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“Push, baby. It’s okay, just push,” Kingston’s voice echoes, but it doesn’t register with me. I feel my hips separating and body-numbing pressure deep in my back. I didn’t have time for an epidural, and the pain is more than what I could have ever anticipated. The books, opinions, all the stories—pale to the absolute torture wrenching my body apart. I can’t feel my legs as I prepare to welcome my son into this earth. Battling my body to work the way it needs to seems beyond unbearable.
I bear down, breathing out, squeezing my eyes shut with my hand gripped around Kingston’s, but nothing happens—no baby.
“Lana, you’re doing great. Give me one more push on three. We see the head. Count with me. One...two...three.”
I use what little strength I have to move mountains, it seems. I push hard with the most effort my weakened body has and I hear it; I hear the words I’ve been dying to hear.
“That was good. Just give me one more big one, Lana. He’s here,” Dr. Barrett reassures me, and desperate to see my son, I bare down, but this time, I do so with every last ounce of strength I have in hopes this really is the last one.
“That’s it, my queen. You got this. Bring our son home,” Kingston encourages next to me, one hand gripped to the point of breaking in my clenched hand, while the other runs through my hair, trying to bring me comfortable solace.
With that last push, I hear angels sing, my desperate ears no longer starving for what I’ve wanted since the moment I learned of his existence. Our son.
His cries are loud and groggily, I do my best to catch a glimpse of him, but he’s instantly swarmed by nurses. His voice is calling for me to come get him, calling out to his mother for safety. Why didn’t they give me my son?
“We need to get him to the incubator. Let’s cut his cord STAT,” the doctor rushes out with authority as he stands over our son, speaking to the nurses as if I can’t hear what he’s saying.
I catch a brief sighting of Princeton and my heart rate spikes. What do they mean? He’s a big boy, so why are they taking him away from me? I feel myself working up into complete hysteria as I squeeze Kingston’s hand tighter in my damp palm.
“Kingston, where are they taking him?” I start to move, the pain below my waist far less prominent than the suffocating, anxiety-ridden panic that’s clawing at me.
“Baby, relax, they’re going to keep him safe. Just lay back. Okay?”
“No! I want to see our son!” I wail, looking up at him as if he has lost his damn mind. That’s our boy, and I don’t know if him being calm is to settle me, or if it’s because he doesn’t care that our child is being dragged away without us even getting to touch him.
Either way, neither of those things is sitting well with me.
“Ma’am, we have a protocol and we need to make sure his lungs are fully developed. Please relax. We will get him situated while we get you taken care of.” The nurse at my feet fails to make me feel better.
“I don’t care about me. I want to see my son. Kingston, tell them to give me our son!” I look back up to Kings and tug at him with desperation. My heart is beating a mile a minute, my body feeling like it’s going into shock. The tears come out of me with a hot, acidy burn. I want to see my baby. I need to touch him and confirm on my own that he is here and well.
“Baby, I want to see him too, but he needs to be put in the incubator. We need to make sure he is healthy,” He coos gently, but I only sob harder, clinging to him as I see small tears seeping from his eyes.
“That’s our baby. I want to make sure he’s safe. My baby!” I wail up into Kingston’s neck as he comes to my level and embraces my still-shaking form. I try desperately to draw comfort from him, but how can I when the one thing I need to make me feel whole is being ripped away from me? Like my only lifeline is being severed.
What felt like only moments was really hours when I woke up in the hospital, ready to give birth. Blacking out is the last thing I can recall before waking up in extreme pain and being prepped to deliver. All because a small manila paper with just a few sentences and an impact of a thousand armies touched my hands. Joel is free. Joel was never really gone, still living, but still an imitation of death—out of sight, out of mind. The nightmare I ran from tirelessly, even in my wakeful moments, is now a tangible reality.
I can’t believe he’s free already, that he now has the power to get to me whenever he wants. Restraining order, protection order, all that shit is nothing to him. I lived in the shadows of that monster, saw the things he was capable of, felt the wrath of what he can do. Now my son is here, and more than my safety, I fear for his. Princeton is mine to protect, and when Joel was locked up
and just a mere absent thought, it didn’t invade my every waking moment. But now that he’s free and has the power to not only hurt me, but to hurt my child—it’s a fresh slap to my face.
As they leave the room with my son, I feel that tangible fear even more so. They dragged away our boy, leaving us in this room feeling empty. What happened? How did we get here? What was hours that felt like minutes, now turns into seconds that feel like decades away from my son.
The pit of loneliness and fear creeps in as I wallow in this hospital room with Kingston. Being poked and prodded as I become numb, his crying mingles with mine. This feeling seems desolate; a void deep in me where my son should always be feels empty. Everything comes flooding back in at once, the pain, the fear, the blame. All of it reaching in me and pulling out my insides.
How will I go forward when I just hit a landslide?
My son. I need my son.
It was all a blur tonight. Lana falling into my arms as she passed out after reading the letter. Catching her limp body against me, then seeing her water break as Jeff called 911. I couldn’t do anything but panic. It became clear she passed out and was quickly sent into premature labor.
Being rushed through the motions of the rest of the day has my mind reeling and just now starting to catch up. Lana crashed after the medicine kicked in and I haven’t left her side. Jeff and Becky went with Trey and Shayla to get some food, and my dad is on his way now. But staying right fucking here with my queen is the only thing I want to do. I saw the terror in her eyes when they took away our son. And I know damn well she’s going to wake up and see he’s still gone, which will throw her into another fit.
I understand. I want to get us to the incubator so we can see him, but we aren’t allowed to yet, and I will wait until Lana wakes up to go with her. Until then, I have a moment to think about everything. The doctor let me know that Prince is already farther along in his development, so they don’t believe he will need to be in the incubator for long. Which has been the best news to receive. I just wish Lana was awake to hear it. Maybe it would help her anxiety settle.
I hate the reason my son and my girl are in this place—him early and fighting like a strong little warrior, and Lana a wreck over not being able to touch and see our baby—is over Joel. Lana was sent into labor because of that fucking letter. Joel is out; he’s no longer behind bars. The day snuck up on us, most likely because we’ve been wrapped up in the new house, prepping for baby, and more that the sudden loss of Joel’s presence was easy to forget.
His letters stopped, the harassing too, but just knowing now that the only thing keeping him from coming to Lana or near my family is nothing but a lousy piece of paper puts me on edge. I have no doubt I can protect her, but all it takes is one minute for me to fall short or not be all in for him to get a hold of her, of our son. One little unneeded blink or unexpected turn of my back, and he could have my world and more in his hands.
I try my best to not think of that, to not let it eat me up, but it doesn’t work. We have a child now, a precious life I have to fucking protect. This also presents a whole new list of setbacks for Lana. I was prepared for her to be taken aback a little when he was released, but if it was any indication of what’s to come after tonight, her setback may be a complete bulldozer to her walls.
“Kings?”
