Chapter 4
The next day, as soon as the doctor saw my test results, he told me I needed to be admitted right away. "Your placenta's low, you're having frequent contractions, and there's some light bleeding.
"You could go into labor at any moment. Where's your family?"
I called Edward.
He answered almost immediately. "I'm driving. What's going on?"
"The doctor wants me to stay in the hospital. Can you come over?" I asked.
"Is it serious?"
The doctor took the phone and explained everything to him.
Edward went quiet for a moment and said, "I'll be there in half an hour."
For the first time in days, he didn't try to make an excuse.
*****
After I finished the admission paperwork, I sat in the hallway waiting for him.
Twenty minutes went by, and Sophia messaged me.
There was a photo: a small cut on her palm.
Sophia texted: [Claire, I accidentally cut myself while slicing fruit. Edward insisted on taking me to get a tetanus shot, but I told him it wasn't necessary. He wouldn't listen.]
I kept staring at that picture.
My phone rang, and it was Edward.
Edward said, "Sophia cut her hand with a knife. I'm taking her to the ER first."
I said, "The doctor said I might go into labor early."
"I know. Didn't you already get admitted?"
"I need a family member to sign."
"Just sign for now. I'll come over after I'm done here."
"It looks barely half an inch long."
Edward's tone got colder. "It's not up to you to judge how serious it is. What if the knife was dirty and she gets an infection?"
"The doctor said I could go into labor at any moment. Are you not worried at all?"
"You're already in the hospital. She hasn't made it here yet."
Here we went again.
In Edward's world, the person already in the hospital always had to make way for the one who was still on their way.
I said, "Edward, do you remember what day it is today?"
There was a pause on the other end.
"What?" he said.
"Never mind," I said.
Today was the anniversary of my mom's passing. It was also the day I was supposed to pack that swaddle into my hospital bag.
*****
That afternoon, the hospital told me all the private rooms were full, so I ended up in a shared room with two other patients.
The bed next to mine was surrounded by a crowd of relatives, kids running wild and crying, while my contractions kept coming faster and faster.
The nurse came over and asked, "Is your husband still not here?"
"He's on his way," I replied.
I kept repeating those words, from afternoon all the way into the night.
At seven, Edward texted me. [Sophia's allergic to the tetanus shot, so they're keeping her under observation. Rest up, I'll be there before nine.]
At 8:30, I started bleeding.
Bright red blood streamed down my leg.
The nurse slammed the call button, and the doctor rushed in; his face went white.
"Looks like placental abruption. Prep for surgery, now," the doctor barked.
As I was being wheeled down the hallway to the OR, I was still trying to call Edward.
The first call went unanswered.
The second time, Sophia picked up. "Claire, Edward went out to get me some food. If you need anything, let me know, and I'll tell him for you."
"Put him on the phone."
"I got my shot, and my hand is still shaking. Don't be so mean, okay?"
The nurse next to me said urgently, "The patient has placental abruption, and the baby's heart rate is dropping. Get the baby's father here to sign the consent form right now."
Sophia went silent.
A few seconds later, the call was cut off.
I called again, and this time Edward finally answered.
"Don't let the doctor scare you. I asked a friend. Babies born at eight months can survive," he said.
I felt cold all over. "When are you coming?"
"Sophia had an allergic reaction to her shot. I can't leave her here by herself."
"And what about me?"
"You've got doctors there with you."
The fetal heart monitor started beeping frantically.
The doctor grabbed my phone. "Mr. Shaw, the baby's heart rate keeps dropping. If you keep waiting, both mother and child could be in real danger. You need to come right now, or authorize her to make the decision herself."
Edward's voice was steady on the line. "Just have her do the surgery. I'll be there in forty minutes."
"The baby might not last forty minutes."
On the other end, Sophia whimpered in pain.
Edward cut in. "That's it."
The call ended with a busy signal.
The doctor handed me the surgery consent form. "Ms. Wynn, it's an emergency C-section. Are you able to sign it yourself?"
My hands shook so badly that I couldn't grip the pen.
The nurse held my wrist to steady me.
I wrote my name carefully, checking the [none] box next to the spouse section.