The blue guitar pick, p.23
The Blue Guitar Pick, page 23
Ryan too got up and headed for the ensuite. “But we have lunch with our out-of-town guests today. I know what you mean, though; I feel a little stunned myself.”
Ryan was having his morning shower when he got to witness Emily’s morning sickness for the first time. She burst into the bathroom and leaned over the toilet bowl, throwing up traces of last night’s meal. Still dripping with water, he wrapped a towel around himself and knelt beside her, holding back her hair.
“I missed out on this with the others,” he said, far too jovial for her liking. “Teresa wasn’t sick with Josh, and, being on tour for much of her pregnancy, I wouldn’t have noticed anyway. I wasn’t exactly there for the girls either.”
“I’m so pleased I can allow you to fulfill a dream,” she said, full of sarcasm.
He kissed the back of Emily’s head, even though she remained planted on the floor next to the toilet. “I’m going to be here every step of the way with this little one.”
“Is everything all right?” Emily frowned at Annie the radiographer as she ran the transducer wand over her belly. “Should we be worried?”
The woman, who was chatting enthusiastically only a few moments ago, now remained silent.
“What’s wrong?” Emily persevered in a pinched tone. “Why won’t you answer me? Ryan, do something!”
“It’s going to be okay, babe.” Ryan squeezed her hand. “Let Annie take a good look and I’m sure she will explain everything soon.”
Emily’s eyes darted from the screen to Ryan and back to the radiographer, finally resting on the screen again. Everything looked alien and gray; no defining image of a baby.
“Would you like to hear your baby’s heartbeat?” Annie smiled for the first time since she’d begun her examination.
“Do you even need to ask?” Ryan gripped Emily’s hand a little tighter.
The sound of a rapid beat mixed with sloshing water filled the room.
Ryan grinned from ear to ear. “This shit just got real.”
“That’s…that’s.…Is that my baby?” Emily’s voice wavered, her eyes not moving from the monitor.
“It is, my dear,” Annie said. “Isn’t it simply the best sound in the world?”
Emily could only nod, her tears rolling fat and fast down her cheeks.
Turning the volume down on the beating heart, Annie pointed at the black-and-white image on the display.
“This peanut shape here is your baby,” she began. “The spine is beginning to form along here and Bub is starting to grow eyelids and eyebrows.”
“And is everything okay?” Ryan asked, much to Emily’s relief. Full of questions before the appointment, Emily’s mind now blanked, unable to tear her eyes away.
“The fetus is firmly implanted against the uterine wall and is an excellent size with a steady heartbeat,” Annie reassured them. “Because of your age, Emily, we will keep a close eye on you both, but for now everything is as expected.”
A sense of calm flowed through Emily’s body. Her baby was healthily growing inside of her and she now had the images to prove it.
Ryan patted her hand. “Great job, Mama Bear.” He laughed.
With another Fire and Ice tour due to kick off in June 2007, the band’s management team asked Emily to be the official photographer again.
“I don’t know if I should accept it.” She sat at the breakfast bar watching Ryan mix up a protein shake. “I’m flattered they asked, but we will have a three-month-old when the tour starts.”
“But you love your job, babe.” He put the shake container on the bench. “It’s something I never expected you to give up.”
She screwed up her nose. “I’m not giving it up. More like taking a break.”
“To focus on being a mum?” Ryan moved from behind the counter and rubbed her belly.
“I think so, yes.” She rested her hands over his. “I used to be confident that I wouldn’t let a child interfere with my career, but now that we’re expecting, I’ve changed my mind.”
“Which is your right to do.” He planted a kiss on her lips. “You have my full support whatever you decide, you know that.” Returning to making his shake, he asked, “You’re still coming though, aren’t you?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She gave him a bright smile.
This tour would be a massive undertaking compared to anything the band had done in recent years. They would be hitting the US again, then the UK, Australia, New Zealand, and Japan. With Ryan missing so much of Sophie’s first twelve months through being on tour, to deny him precious moments with their baby by staying at home seemed unfair.
