Chapter 175
Nick woke
up groggy, having slept like a rock, but not long enough. As he rolled over in his bed to check the
clock, hardly lifting his heavy head from his pillow, he remembered the night
before.
He’d spent
it at the hospital with Claire, staying early into the morning to make sure she
and her newborn twins were okay. He
hadn’t seen her, nor the babies, since he’d been shooed from the operating room
during her C-section, but he remembered her mother coming into the waiting room
around two a.m. to tell the men that Claire had woken from anesthesia and gone
to see the twins, now named Caitlin and Delaine, in the NICU, but that she was
asleep now and would stay that way until morning, with the help of the
painkillers and sedatives she’d been given.
“You should
go home, Nick,” Carrie had told him kindly.
“There’s no point in staying here any longer tonight. Go get some sleep.” Knowing she was right and that it would do
him no good to spend the night sleeping in a chair, Nick had obliged.
Now it was
nine a.m. and his twenty-ninth birthday, he remembered. Caitlin and Delaine Turner had missed sharing
it with him by less than an hour.
He didn’t
feel much like celebrating. Instead, he
found himself anxious to see Claire, to find out how the babies were doing
after their first night. Last night,
there had been little news.
As if on
cue, the phone rang, and he sat up quickly, suddenly alert, thinking it might
be Claire or someone in her family. He
hoped it wasn’t bad news.
But when he
checked the caller ID on his cell phone, he saw Laureen’s name instead, and his
body sagged with relief. “Hey, Lauree,”
he greeted her, answering.
“Happy
Birthday!” Laureen’s voice chirped, bright as ever, as if she’d already been up
a couple of hours.
“Thanks,”
he said.
Before he
could get anything else out, she said, “So I was thinking we could spend the
day together! I’ve got the whole day off
work, and I have some stuff planned. How
does that sound?”
Clearly,
she hadn’t a clue what was going on with Claire. And how would she? She’d been sick the night before, and he
hadn’t thought to call her from the hospital.
Funny, she didn’t sound sick at all on the phone…
“Uhh, well,
it sounds great, but… I actually was planning on heading to the hospital
today.”
“Hospital –
what for??” Laureen’s voice rose with concern.
“Is everything okay?”
“I shoulda
called you last night. Claire had her
babies.”
“What?!”
“Yeah… I
was hangin’ out with her, ya know, cause you weren’t feeling well and her
parents were out of town, and she went into labor. She had the twins at eleven-something last
night.”
“Oh my
gosh! Is… is everyone okay??”
“I guess
so… I mean, I don’t really know. The
babies are in intensive care, cause they’re premature, you know. But Claire’s alright. She had a scare with some bleeding during her
C-section, but she got through it alright.
I haven’t seen her since then, though, so I wanted to go up today. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Well no,
of course not,” Laureen replied quickly.
“It’s your birthday; you do what you want. We can do something tonight though,
right? I mean, we have to celebrate!”
“Sure,” he
agreed. “Tonight would be fine.”
They got
off the phone shortly after, and only once they had, Nick realized he’d
forgotten to ask if she wanted to come to the hospital to see Claire with him.
Oh well, he thought to himself, as he climbed
out of bed. She can visit her on her
own if she wants to.
Maybe
Claire wasn’t ready for a bunch of visitors yet anyway. It would be a good idea to check with her
first. After all, he knew she wouldn’t
mind if he visited. Claire had
never turned down a visit from him before.
Smiling a
little, he hobbled into the bathroom for his shower.
***
In the hospital,
Claire awoke to a grim reality that had not been there in her blinding fog of
drugs and emotions the night before.
She felt
better than she had following surgery the night before, and though she was
still on heavy pain medication, the loopy feeling had passed, and she felt much
more lucid. This meant that the doctors
now felt comfortable sharing with her the facts they had sheltered her from the
first time she had awoken.
The
pediatrician visited her early. His name
was Dr. Connor, and he was blonde and handsome, with just a few wrinkles of age
starting to appear around his blue eyes.
She liked him at once when he introduced himself and leaned over the bed
to shake her hand. But as soon as he
started updating her on the twins, the good feeling was gone.
