I watched you in the rearview mirror, your little feet kicking up and down, your arms reaching toward me. The world swept
past us on both sides, and it felt to me that we were falling home instead of just going there.
I talked to you, Nicky, really talked.
“My life feels so connected to you. It seems impossible that something bad could happen to me now. But I guess that’s just
the false sense of security that love gives.”
I thought about that for a second. Falling in love with Matt, and being so much in love with him now,
had
given me a feeling of security.
How could anything harm us? How could anything really bad happen?
And you give me this same sense, Nick. How could anything happen to break us apart? How could I
not
see you grow up? That would be too cruel for God to let happen.
The tears I had held back in Dr. Davis’s office suddenly flooded my eyes. I quickly wiped them away. I concentrated on the
road home and kept our journey at my usual slow and steady pace.
I talked to you in the little rearview mirror I have that looks directly at your car seat. “So let’s make a plan. All right,
baby boy? Every time I can make you smile means that we have one more year together, a whole year for every smile. Magical
thinking, Nicky, that’s what this is. Already we have a dozen more years together, because you’ve smiled at least that many
times on this car ride. At this rate, I’ll be a hundred and thirty-six, you a spry eighty-two.”
I started to laugh at my own crazy humor.
Suddenly, you broke into the biggest smile I have ever seen you make. You made me laugh so hard, I just looked back and whispered,
“Nicholas, Suzanne, and Matt—Forever One.”
That is my prayer.
Nicholas,
Four long, nervous weeks have passed since I received the troubling news in Boston. Matt is out with you riding in the Jeep,
and I’m sitting in the kitchen with the sun falling through the window like yellow streamers in a parade. It’s so beautiful.
The medical opinions are all in. I have heart-valve disease, but it is treatable. For the moment, we won’t be replacing the
valves, and we definitely won’t be considering a heart transplant. Everything will be treated with radiation for now.
I have been warned, though:
Life doesn’t go on forever. Enjoy every moment of it.
I can smell the morning unfolding, carrying with it the song and salt and the grassy perfume of the marshes.
My eyes are closed, and the wind chimes are being tickled by the ocean breeze outside the window.
“Isn’t it lucky?”
I finally say out loud.
“That I’m sitting here, looking out on this beautiful day . . .
“That I love on Martha’s Vineyard, so close to the ocean that I could throw a stone into the surf—if I were the kind of person
who could throw stones far. . . .
“That I am a doctor and love what I do. . . .
“That somehow, however improbable, I found Matthew Harrison and we fell wildly in love. . . .
“That we have a little boy, with the most beautiful blue eyes, and the most wonderful smile, and the nicest disposition, and
a baby smell I just love.
“Isn’t it lucky, Nicky? Isn’t it just so lucky?”
That’s what I think, anyway.
That’s another of my prayers.
Nicholas,
You are growing up before our eyes, and it is such a glorious thing to watch. I
savor
each moment. I hope all the other mommies and daddies are remembering to savor these moments and have the time to do so.
You love to ride bikes with Mommy. You have your own little Boston Bruins helmet and a seat that holds you snuggly and safely
on the back of my bike. I tie a water bottle with a ribbon and attach it to your seat for you to enjoy on the ride— and we’re
off.
You love singing, and looking at all the people and sights on the Vineyard. Fun for Mama, too.
You have a lot of the blondest of blond curls. I know that if I cut them, they’ll be gone forever. You’ll really be a little
boy then, no longer a baby.
I love watching you grow, but at the same time I don’t like seeing this time fly by so fast. It’s hard to explain; I don’t
really know how. But there’s something so precious about watching your child day after day after day. I want to hold on to
every moment, every smile, every single hug and kiss. I suppose it has to do with
loving
to be needed and
needing
to give love.
I want to relive this all over again.
Every single moment since you were born.
I told you I would be a great mom.
Each day lately has felt so complete for me.
Every morning, without fail, Matt turns to me before we get up. He kisses me, and then whispers in my ear, “We have today,
Suzanne. Let’s get up and see our boy.”
