Twice in a Lifetime Page 30

  “That’s right,” André said. “I remember my mother telling Claire when she spotted with Ana that she had her cycle for the first three months with most of her pregnancies.”

  Relief washed over Rebekka. “Then I’m over five months along! That’s why I’m so big all of a sudden. But that’s great! One less month to wait.”

  The doctor chuckled, but his face remained solemn.

  “There’s something else, isn’t there?” Rebekka fought to quell her rising panic. Fear made her mouth dry, and the sound of her swallowing seemed loud in the small room.

  “There seems to be another growth on your ovaries.”

  “A growth? Could that have caused some of the pain?” Raoul asked.

  “It is likely causing all of the pain. And it could get better or become worse, depending on the hormones and other factors involved. These things are difficult to predict.”

  “What is it exactly?” André asked

  “It appears to be a cyst on her left ovary, or two actually, partially joined.”

  André’s mouth opened to ask another question, but the doctor rushed on, “Now don’t be overly concerned. Every time a woman ovulates, she develops an ovarian cyst, called a follicle cyst, which contains an egg. When the hormones reach a certain level, the cyst breaks and releases the egg. Then the remnants of the cyst excretes progesterone which prepares the uterine lining to accept the egg sac when it tries to implant there. In early pregnancy, doctors are afraid to remove even painful cysts because it might cause a miscarriage. They always wait until at least the second trimester.”

  André looked doubtful. “So this is normal?”

  “Oh, no. The cyst should be gone at this point, and there shouldn’t be any pain. Sometimes variations occur and you get cysts that are painful or that don’t go away when they should, or perhaps refill.”

  “So what should we do?” Raoul asked.

  “Mostly these cysts go away by themselves and the women don’t even know they existed—even when there’s a minor problem or slight variation. But that’s obviously not Rebekka’s case.” Dr. Samain turned his attention back to her. “I’m very concerned about the pain you’re having and about the size of the cyst.”

  “But after the medication you gave her last week, she seemed to be feeling better,” André said. “At least for a little while.”

  “It does feel better than last week,” Rebekka agreed.

  The doctor nodded. “The impacted intestine and colon could have been putting pressure on the cyst, causing additional pain. I’ve seen it happened before. That’s why the pain is not so severe now but hasn’t gone away completely.”

  Rebekka finally managed to make herself ask the question that was torturing her: “It is dangerous for the baby?”

  “Not presently,” said the doctor. “However, because of its size and position, and the pain involved, we should probably remove it as a preventive measure. Right now it’s about the size of your fist.” He held up her hand to demonstrate. “The connecting one is about half that. Both could become larger and the swelling and torsion could cause very severe pain, but we have to be careful about what pain drugs you take because of the baby. I’d like to do some more tests before making a final recommendation, but my initial advice would be to remove it.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” André asked. “I mean, to operate while she’s pregnant.”

  “There is a possibility the baby could come prematurely. And at five months that wouldn’t be a good thing. But the risks may outweigh the pain and the possibility of the cyst causing additional problems.”

  “What if we do nothing?” Rebekka asked.

  Dr. Samain turned to her. “There is a chance you can go to term without complications. You could have the baby and then take care of the cyst. Or there’s a slight chance that it may heal itself. Or it may react to the hormones of the pregnancy and grow incredibly large, causing so much pain that there will be no option but to remove it. Even if it bursts and starts to go away, that in itself could cause problem—a burning like you never imagined, for one. These things aren’t one hundred percent sure. But I really believe you need to have it out. I’ve done these surgeries on pregnant women before without complications. Normally, I try to keep interference in the birth process to a minimum, but sometimes intervention is necessary.”

  “But the surgery could still cause an early delivery,” Rebekka said. “I might lose my baby.”

  “At this point that risk is still present, but less because you’re already five months along,” the doctor said. “I don’t think . . .”

  Rebekka heard the doctor continue the discussion with André and Raoul, but she couldn’t concentrate on what they were saying. The idea of losing Marc’s baby terrified her. This was her one and only chance to have a part of him. Besides, she’d seen her baby’s heart beating on the ultrasound, had felt him moving inside her. There was no way she wanted to endanger her son by having a surgery that would cause him to come before his time. But what if the growth inside her uterus continued to enlarge? What if it burst and caused more trouble? Neither choice sounded acceptable.

  “I’ll leave you alone to talk about it.” The doctor left the room, and for a few minutes they all stared at each other in silence.

  “Well? What do you think?” she asked finally.

  Raoul shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “How do you feel about it?” André came close to the examination bed where she still sat and put a tentative hand on her shoulder.

  “I don’t want to hurt the baby either way.”

  Neither said anything for long moments, and Rebekka found it hard to keep from throwing herself in André arms and sobbing. Instead she clamped her lips together tightly, holding her breath.

  André put his face near hers. “Maybe we should pray.”

  “Okay.” Rebekka gulped for air, knocked further off balance at his closeness. “Will you offer it?”

  “Of course.”

  After André locked the door, the two men stood next to where Rebekka sat painfully on the examining table. They joined hands. André said the words, pouring out his heart as Rebekka had never before heard him do. Her admiration for him doubled in that moment as he asked for the Lord’s guidance. He closed the prayer and they waited in silence for an answer. The minutes ticked slowly by.