He spoke at
length about all the concerns he had, all the conditions they had or could
develop, due to their prematurity, everything from heart and lung problems to
blindness and mental retardation. It
made her upset, but she tried not to think the worst, remembering all the
conversations she’d had in the past with doctors about side effects and
possible complications that went along with the drugs she’d taken and
procedures she’d had done. And despite all
the risks and worries, she was still alive, she reminded herself. She knew better than to start freaking out
just yet.
And in the
midst of the doom and gloom, there was some good news.
“Caitlin
seems to be doing well,” Dr. Connor said encouragingly. “She’s a little jaundiced, and she showed
some signs of respiratory distress last night, which is why she’s on a
ventilator. But I expect she’ll be ready
to come off of that within the next few days.
We’re giving both babies artificial surfactant, which is a substance
that helps the lungs expand. Preemies
don’t produce enough of it, compared to full-term infants, which is why they
struggle.”
But of
course, the good news was followed by more bad, as the conversation turned to
Claire’s second-born.
“Delaine is
struggling more than Caitlin. Her RDS –
respiratory distress syndrome – is much more severe, and she’s relying solely
on the ventilator to breathe right now.
She’ll have to be on it for some time, which is a concern because too
much dependence on a vent can cause problems later on. We’ll try to wean her off of it as soon as
possible, but it’s going to be awhile.
Her lungs are just too immature.
She’s also showing signs of Patent Ductus Arteriosus, which is a fancy
name for a heart condition that’s often found in preemies. There’s a blood vessel in the heart that
stays open in unborn babies to allow blood to bypass the lungs, since they get
oxygen for their blood from their mother.
The vessel is supposed to close once the baby is born and starts using
its lungs; otherwise, it puts a strain on the heart and lungs. The vessel fails to close in a lot of
preemies. It can’t be officially
diagnosed until it’s been ten days since birth, but I just wanted you to know
it was a concern.”
Claire’s
own heart was beating fast with the thought that something could be wrong with
Delaine’s heart. “What happens if she
does have that?” she asked. “How do you
fix it? Will she have to have surgery?”
“Sometimes
it can be corrected with medications alone, but in some cases, yes, it does
require surgery. Don’t worry about that
for right now though.”
Then why did you tell me? wondered Claire, but she supposed she
was glad he had prepared her. She didn’t
like to be kept in the dark about things.
And yet, it had been more pleasant last night when she could look in at
her sleeping twins without knowing all of the things that were and could be
wrong with them. In her eyes, they were
perfect. Small, but perfect.
She thanked
the pediatrician for the debriefing, but when Dr. Connor left, she broke down
into tears, completely overwhelmed by all he had told her. She hated crying, but with her hormones in a
frenzy and her newborns in the NICU, she had a feeling she’d be doing a lot of
it over the next few days.
***
Nick was pretty sure he was familiar with just about every wing of
Tampa General Hospital. The ER…
Oncology… and now this place, he mused as he entered the maternity ward.
He stopped at the nurses station to tell them that he was a friend of Claire’s,
so that no one would think he was just some creepy person stalking pregnant
women and newborn babies. Then he made
his way down the pastel-wallpapered hallway to Claire’s room.
The door was open just a crack, and he knocked lightly before looking
in, not at all sure what to expect. He
was relieved when he heard Claire’s voice call, “Come in!”
Pushing the door open further, he walked into the room and over to the
bed, where Claire was lying. She
appeared weary, as if the last twelve hours had taken nearly every bit of life
out of her. Oddly enough, she looked as
pregnant as she had been the night before; he could still see the bump of her
belly beneath the blankets, but maybe that was just swelling. However, the pregnant “glow” she’d had was gone;
her skin was colorless, and her eyes were tearstained.
Still, she cracked a smile and said, “Happy birthday,” as he
approached.
His own smile was brief.
“Thanks. How are you doing?” he
asked gently, frowning as he sat down next to her bed, instantly wrapping his
hand around hers.
“Oh, alright,” she sighed, but her voice broke, and her bloodshot eyes
welled up with fresh tears. This caught
him off-guard.
“What’s wrong?” he persisted, squeezing her hand. “Tell me.
Is it something with the babies?”
