“Oh dear,” the nurse behind the desk mutters as she watches me. My head is thrown back, and I must look bright red because I’m not breathing through this pain. “Do you have an insurance card? I’ll finish this up for you.” She walks around the desk with a cloth in her hand and wipes the splattered ink off my hand. She cleans it but it doesn’t come off.
“Ye…es… It’s in my wallet in my purse,” I murmur. She takes my purse and she must find what she needs because a few moments later she says, “All done. Let’s get a doctor to look at you.”
She wheels me through two large, white doors. We pass many delivery rooms and as my ears register the sounds of voices—some male, some female—coming from the rooms, I can’t help but think of Thomas. I desperately wish he were here to witness the birth of our child.
“Please lie on the bed. We’ll hook you up to the monitors and have one of the residents come in to see how far along you are.” A pleasant young nurse with blond hair smiles.
I ask about getting something for my pain as she helps me out of my clothes and into a gown. After I’m settled on the bed, she reassures me that they can get something for me as soon as they assess my condition.
It’s a relief when—after they hook me up to the monitors—I hear my baby’s heartbeat. That little heartbeat warms my own heart and I exhale a long breath. There is light at the end of this tunnel.
I hope I can do okay by my baby. I think about my own parents—they made their mistakes but they still did the best they could. I feel so far away from the teenager who was once given everything that it’s hard to reconcile who I am now with who I was just a few years ago.
I barely register meeting the doctor and when the anesthesiologist comes to administer the epidural, I just try to hold on through the pain. They assign me a delivery nurse—her name is Judy and I love her smile—and she’s so kind I want to weep.
“How are you doing, Halo?” Judy asks and I practically want to hug her. I don’t remember the last time someone asked me how I was doing.
I don’t have too many close friends except for Jenny and Dave. They don’t judge, they only support me. I have a larger group of friends and coworkers who I eat lunch with on school days, but those friends were more for the good times, not the bad. There was no way I was going to cry them a river.
Thomas and I were given the option of living close to a military base so that I would have the support of the other military wives. I had always considered that option and then panic would begin to rise in me. The house in Rogers Park was all I had left of my parents. I felt like if I moved away I would lose the connection I felt there. As it was, I had felt guilty about fighting with them. I felt that if they somehow knew I stayed in the house they would be happy. And somewhere along the way Chicago became home. Thomas and I had built special memories here. I didn’t want to leave those behind either.
“Well, Judy, I could be better. I’m kind of freaking out wondering how this baby is going to come out of me,” I admit, raising my left brow.
Judy throws her head back, laughing. “You don’t need to worry. Your body was built for this. Why don’t you try to sleep? It can take a few hours for things to progress since the epidural slows things down. You need your strength for pushing later on. I will be sitting here watching your machines.” Her voice is soft and reassuring.
“Thanks, Judy.” I smile. There is something about her demeanor that relaxes me. I feel I can trust her. I close my eyes and drift off.
***
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Acknowledgements
I wanted to write this story for quite some time now. After an immensely busy year, I finally sat down, and this story truly came pouring out of my heart.
I want to thank everyone that has been involved in this wonderful journey. I want to thank Sarah Hansen for an amazing cover. She knocked this one out of the ball park. To Ben Cummings the photographer who so brilliantly thought of the idea of getting a shot of Jase Dean in the bath. Lol.
To my wonderful beta reading team. Karen Hrdlicka, you have stuck with me from the beginning, and I cherish your advice so much. To T my wonderful developmental editor. To Ellie McLove, thank you for putting up with me on another project and your eye for detail. To Renita McKinney, you are the gold standard in proofreading. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your care and help. To my lovely agent, Stephanie Delamater Phillips thank you for all your sound advice and all your amazing work. To Veronica Rae, thank you for all your marketing genius and beautiful graphics.
To all the incredible bloggers who worked tirelessly day in and day out to get content to readers just because you love books. I appreciate your devotion, your efforts and your time so so much.
I want to thank my kids for putting up with my writing.
Finally, to you my lovely readers. Thank you for reading this book. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it. For those reading my book for the first time welcome. And for those that have been with me from the start on this crazy journey. I thank you all truly from the bottom of my heart.
Please stay in touch because I love to connect and talk books.
For the latest news on my releases, cover reveals and sales sign up for my Newsletter here:
http://rcstephens.com/newsletter/
About R.C Stephens
R.C. Stephens was born in Toronto, Canada. She graduated from York University with a Master’s Degree in Political Science.
R.C. is an avid reader, so when she isn’t cooking for her clan or on her laptop writing, she’s snuggled tight with her Kindle devouring any romance novel she can. She’s a fan of drama and suspense but she’s also a sucker for a happy ending.
Her husband was her first teenage love. They live together with their three children in Toronto. Loving Canadian winters she could never think of living anywhere else.
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