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And that I’ll have to actually give birth …
I hadn’t even thought about it. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but I know it has to happen. This baby has to come out one way or another, and my body already tried that once.
Last time, it couldn’t. I lost the battle and kept the scar as a prize.
What will happen to me now?
What will happen to this baby if I fail?
Nausea overcomes me, and I get out of my seat and stumble around, feeling dizzy and unwell.
“Are you okay?” Abigail asks, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I shake my head. “I think … I need to go lie down for a second.”
Suddenly, my legs cave underneath me, and I fall to the ground headfirst, knocking myself out.
Noah
The moment Agatha told me Natalie had collapsed in the women’s room, I immediately rushed to her side. She was out for a few minutes, so I grabbed her limp body and carried her upstairs to her room.
The women looked at me like I’d lost my mind for barging into their room, but I don’t care. I’m not letting them take care of my wife when she just fainted.
I lay Natalie down on her bed and check her pulse and breathing. She’s still alive, that’s for sure. Did she faint?
“What happened?” Agatha walks into the room calmly but with assertiveness. When she notices me sitting by her side, she adds, “I apologize for the intrusion, patriarch.”
“It’s okay. Check her for me, please,” I reply. “She fainted.”
She nods and immediately grabs her stuff from a cabinet just outside in the hallway and comes back inside. There’s a thermometer, a blood pressure cuff, and a stethoscope in her hand. She presses it against Natalie’s chest and checks her breathing.
“Lungs sound normal,” she says. Then she checks her pulse and times it. “Great pulse too.”
She wraps the pressure cuff around her arm and pumps it up. “One-twenty-five over seventy-eight. It’s elevated, but nothing too concerning.”
“What about her temperature?” I ask.
Agatha quickly shoves the thermometer into her ear and checks the number. “Ninety-eight degrees. Perfect.”
She gets up and smiles at me. “Maybe she’s just too stressed.”
“Could that explain the fainting?”
She nods. “It’s best if she rests for a day. See how she feels afterward and keep her out of trouble, if possible,” she says.
I scratch the back of my head. “She was in the women’s room when it happened. That’s not stressful.”
“Could be,” she says, shrugging. “To her, it might be. Maybe the women asked her questions she couldn’t answer. Or maybe it just didn’t feel right to her. These things can happen when a woman is pregnant. Growing the baby takes up a lot of energy.”
I let out a sigh and sit down next to Natalie. I briefly glance at Agatha, and say, “Thank you. You can go now.”
She smiles and walks off, leaving us in peace. I grab Natalie’s hand and press a soft kiss on top. Right then, she groans, and her eyes blink a couple of times.
“Hey …” she mutters. “What happened?”
“You fainted. How are you feeling?” I ask.
She smashes her hand against her forehead. “Ugh, my head hurts.”
“That might be from the fall,” I explain. “You probably hit your head against the tiles.”
I check the back of her head to make sure there’s no wound or blood. But she’s in the clear.
“I felt so … dizzy all of a sudden,” she says.
“What were you doing?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” She licks her lips. “I think they were touching my belly … and then all of a sudden, I thought about having to birth this baby and bringing him or her into this … this … community.” She shivers.
I grab the blankets and pull them up higher. “Don’t think about it.”
Her eyes widen. “But I have to. One way or another, this baby is going to come into this world, and I have nothing to say about how or when it will happen, or even where it gets to grow up.”
“Not everything is in our hands, Natalie,” I say. “You have to understand that. Sometimes we have to let nature take its course.”
“No, you don’t understand,” she says, grabbing my arm. “I could die. What if it gets stuck? What if it has to be cut out of me again? Do you even do those things here?”
I frown. “No …”
Her face turns as white as a lily flower.
“Then I’m gonna die. I’m going to die,” she repeats, shaking her head. “I can’t die here.”
“You won’t,” I say, holding her down before she attempts to get out of bed. “You have to calm down.”
“I can’t! What if the same thing happens again, Noah?” she asks, ripping away the blanket and pulling up her dress. “See this scar?” She points at her belly. “He came out there. Dead. I never even got to see him. Talk to him. Love him.”