“Jack will be twelve months old by then, and Lisa and I have already spoken about Bronwyn coming too.” Adam’s wife, Lisa, had recently given birth to their first child, a beautiful little boy named Jack.
“Bronwyn is a fantastic choice.” Ryan gave her the thumbs up. “I’d trust Adam’s mum to help look after Sproglet.”
Emily laughed. “Don’t call her or him ‘Sproglet.’ It might stick.”
Not long into November, Emily began to suffer from severe back spasms and abdominal cramps, which she likened to horrendous period pains. She was well into her second trimester at twenty weeks, but still experiencing morning sickness and insignificant weight gain despite cutting back on her physical activity, so she scheduled another doctor’s visit.
Closing her eyes as the steaming hot water soothed away her aches and pains, Emily relaxed. She couldn’t wait to see her baby again on the monitor and chastised herself for being a nervous first-time mother.
Without warning, she doubled over in excruciating agony, needle-sharp pain stabbing at her abdomen. She clasped her gut as another ache coursed through her, and she cried out.
That’s when the bleeding started.
“Ryan!” she screamed, gingerly lowering herself to the shower floor. “Ryan, come quick!”
With fear rising in her chest, she watched the warm water turn deep red as it flowed like lava toward the plughole.
“Ryan!” Emily continued to call.
She tentatively reached between her legs and tried to feel where the blood came from, but she already knew. Pulling her hand away, she stared at the thick mucus covering her fingers.
Gasping for breath, she yelled again for Ryan but her calls went unanswered. Pain pulsed through her body and she started to cry, making her voice weaker. As her baby’s life slipped away, the water slowly grew cold.
“You’re using all the hot water,” Ryan grumbled, pushing open the bathroom door. “I need to have a shower as well, you know.”
Emily’s vision swam. She could see Ryan and hear him speaking but it felt like she was underwater, completely submerged and unable to rise to the surface.
“Fuck, Em! What happened!” He raced in to fling the shower door open. “Em, babe, talk to me.”
She could hear his pleas but couldn’t respond, locked in a frozen state. Emily shivered, eyelids drooping, while Ryan dropped the shower screen onto the floor, having ripped it from the hinges in his panic. He slammed his hand at the dual-flow faucet, instantly stopping the icy water falling on her before grabbing some towels and wrapping her up.
Floating in and out of consciousness, Emily felt him pick her up, cover her with a bathrobe and carry her downstairs. She could feel the movement of the car and hear Ryan screaming to someone that they were “on the way.” She tried to speak to him, to calm his rapid breathing, but nothing came out.
Darkness enveloped her.
Emily sat, unemotional, mannequin-like, as they were coldly informed she’d lost her baby. She scarcely heard Ryan’s strangled cry breaking the silence.
Continuing in a very clinical fashion, the doctor advised that given Emily’s age, a miscarriage wasn’t uncommon, and they would now need to perform a procedure to remove all traces of the pregnancy so infection would not set in. This would be performed under general anesthesia in an operating room.
Numb, she didn’t respond, her brain fogged from the Vicodin racing through her veins. Ryan reacted enough for them both over the last few hours, yelling at everybody for not moving quick enough to attend to her, even punching his fist through a wall when no one would listen.
After a few minutes alone, a nurse came in to prepare Emily for surgery. Evidently, she was lucky they could carry out the procedure today. Some women needed to come back as an outpatient and Emily could not help but wonder if this was the luxury a celebrity influence had in this town.
Trying to be supportive, Ryan did his best to hold back his tears but eventually gave in to them. He buried his face in Emily’s neck and sobbed, his whole body shaking with heartache and sorrow. Emily, on the other hand, did not cry. Disoriented from trauma and heavy medication, she remained detached, looking on like an observer at Ryan releasing his grief.