  What is thy will? Rebekka silently begged the Lord to let her feel something besides that horrible fear.

  Finally, André tugged on her hands and Rebekka opened her eyes, feeling her lids damp with the tears that had seeped down her cheeks.

  “Well?” André asked.

  “I think I should wait.” As they sprang out of her mouth, she realized she’d known what to do all along. The warmth spreading through her body verified the decision, though not completely obliterating the fear. Perhaps this would not be a comfortable choice for her, but it was the right one for her baby.

  “That’s what I feel too,” Raoul said. “We should wait for at least a few more weeks.”

  André nodded in agreement. “We should hold a family fast, too.”

  “Will you two give me a blessing when we get home?” Even to her own ears Rebekka’s voice sounded weak.

  André hugged her, the awkwardness between them completely gone. “Of course. And don’t worry. It’s going to be all right.”

  Thoughts of the losses each of them had already suffered came to her mind, but faith filled her in a heady rush as she clearly saw that their strengths had evolved because of those trials. Having made the decision with the influence of the Spirit, there was nothing more she could do. Whatever happened, she would trust in the Lord.

  When Dr. Samain returned, they told him their decision. “It’s against my recommendation,” he said, “but I’ve known your family long enough to recognize that miracles seem to follow the bunch of you. Why don’t we keep an eye on the situation and take things as they come? I’ll run a few tests and see if they make a difference, and you can com
e in more often for me to check on the both the baby and cyst. Be sure and tell me if there’s any change in your pain level. That will be a good indication of what we should do. I could give you some pain medication—”

  “Not yet,” Rebekka said. “You said it wasn’t good for the baby.”

  The doctor’s smile was admiring. “The strong stuff isn’t,” he conceded, “though not as risky as it would be earlier in the pregnancy. But there’s no reason we can’t try to find something that will safely give you at least some relief.”

  “I’d like to try it without first,” Rebekka said. “But is there anything else I should know? Things I should do or things to avoid?”

  “No heavy lifting, take your prenatal vitamins, and get a lot of bed rest. In fact, stay down as much as possible. Don’t overdo anything. Moderation here is the key. If you feel any severe pains or burning sensations, come in immediately.”

  As Rebekka thanked the doctor, doubt crept in. Am I doing the right thing? She took a brief cleansing breath. Of course, she told herself, I received an answer. Now I just have to show my faith. Sometimes that was the hardest part.

  “Remember when we get home,” she told her brother and André. “I’d like you two to give me a blessing.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Both Raoul and André had returned to work, and Rebekka knew they would likely work overtime to make up for the morning’s lost hour. Since she was so emotionally and physically drained after the doctor’s appointment, Raoul had left Nadia with Marie-Thérèse. He told Rebekka he planned to talk to Marie-Thérèse about a more permanent baby-sitting arrangement while Rebekka was down with her cyst. Their mother had also expressed a desire to spend time with Nadia during the day while Raoul worked, and between the two women Rebekka and Raoul were satisfied that the baby would be well-taken care of and loved.

  Rebekka stayed in bed that afternoon, translating the new manual revisions her boss had e-mailed. To her surprise, Ariana stopped by after school with André’s daughters.

  “They made me come,” she said with a wide smile. “They said they had to make sure you were all right, and I admit that I couldn’t wait to come over and see you. The girls have homework to do, and I thought we could visit while they did it in the kitchen.”

  “Ohhhh, Grandma!” the girls chorused.

  “It won’t take you long.” Ariana placed a hand on each of their shoulders and propelling them gently in the direction of the kitchen. “Rebekka will still be here when you’re done. I bet she has some cookies and milk to help you think.”

  Rebekka laughed. “Yes—they know where they are. Help yourself, girls.”

  Without another word of protest, Ana and Marée raced to the kitchen.

  “André called you, didn’t he?” Rebekka asked Ariana, leading the way to the sitting room. She could rest just as easily there as in her bed, if she reclined on the sofa. “He said he would.”

  “Yes, he called and told me what was going on.” Ariana sat on the chair opposite her. She was quiet a moment as she took in all the flowers and plants in the room. “André sent all these?”

  Rebekka grimaced. “Who told you?”

  “The girls.”

  “I keep killing the plants,” Rebekka admitted. “Marc was the one who watered the few we had. He liked plants; I never really cared for them.”

  “The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

  “Do about what?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “I guess I do.” Rebekka felt chastened by her mother-in-law’s words. “I just don’t understand why this has to happen now.”

  Ariana laughed suddenly. “I seem to remember you asking that once before when Marc was in the hospital and you had just discovered your feelings for André. I told you then that the Lord knew what He was doing and that He had a reason. Do you remember?”

  “Yes, I do. Or at least now that you bring it up. The other day Raoul and I were talking about the same thing in relation to Nadia—a reason for her missing, a reason for Marie-Thérèse having to give her up . . . everything.”

  “Well, I think I know now why you and André had those feelings three years ago.” Ariana paused when she saw Rebekka’s aggravated expression, but then she continued, “Of course, maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about. Only you can decide.”

