Chapter 97 Bleeding
Harper's POV,
The cramping started at two AM on a Tuesday, nine days after the ultrasound.
I woke up to a dull ache low in my abdomen, like period cramps but sharper. Not unbearable. Just enough to pull me from sleep.
I lay there for a few minutes, trying to decide if this was normal pregnancy stuff or something wrong. Dr. Yoon had said mild cramping was common. The uterus expanding. Ligaments stretching. Nothing to worry about unless it was severe or accompanied by bleeding.
I went to the bathroom. Turned on the light. Pulled down my underwear.
Blood.
Not a lot. Just spotting, really. Light pink. But enough to make my heart stop.
I sat on the toilet, staring at that pink stain, feeling like the floor had dropped out from under me.
This was bad. This was very bad.
I grabbed my phone with shaking hands, pulled up Dr. Yoon's after-hours number. It went to an answering service.
"I'm nine weeks pregnant," I told the operator, voice surprisingly steady. "I'm having cramping and light bleeding. I need to talk to my doctor."
"She'll call you back within twenty minutes. Are you experiencing severe pain or heavy bleeding?"
"No. Just spotting and cramps."
"Okay. If the bleeding gets heavier or you have severe pain, go to the ER immediately. Otherwise, wait for Dr. Yoon's call."
I hung up and just sat there, underwear around my ankles, staring at that pink stain like if I looked at it long enough it would disappear.
Crew knocked on the bathroom door. "Harper? You okay? You've been in there a while."
"I'm bleeding."
Silence. Then the door opened. Crew stood there in just his boxers, hair messy from sleep, face shifting from confused to terrified in two seconds.
"Bleeding how much?"
"Just spotting. Light. But I'm cramping too."
"Okay. Okay. What do we do? Hospital? Call the doctor?"
"I called the after-hours line. Dr. Yoon's supposed to call back." I pulled up my underwear, washed my hands, tried to act normal even though I was shaking. "It might be nothing. Spotting can be normal in the first trimester."
"Or it could be something."
"Or it could be something," I agreed.
We went back to the bedroom. I lay down, trying to stay calm, trying not to catastrophize. Crew sat next to me holding my hand, silent because what was there to say?
My phone rang. Dr. Yoon.
"Harper, tell me what's happening."
I explained. The cramping. The spotting. The timing—nine weeks, two days since the last ultrasound showed everything fine.
"How heavy is the bleeding? Are you soaking through pads?"
"No. Just when I wipe. Light pink."
"And the cramping? Scale of one to ten?"
"Maybe a four? Like bad period cramps but not unbearable."
"Okay. Here's what we're going to do. Stay lying down. No strenuous activity. If the bleeding gets heavier—if you're soaking through a pad in an hour—go to the ER immediately. Same if the pain gets worse. But light spotting and mild cramping at nine weeks can be normal. It's often from implantation or the cervix being irritated."
"But it could also be a miscarriage."
She was quiet for a moment. "Yes. It could be. About 10-20% of known pregnancies end in miscarriage, most in the first trimester. But Harper, you just had an ultrasound nine days ago that showed a strong heartbeat. That's a very good sign. We need to monitor this, but try not to panic yet."
"How do I not panic?"
"By knowing that we'll get you in first thing tomorrow morning for another ultrasound. We'll check the heartbeat, make sure everything's progressing normally. Can you come in at eight AM?"
"Yes. I'll be there."
"Good. In the meantime, rest. Stay hydrated. And Harper? Try to remember that spotting in early pregnancy is more common than you think. Most of the time, everything turns out fine."
After she hung up, I relayed everything to Crew.
"Eight AM ultrasound. Until then, we just wait and hope it's nothing."
"And if it's not nothing?"
"Then we deal with it." I tried to sound braver than I felt. "But Crew, I need you to not spiral right now. I need you to stay calm so I can stay calm."
"I'm calm."
"You're vibrating with anxiety."
"Okay, I'm anxious. But I'm here. What do you need?"
"Water. And maybe you could just hold me? I don't want to be alone right now."
He got me water, then climbed into bed and wrapped himself around me. We lay there in the dark, both of us pretending we weren't terrified.
"It's going to be okay," Crew said, but his voice shook.
"You don't know that."
"I'm choosing to believe it anyway."
I felt another cramp. Sharper this time. Put my hand on my stomach like I could somehow protect what was inside from whatever was happening.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "If I did something wrong. If I worked too hard or lifted something I shouldn't have or—"
"Harper, stop. You didn't do anything wrong. Dr. Yoon said this is common."
"But what if I caused this? What if—"
"You didn't cause this. Miscarriages happen. They're not anyone's fault. They're just biology being cruel." He held me tighter. "And we don't even know if that's what's happening. It could be nothing. It probably is nothing."
But I could hear the fear in his voice. The same fear that was consuming me.
We didn't sleep. Just lay there watching the clock, counting down hours until the ultrasound.