Emily took her time coming around, and when she finally did, she found Ryan in a chair next to the bed. His head rested on her mattress, his hand clutching hers. She did not disturb him. He’d been through as much as she and was worn out. Josh stood looking out the window overlooking the hospital parking lot, his back to Emily.
A nurse clattered noisily into the room. Emily shut her eyes and listened to the commotion pounding through her sensitive nerves.
“Can’t you people come back later? You’ll wake Emily and my dad,” Josh said in a harsh whisper.
“Sorry, it’s time to take another blood pressure reading,” the nurse replied. “It bottomed out during surgery, and we need to monitor her.”
Josh ignored her, his anger flaring. “How is my dad supposed to look after her when she wakes up if you guys won’t let him rest?”
“It’s okay, son.” Ryan’s head lifted. “Let them do what they need to do.”
A cold hand wound the blood pressure cuff around her bicep. Remaining motionless, her eyes still closed, Emily felt the cuff tighten and gradually release before the hands crudely ripped the Velcro fastening away.
The nurse thanked Ryan for his time and, before excusing herself, offered advice on him going home to get some sleep.
“You seriously think Dad is going to leave her?” Josh said to the closing door.
“They’re only doing their job, mate,” Ryan said.
“I know, Dad, but when I see you hurting so much, I want them all to piss off so you can rest and grieve, so you’re strong when Emily needs you.” Emily’s heart caved when she heard Josh tearing up. “She’s going to need you, eh, Dad?”
“She’s going to need all of us.” Ryan hugged his son.
Emily opened her eyes and watched the pair share a tender moment. Josh caught her eye and nudged his dad. “Emily’s awake.”
Ryan rushed to her bedside in a second, lightly kissing her and asking if she felt okay. Emily’s bottom lip trembled, and she wept into his strong arms.
“I’m so sorry. I should never have gotten pregnant. It was a mistake,” Emily sobbed.
“Hey, don’t talk like this. It isn’t your fault. If anything, I blame myself.” Ryan wiped away her tears with a tissue as Josh slipped from the room, giving them privacy.
“You always wanted a family, babies of your own. And over the last twenty years, you held off all because of me. I behaved like an arse and went off screwing half our fan base. I wasn’t there to give you what you wanted. What you needed.” His voice strained. “Because of me, you never had kids. You had me on such a pedestal. I didn’t deserve that from you.”
“Ryan—”
“The whole time you were pregnant you worried about being too old to carry to term, but because we were healthy people I thought everything would be okay.” He stroked her forehead. “Now, here we are.” He took a deep, shuddering breath and went on. “I’m never going to let this happen again. I can’t stand this. You don’t deserve this kind of suffering.” He leaned over and kissed Emily’s forehead and beckoned Josh back into the room through the glass door. “Can you stay with her? Promise me you will not leave her.”
“I’ll stay, but Dad, what are you—” Josh’s voice cut off.
“Call me if you need me,” Ryan called back into the room, leaving Josh and Emily in stunned silence.
Chewing his lip for a moment, Josh spoke, a nervous edge to his voice. “I came as soon as Dad phoned me.” He picked at a crack in the chair’s armrest. “He’s also called your mom and told her not to fly out.” He paused. “But if you want her to come, I’m sure Dad will arrange it.” His words tumbled from his mouth.
“Mom didn’t even know about the baby,” she whispered.
“Yeah, Dad said it shocked her.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose, wanting to speak to her mother, to reassure her she would be okay. Meanwhile, Josh carried on with his update.
“Dad called Adam and he’s going to let the others know. Their publicist will also prepare a media statement in case something gets leaked to the press.”
Emily sat up a little straighter. “The media?”
“Nothing is out there yet and hopefully it won’t ever be, but just in case, a statement is ready to go.” He comforted her with a smile. “It will tell them to respect your privacy and stuff.”
