WELCOME HOME, DADDY: WHAT WAS WAITING AT THE AIRPORT
When my husband left for a luxury cruise three days after my doctor placed me on bed rest because of my high-risk triplet pregnancy, I told myself he was selfish, not dangerous. I had no idea that trip was only the start of what he had already taken from us.
The glossy cruise brochure remained on our kitchen counter for three days before I accepted that it was actually real.
Daniel kept picking it up and going over the letter again. He said he had won the trip through a sales contest at work: four months aboard a luxury cruise ship, meals included, island stops included, the kind of vacation people like us normally only watched on television.
“We actually got lucky for once,” he said.
Two weeks later, we were sitting in Dr. Evans’s office staring at an ultrasound screen.
I never saw the company announcement myself. All I had was the printed letter Daniel kept rereading.
Two weeks later, we were sitting in Dr. Evans’s office staring at an ultrasound screen.
“Helen,” she said, turning the screen toward me, “you’re carrying triplets.”
Daniel released a stunned laugh.
“Triplets?”
“Yes,” she said. “And your blood pressure is very high. With multiples, that makes this pregnancy high risk very quickly.”
“If we want to keep these babies where they belong for as long as we can, strict bed rest gives us the best chance.”
My mouth went dry.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I need you off your feet as much as possible immediately,” she said. “You are twenty four weeks today. If we want to keep these babies where they belong for as long as we can, strict bed rest gives us the best chance.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“For the rest of the pregnancy?”
“For as long as she can safely stay pregnant,” Dr. Evans said.
“We need to cancel the cruise,” I said.
He remained there, staring at the brochure still tucked into the side pocket of his briefcase.
Daniel loosened his tie.
“We don’t have to decide this second.”
“I do,” I said. “I’m twenty four weeks pregnant with triplets. There is no trip.”
He stood there looking at the brochure still tucked into the side pocket of his briefcase.
“I already cleared the time off,” he finally said.
I looked at him.
“Daniel.”
“I’m just saying I need a minute.”
Instead, an hour later, I heard the bedroom closet door slam and zippers opening.
He walked halfway into the hall carrying a suitcase in one hand.
I pushed myself upright on the couch.
“What are you doing?”
He walked halfway into the hall carrying a suitcase in one hand.
“Packing.”
At first, I honestly didn’t understand him.
“For what?”
“The cruise leaves in three days.”
I stared at him.
He lowered the suitcase and rubbed his face.
“You cannot be serious.”
He lowered the suitcase and rubbed his face.
“Helen, listen to me before you start crying.”
“Before I start crying?”
“This was supposed to be our one good thing,” he said. “Everything has been one expense after another, one problem after another, and now this.”
I placed a hand over my stomach.
“These are our babies.”
“Maybe I go, come back rested, and then we deal with everything.” He looked away.
“Maybe I need the time to clear my head,” he said. “Maybe I go, come back rested, and then we deal with everything.”
“You need me calm more than you need me trapped here panicking,” he added.
“You want to leave your pregnant wife on bed rest so you can clear your head?”
“I’ll call. I’ll check in. It’s not like I’m disappearing.”
“Who is going to help me?” I asked. “Who is going to get groceries? Drive me if something happens? Cook?”
My water broke just after midnight, and by dawn I was in surgery.
