The Astronaut's Wife

12

“This is going to feel a little chilly at first,” the doctor said. She squirted a thick snake of clear gooey gel on to Jillian’s exposed, swelling belly. The doctor swirled her gloved fingers through the mound of viscous stuff, spreading it in a circular motion in a specific area on her abdomen. The stuff was a little cold and she shivered under it.

Jillian was lying on a gurney in a curtain-enclosed examining room, the doctor, a precise and thoughtful young woman not long out of medical school, standing over her. Like a good and dutiful husband, Spencer had taken time out from his busy day to attend his wife’s ultrasound examination— it was the first of several and he felt that he should be there for it. He stood off to one side, feeling a little like an outsider in a particularly feminine ritual.

Standing next to the gurney was a large gray machine topped by a black-and-white video monitor. The screen was blank but the machine hummed, ready for use.

The doctor picked up the sound wand from its rest and turned it on. “Well,” she said, smiling down at Jillian. “Let’s have a look in there, shall we?”

She put the wand on Jillian’s belly and navigated her way around her body by watching the image on the screen. The gray and black images that the sound waves outlined inside of Jillian’s belly did not look like much to either Spencer or Jillian. but to their physician it was as clear as if reading a roadmap.

She stopped the wand over a confused mixture of colors. “There it is. Let’s take a measurement.”

“There’s what?” ask Jillian peering at the monitor. “I can’t make out what it is.”

The doctor smiled. “It will come clear in a minute.” With one hand she kept the wand on Jillian’s belly. With her other she punched a few action codes into the keyboard mounted on the front part of the ultrasound machine. A graph appeared on the monitor image of Jillian’s insides and the doctor peered at it.

“Well,” she said, “based on the size here I would say six weeks, give or take a few days. Everything looks fine. Embryo is a good size… well positioned.” She focused the wand a little and the distinct outline of a head came into view.

“There,” said the doctor. “There’s something that looks like something. There’s plenty of amniotic fluid. And it has everything it is entitled to at this point.” She pointed to a spot on the monitor. “See this here?” She was indicating a wavering spot on the monitor screen. “See this flickering?”

Spencer leaned in and pointed at the monitor. “This place here?” he asked.

The doctor nodded. “Yes,” she said. “You’re looking at the heartbeat of your baby.”

Jillian looked at that blurred little spot and felt a great surge of emotion, of love. Tears sprung into her eyes. She could not believe that this little thing was living and growing inside of her. She had never experienced anything like it.

Spencer seemed a little put out, though, unwilling to join his wife in her happiness. “That’s the heartbeat?” he said. “Is it supposed to be that fast?”

The doctor smiled. “Let me put it this way… I’d be worried if it weren’t going that fast.” She moved the wand around again, bombarding her insides with sound waves from a number of angles. The images would blur and settle as the wand moved and stopped. “I have to say, Jillian, everything looks just fine.”

She was just about to shut down the machine when she stopped and peered at the monitor. “Oh,” she said. “That’s something. That’s very interesting.”

She kept one hand on the wand and then began to work the keyboard, her fingers flying.

“What is it?” Spencer asked.

Jillian felt her heart clench as she felt a bolt of fear pierce her. “Is there something wrong?”

“Wait… no, nothing wrong. I’m just not sure…” She looked closely at the monitor. “Yes. Look here.” She jabbed at the screen. “See this? Here? Next to the heartbeat?”

Jillian and Spencer looked at the screen, but could not see what the doctor was getting at.

“Here,” she said. “It’s a second heartbeat. See? Two heartbeats.” She sounded quite excited by the discovery. “Two heartbeats. It’s twins, Mrs. Armacost…,”

“Twins,” said Spencer, as if tasting the word.

“Of course,” said the doctor with a laugh, “you know this means that I’ll have to double my fee.” She laughed a little more and then looked down at Jillian.

Jillian wasn’t laughing. Jillian and the doctor retreated to her office and had a little chat, Spencer waiting in the waiting room.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you weren’t overjoyed when you discovered you were carrying twins,” she said. “In fact, you looked quite distressed.”

“I… can’t say that I wasn’t. It was such a shock,” she said. “I didn’t know what to think.” Jillian spoke quickly, but she felt that she was coming off sounding like an idiot.

“Mixed feelings during pregnancy are perfectly normal, Jillian,” the doctor said soothingly. “And they are particularly normal when you’re talking about twins.” She grabbed a piece of paper from a pad and wrote something on it in her careful handwriting. She pushed the paper across the desk toward Jillian.