  Rebekka felt emotion building inside her. Why did everyone think she could forget Marc and go on as though he never existed? Could she really believe that the Lord had been preparing her to live without him before they even married?

  “I’m happy carrying Marc’s baby,” she said slowly. “Right now I can’t think beyond that.”

  “That’s fair. Just remember we’re all here for you if you need us, and I personally support your decisions and choices. I feel very fortunate to have you as a daughter-in-law and the mother of one of my grandchildren.”

  Rebekka smiled at Ariana’s sincerity. “You—everyone—has been great. In fact, after I called my mother this morning, it was all I could do to convince her not to move in with us.”

  Ariana laughed and the sound wiped away the remaining tenseness. They fell into an easy conversation that was interrupted when the girls returned, bringing a cacophony of sound with them.

  “I’ll leave you to chat awhile,” Ariana said. “I brought some things for your dinner, and I’m going to get them started.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Rebekka protested.

  “I want to. And your mother, Josette, Marie-Thérèse, a few sisters from church, and I have worked out a schedule. Your mother and Raoul are going to be responsible for the grocery shopping, and the rest of us are taking turns coming in to fix dinner every day until this baby is here.”

  “But that’s four months.”

  Ariana bent over and placed a hand on Rebekka’s stomach. “Nothing is worth the chance of his life. You are doing your best—I know the pain isn’t easy to bear. We’re glad to do our part by helping you stay off your feet.”

  Rebekka placed her hand over Ariana’s, almost overwhelmed at the love and unconditional acceptance the older woman offered. “Thank you. I gratefully accept your help.”

  “Good,” Ariana said with a smile. “Now girls, take good care of Rebekka, okay? But keep the tone down a bit, and don’t make Aunt Rebekka get off the sofa.”

  “Does it hurt?” asked Ana, as Ariana left the room. Both girls came and sat on the floor by the sofa.

  Only when I move, Rebekka wanted to say. Instead, she said, “Not too much at the moment.”

  “Daddy says you need to be taken care of.” Marée’s turquoise eyes were sad. “He doesn’t know if we can come over every week like we planned.”

  Rebekka put an arm around the little girl as she climbed up on the sofa. “I think we could still manage. It’s not as if you’re babies that I have to take care of, right?”

  Marée brightened. “That’s right. We can take care of you—get you stuff, keep you company.”

  “We did that a lot for Mommy,” Ana said. “We know how real well.” The words told Rebekka how much the nine-year-old still missed her mother.

  “She was sick a lot when we were little,” Marée said matter-of-factly. “But now she’s with Uncle Marc so she probably doesn’t miss us so much. I bet he’s told her all about the things we’ve been doing since she left.”

  “She probably looks down on you all the time.” Rebekka gathered their little hands in hers. “Until we see her again, you have me and Grandma and your other aunts to talk to.”

  “I wish you lived with us,” said Marée. “Or that we lived here. With daddy, too. That would be fun. Wouldn’t it, Ana?”

  There was silence for a brief moment, and then a smile came to Ana’s face. “Hey, you and Daddy like each other—you’re always laughing together. Why can’t you get married?”

  Marée’s eyes seemed to grow two sizes. “Yeah. Then we could play together all the time.”

  “And
we could take care of you always,” Ana added.

  “Wait a minute,” Rebekka said. “Things don’t always work out like we want them too.”

  “But you do like Daddy?” Marée asked.

  “Of course I like your Daddy.”

  “We’ll be good,” Ana put in quickly. “We know how to clean up the kitchen, and we keep our room clean.”

  “We never talk back,” Marée said. “Well, hardly ever.”

  Ana leaned forward conspiratorially. “Only when Daddy makes us eat peas.”

  “We hate peas.” Marée gave an emphatic nod. “But we love broccoli and carrots and cauliflower. And salad—even with onions in it.”

  Marée lifted her chin. “Daddy says we’re the two best behaved girls in the whole of France. Maybe even in the whole world.”

  Two pairs of turquoise eyes stared at Rebekka, waiting eagerly for her reply. “I agree,” Rebekka hastened to assure them. “It’s not you two—really. It’s me. It’s . . . well, you see I was married to your Uncle Marc and—”

  “But he’s in heaven now with our mommy,” said Ana, her green eyes earnest. “So he won’t mind. He’ll be glad for you to take care of us and for us to take care of you. I just know it. He always liked us to come over.”

  Rebekka smiled. “So did I.”

  “See?” Marée said triumphantly. “Then you can marry Daddy.”

  “Girls. It’s not that easy. There are other things involved.”

  “Like what?” came a voice from the doorway. “An American fiancé perhaps?”

  “André,” Rebekka said, feeling suddenly faint. She must have been so involved with the girls that she hadn’t heard Ariana let him in.

  He didn’t smile but stared at her fixedly. “Girls,” he said without taking his eyes from hers, “would you please excuse us for a minute? Your Aunt Rebekka and I need to talk.”

  André’s expression warned that he was barely holding in his fury. Rebekka wished she was back in bed so that she could pull the covers over her head and disappear. Where was the solicitous man of that morning?