Chapter 21

TWENTY-ONE

Sunday July 18, 2010

This pregnancy was supposed to be a healing process—a new start to get me over the wreckage of my past with Giorgi. I wanted to have a water birth at home, with a qualified midwife and Lyle holding my hand. In the end, my body betrayed those plans.

Once I noticed how close Charlotte was getting to Lyle, my stress skyrocketed. Meditation failed to distract me from the unsettling parallels between this pregnancy and my last.

Dr. Forster made a home visit since I was confined to my bed. He suggested I open up to Lyle about my insecurities. My stomach churned at the thought of being so vulnerable. I told him Lyle had been nothing but supportive, tender, and loving. He’d already sacrificed so much to give the girls and me a good life. I couldn’t drag him into my cesspool of worries and trauma.

Later that afternoon, I was reading Rapunzel to Amy. She’s too old for fairytales, I know, but it’s the only way I can connect to my youngest. Charlotte came in with an early dinner of tomato soup and grilled cheese. She called Amy over to eat with her and Dolly.

Amy was reluctant to leave and asked if she could eat with me, but Charlotte insisted, saying that I needed my rest. I didn’t contradict her, wanting Amy to socialize with the rest of her family instead of keeping to herself.

The soup was nice enough with a rich umami flavor that I didn’t recognize until my throat closed up with an all-too-familiar reaction. Even the smallest amount of shrimp can trigger my allergy, and there was enough in a few mouthfuls to send me into anaphylaxis.

I screamed for help through a swollen throat, and crawled out of bed, looking for the EpiPen I was sure I’d left in the nightstand drawer. It was a mess. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t balance, and collapsed on my hands and knees with shooting pain.

It’s been ages since I’ve had such a strong reaction. During my captivity with Giorgi, he once fed me pasta laced with shrimp as a punishment. I reacted so badly that he had to call his family physician to administer an emergency shot. I looked monstrous—my body was a mess of swelling, blisters, and hives. For once in his miserable life, he looked shaken. After that, he stopped fucking with my food.

This time, I was on my own with my EpiPen missing. I groped around for my phone to call 911, but all I found was my charger. I was choking, half-blinded by the swelling around my eyes, and feeling like I was going to die, when Lyle appeared in the doorway.

He took one look at me and knew exactly what was happening. Lyle pulled out his phone, dialed 911, and laid me in the recovery position. Everything else happened in a blur. He found an EpiPen in his home office and gave me a shot in the thigh. By the time the ambulance arrived, I was stable, but they loaded me inside anyway. When I asked about the girls, Lyle told me Charlotte had taken them both to the park.

He came with me in the ambulance and was horrified when I suggested that Charlotte could have tampered with my soup. To his credit, he didn’t deny anything, and I felt comfortable enough to broach the subject of their closeness. Lyle assured me that both he and Charlotte only spent so much time together because they were worried about Amy’s mental state. He agreed to spend more time with me in the evening.

The doctors kept me in for observation, saying they needed to monitor the baby for fetal distress. So, for the next several days, they put me through endless tests and observations. Lyle came to visit as much as he could, juggling work and care of the girls, but my suspicions continued to mount.

I didn’t pull that allergic reaction out of my ass. Charlotte poisoned my soup. Probably because she overheard me expressing my concerns with Dr. Forster. She wants my husband. She’s getting her claws into my family.

When I asked the ob-gyn to return home and continue my bed rest there, he said I needed to prioritize the baby. Lyle agrees. He wants to give his son the best start. So, I’m confined to a hospital bed, wondering where I went wrong and mourning the loss of that idyllic home birth.

Meanwhile, I’m going to ask Lyle to find another nanny.