‘This may help,” she said.

“What is it?” Jillian asked.

“It’s the telephone number of a support group for women who are expecting twins.”

Jillian took the paper and looked at it, but the number seemed meaningless. She felt as if she was beyond sitting around with a bunch of women with distended bellies complaining about swollen feet and midnight food cravings.

But she felt the need to confide in someone, even if it was in this doctor whom she had only met a couple of times before today.

“I’ve felt so odd lately,” she said quietly. “Bad dreams, terrible thoughts… loneliness.”

The doctor leaned back in her chair, a kindly smile on her face. “Your body is undergoing a tremendous change,” she said. “It has been for nearly six weeks now. Massive amounts of hormones have flooded into your bloodstream.”

“And that could cause this kind of… distress? The strange feelings I’ve been having?”

The doctor nodded. “It could cause nightmares, depression, anxiety, food aversions, giddiness, even disturbances in your hearing. You understand what’s going on with you, don’t you? It’s quite dramatic, you know.”

Jillian sounded a little uncertain. “Well, I know’ that my body is undergoing changes…

The doctor laughed again. “Undergoing changes? Basically, Jillian, you are mutating completely. But don’t worry about it, women have been doing it for millions of years, your body will know what to do… even if you think that you don’t.”

Jillian shifted slightly in her chair, wondering if she should go on, telling her doctor everything. It took her only a second or two to realize that she had to say more.

“There’s something I didn’t tell you, something that should be on my chart. I know I should have, I know you should have known but I just couldn’t.”

The doctor’s laughter was gone and she looked very serious now. “What should I have known?”

Even after years had passed it was still not easy for Jillian to talk about this subject. “A few years ago,” she said hesitantly, “after my mother and my father died, I had a… I had a bad time of it. The whole thing was just awful.”

“How bad?” the doctor asked. “How awful?”

“It was really strange. I would see people I knew… friends of mine, my sister, people I worked with… I couldn’t help myself. When I saw them I would see them—” She stopped, not sure she could bring herself to say anymore.

But the woman facing her across the desk seemed to be able to read her mind. “You imagined they were dead?” She opened Jillian’s file and clicked her ballpoint pen.

It was hard for Jillian to admit, but she nodded yes. “That’s exactly what happened.”

“Did you seek treatment?” She took notes as she asked the questions and that unnerved Jillian slightly.

Jillian nodded again.

“Were you hospitalized?” More notes.

Jillian nodded once again and then looked down at the floor, as if ashamed of her troubled past.

The doctor nodded toward the waiting room, indicating Spencer who was pacing back and forth in an imitation of the classic expectant father mode.

“Does your husband know?” the doctor asked. “Or was it before you met him?”

Jillian smiled. “Oh no, Spencer was in my life then. He knew all about it. But he was the one who got me through it.” She was silent a moment. “My husband saved me,” she said solemnly. “Spencer saved my life.”

“And you’re afraid your pregnancy is going to bring all that back? Is that it?”

Jillian nodded again. “I’m terrified of that happening,” she said. “It can’t happen again. I wouldn’t be able to stand it. I don’t think Spencer could get me through it again. Not even Spencer could do it and he can do just about anything.”

The doctor sighed, stood up, and walked around her desk and put her hand on Jillian’s shoulder. “Go to the support group, Jillian,” she said. “Spend time with Spencer. Make sure you go through this together. Now that you know these feelings you’ve been having are caused by the life growing inside of you, by your body adapting to carrying that life… cherish it.” She hugged Jillian. “And if you need to, call me, Jillian, any time of the day or night, okay?”

Jillian nodded. “Okay,” she said with a nod.

“And if I don’t hear from you, I’ll see you in a month for your next checkup. Eat well, rest, exercise, and…” She cocked her chin at Spencer. “Let him spoil you. Get it while you can— they’re lambs on the first one. They want to spoil you rotten now. Wait until it’s just an old-hat third pregnancy.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” said Jillian, feeling a little better. The doctor said to exercise so Jillian was determined to exercise. Too much rich food and alcohol consumed since arriving in New York City had made her feel fat and out of shape. She was determined to be as healthy as possible for her twins.

It is a little-known fact that many of New York’s older buildings—doorman-attended buildings built before the Second World War were deemed the most desirable in a hot real estate market—were equipped with swimming pools. Up and down Park Avenue and Fifth Avenue were apartment houses that were the last word in luxury when they were put up in the twenties, and that meant that they had to have mosaic-encrusted gyms and pools in their basements. Few were in use now—the basement pool and fitness rooms were dank and dark compared to the modern health club.

