by Lori L. Otto
“No,” she admits. “I couldn’t finish the first one. My boyfriend loves those movies.”
“You’re missing out!” my youngest gushes, waiting for me to remove the soiled diaper and clean up her brother. All I really want the girls to do is help at this point and putting on a clean diaper is pitching in right now.
“None of this leaves this room,” I tell the nurse. “I don’t want anyone finding out my family watches this trash.”
“It’s not trash, Daddy. They’re my favorite movies.”
I lift up Luca and nod to her, letting her know it’s time to put down the fresh diaper. She spreads it out carefully and looks up at me for approval. I lay the baby down and show her how to fasten it around his tiny waist.
“I cannot fathom why, Wils, but… since you did such a good job with the diaper, I can’t argue.” I smooth down her hair and kiss the top of her head, then pick Luca back up and cradle him in my arms.
Sadness and apprehension suddenly overwhelm me. It’s the first night since his birth that I won’t be with him, but it’s time to vacate the room for a mother who needs it. More importantly, it’s time for me and the girls to return to our home full time.
“Now you be good for your nurses, little guy,” I say softly as he drifts to sleep. “Daddy will be here first thing in the morning for cuddle time, and we’re going to do that bottle thing again, right? You liked that?” I ask him, realizing I’ve crossed over into baby-talk. “Memi and Granddaddy will be coming by, too. Lots of visitors tomorrow. We just want to get you eating and breathing on your own so you can come home with us. Right girls?”
“Right,” Edie answers. Willow’s gone back to her book.
“We can’t wait for you to come home, Luca. Sleep well, my little one.” I kiss his forehead. “Girls, you want to say goodnight to your brother?”
“Bye, Froggie,” Edie says, pushing his dark hair back. “Be a good boy.”
“Bye, Froggie,” Willow repeats. Froggie. Livvy would love to hear them calling him that. It breaks my heart a little, honestly, because it reminds me of her. It reminds me of Auggie. It reminds me of the fight we had over his name. It was a moment of stress that I caused that didn’t help her one bit. And it was senseless. Did that contribute to her health situation?
Was it situational?
Or was it possibly genetic?
Could our children have some sort of heart defect that I don’t even know about?
I kiss Luca again before handing him back to Katie. Before I tell the girls to get their things, I gather them into my arms and tell them I love them.
That night, after both girls have fallen asleep on sleeping bags in the living room, I turn off the horrible movie that Willow had picked. Before shutting off the lights, I admire their peaceful expressions for a few moments. I’d told them I’d sleep on the couch downstairs to be close to them, but even after the week I’ve had–dealing with such immense loss and being awoken hourly every night with Luca–I’m not tired enough to go to sleep yet.
With my phone in hand, I find my way to Luca’s room and close the door behind me for privacy, just in case one or both of the girls wake up.
I sigh heavily when I realize this is the last place Livvy and I made love, and stumble into the new rocking recliner we’d had delivered just a couple weeks ago.
I’m so grateful for that night–that it was so memorable, and that it happened at all, really. Otherwise, I fear that I may not be able to remember specifics of the last time we were together.
I’d planned to call the NICU to check on Luca, but I call Jack first.
“Is it too late to call?” I ask him once he answers. It took him five rings to pick up.
“Never,” he assures me. “You know that.”
“Have either of you ordered a copy of the autopsy report?” I ask him, not in the mood for small talk.
“Uh, yes, we did.”
I nod my head, realizing no one can see me, but I feel better knowing this. “Can I see it when it comes in?”
“Of course. Worried about… her heart?”
“Yeah. Jack, what if she and Isaiah had some condition? Do we have a copy of his?”
“I think she ordered one,” he answers. “I don’t know where it is. Do you know where she kept important documents?”
“Yeah, yeah.” They’re all in file cabinets in the studio upstairs–somewhere I don’t want to go yet. “Third floor.”
“Oh,” he says simply, not needing a further explanation. “It’ll take a few weeks to get hers.”
“What if?” I start, but can’t finish. My throat tightens up to the point that the horrible thoughts I’m having won’t vocalize.
“For one thing, you can’t worry about it now. There’s no point,” he says. “And another thing, knowing will allow us to prepare. Possibly get preventative treatments.”
“What if she knew her biological father had a congenital condition that she could have had? What if she found that out from his autopsy?”
“Well, she didn’t have much time to take in that knowledge or prepare for it.”
“But Jack, come on! Her blood pressure kept skyrocketing throughout the pregnancy! That had to set off some alarms for her, right? Why wouldn’t she say something? Do something more?”
“Jon,” he says, obviously trying to calm me down. “Perhaps his heart issues weren’t genetic. Maybe she didn’t have his reports. It could be that she didn’t put two and two together.” I wait for him to say more. “Do you think for a second that she would have purposefully put her own life and her baby’s at risk? Or don’t you think she would have done everything she could, if she knew?”
That does make more sense. “I guess.”
“Doesn’t that sound like Livvy?”
“Yeah,” I say softly.
“I do know that Isaiah didn’t take great care of himself. He didn’t eat well at all. And he was a workaholic. You and I both know that. He never said no to a job, and if he had a creative idea, he’d pursue it relentlessly, even if that meant no sleep for days at a time.