His heart began to thud against his ribs; he prayed neither of the twins
had taken a turn for the worse.
“You just missed the pediatrician telling me everything that is wrong
and could be wrong with them,” she replied, her voice wavering as she tried not
to sob. “They both have to be on
ventilators because their lungs are too immature, and Delaine is really sick.”
Feeling awkward, Nick searched for something to say to that. “I know this is scary,” he said finally, “but
you’ve got to believe that they’re both gonna be just fine eventually. I do.
If they’re as strong as their mom, they’ll tough it out.”
Claire smiled through her tears.
“Do I look strong to you? Look at
me, I’m a mess.”
“You just gave birth to twins. I
think that makes you look very strong,” replied Nick, smiling back. He bent and lightly kissed her forehead,
whispering, as he pulled away, “And you’re a beautiful mess.”
***
I don’t
deserve you, thought
Claire as she surveyed the handsome blonde man sitting placidly at her bedside,
his eyes trained to the TV mounted on the wall.
Hers took in his profile, trailing along the lines of his nose and
jawline. She couldn’t focus on whatever
he was watching, her mind too occupied by worry, but his mere presence was
helping that. He had a calming effect on
her; he made her feel like everything would be okay and that, even if it
wasn’t, he would still be there to get her through it.
Here it was his birthday, and he was spending it here at the hospital
with her. And she, hormonal and upset
and in pain, could not be very good company.
But still, Nick was here for her.
In that respect, he was everything that Jamie was not.
She’d heard no word from her husband since last night, though her other
friends and family had been calling her hospital room all morning. Since Nick had arrived, she had told everyone
else not to visit, that she needed some time alone. In reality, she would rather be here with
just Nick than be alone. He provided a
pair of listening ears to hear the concerns and complaints she just couldn’t
help but voice, a smile to reassure her, and a warm hand to hold onto. It was strange that she should prefer him
over her mother, who had birthed two children of her own, but even now, Nick
just seemed to get her better than anyone.
Neither one of them paid attention to the pair of approaching footsteps
in the hallway. They were too used to
the hustle and bustle of people coming and going in these halls – nurses and
doctors, mothers in labor and soon-to-be fathers, gurneys holding patients,
bassinets carrying newborns – all became familiar sounds after a night in this
ward.
But these footsteps were familiar in a different way. They shuffled to a stop outside Claire’s
door, and there was a pause, then a hesitant knock, and then, before she could
call “Come in!” again, the door swung open.
And it was odd, for even though she had been wishing he was here, she
could scarcely believe he really was.
But there he was, in living color, clothes rumpled, dark curls
disheveled, blue eyes weighed down by heavy bags… her husband.
“Jamie!” she burst with more energy than she’d felt like expelling all
morning.
A smile spread over his wan face, and he left the threshold and crossed
the room, surprising her with a kiss on the lips. Something inside of her that had been
sleeping for a long while seemed to awake, and she felt like a woman again, not
just a broken vessel who had failed in carrying two babies to term.
“You’re here,” she breathed as he pulled away, looking up into his
tired eyes. “When did you leave Denver?”
“First thing this morning.
Earliest flight I could get,” he replied.
“What about your business trip?”
He shrugged. “They’ll make do
without me. They had to let me off on
family medical leave for something like this.
And I had to come and see you and our babies. How… how are they doing?” His forehead creased with lines of worry,
and she found herself thinking quickly, trying to filter out what she should
tell him and leave behind the parts she should shelter him from for now. If the pediatrician’s information this
morning had upset her, there was no telling how he would react to it.
“As well as can be expected, I guess.
They’re not in perfect health, being so premature, but… they are
perfect. Ten little fingers and ten
little toes… they’re beautiful, Jamie.”
The emotion swelled within her again, and she fought off the tears that
wanted to come. “Wanna go see them?”
“Y-yeah… I mean, is that okay?
Can you go?”
“Sure. Last night I made my
nurse wheel my whole bed to the NICU, but maybe I can try a wheelchair
today. They’ll probably have my ass up
and walking by tonight anyway, right, Nick?”
