Even with feeling awful and struggling with a headache, she is incredibly intelligent. I hope our kid gets her brains and my brawn.
There’s a knock on the outside of the door before it swings open. “Hey guys. I’m Dr. Crile. I’ll be taking care of you guys today. Evelyn, can you fill me in?” She walks over to Aspen to start her evaluation as Evelyn gives her the rundown.
The doctor turns to Evelyn. “Alright, here’s what I would like to do. We are going to do stat labs, all of our standard panels for delivery, but tack on a comprehensive metabolic panel. Make sure to cross-match her for blood.” She then turns to us. “I don’t know what your current birth plan was, but I’d really love for you to be able to deliver vaginally. We’re going to try a couple of doses of blood pressure meds in your IV. We will be monitoring you closely. If the blood pressure doesn’t come down, or your symptoms get even a hair worse, I'd like to do an emergent cesarean. I know it isn’t ideal, but as your doctor, I want to make sure we have a healthy baby and mom. At the end of the day it is your body, your baby and your call, but that would be my request.”
Mabel finally bursts through the doors, not bothering with knocking.
“Glad you made it here quickly,” I say, knowing what we were just told is a lot and my girl is going to need her mom. They’ve always had a special bond, and I want Aspen to feel safe.
Aspen turns her head to me, and I feel sick. She doesn’t look like my happy-go-lucky girl. She’s almost clammy, and her eyes are glossy. I can’t believe this is happening to us. I was hoping just one thing would go smoothly. We’ve already been through the wringer.
The doctor sticks out her hand to shake Mabel’s. “Hi, I’m Doctor Crile. I’m guessing you are Aspen’s mom?”
“Yes, I am Mabel.”
“Aspen, are you okay with everyone in the room getting updates on your status?”
Aspen slowly nods. “Of course.”
The doctor gives her the rundown, and then she and Evelyn leave the room. Two nurses come back in, starting IV’s and drawing labs. Within twenty minutes, her first med has been pushed, and I sit nervously staring at the blood pressure. It reruns every fifteen minutes and so far it hasn’t gone down.
I try to distract Aspen with anything I can think of. Stupid stories of her brother. Stupid stories I never told her. Anything that will put a smile on her face.
A half hour later, the doctor comes back in with a solemn expression on her face. “We need to talk about that C-section.”
Aspen looks at me, and I already know she’s silently asking what I think. And I think we should do what the doctor thinks is best. I nod once.
“Let’s do it.” Her voice is so small and weak, nothing like the fiery woman I adore.
“Okay, I’d like to have you back in the OR in about fifteen minutes.” The doctor looks at me and Mabel. “It’s going to get a bit crazy in here. If you guys wouldn’t mind sitting on the couch til we wheel her back. The faster we get her in the OR, the better.”
I try to digest everything she is telling me. “Can I go with her?”
“Hopefully, we will get her prepped, and as long as the spinal tap goes okay, you should be fine to come in. There are some additional risks of more bleeding with preeclampsia; if we run into that, it’s manageable, but we will have you step out with the baby until mom is in recovery.”
She looks between Aspen and me, but I’m at a loss. I can’t believe this is happening. “Okay, just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
Mabel and I do what we are told as more people file in and out of the room. Aspen’s eyes are now closed, which just fans the flame of my worry.
A tall man enters the room and addresses me. “Hi, I am Tom with anesthesia, I’ll take good care of her and hopefully we will get to see you soon. I’m going to wheel her back to the OR now.” He slaps my shoulder once and gives it a squeeze before wheeling out the love of my life.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m dressed in a white covering and a scrub cap, waiting outside the OR. Mabel went to the waiting room until it’s time. Part of me wishes she was here with me as my feet bounce a hundred miles an hour as I wait.
“Rhett?” The nurse from the room steps out. “I am so sorry, but anesthesia is having a difficult time with her spinal. We are going to put her under a general anesthetic, which means no outside personnel or support persons in the room.”
I feel tears spring to my eyes. “Is she okay?”
“She’s doing well and in stable condition right now. The spinal only worked on her left side, so this is just to keep her comfortable. We will bring the baby to your room as soon as we can. We have a team for both of them. We’ll take good care of her,” she says, empathy evident in her tone.
She disappears behind doors and I sink back into my chair, burning my face in my hands to hide the tears I feel building behind my eyes.
It feels like my heart is being torn out of my chest right now. I’m going to miss the birth of my son, and not only that, I can’t protect Aspen from out here. Even worse, I can’t protect her from this at all. I’ve never felt so fucking helpless in my life.
I can’t remember the last time I even thought about praying, but at this moment, it’s all I can do. So I pray long and hard. I want my life with Aspen. I need her to be okay. I need my son to be okay. I thought maybe having Becker Muscular Dystrophywas bad, but this? Someone you love being in pain and not being able to help them beats it by light years.
This must be how Aspen felt when I told her about BMD. She handled it all so well, always being strong and positive for me. It’s the least I can do for her to try and be her rock. To have faith that my family will see this through.
I make it back to our room with help from another nurse. Each minute that passes feels like hours. I check my phone again and again. Twenty minutes. Thirty. Forty. Forty-five. My stomach roils with fear. I don’t think this should take this long. But, then again, what the hell do I know about emergency C-Sections?
