Chương 9
Please be the bigger person.
Please let it go.
Please fix this.
I stared at the door.
Then I said, loud enough for him to hear, “You told the police it was an accident.”
Silence.
The hallway seemed to empty around the sentence.
Finally, Dad said, “I was trying to keep things from getting worse.”
“They already got worse.”
“Savannah, your mother could be arrested.”
I looked down at the bands around my stomach.
“I could be having a premature baby.”
He did not answer.
That silence hurt more than anything he could have said.
Security arrived.
I heard another man explain that Dad needed to leave the unit.
Dad protested once.
Then his voice moved farther away.
A minute later, Karen came back inside.
“He’s gone.”
“Thank you.”
She checked the monitor.
“You did the right thing.”
I almost told her she did not know enough about my family to say that.
Instead, I looked at Evan.
He was staring at the door with his jaw clenched.
“Sit down.”
He did.
“I’m going to say something ugly.”
“Okay.”
“I’m glad they’re scared.”
He did not rush to reassure me.
He did not tell me I was a good person.
He simply nodded.
“I get it.”
“I hate that I’m glad.”
“I get that too.”
My eyes burned.
“They spent my whole life teaching me consequences were cruel when they happened to them.”
Evan leaned forward.
“And now?”
I looked at the closed door.
“Now I think consequences are just consequences.”
The monitor changed.
A rapid alarm chirped twice.
Karen turned sharply toward it.
Lila’s heartbeat dropped.
For one second, nobody moved.
Then everybody did.
Karen pressed a button on the wall and turned me onto my left side.
“Savannah, take a slow breath.”
“What’s happening?”
“Her heart rate dipped.”
“Why?”
“Could be the cord, could be position, could be the contraction.”
She adjusted the monitor with one hand and reached beneath the blanket with the other.
Another nurse entered without knocking.
Then Dr. Patel appeared behind her.
The room that had felt spacious ten seconds earlier suddenly seemed crowded with bodies and equipment.
Evan stood beside my shoulder.
“What do you need me to do?”
Karen pointed toward the chair.
“Stay close and stay out of our way.”
He sat immediately.
I watched the numbers on the monitor without understanding them.
Lila’s heart rate climbed.
Then it dropped again.
The alarm sounded.
My mouth went dry.
“Is she okay?”
Dr. Patel was listening while watching the tracing.
“She recovered.”
“That doesn’t sound okay.”
“It means we’re watching carefully.”
“I need you to tell me if this is bad.”
She looked directly at me.
“It concerns me.”
The honesty steadied me more than reassurance would have.
“What happens if it keeps happening?”
“We may need to deliver.”
“Now?”
“Possibly.”
Evan reached for my hand.
My fingers were cold despite the warm room.
Another contraction rose beneath the epidural, more pressure than pain.
Lila’s heartbeat slowed again.
This time, the room changed immediately.
Karen moved the bed.
The second nurse opened a cabinet.
Dr. Patel said, “Turn her right.”
They rolled me.
The pressure in my pelvis sharpened.
“I feel something.”
“What kind of something?”
“Like I need to push.”
Dr. Patel pulled on gloves.
“Don’t push yet.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
She checked me.
Her eyebrows lifted.
“You’re seven.”
Evan stared at her.
“Seven what?”
I would have laughed if I could.
“Centimeters,” Dr. Patel said.
“How did she go from four to seven that fast?”
“Labor can move quickly after membranes rupture.”
Another alarm sounded.
Dr. Patel’s eyes stayed on the monitor.
“Savannah, I want to place an internal monitor.”
“What does that do?”
“It helps us track the baby more accurately.”
“Do it.”
She explained the procedure anyway.
I heard perhaps half of it.
There was a point when fear became too crowded to process new details.
I focused on Evan’s thumb moving back and forth across my hand.
The internal monitor improved the tracing, but not the pattern.
Lila’s heart rate recovered between contractions and dropped during several of them.
Dr. Patel studied the strip.
“We’re going to keep watching for a few more minutes.”
A few more minutes sounded harmless.
They were not.
Each one lasted forever.
Karen asked whether I felt dizzy.
No.
Nauseated.
A little.
Pressure.
Yes.
Pain.
Not much.
Then the monitor dipped again.
Dr. Patel exhaled.
“That’s enough.”
My stomach dropped.
“What does that mean?”
“I recommend we deliver by cesarean.”
The word entered the room cleanly.
There was no confusion about it.
Evan asked, “Emergency?”
“Urgent.”
“Is she in danger?”
Dr. Patel chose her words carefully.
“The baby is telling us she may not be tolerating labor well.”
I looked at the warmer.
“What if we wait?”
“We risk the pattern worsening.”
“What if we do it now?”
“We deliver a thirty-four-week baby tonight.”
I stared at her.
There was no good choice.
Only different kinds of fear.
“Do it.”
Evan squeezed my hand.
Dr. Patel nodded.
“Okay.”
Everything accelerated.
A nurse handed Evan blue disposable clothing.
Another removed my jewelry.
Karen explained that they would take me to the operating room first and bring Evan in once anesthesia was ready.
“You’ll be awake.”
“I know.”
“You’ll feel pressure, but you shouldn’t feel sharp pain.”
“I know.”
She paused.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re not scared.”
That almost undid me.
“I’m terrified.”
“I know.”
Evan leaned over me.
“I’m right here.”
“They’re taking me without you.”
“For about five minutes.”
“What if something happens in five minutes?”
“Then I’ll be outside being unbearable.”
I laughed once.
He kissed me.
His lips were cold.
As they rolled me toward the operating room, I caught sight of my phone on the table.
For one irrational second, I worried it would be stolen.
Then I hated myself for thinking about a phone while my baby was in distress.
Then I hated myself for hating myself.
May you like
Fear made everything stupid.
The operating room was brutally bright.