She had just realized that Nick was still there and probably feeling
awkward, being in the midst of Jamie’s and her reunion. The last time they had seen each other, Jamie
had nearly broken his jaw.
This plainly had not been forgotten, as Nick was now watching Jamie
through narrowed eyes, his jaw clenched.
But all he said was, “Yep, you’ve got that to look forward to.”
She offered him a smile. Then
she turned back to Jamie and said, “Hey, will you run down to the nurses’
station and tell them we’d like to go visit the NICU and could use some help?”
“Can’t you just call them with that?” asked Jamie, pointing to the call
button sitting off to the side of her bed.
“It’s been acting up. Just go
ask,” she insisted, eager to get him out of the room for just a minute. He left reluctantly, and she turned to Nick. “I’m sorry, I had no idea he was coming
today. I didn’t know if he was coming at
all.”
Nick shrugged. “Don’t
apologize. They’re his kids; he should
be here.”
She nodded. “I want you to come
see them too, if you want to, but would you mind if, just this first time,
Jamie and I went alone?” She didn’t
want to exclude him; after all, he had been the one to see them born, not
Jamie. But a part of her was desperate
for this moment with her husband, this chance to bring their new family back
together.
“Of course I don’t mind,” said Nick, and he looked sincere, surprised,
even, that she would expect him to mind.
“I should probably get going anyway.”
“You don’t have to, you know, just because he’s here. But what am I saying – it’s your birthday;
I’m sure you’ve got all kinds of plans.
Go enjoy your day! I’ll be
thinking about you.” She smiled, hoping
he wouldn’t think she was kicking him out.
“I’ll be thinking about you too,” he promised and stood, leaning
forward to kiss her forehead again before he walked away. “Call me if you need anything,” were his last
words before he left the room.
He must have passed Jamie on the way out, because Jamie’s first words
upon reentering the room were, “Has he been here all morning?”
“Not all morning. For about an
hour,” she replied.
“Just him?”
“My family will be by later.
They were all here really late last night; I wanted to give them a
break.” She failed to mention that Nick
had been here then, too. Jamie didn’t
need to know that just yet. She could
only imagine his resentment if he found out that Nick had been the only one
around to coach her through her C-section.
He nodded, sinking into the chair formerly occupied by Nick. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”
“It’s alright. No one could have
predicted I would go into labor so soon.
Well, aside from the fact that I’d already been in preterm labor
once.” She let a wry smile pass over
her lips.
Jamie just shook his head. “I
feel like I missed out on so much. I
mean, the birth of my children… and I wasn’t there.”
“It’s okay,” Claire reassured him.
“You probably would have passed out and missed it anyway.”
“Hey,” Jamie said in offense, but he chuckled. They exchanged tiny smiles, and Claire began
to wonder if this day, this occasion, would be the one to heal their
relationship. After all, if the birth of
their twins couldn’t bring them back together, what could?
She had no chance to voice any of the thoughts in her heads, though,
for at that moment, Claire’s day nurse, Anita, arrived with a wheelchair and an
encouraging smile.
Getting up and out of bed hurt a lot worse than Claire had
expected. The steady dosage of pain
medication coursing through her veins had almost made her forget she’d had
major surgery the night before, but she got a painful reminder as soon as Anita
helped her sit up and ease her legs over the edge of the bed. She moved gingerly, her hand held lightly
over the dressings covering her belly.
As Anita and Jamie helped her to stand, supporting her on each side, she
gasped aloud, not just from the pain, but the dropping sensation in her
abdomen, the feeling that her incision was about to split open, spilling her
insides onto the floor.
Of course, this did not happen, and Anita assured her that the feeling
was quite normal as she eased her into the wheelchair. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was worth it to
be sitting up and mobile, thought Claire as the nurse readied her IV pole and
catheter bag for the trip down to the NICU.
“I gave them the names we picked out,” Claire told Jamie softly,
slipping her hand into his as he walked alongside her chair.
He looked at her in surprise.
“You named them already?”
She nodded. “I wasn’t so keen on them
being called ‘Baby Girl A’ and ‘Baby Girl B.’
So now they’re Caitlin Patrice and Delaine Ryann Turner.”
She watched as he mouthed the names soundlessly, finally smiling. “I love them.”