“In my mind, that’s what caused his heart attacks. But we can find out the truth, if need be. Let’s get her results first. If we need his, you can either search for them or we can request them.”
“Can we? I thought it was next of kin only.”
“You have his only grandchildren. Three of them.”
“Right,” I say, temporarily forgetting that important fact. I exhale a long breath. “I don’t want it to be something that my kids could have,” I rattle off, just speaking whatever comes to mind, “but I don’t want this to be something that could have been prevented, either, you know? I don’t want to find out that getting her to the hospital five minutes earlier could have saved her life. Or not giving her the hydralazine would have been an option–that she could have survived without it and we wouldn’t have had to do the C-section that night.”
I stand up and walk over to the empty bassinet to run my hand across the smooth padding that lines the bottom of it. I imagine my son asleep in it, free of all the tubes–healthy and able to breathe and eat on his own.
“This report isn’t going to come with a list of things you could have done differently,” my father-in-law informs me. “It’ll be congenital or… stress, Jon. And you did everything in your power to try to alleviate the latter. The doctors gave you their recommendations. What they did just wasn’t enough to save her.
“Listen to me. You. Couldn’t. Save. Her.”
I push the basket back and forth, wishing Luca was asleep inside. I look forward to the day that I can rock him to sleep in his tiny bed.
“Did you hear me?”
“I did,” I assure him. “I hope you’re right.”
“When am I ever wrong?” I huff into the phone. Jack is so rarely wrong these days. But this… he’s no expert on these types of issues.
I politely respond to appease him. “Right. Never.”
“Right.” He laughs. “I promis
e we will call you the second we get the results. We’ll wait to open them with you, and we can talk about them together. Okay?”
“That would be great. I’d like that.”
“Good.” It’s his turn to sigh. “We’ll see you tomorrow at the hospital?”
“I’ll be the one with the baby.”
He laughs. “Are the girls coming?”
“No, they’re tired of the hospital after two days. Will and Shea are coming to stay with them, and I think Joel may stop by… check out his new digs.”
“That’s right. When is he moving in?”
“This weekend.”
“Does he need help?”
“I think he and Trey and his friend, Booker, are taking care of it. He doesn’t have any furniture to move. Just his personal effects, for now.”
“Makes sense. All right. Well, it’s late, and Emi’s already gone upstairs.”
“Yeah, the girls are asleep in the den. I need to grab a pillow and some blankets for the couch.”
“Not going to try the bedroom?” he asks.
“No. It doesn’t feel right tonight.”
“Well, you’re in the apartment. That’s what’s important. Try to get a good night’s sleep and tell the girls I love them when you get the chance.”
“Of course. We love you both, too. And I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I pick up one of the quilts, laundered and folded inside the crib that I’d originally made for Edie. She and Willow both used the bed while they were babies, and we’d stored it in a closet at Livvy’s gallery for the past six years.
The blanket was handmade by Livvy’s grandmother–truly the coolest quilt I’ve ever seen. She’d asked how we were decorating the room, and when we told her ‘sock monkeys,’ we expected patchwork in browns, tans and reds to match. But no. She actually created five little quilted sock monkeys and surrounded them in bright colors. “I heard bright colors were best for babies,” she’d told us.
I’m glad she delivered this gift early, so Livvy got to enjoy it. She loved it, and I hope it’s something we can pass down to Luca’s children someday.
Feeling a draft in the rocking chair, I drape the blanket over my chest and decide I need to adjust the vent in the ceiling later. For now, I call to check on my son.
“Mr. Scott! We were just talking about you!” Katie says.
“Shouldn’t you be at home by now?” I ask her. “You were there when we left earlier today.”
“Double shift,” she says. “The glamorous life of nurses.”
“How do you stay awake?”
“I had a two hour break earlier. I napped,” she tells me. “You didn’t call to talk about me, though.”
“No,” I admit.
“Well, Luca is doing great!” she says. “He’s taken every last drop of every last bottle today. He hasn’t needed the feeding tube, although we’ll put it in tonight so he can get a good night’s sleep.”
“Wow. That’s incredible. He just… he just picked it up that fast?”
“It’s natural to him. Sure.”
“That’s… amazing. I miss him. How’s his breathing?”
“Oxygen flow is great. He’s 34 weeks today,” she says.
“Holy shit. He’s one week old today. And I’m not there.”
“It’s okay, Jon.”
I pull at my hair, sad that I didn’t realize this milestone while I was with him earlier. Livvy took pictures of the girls when they were one week old. I’ll have to take one tomorrow.
“He’s making great progress. At the rate we’re going, you may be able to take him home in a couple of weeks.”
“That long, huh?” I know she was trying to be positive, but the thought of him sleeping apart from us for fourteen more days distresses me. I just want my little family together, under one roof, where I can watch them all and make sure they’re all okay… all the time.
“Time will go quickly. You’ll see. We’ll keep working with him and he’ll be so strong by the time you get him home. We may even have him walking,” she teases.
“I’m not ready for that,” I tell her with a laugh. “Chasing a toddler? Nope. This place isn’t even baby-proofed yet. I guess I need a little time to finish getting everything ready.”