At 3 AM, I went to the bathroom again. More spotting. Still light, but definitely there.
At 4 AM, another cramp. Stronger this time.
At 5 AM, Crew called David even though it was barely morning.
"Harper's bleeding," he said without preamble. "We don't know if the baby's okay. We have an ultrasound in three hours. And I'm trying really hard not to think about using right now but I can't stop thinking about it."
I heard David's voice through the phone, calm and steady, talking Crew down.
"I know. I know it doesn't help. But if I lose this baby, if Harper has to go through a miscarriage, I don't know how to be sober through that. I don't know how to handle that kind of pain without pills."
More talking from David.
"You're right. I'm catastrophizing. We don't know anything yet." Crew took a breath. "Okay. Yeah. I'll call you after the ultrasound. Thanks for answering."
He came back to bed. "David says I'm spiraling."
"David's not wrong."
"He also said even if the worst happens, I can handle it sober. I just don't believe him."
"Crew, nothing's happened yet. We don't know anything. Let's just get through the ultrasound before we panic."
"I'm already panicking."
"Then panic quietly so I can pretend we're both calm."
At 7 AM, we got up. I showered carefully, checking for more blood. Still just spotting. The cramps had eased slightly, which felt like maybe a good sign.
We drove to Dr. Yoon's office in silence. The waiting room was empty—we were the first appointment. The same cheerful nurse from last time took us back immediately, her smile dimming when she saw our faces.
"Rough night?"
"Harper's been spotting. We're here for an emergency ultrasound."
"Dr. Yoon told me. Let's get you set up." She was gentler this time, more careful. "Try not to worry too much. Spotting in the first trimester is really common. I had it with both my pregnancies and both my kids are fine."
"How common?" I asked.
"About 25% of pregnancies have some first-trimester spotting. Most of them turn out perfectly normal." She finished taking my vitals. "Dr. Yoon will be right in."
The wait felt eternal. Three minutes that stretched into hours. Crew held my hand so tight I lost circulation.
Finally, Dr. Yoon came in.
"Let's take a look and see what's going on," she said, setting up the ultrasound. Same routine as last time. Transvaginal probe. Pressure. Waiting.
The screen came to life. That same dark space. The gestational sac.
And there—that tiny flicker.
"There's the heartbeat," Dr. Yoon said, and I could breathe again. "Still strong. Measuring at 161 beats per minute. Let me check measurements."
She moved the probe around, taking images, measuring. I watched her face for any sign of concern.
"Everything looks good," she said finally. "Baby's measuring right on track for nine weeks three days. Heartbeat is strong. No signs of subchorionic hemorrhage or other complications."
"Then why is she bleeding?" Crew asked.
"Could be a few things. Cervical irritation. Normal implantation bleeding that just appeared later. Sometimes we never know the cause." She printed ultrasound photos. "But the important thing is that the pregnancy looks healthy. The bleeding should resolve on its own. I want you on modified bed rest for the next few days—no heavy lifting, no strenuous exercise, no sex. And if the bleeding gets heavier or you have severe cramping, call me immediately."
"But the baby's okay?" I needed to hear it again.
"The baby's okay. See?" She pointed to the screen. "Growing exactly as expected. Heartbeat strong. You did everything right, Harper. This isn't your fault."
I started crying. Relief. Exhaustion. Hormones. All of it pouring out at once.
Crew was crying too. "Thank you. God, thank you."
"You're welcome. I know that was scary. But you're through it now. Let's schedule a follow-up for next week just to make sure everything's still progressing normally."
After she left, Crew and I just sat there holding each other, listening to the recording of the heartbeat she'd made for us.
"The baby's okay," he kept saying. "The baby's okay."
"We're okay," I corrected.
"All three of us are okay."
We drove home and I immediately called both our mothers to tell them the baby was fine, that we'd just had a scare but everything was okay now.
Susan cried. Diane cried. They both offered to fly back out immediately but I declined. We were fine. We just needed rest.
That afternoon, I lay on the couch with Crew while he worked his way through every feeling he'd been suppressing since 2 AM.
"I was so scared," he admitted. "Not just about losing the baby. About using. About not being able to handle the pain sober. I actually thought about it, Harper. Where I could get pills. Who I could call. I didn't do it, but I thought about it."
"That's okay. Thinking about it doesn't mean you failed."
"It feels like failing."
"It's not. It's being human. You had those thoughts and you didn't act on them. That's recovery. That's strength."
"I called David instead of my dealer. That's the only reason I'm still sober."
"Then you made the right call. Literally."
He put his hand on my stomach. "Hey blob. You scared your parents last night. Please don't do that again."
I put my hand over his. "The blob can't hear you yet."
"The blob needs to know the rules. No scaring us. No spontaneous bleeding. No making Dad think about using pills."
"That's a lot of rules for someone the size of a grape."
"The blob needs structure."
I fell asleep on the couch like that, Crew's hand on my stomach, both of us finally believing that maybe—just maybe—we were going to be okay.