Hold Me Tight(75)

Seeing how worried she is, I hear the beep on my heart rate monitor starting to increase. Her eyes find mine, and she smiles, silently pleading with me to remain calm. But Dr. P. isn’t even in the hospital. He told me he wasn’t going away for the holidays, but what if he changed his mind? What if he can’t get here in time? I don’t want anyone else delivering my baby. It has to be him. So much can go wrong. It’s only at twenty-four weeks. It’s going to be born severely premature.

For some reason, I never thought that events would unfold like this. I always imagined the baby would have to be taken quickly due to some emergency developing with the placenta. I did not expect things to start off this way. It almost feels like I’m any other mother giving birth and not some special case who’s been monitored twenty-four seven for the last few weeks.

But I know things are terribly wrong when Wanda starts wheeling my bed out of the room herself. Who am I kidding? Nothing about this pregnancy has been normal. Why would the birth be any different?

Seeing Wanda struggle, an orderly sprints over to join us, dropping his mop before taking over. Wanda calls to the nurses behind the desk, explaining that she needs help prepping delivery room A. I watch the ceiling tiles fly above my head, and the light panels start to blur. I close my eyes and pray for the best. There’s nothing I can do now. It’s out of my control.

But I need Eric. I can’t go through this without him. But he’s not expected to be here for another two hours. He could miss the whole thing.

“Wanda!” I scream out, trying to sit up, and look back at her, but the orderly doesn’t stop. Instead, he increases his speed, and all I can do is recline against the pillows, too dizzy to do anything more.

***

I don’t know how much time has passed, but it seems like things are happening fairly quickly all around me.

“Ivy, hello!” Dr. P. greets me through his surgical mask. “How are you doing?”

I don’t respond. I didn’t even notice that he had arrived. The pain has been so intense. The contractions are coming fast and furious. I didn’t think it would be like this. I thought they’d be spaced further apart. Something’s not right, but no one’s telling me anything.

Sweat is beading down my face as I strive to alleviate the pressure on my lower back, but Dr. P’s hands gently guide my feet back into the stirrups.

“She’s almost fully dilated,” Dr. P. says to Wanda. “There’s no time to prepare for a C-section.”

Oh God. I’ve had a lot of time to read up on premature births, and this isn’t good. Most are delivered by Caesarean section. Vaginal births are not recommended, especially when the baby is so small. Traveling through the birth canal creates too much trauma for the fetus.

“Did she feel anything earlier before her water broke?” Dr. P. questions Wanda.

“She said she felt some mild discomfort, some light cramping, but nothing major,” Wanda reports. “She must have started earlier in the day. I only wish we had known. We could’ve started a drip to slow it down.”

“Because now this baby is going to have to come fast,” Dr. P. remarks, his brow tense. “I don’t expect the placenta to hold up.”

A contraction rips through my body and I can’t help but push.

“That’s a girl, Ivy,” Dr. P. says, his voice brimming with encouragement. “The head is already starting to crown. Normally, I’d tell you not to push at this stage, but on the next one, I want you to give it all you’ve got.”

I grip the bedrail and hold on.

“He’s here! He’s here!” someone shouts.

“Well, let him in!” Wanda cries, not moving from Dr. P.’s side.

Eric comes charging into the room, a look of sheer panic on his face. But that’s all I see as clench my teeth and move with the pain that unleashes through me. I feel something slide out of me, but I don’t hear a cry.

“You did it, Ivy,” Wanda consoles me as Dr. P. hurriedly carries the baby to a nearby table.

“What’s going on?” Eric asks frantically, but no one will answer him. They’re too busy working on the baby.

I haven’t even seen it yet. Dr. P. and his team are blocking it from view. He didn’t cut the cord, so the placenta must have detached…but when? How long has our baby been without oxygen? I don’t even want to contemplate that it might have been stillborn, that my body might have dispelled it because it was no longer alive inside of me, accounting for the early labor.

I strain my ears, waiting for that cry, but it doesn’t come. Eric stands immobile in the middle of the room, staring over at all of the activity. I want him to come to me, to hold my hand. But he’s transfixed, watching what they’re doing to our baby.