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Waking up slowly, I’m groggy and don’t know what the hell is going on. My entire body hurts and I’m completely disoriented. Looking around, I’m in the same room I was brought to when I got to the hospital. At least I think I am. There’s a small TV at the end of my bed, machines beeping, and my hand is being held by someone. Turning my head in that direction, I see Wicked with his head resting against my arm and his hand in mine. It’s the only part of my body besides my head that’s not covered by the blankets on the bed. When I try to shift, my stomach clenches in pain. However, I look around the room to find our baby and see nothing here. Panic fills me as the beeping gets faster and faster with each passing second.
“Quinn? Are you okay, baby?” Wicked asks, his voice laced with sleep and concern.
“Where’s our baby, Wicked? I don’t even know if we have a son or daughter. Are they okay?” I ask, looking around the room again as my eyes try to drift closed once again.
“It’s okay, baby. We have a little girl. She’s in the NICU. There’s a little problem with her breathin’ on her own and she has to be under some sort of special light. Your dad and brother are watchin’ over her. Quinn, we need to have a talk,” my husband says, his voice filled with sadness as he grips my hand tighter.
“What’s goin’ on, Maddox?”
“Quinn, you started bleedin’ and they couldn’t get it stopped. They had to perform a hysterectomy on you. It was the only way to stop the bleedin’ completely after our little one was born. I didn’t get to say goodbye or anythin’ they rushed you out of here so fuckin’ quick. I’ve been scared to fuckin’ death until this very second where I can look into your eyes and hear your voice. Let me get you some water,” my husband informs me as shock and anguish fill me.
I can’t stop the tears that fill my eyes and spill over. My dreams of having a houseful of kids has been taken from me. This emergency surgery has taken away my ability to give Wicked more kids. To give him a son to take after him and join the club in his footsteps. This isn’t what he signed up for and I don’t blame him one bit if he decides to leave me now because I can’t give him any other children.
“Hey, baby, what’s wrong?” he asks, holding out the cup and straw for me to take some sips of cold water.
“I always wanted to have a lot of kids, Wicked. You know this. Now, we have a daughter and can’t have any more kids. You won’t ever get your son. I can no longer keep that dream alive because it was taken from me,” I cry out, not controlling the sobs that wrack my body.
“I don’t give a fuck about a ton of kids or havin’ a son, Quinn. You and our daughter are the only things that matter to me. It was either you have that surgery or you weren’t goin’ to be livin’ any longer. That was a decision we all made together in a split second because that’s all the time we had. We didn’t take this lightly or worry about anythin’ other than savin’ your life so you can be here for our daughter, Quinn. Our daughter who doesn’t even have a name yet. I haven’t been to see her or anythin’ because my entire focus has been on bein’ at your side,” Wicked tells me, his voice breaking as a few tears slide down his face.
“Little princess, Wicked isn’t lyin’ to you. We literally had a second to make a decision and we all stand by it. I will not live in this world when my daughter isn’t in it. If it means you can’t have any other children naturally, that’s okay. There are plenty of more options for you to still have a houseful of children and give Wicked the son you’re so determined he wants,” my dad says entering my room followed by my mom. “You can adopt or foster or a number of other ways to have more kids, little princess. This isn’t the end of that dream for you. It’s just been changed and you’ll adapt to ensure it still comes true. Or you’ll have your beautiful little girl and your family will be complete at three. There is no right or wrong here, Quinn.”
“They’re both right, baby. Take some time and process everything that happened. This isn’t the end of the world and we’ll get through this as a family. None of us are going to expect you to be okay in a second. It’s going to take time for you to process and work through having an emergency surgery. For now, let’s just focus on you healing and the beautiful baby girl you brought into this world. She’s precious and needs her mommy,” my mom adds in, her voice soft and gentle as she takes my other hand and leans down to press a kiss against my forehead. “I’m so proud of you, Quinn. You were so strong and listened to your body. You knew something was wrong and told us when you could. Don’t ever forget that intuition or not listen to it.”
“When can I see our daughter?” I ask, needing to focus my attention on something else.
“It’s gonna be a little while. We have to wait for the visitin’ hours to start again, baby. That won’t be until eight in the mornin’. Right now, it’s about four hours from now,” Wicked tells me, his voice almost a whisper.
