defect is fatal 100 percent of the time.” Dr. McDaniel’s shoulders fell, and she looked down for a moment. “The condition is called anencephaly. I’ve seen only two other cases in all my years of delivering babies, but I’ve researched it extensively.” She folded her hands and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Ashley . . . Landon. Many babies with this type of neural tube defect die before birth.”
A fog fell over Ashley, and she stared at her lap. The information was wrong. It had to be. She’d already begun feeling the baby move. In some far-removed corner of her mind, Ashley could hear the doctor going on, talking about the baby’s brain developing outside her head and how a few hours or a few days was the longest a baby could live with . . . whatever it was the woman thought her baby had. Anen -something. And more information . . . too much information.
Ashley closed her eyes. She felt sick, and suddenly she stood up. “I need a bathroom.”
The doctor was instantly up and opening the door for her. “It’s across the hall.”
Landon stayed by her side, holding her elbow so she wouldn’t fall. She barely made it to the sink in time before losing her breakfast.
“Ashley,” Landon whispered close to her. He held her hair back from her face. “We’ll get through this. The test could be wrong.”
And there it was. The single ray of light in the darkest cavern Ashley had ever found herself in. The test could be wrong. Her stomach was still warring against the news, but after a few minutes, she straightened. Her knees shook and her hands trembled, but she found the strength to grab a nearby roll of paper towels and clean out the sink.
Landon helped, and he pulled a paper cup from a wall dispenser and filled it with cool water. “Here. Take small sips.”
Ashley homed in on his voice, like a person lost in a blinding snowstorm. She took the water and brought it to her lips. The test was wrong. That had to be the answer. Her baby girl was fine. Her arms and legs and hands and feet were perfect. The shadow near her head might’ve been an air pocket or the way the baby was lying. That was possible, wasn’t it?
She dried her mouth and looked at her reflection. Her cheeks were gray, her eyes wide with fear. Dark spots danced before her, and she steadied herself on the sink. “I feel . . . like I’m going to faint.”
“I’m here.” Landon placed himself behind her, supporting her elbows so she wouldn’t fall. “We can get a second opinion, Ash. We can’t be defeated by one ultrasound. God’s bigger than this.”
Ashley nodded. Yes, God was bigger. But God allowed some women to walk this path, right? She remembered a woman who had come to church for the first time a few weeks ago. Her four-year-old had cancer, and the illness was tearing her family apart. And that woman loved the same Lord, so it was possible. She turned and gripped Landon’s arm. “What if . . . ?”
His expression told her he was already there, already imagining the same thing. “Whatever happens—” he gritted his teeth—“God will lead us.” He pulled her into a desperate hug, clinging to her. “If we don’t believe that now . . . then we won’t believe it ever.”
His words breathed strength into her. She grabbed a few quick breaths and eased back from him. Her hands were still shaky. She reached for the paper cup and drank enough that her mouth was no longer dry.
“You ready?” Landon looked as though he felt the same way she did. As though the last place he wanted to go was back into the doctor’s office, back to the results that—if they were true—would be devastating. But this was one of the reasons she loved Landon. In his expression was the same resolve that made him a great firefighter, the resolve that wouldn’t let him give up on her all those years when she was being stubborn. He was the sort of guy who rushed into a burning building, not out of it. And when his friend was buried
A fog fell over Ashley, and she stared at her lap. The information was wrong. It had to be. She’d already begun feeling the baby move. In some far-removed corner of her mind, Ashley could hear the doctor going on, talking about the baby’s brain developing outside her head and how a few hours or a few days was the longest a baby could live with . . . whatever it was the woman thought her baby had. Anen -something. And more information . . . too much information.
Ashley closed her eyes. She felt sick, and suddenly she stood up. “I need a bathroom.”
The doctor was instantly up and opening the door for her. “It’s across the hall.”
Landon stayed by her side, holding her elbow so she wouldn’t fall. She barely made it to the sink in time before losing her breakfast.
“Ashley,” Landon whispered close to her. He held her hair back from her face. “We’ll get through this. The test could be wrong.”
And there it was. The single ray of light in the darkest cavern Ashley had ever found herself in. The test could be wrong. Her stomach was still warring against the news, but after a few minutes, she straightened. Her knees shook and her hands trembled, but she found the strength to grab a nearby roll of paper towels and clean out the sink.
Landon helped, and he pulled a paper cup from a wall dispenser and filled it with cool water. “Here. Take small sips.”
Ashley homed in on his voice, like a person lost in a blinding snowstorm. She took the water and brought it to her lips. The test was wrong. That had to be the answer. Her baby girl was fine. Her arms and legs and hands and feet were perfect. The shadow near her head might’ve been an air pocket or the way the baby was lying. That was possible, wasn’t it?
She dried her mouth and looked at her reflection. Her cheeks were gray, her eyes wide with fear. Dark spots danced before her, and she steadied herself on the sink. “I feel . . . like I’m going to faint.”
“I’m here.” Landon placed himself behind her, supporting her elbows so she wouldn’t fall. “We can get a second opinion, Ash. We can’t be defeated by one ultrasound. God’s bigger than this.”
Ashley nodded. Yes, God was bigger. But God allowed some women to walk this path, right? She remembered a woman who had come to church for the first time a few weeks ago. Her four-year-old had cancer, and the illness was tearing her family apart. And that woman loved the same Lord, so it was possible. She turned and gripped Landon’s arm. “What if . . . ?”
His expression told her he was already there, already imagining the same thing. “Whatever happens—” he gritted his teeth—“God will lead us.” He pulled her into a desperate hug, clinging to her. “If we don’t believe that now . . . then we won’t believe it ever.”
His words breathed strength into her. She grabbed a few quick breaths and eased back from him. Her hands were still shaky. She reached for the paper cup and drank enough that her mouth was no longer dry.
“You ready?” Landon looked as though he felt the same way she did. As though the last place he wanted to go was back into the doctor’s office, back to the results that—if they were true—would be devastating. But this was one of the reasons she loved Landon. In his expression was the same resolve that made him a great firefighter, the resolve that wouldn’t let him give up on her all those years when she was being stubborn. He was the sort of guy who rushed into a burning building, not out of it. And when his friend was buried
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