It happened, however, that the swimming pool in the basement of Spencer and Jillian’s building was still there and well maintained, even though it was little used by the tenants. Many newly pregnant women are self-conscious about their bodies and Jillian was no exception. She decided to use the private pool conveniently located in the basement of her own home.

There was no one down there that morning and she was happy about that. There was an observation deck overlooking the pool and that was deserted, too. She stood on the edge of the pool for a moment, took a breath, and then dove into the water. It was just cool enough to be exhilarating, tinged with enough warmth to make the water comfortable. Jillian didn’t overdo it, but she swam easily, arm over arm, cutting through the water, swimming the first couple of laps with ease. As she swam she felt good, better than she had in some days—she was calm in the water, listening to her own easy breathing and the regular splash of her feet.

Then Jillian touched the far edge of the pool. She pulled her head out of the water and saw that the pool, the concrete, and the mosaics, the observation deck—everything that had been there a few minutes before—had vanished. She wasn’t in the pool anymore but alone and naked lying on her bed.

It was just as before. The bed was hers, but the room was not there and she was surrounded by a spangling of stars and the blackness of space. It was the dome of stars that she had experienced that terrible night those weeks ago.

Her eyes were open and she tried to raise her head, but she could not. It was as if she was paralyzed and drugged… Then she heard it. That horrible sound. The insects. The screaming…

It seemed to take every ounce of strength she could muster, but she did manage to turn her head. She saw Spencer standing by the side of the bed. He smiled down at her. She wanted to speak to him but could not. Her lips were dry, her throat closed tight.

Slowly and with some grace, Spencer sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to stroke her hair gently.

That was when Jillian awoke with a start. There was no more space, no more stars, just the familiarity of her bedroom. She turned in the bed and looked at Spencer. He was awake and looking back at her, a look of concern on his face.

“Spencer,” she said, her heart still pounding, her breath shallow. “I don’t know what’s going on… I dreamed I was swimming in the basement pool and then—”

Spencer rolled over and held her close. “Just a nightmare. Shh, shh, shh…” he whispered. “You were very upset and were talking in your sleep.”

“What was I saying?” Jillian asked.

Spencer shrugged. “I couldn’t tell. You weren’t really using words. Just sounds, really.”

“I’m scared, Spencer,” she said softly. She sounded small and defenseless.

“It would be strange if a first-time mother weren’t scared. Jillian,” he said reassuringly. He leaned over and kissed her. “Come with me,” he said, staring to pull her from the bed.

“Where are we going?”

“You are going to take a bath,” he announced.

“A bath? Spencer, it’s the middle of the night.”

“So what,” he replied. “It be soothing. It will help calm you down.” So that’s what they did. Jillian got into a nice warm bath, luxuriating in the giant tub, the scents and soaps that Spencer had poured into the water soothing, almost intoxicating. He knelt by the side of the tub, fully clothed, a washcloth in his hand, bathing her. It was at once both a fatherly and submissive posture.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

Jillian stretched in the water and touched her belly. “Yes,” she said. “It’s going to be okay, isn’t it?”

Spencer dipped the washcloth in the warm water, wrung it out, and brushed it across her taut shoulders. “Yes,” he said. “Everything will be fine.”

“And we’ll be together?” Jillian asked, like a child begging to be reassured that there were no monsters under her bed after awaking screaming from the web of a nightmare.

“Forever,” said Spencer.

She put both hands on her belly. “And they’ll both be healthy, right?”

Spencer nodded again. “They’ll be healthy. And they’ll be beautiful, just like their mother.”

Jillian smiled shyly at the compliment. “And what will they be when they grow up?” she asked.

“What will they be?” said Spencer. “Of course it’s up to them, but… pilots perhaps?”

“Just like their father,” she said.

Spencer leaned over and kissed her then looked into her eyes. You are more beautiful than ever… Now lean back so I can get to your hair.”

“It’s like you’re my slave,” said Jillian, not quite believing his behavior.

“Yes, mistress,” he said. “I am here to serve.” Jillian leaned back in the tub and laughed. “Am I dreaming. Spencer?”

Spencer shrugged. “I thought I was. Maybe we both are. It’s possible, I suppose.”

Jillian slipped a little down the tub, her ears under the water. She looked up at him as he worked shampoo into her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp. All sound was muffled. The only thing she could hear was the beating of her own heart.