The second number was worse than the first.
“How far along am I exactly?”
“Twenty-four weeks.”
She pulled her chair closer.
“With a triplet pregnancy and blood pressure this high, I’m concerned about how quickly things could change.”
Adrian stopped smiling.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Claire needs to reduce activity immediately.”
“How much?”
The doctor looked at me.
“Significantly.”
She explained the risks.
Preterm labor.
Growth issues.
Hospitalization.
The possibility that the babies could arrive far earlier than anyone wanted.
Then she said:
“For now, I want strict rest at home and very close monitoring.”
I stared at her.
“For how long?”
“As long as we can safely keep the pregnancy going.”
I turned toward Adrian.
His face had gone pale.
Then I remembered the brochure.
“The cruise is canceled.”
He looked at me.
Not immediately.
At the floor first.
Then the doctor.
Then me.
“We don’t have to decide that right this second.”
I thought he was joking.
“Adrian.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I’m pregnant with three babies.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not supposed to be getting off the couch unless I need to.”
“I know.”
“The trip is four months.”
“I know, Claire.”
The doctor glanced between us and suddenly became very interested in her notes.
I lowered my voice.
“There is nothing to discuss.”
Adrian said nothing.
That silence frightened me more than an argument would have.
On the drive home, the brochure remained inside his work bag.
When we reached Cedarbrook Lane, I went directly to the couch.
He disappeared upstairs.
Twenty minutes later, I heard the bedroom closet door open.