But today eels a little different to me. I’m not exactly sure why, but my intuition tells me there’s something going on. I
don’t know if I like it. I’m not quite sure yet.
After Daddy goes off to work and I have you fed and dressed, I still don’t feel right.
It is an odd feeling. Not too bad, but definitely not too good. I am lightheaded, and more tired than usual.
So tired, in fact, I have to lie down.
I must have fallen asleep after I tucked you into your crib, because when I opened my eyes again, the church bells from the
town were striking.
It was noon already. Half the day was gone.
That’s when I decided to find out what was going on.
And now, I know.
Nicholas,
After Daddy put you to bed tonight, the two of us sat out on the porch and watched the sun set on the ocean in a blaze of
streaking oranges and reds. He has the most amazing touch and was patiently stroking my arms and legs, which I love more than
almost anything on the planet. I could let him do this for hours, and sometimes I do.
He is very excited about his poetry lately. His great dream is to have a collection published, and suddenly people are interested.
I love the excitement in his voice, and I let him talk.
“Matthew, something happened today,” I finally said, once he had told me all his news.
He turned on the couch and sat up straight. His eyes were full of worry, his brow creased.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I soothed him. “Something good happened today.”
I could feel Matt relax in my arms and also saw it on his face. “So what happened, Suzanne? Tell me all about your day.”
The nice thing is that your daddy really wants to hear about these things. He listens, and even asks questions. Some men don’t.
“Well, on Wednesdays I don’t go to work unless there’s an emergency. There wasn’t any today, thank God. So I stayed home with
Nick.”
Matt put his head in my lap and let me stroke his thick, sandy brown hair. He likes this finger combing almost as much as
I like his tickling. “That sounds pretty nice. Maybe I’ll start taking Wednesdays off, too,” he teased.
“Isn’t it lucky?” I said, “that I get to spend Wednesdays with Nicky?”
Matt pulled my face to his and we kissed. I don’t know how long this incredible honeymoon of ours is going to last, but I
love it and don’t want it to end. Matthew is the best friend I could have ever wished for. Just about any woman would be lucky
to have him. And if it ever, ever came to that—another mommy for you—I’m sure Matt would choose wisely.
“Is that what happened? You and Nick had a great day together?” he asked.
I looked deeply into Matt’s eyes. “I’m pregnant,” I told him.
And then Matt did just the right thing: He kissed me gently. “I love you,” he whispered. “Let’s be careful, Suzanne.”
“Okay,” I whispered back. “I’ll be very careful.”
Nicholas,
I don’t know why, but life is usually more complicated than the plans that we make. I visited my cardiologist on the Vineyard,
told him about the pregnancy, had a few tests. Then, on his recommendation, I went to Boston to see Dr. Davis again.
I hadn’t mentioned the checkup to Matt, thinking it might worry him. So I went to work for a few hours, then I drove to Boston
in the afternoon. I promised myself that I would talk to Matt as soon as I got home.
The porch light of the house was on when I pulled into the driveway at about seven that night. I was late. Matt was already
home. He had relieved Grandma Jean of her baby-sitting duties.
I could smell the delicious aroma of home cooking: chicken, pan potatoes, and gravy warming the whole house.
Oh, my God, he made dinner,
I thought.
“Where’s Nicky?” I asked as I entered the kitchen.
“I put him to bed. He was exhausted. Long day for you, sweets. You’re being careful?”
“Yeah,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “I actually only saw a couple of patients this morning. I had to go to Boston and
see Dr. Davis.”
Matt stopped stirring the gravy. He stared at me and didn’t say another word. He looked so hurt that I couldn’t stand it.
“I should have told you, Matthew. I didn’t want to worry you. I
knew
you would, and I didn’t want you to; I knew you’d want to come to Boston with me.”
It was a nervous, run-on thought, my attempt to explain what I had done. It wasn’t right, but it wasn’t wrong, either. Matt
decided to leave my decision at that.
“Well?” he said. “What did Dr. Davis have to say?”