“See then? Everything will work out… and you’ll still visit him.”
“Of course. I’ll be there in the morning with Jack and Emi.”
“I look forward to seeing you all.”
“Will you tell him I love him? And that I miss him?”
“I will.” And I’m confident she will, too.
“Thanks. Goodnight, Katie.”
Chapter 28
Emi, Jack, Edie and Willow are all waiting in the lobby while I go into the NICU. When Luca sees me, I swear he smiles at me.
“Hey, Champ!” I greet him. “Did anyone see what he just did?” I ask the other nurses.
“What’d he do?”
“He grinned. The second I walked up, he cracked a smile.”
“I believe it. He’s a little flirt. He smiles at me all the time–when he’s gassy,” she tells me.
I look at her sideways and put my hand over my heart, offended. “He smiles often?”
She shrugs. “I’ve seen it a time or two. But seriously–when he has gas. Not out of the blue, like now… when he’s seen his daddy.”
I feel a little better. “You think he knows he’s going home today?”
“We’ve all been telling him for the past twenty-four hours. If he has any grasp of the English language–or can sense the excitement from you or the Hollands–then yeah, he knows.”
“We are over the moon about this. Just to have the family together…” My thoughts drift to Livvy for a second, and I swallow. “We need this to move forward.”
“I’m sure.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “Katie went over everything with you yesterday?”
“Yes, I’m prepared. And I have our doctor’s number ready if we have any questions. I can’t thank you guys enough for what you’ve done for him.” I give them all hugs before returning to my son’s crib.
“Well, he’s all yours. Freshly fed and changed. He’ll probably be hungry again around three.”
“Got it. Thank you.” I pick him up and hold him against my chest with both hands, making sure to support his head. He’s still tinier than the girls were when they were born, but he seems much bigger than he was on his birthday three weeks ago.
In the hallway, Emi hands me the sock monkey blanket and tucks it around Luca’s body, giving him a little extra protection from the wind outside, as well as from the awaiting paparazzi. The world has yet to get a glimpse of him, and they’re clamoring to, for sure. They’ve been at the hospital every day, not knowing when we’d be taking him home.
I decide not to expend too much energy trying to hide him, not willing to play their game. Once they get the picture they want, there’s a better chance that they’ll leave us all alone.
Even though Jack had brought in the stroller, there’s no way in hell I’m putting him in there. He’s been out of my grasp and out of my control for too long. I want him to feel the protection of his father’s arms for now–for hours, if need be.
Like I’ll be able to keep him from Emi for hours. I chuckle to myself. I can’t say no to that woman when she asks to hold her grandson. Or to Jack, for that matter. The comforting thought is that I know they will love and protect him just as much as I will.
Edie takes Jack’s hand; Willow takes Emi’s, and we all ride down the elevator together and exit the hospital using the back entrance to the parking garage, where my SUV is. The flashbulbs are blinding, and for that reason, I do shield Luca from the onslaught of their cameras.
“Cut it out with the flashes,” I say loudly enough for everyone to hear. “His eyes are still getting used to the world, all right? I don’t mind pictures, but do the right thing, yeah?”
“Sorry,” a few of them actually respond. While most of them are kind enough to
heed my request, a few don’t seem to give a shit. Because of that, I keep my son’s head tucked close to me and drape the blanket over both of us until we reach the car.
“Should I drive?” Jack asks.
“Would you mind?” I hand him the keys, letting the girls into the very back before I work on getting Luca strapped into the car seat that seems to swallow him whole. “You’ve got some more growing to do, little man… Emi, can you see if this feels right to you?”
She went with me to a car seat safety class last week, so I feel like her second opinion would be helpful.
She adjusts the shoulder straps lower, something I forgot to do. “There you go.”
“Perfect, thanks. Girls, are you buckled in?” I peek in the back to visually check their booster seats, since I get no response. They’ve both already put on their headphones. Even though they’re both older than the age requirements for the child seats, they’re too small for the regular seatbelts. Livvy and I decided to use them until each one met the height requirements. They’ll both be there soon. Already, none of their friends do, and occasionally, they remind me how stupid it is that we make them sit in them.
That’s normally when I turn up my music and wish I could escape under a set of noise-cancelling headphones.
“You can have the front, Jon,” Emi offers.
“No, thanks,” I tell her, grinning. “I see your angle here.”
“I think he wants to sit by his Memi.”
“You’ll be the first to hold him when we get to the apartment. Deal?”
“Okay,” she says, pleased with the compromise.
Luca’s a little fussy once we get out of the garage and the sun assaults his eyes. Even through the tinted windows, it’s too much for him. I pull the canopy over the seat, which calms him down. I notice one bare foot. “We lost a sock,” I announce.
“I’ve got it,” Emi says. “It fell off when you were getting him in the car.” She passes it back to me.
“Thanks. His feet are too tiny for them. Everything’s too small.” I slip it on, but it’s loose.
“He’ll grow into things. Very soon,” she assures me. “We were astounded at how fast Trey went through clothes those first few months. Once he started gaining weight, he wouldn’t stop growing.”
