wanting to add to her stress level.

When I’m called into the room, I have my scan performed, and the sonographer has an incredible poker face which gives nothing away. I lie back, trying my best to relax and wait for Dr. Steel to deliver the results. My suppositions and anticipation do nothing to help the situation.

An hour later, we’re seated in the same room we were in a few days earlier, awaiting news on Baby B’s prognosis. Dola reaches a hand up to calm my bouncing leg. “Take a breath, Love. Everything will work out.”

There’s a swift knock at the door before it flies open, and Dr. Steel greets us both with a wide grin. His facial expression lowers my stress level by fifty per cent before he speaks a single word. “I have good news.”

“Harvey, we love good news,” Dola replies.

“I thought you might. Everything looks to be perfectly fine. All three babies look to be right on track, and Baby B’s liver is within normal range.”

Dola and I both breathe a sigh of relief, but mine signals the start of tears streaming down my cheeks. I’m quickly the recipient of a warm embrace, and my only focus now is telling Liam. I know he’s tried to seem unaffected by the potential for health issues, but he loves our babies, and this will help put his mind at ease.

Harvey spends time giving me some insight into what the next several weeks will entail. I will have a lot of appointments, and the babies will be closely monitored, but he assures me this is the standard with multiples to make sure they are growing properly. His positive demeanour gives me a little boost of confidence that our children will be okay. He also told me they determined the sex of all three babies and asked if I wanted to know. Liam and I had discussed whether we wanted to find out, but I didn’t think it was an option so early. We never decided either way. I relay my uncertainty to Harvey, but he solves the problem by presenting me with a sealed envelope and informs me the results are inside.

Dola heads down to the parking garage in the elevator and instructs me to meet her at the front door, so I take the few moments to call Liam.

“Hey, Babe. How did it go?”

I choke back the tears I’ve just gotten a handle on. “Good. It went really good.”

A few seconds pass before Liam replies, “That’s a relief. What did Harvey say?”

I forget Liam knows Dr. Steel on a first name basis. I cringe at the thought of a family friend becoming familiar with my ‘cave of wonders’ over the course of my pregnancy. Hopefully Dola and Ian never invite us for dinner on the same night.

“He said everything looks good. Baby B is fine as far as they can tell.” Despite the tears trickling down my face, I’m smiling. “He also found out the baby’s sexes if we want to know. I have an envelope.”

“Wow, so soon?” A pause passes while I wait for Liam to continue. “I was pretty sure I wanted to wait because I felt like meeting the babies for the first time would be even more exciting. But I think we should do it. We can do a gender reveal party if you want.”

I contemplate his proposal. The surprise sounds exciting, but having three babies, preparation is a smart idea. “Okay. We can do a gender reveal with our families. But, Liam?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we keep their names to ourselves until they’re born? I’d like to keep that bit of surprise.”

“Of course, Babe. I have to get back to work, but let me know when Mom drops you off home, please?”

Dola rounds the corner, pulling up to the curb. Before I open the door, I assure Liam I’ll let him know when we’re home safely. The past few days have been marked with so much uncertainty and stress, I’m looking forward to having a night together, feeling nothing but contentment and excitement for the future.