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“You’re gonna have to stay out here.”
“What?” I shook my head. “No! I can’t leave her. I promised I wouldn’t.”
“I’m sorry, sir. We can’t have anyone besides medical staff in the operating room. Hospital rules. You can stay right here outside the door and someone will keep you updated.”
“I need to be in there!” I yelled.
“Their lives could be in danger, sir. We need as few people in that room as possible so the doctor can do her job.”
Their lives?
Abby and the baby.
Their lives.
What. Is. Happening?
“Please. I can’t lose her.” My voice trembled. “Do whatever it takes to save her.” When the cold and heavy steel door closed, I shouted, praying she could hear me. “I’ll be right out here, Abby.”
I began praying and praying and praying under my breath. Praying to God. Praying to Britney. I’d never prayed to Britney before. I’d never asked her for anything. But I desperately needed her help. It felt like my soul had been sucked out of me and transported into that operating room.
I frantically googled placental abruption on my phone. Before a few minutes ago, I’d never heard of it. How had I not known this was a possibility? The words on the screen knocked the wind out of me.
Life-threatening complications.
Hemorrhage.
Possible death of mother, child, or both.
I had to exit out. I didn’t even want those words in my head right now. Shutting my eyes tightly, I began to pray again. When I’d told Lavinia to do that earlier, I’d had no idea how badly we would need prayers tonight. There were times in this process where I’d thought of Abby losing the baby. But never had I imagined I could loseAbby. And losing both? Incomprehensible.
If anything happened to either of them, I wouldn’t survive it.
God help me.
God help us.
Please.
For the first time, I thought to text Kate and Phil.Shit.They needed to know we were here. Thankfully, they were already in England, staying at the flat they owned here in anticipation of the birth. It would take them a while to get here from London, and it was late. They were probably sleeping.
My hands shook as I typed.
We’re at Reddington Hospital in Westfordshire. Abby had a placental abruption and is having an emergency c-section as we speak. Don’t know anything more. They won’t let me in the OR. Get here as soon as you can.
The door suddenly opened. My heart jumped, and then it nearly leapt out of my chest as a nurse approached, holding a baby—a baby whose arms and legs were moving around, alivebaby.
“Your son is here. His vitals are good. We’re taking him back to the recovery room.”
My son.
A son.
As she placed the whimpering infant in my arms, I looked down in a daze. This should have been the most monumental moment of my life. But it felt like I was experiencing it from outside my body. This moment had been hijacked by the dark cloud of fear looming over me.
“What about Abby?” I asked.
The nurse’s expression darkened. “Abby lost a lot of blood. She’s going to need a transfusion. But they’re doing everything they can to stabilize her.”