Ryan was slumped in the red vinyl chair next to her bed when she woke much later in the evening after another drug-induced sleep. His head was tipped back and his eyes closed. His fingers plucked imaginary guitar strings, mapping out a new song or pretending to play an old tune that was stuck in his head, trying to block out the events of the last eighteen hours. They were alone, the blinds shutting out the darkness outside.
She lay there with heavy eyelids, watching him fidget. Trying to banish sleep from her body, she reached for the water on the bedside cabinet. Hearing her, Ryan opened his eyes and smiled a tired smile.
“Hey, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?” He pulled the chair bedside.
“Like shit.”
“How’s your pain level now?”
“Bearable, but I’m thirsty.” Her throat was scratchy and her tongue like sandpaper. “Where’s Josh?”
“He went back to his mother’s. He’ll be back in the morning.” Pouring Emily a glass of water, Ryan smiled a little broader.
Emily gulped the full glass and handed it back for more. “Where did you go before?”
“I went to make sure that you never… we never have to go through this ever again,” Ryan said, averting his eyes.
Draining another glass of water, Emily raised her eyebrows.
“You’re in so much pain, baby, and I can’t bear us ever experiencing this in the future.” He took a deep breath. “I went and made an appointment to have a vasectomy.”
“You did what?” Emily shrieked, trying to sit up.
“I made a vasectomy appointment. It’s safer that way,” Ryan calmly stated.
“What about our honest relationship?” she asked him. “You went and made a decision that affects both of us without me. How could you?”
“It’s the right call. We should’ve done it ages ago when you said no to a family. Besides, it seems okay for you to change your mind and not tell me.” He seemed genuinely surprised by Emily’s reaction. “I don’t seem to recall you telling me when you stopped having the injection. You never told me we were trying to get pregnant.” Ryan turned away and went over to the window, opening the drapes a crack to stare into the blackness beyond.
“I didn’t tell you because I got pregnant before I got the chance. It seems I got pregnant pretty much as soon as the damn stuff wore off.”
“Can’t you see why I did this?” Ryan faced her once again. “I did this for us to spare us any more anguish. I don’t know about you, but I can’t go through this again.”
Emily softened, and tears burnt her face. They were both tired after a long, emotional day, and they were taking it out on each other, arguing about things that didn’t matter.
Ryan approached the bed and Emily eased herself over so he could lay next to her. In the dim light of the hospital room, Ryan and Emily held each other close and cried together, grieving for their loss and for what they would never share.
EXCERPT FROM RYAN’S DIARY
10/11/06
Home
My soul is crushed. I’m trying to be strong for Em, but I’m devastated. I have to be with her and can’t let her see me cry. It’s not fair.
Seeing her totally limp in the shower broke me. The image of her surrounded with all that blood is burned into my brain, and I blame myself.
What if I’d found her sooner?
What if I’d called an ambulance instead of driving her to the hospital myself?
Why? How? What if?
The doctor told us no one is to blame. What would he know?
If I hadn’t left her seventeen years ago this never would have happened. Is Emily being punished for all my transgressions?
6451 days sober. Almost didn’t make it. The bottom of a bottle is where I want to be.
TWENTY
January 2007
Emily stared at the closed door, a tightness spreading across her chest. “I am not going in there,” she told Ryan adamantly.
“You are,” he said. “Even if I have to physically drag your arse through the door.”
When she first became pregnant, conversion of the spare room into a nursery began. All work stopped when they lost their daughter, and now Emily refused to go into the room at all. To see what they’d done in preparation for their new arrival was too heart-wrenching.
She turned away, heart pounding. “No. Ryan, I refuse to go in there ever again.”
“You are, and you will, right now.” Ryan seized her arm so Emily couldn’t escape, opened the door, and hauled her in.
The room had transformed into her own private sanctuary. The walls had been repainted her favorite color of baby blue, and two tightly stuffed armchairs with matching ottomans sat in the center, a huge glass coffee table in between. Bookcases were evenly spaced along three of the four walls, heavy with Emily’s books, which had been in storage since she moved in.