My mind traced back to Gail Davis’s office, back to the edge of the examining table, where I had sat so tenuously, in a blue
of emotions:
What did she say? What did she say?
“Well, I told her about the baby.”
“Right.”
“And she was . . . she was very concerned. Gail wasn’t pleased.”
The next few words locked in my throat, nearly closed off my breathing. I almost couldn’t speak. Tears flooded to my eyes,
and I started to shake.
“She said it was too risky for me to be pregnant. She said I shouldn’t have this baby.”
Matt’s eyes filled with tears now, too. He took a breath. Then he spoke, splitting the silence between us.
“Suzanne, I agree with her. I couldn’t bear to risk losing you.”
I was crying, sobbing terribly, still shaking badly. “Don’t give up on this baby, Matt.”
I looked at him, waiting for some comforting words. But he was too quiet. He finally shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, Suzanne.”
Suddenly I needed to breathe some fresh air, to escape, to be by myself. I left the house in a spin. I ran through the tall
sea grass until I reached the beach. Shaken, winded, fatiqued. There was a loud roaring noise in the space between my ears.
It wasn’t the sound of the ocean.
I lay down in the sand and wept. I felt awful, so inconsolably sad for the baby inside me. I thought about Matt and you waiting
for me back at the house. Was I being selfish, headstrong, foolish? I was a doctor. I knew the risks.
This baby was a precious and unexpected gift. I couldn’t give it up. I held myself and rocked with that feeling for what seemed
like hours. I talked to the little baby growing inside me. Then I looked up at the full moon, and I knew it was time to go
back to the house.
Matt was waiting for me in the kitchen. I saw him in the mellow, yellow light as I trudged up from the beach. I started to
cry again.
I did a strange thing, then, and I’m not exactly sure why. I knocked on the door, then knelt on the first step. Maybe I was
tired and drained from the long, stressful day. Maybe it was something else, something more important, something I still can’t
explain.
Maybe I was remembering the English king who had knelt in the snow hoping not be excommunicated, to be forgiven by Pope Gregory.
I had been hurting badly out on the beach, but I also knew I had acted selfishly. I shouldn’t have run away and left you and
Matt alone at the house.
“Forgive me for running off like that,” I said as Matt opened the screen door. “For running away from you. I should have stayed
and talked it out.”
“You know better,” he whispered, and gently stroked my hair. “There’s nothing to forgive, Suzanne.”
Matt pulled me to my feet and into his arms. A feeling of relief swept through me. I listened to the strong beating of his
heart. I let him snuggle the top of my head with his chin. I let his warmth seep into me.
“It’s just that I want to keep this baby, Matt. Is that so terrible?”
“No, Suzanne. That isn’t terrible. It’s losing you that I couldn’t bear. If I lost you, I don’t think I could live. I love
you so much. I love you and Nicky.”
Oh, Nicky,
Life can be unforgiving sometimes.
Learn that lesson, sweet boy. I had just gotten home from a couple of hours at the office. Routine really, nothing unusual,
nothing stressful. Actually, I was feeling pretty chipper.
I drove back to the cottage to take a catnap before seeing one more patient in the afternoon. You were at Grandma’s house
for the day. Matt had a job over in East Chop.
I was going to take it easy, catch a nice, healthy, and restful snooze. I had an appointment to see Connie in town the next
day—
about the baby.
I fell onto the bed, feeling dizzy suddenly. My heart began to pound a little. Strange. I felt a headache coming on, out of
nowhere.
It was about to rain buckets, and the barometric pressure had dropped. I sometimes get headaches when that happens.
My appointment with Connie was the next day, but I was deliberating over whether I should wait until then. Maybe I would feel
better in an hour, or when the rain finally came.
I was so nervous about staying healthy that I was driving myself into neurotic symptoms, for God’s sake.
Easy, Suzanne,
I told myself.
Lie down and close your eyes and tell every part of your body to relax.
Your eyes, your mouth, your chest, your belly, your arms, your legs, your feet, your toes.
Relax them all and slip under the blanket, the Golden Fleece.