“Fine.” I wouldn’t focus on the complication of such a request or the deeper concern of why we had to stay in town. Obviously, whatever was wrong with Della was worse than I feared. “It’s not stomach flu, is it?” I cringed, not wanting an answer even as I craved one.
“No. I’m afraid it’s not,” Doctor Strand said. “It’s an ectopic pregnancy.”
“What?” My world tilted, sending me stumbling against the bed holding the most beloved thing in my life. “What does that even mean?”
“It means a fertilized egg is growing outside the uterus. The baby can’t survive and it will lead to life-threatening internal bleeding if we don’t stop it.”
I couldn’t focus on the words life-threatening without wanting to be sick.
“How? How did this happen? She’s on the pill.” Frowning at Della, I asked, “You’ve been taking it, right? We had an agreement—”
“I know. And I am.” She squeezed my hand. “But about a fortnight ago—just before the storm—I had an upset tummy. Just once. I didn’t think anything of it, and we didn’t have sex that night. By the time you woke me up in the morning—”
She blushed, flicking a glance at the doctor and saving him the details of just how I’d woken her up by slipping inside her warm, soft body as she moaned, still half asleep.
“Anyway, I didn’t remember that we should probably use alternate protection.” She hung her head. “I’m sorry, Ren. I know this is my fault.”
“Don’t, Della.” I shook my head. “It takes two to cause this. I’m just as much at fault as you.”
She smiled gently. “Regardless, it was enough for me to get pregnant.” She winced. “I’m truly sorry.”
“Stop saying that.” Looking back at the doctor, I commanded, “Why has she been so ill? Women get pregnant all the time. Why is my wife struggling so much?”
“It’s a possibility she has another condition called hyperemesis gravidarum, but those symptoms don’t usually show up until week four or five. And she’s not that far along. We’ll cross that bridge when she next wants to have children, but for now, we need to deal with this. Unfortunately, the pregnancy can’t be permitted to continue.”
My mind didn’t know which word was more important to latch onto, so I let them all go in a stream of incomprehensible gibberish.
Della was pregnant.
But she couldn’t continue to be?
“I-I don’t understand.” I sounded like a fucking idiot.
Doctor Strand clasped his hands. “I don’t want you to concern yourself with her vomiting. Sometimes these things just happen.”
“How can we make it un-happen?”
“By removing what the body is obviously trying to reject.” He gave Della a supportive smile. “The small procedure we’ve done is an injection. I’ve given her methotrexate, also known as trexall. It will stop the cells from growing and allow the body to reabsorb the pregnancy.”
He rushed as I opened my mouth to ask more questions. “I think she’s only nine or so days along, so the medication should be effective. There’s always the risk of it not working, in which case laparoscopic surgery is our next option. However, we prefer to use mexthotrexate to prevent damaging the fallopian tubes, which may cause complications for future conceptions.
“I require Mrs Wild to come in daily to monitor her hCG levels until they’re back to normal. The good news is she isn’t far along, and I have confidence she’ll make a full recovery once the pregnancy is terminated.”
Clearing his throat again, he threw a kind look at Della before focusing on me. “I have already advised Mrs Wild of the side effects, but you should be aware, too. The injection can sometimes cause cramping, some bleeding, nausea, and dizziness. I recommend she take it easy and spend a few days in bed. Think you can keep her there?”
I didn’t know if he was trying to make a joke to cut through the tension or if he was serious. Either way, Della wouldn’t be leaving a bed the moment I found her one.
“Is she free to go?” My mind already leapt ahead, problem solving and planning. Where the hell would we sleep tonight?
“She is. I’ve made an appointment to see her in the morning.”
Della swung her legs over the bed, her feet dangling high off the floor. “I’m fine, Ren. Honestly. We’ll just treat it as a mini-vacation, and then we can go home.”
I smiled and let her believe I accepted that, when in reality, I was already committed to staying close to town for the next few months. Autumn had already arrived. We only had another six to eight weeks of chilly weather before we would’ve been driven into civilisation by the snow anyway.
We were here now.
We would stay until spring.
Pushing me away a little, Della sprang to the floor, wincing and grabbing her stomach.
“Goddammit, let me carry you.” Wrapping my arms around her, I tried to pick her up, but she shoved me back. “I can walk, Ren. Don’t even think about it.”