With a nod of my head, I try to make myself as comfortable as I can in the bed. My parents and husband surround me as I let whatever medicines I’ve been given work their magic and lull me back to sleep. I’m surrounded by family and that’s all I’ll ever need in my life. Everything else I’ll figure out when I’m more alert and awake.
As soon as I’m awake in the morning, Wicked gets a nurse in my room so we can go see our daughter. I have to be wheeled there in a wheelchair per Doc’s orders. She’s been in to see me already and let me know the surgery was a success. She even sat with me while I once again cried and screamed about not being able to have more children. Like my family, she told me there were other options for us to expand our family in the future. It’s going to take me a while to get my mind wrapped around not having any more babies, but I’ll eventually get there.
The second the nurse walks in my room, I’m flinging the blankets off me and Wicked starts laughing.
“What can I help you with?” she asks, while smiling at me.
“I’d like to go to the NICU to see my daughter please. I haven’t been able to see her yet,” I tell her. “Doc has already cleared me to go visit her as long as I remain in the wheelchair and don’t push myself after everything I went through yesterday.”
“Yes. We were told to get you up there as soon as you were ready,” she says, a smile on her face as she helps me into the wheelchair and Wicked pushes me from the room.
The NICU is on the same floor as we are. It’s just on the opposite side of the building. Wicked pushes me there and when we get close, I can’t help but start crying once again. The entire hallway is filled with the members of all three clubs. They’re lined up on each side of the hall as we make our way through. Every single person is holding flowers or balloons. None of them try to stop us from getting by though. At the very end, the closest to the door to go inside are our parents and siblings. Their faces are covered in large smiles as my dad opens the door for us and we’re met by another nurse.
She walks us through washing up and putting the gowns we have to wear on. Once we’re ready to meet our daughter, she leads us through the nursery until we’re in a small room. There’s only one bassinet in there as Wicked pushes me as close as I can get.
“She’s still on oxygen and the light is to help with the jaundice. Her heart rate has been steady and strong since you had her and there don’t seem to be any other issues at this point in time. She’s taken multiple bottles since you had her as well. The formula isn’t causing her any issues either. You are still able to breastfeed if that’s the route you wanted to go. We just need to know because you can’t do that if you’re on pain medicine and everything else. Whatever you eat, drink, or ingest will go directly to the baby. For now, we’ve just been giving her the bottles we have. When the doctor gives the approval, we’d like to get some skin-on-skin contact between the baby and each of you,” the nurse informs us as I lean forward to look at our little one.
She’s so tiny as I take in every single detail of her. The nurse lets us know she weighed in at just under five pounds when she was born. They’re pleasantly surprised with how well she’s doing and believe I was slightly further along than what we were led to believe. At least that’s their reasoning for why our daughter is doing so well.
“Baby, do you have a clue what you want to name her?” Wicked asks me as we both look down on our daughter.
Before leaving us in the room alone, the nurse lets us know we can put our hands through the holes in the side of the bassinet thing and touch our daughter. I immediately do that. Holding out my finger, I stroke her little hand. Our daughter curls her little fingers around mine and it absolutely fills my heart with so much love. She’s strong and going to fight until she’s healthy enough to come home with us.
“I want to name her Brindley Elizabeth Wilson. Is that okay?” I ask my husband as he slides his own hand through a hole on the opposite side of the bassinet.
Our daughter holds his finger like she’s doing with me. She’s got something covering her eyes because of the light shining down on her and the smallest diaper I’ve ever seen in my life. There’s an oxygen tube going up her nose being held in place by a piece of tape, several wires are connected to her little chest as it rises and falls with each breath she takes, and an IV is attached to her little foot. My heart breaks that I can’t hold her now and feel her little body against mine. We’ll get to it in time, but the most important thing for her is to be where she is right now.
“That’s perfect, baby. Our little Brindley. She’s gonna grow up fightin’ and provin’ how fuckin’ strong she is on a daily basis,” Wicked tells me, his voice low and gentle as he watches over our daughter.
“Yes she is. And she’s gonna have her daddy wrapped right around her little finger for the rest of her life,” I tell him with a soft smile on my face.
