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Several nurses and other doctors came in, enough that I felt like I was on display. But I had to try to understand. This was a small hospital, and this baby was very early. If they felt like they needed all hands on deck, then I was going to let them make that call. As long as it meant the baby came out okay.
After what could have been hours or days or weeks, I felt the most intense pain I had ever gone through, and the baby’s head emerged. There was rejoicing from Ryan and the low monotone of the doctors as they talked to each other and continued about their business. The business of helping bring life into the world.
Suddenly, I heard the doctor say something and Ryan respond. He sounded shocked but happy. I watched as he looked back at me, and tears threatened to spill down his cheeks from the corner of his eyes.
“You did it,” he said, choking back tears. “It’s a boy!”
“A boy?” I asked.
Before he could answer, a nurse came around the side with my baby, swaddled loosely and crying, little hands reaching up into the sky. She placed him on my chest, and I opened my gown, letting him snuggle tightly to me. Ryan reached down and kissed me both on the head and the lips and then reached down to kiss the baby on the head as well. There were a few moments where everything was perfect. I wanted to hold on to them forever.
Then the nurse arrived back at my side. She had a concerned look that I instantly feared, and she reached down for the baby. Instinctually, I resisted. I wanted to hold him, to cuddle him and love on him as long as possible.
“Miss Daniels,” Dr. Stanley said from the foot of the bed. Her voice was calm and soothing but cut through the noise of the room clearly. It was the voice of authority. A voice of kindness but authority.
“But I don’t want to let him go,” I said.
“I know,” she said. “But he is fighting to breathe. We need to get him into NICU right away. He will be okay, but he needs the help. You have to do what is best for him now.”
“Can I hold him first?” Ryan asked.
“If you bring him to me, yes,” she said.
Ryan looked down into my eyes, and I knew I couldn’t argue. Dr. Stanley was right. He was so tiny and was fighting to breathe. Fighting to live. I had to let him go so they could help him.
I nodded, and Ryan reached down, gently taking him from my arms. Tears streamed down my face as I reached down to kiss his head once more. Ryan held him tight to his bare chest, kissing the top of his head and seemingly whispering things to him as he brought him around to the doctor. An incubator attached was wheeled into the room, and Ryan laid him inside it. As soon as the baby was in the incubator, the nurse took off, taking him away from us.
The room suddenly felt incredibly empty and my body reacted with pain.
The adrenaline was dumping out of me, but the stress and worry were compounding. Ryan came back to me, holding me tight as we both cried in each other’s arms. Dr. Stanley came to us, telling us what the plans were, how it would go, and encouraging us that it would all be okay. They knew what they were doing. But we should be prepared for the baby to stay for a few weeks.
It sounded like torture. To go home and not have my baby. But I would be willing to do it. I would be willing to do anything.
A few days passed, and Ryan had to return to work. The days had been more bearable with him there, but I knew that the time was short. He didn’t have time off to use, and someone had to make money. His injuries on the job weren’t severe, and he had gotten a few days off based on the doctor’s recommendations, but after those days were up, he had to get back in uniform and go to work.
I hated seeing him go, but I understood. His job was important. And with the multiple injuries at the bread factory fire, they were suddenly understaffed. They needed him. When he returned later that evening, he made himself a cot to sleep on between chairs. I slept well knowing he was in the same room as me, even if I felt bad that he was sleeping on chairs and was going to get up in the morning to go to work again.
But Ryan never complained, taking it in stride and heading home to shower in the morning before going off to work. They had put him on swing shift to cover more hours where they were short, and I noticed they were longer hours than usual. It didn’t seem to matter much until I noticed he also seemed kind of distracted while he was at the hospital. Like there was something going on that he didn’t want to tell me about.