Claire smiled too. “I figure we
can call them Cait and Lainey for short.
You know, when they’re old enough to want nicknames.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Jamie’s voice was light and casual, but he clammed up and stopped
talking as soon as they were in sight of the NICU. His silence was drowned out by the chorus of
blips and beeps that greeted them when Anita escorted them inside, and, looking
up, Claire could see him turn pale as he looked around at all of the heavily
monitored incubators with tiny, tiny babies inside.
“Our girls are back here,” said Claire, reaching to the depths of last
night’s foggy memory to guide Anita to the right section of the ward, where her
twin babies lay.
A nurse stood beside Delaine’s incubator, scribbling notes on her chart
as she checked the numbers on all of the monitors. When she looked up and saw Claire and Jamie,
she smiled. “Are you Delaine and
Caitlin’s parents?”
The question made Claire swell with pride; she was a parent
now. “That’s us,” she said, weakly
stretching out her hand to the nurse.
“Claire Turner. This is my
husband, Jamie. It’s his first time
seeing the girls.”
“Nice to meet you both. I’m
Fernanda,” the nurse introduced herself, speaking with the faintest of Spanish
accents. The melodic accent gave her
voice a soothing quality, perfect for working with babies. “You have a beautiful set of twins here.”
“Thank you,” said Claire and smiled over at Jamie. But he was not looking back at her. He was staring, transfixed, into the
transparent incubator where Delaine slept, naked except for a diaper and a tiny
pink stocking cap, her fragile body almost lost in a tangle of tubes and wires. Whereas her skin was a jaundiced red-orange,
Jamie’s was chalk white.
Claire wasn’t the only one to notice.
Fernanda must have been used to such reactions because she smiled and
said kindly, “I know it’s a little intimidating, seeing them hooked up to all
these machines, but it’s not as bad as it looks. If you’d like, you can reach in and touch
her. She won’t break.”
Jamie didn’t respond at first, but in his silence, Claire asked
eagerly, “Could I?”
“Of course. There’s two round
panels here on the side that come off so that you can reach in and handle
her.” Fernanda showed her how to take
the plastic circles out of the incubator and guided her hand through one of the
holes. And before she knew it, Claire
was touching her baby for the first time.
Delaine’s skin was unbelievably soft, made silkier by the fine layer of
lanugo that covered it. And yet, it was
so thin, Claire could see all of her blood vessels and feel her tiny
bones. Skin and bones… that’s all she
seemed to be. She felt so frail that
Claire was not entirely convinced she wouldn’t break if she pressed too
hard. And yet, just stroking her
delicately with one finger was incredible.
She could feel herself bonding with the infant, her second-born.
Anxious to do the same with Caitlin, she pulled her hand back out after
a few minutes and turned to Jamie.
“Trade places with me,” she said.
“Put your hand in and touch her; it’s amazing.”
But Jamie shook his head, close-lipped, wanting no part of it. Claire frowned. “Come on,” she urged, repeating Fernanda’s
words, “she won’t break. It helps to
touch her; it helps with the bonding process.
Isn’t that right?” She directed
the question to Fernanda, who was now recording Caitlin’s vital signs.
“Yes, of course. Touch is very
important for preemies.”
“See? She needs you, Jamie; she
needs her daddy. Now come on.” Claire needed him to do this. Determined, she reached for his hand and
guided it into the incubator, as Fernanda had done to her. Stretching his index finger out, she moved it
very gently over Delaine’s exposed chest, guiding his touch with her own. “See?” she murmured softly, smiling over at
him. “Nothing to it.”
A weak smile made its way onto Jamie’s face, though his hand shook as
he stroked the baby’s chest. Confident
that he would warm up to it, Claire turned her attention to Caitlin. A minute passed, and she became lost in the
motion of caressing her baby, able to block out the sight and sounds of all the
machinery and focus on just her daughter, her beautiful daughter.
But she was jarred cruelly from her reverie by a shrill beep coming
from Delaine’s incubator. Gasping, she
whirled around – too fast, she realized all too soon, as her abdomen ignited
with pain – to find Jamie gaping, white-faced and horrorstruck, back at her.
***