by Angel Steel
My hand tightened in my dad’s hand. The monitor was removed from my belly.
“Amelia, your baby’s heartbeat is falling quickly. We need to do an ultrasound to see what the problem is,” the doctor stated.
“Okay,” I whispered.
The nurse that came in with the doctor quickly left and was back seconds later with the ultrasound machine. As I laid flat on my back, and waited for what felt like forever, I felt the coldness of the gel as it was placed on my stomach. I couldn’t look at the screen. Even if I wanted to it was down at the end of the bed closer to the doctor.
He slid it over my belly, the pressure of the device a little uncomfortable as he pushed it into my stomach while he searched around. It’s not still for long as he shifted it from one place to the other, and then suddenly it was removed. Placing it down, he picked up another, a long thin device with a slightly large head. Sitting on the chair, he wheeled himself over toward me.
“I can only pick up so much with the other device, so I’m going to perform a vaginal ultrasound to determine what the problem is, okay?”
Nodding again, my legs wobbled with how the doctor wanted my legs placed. Holding as still as I could, I held my breath as I felt him insert it. My brother turned his back and moved toward where my dad was on my left. Seconds went by as the doctor moved it from left to right as he looked at the screen. A slight pain emerged as he shifted the wand-like device around.
“Bear with me, Amelia. Just a couple more minutes,” he told me.
I clenched my teeth together as the pain was building. My nails dug into my dad’s hand while I tried to ignore the pain that I was feeling. The couple of minutes hadn’t lasted that long as the ultrasound wand was removed from inside me and placed down beside the machine. The doctor stood from where he was seated, grabbed my chart and begun writing quickly.
Before I could say anything to him, he moved to my right. “Amelia, your baby is deprived of oxygen. You have a knot in the umbilical cord. We need to do an emergency C-section immediately.”
“What?” I gasp. My hands automatically go to my belly.
I didn’t hear what the doctor was saying to the nurse. I saw his mouth moving and the nurse’s as well, but nothing was registering in my brain. No words, just lips moving. Shaking my head, I turned toward my dad, who was now standing and facing the doctor.
Words began to seep into my head at what was being said. “If we don’t perform an emergency C-section, now sir, Amelia will lose her child. The baby isn’t getting the required amount of oxygen to its brain.”
“Shit,” my dad growled.
“Dad?” I questioned.
He turned and faced me. “Lia, sweetheart, you need to have the C-section or your baby won’t make it.”
Oh, God! I couldn’t lose our child! This was the only part I had left of Dante. Of us. A child we made together.
Looking over toward the doctor, as warm tears begun to drop onto my cheeks. “I don’t want my baby to die,” I sobbed between tears.
The doctor rested his hand on my foot. “We will do everything in our power for that not to happen, Amelia.” He gave me a weak smile and quickly exited the room. More nurses entered and they prepared me for an emergency operation. I dreaded going through this without Dante by my side. He was meant to be there, seeing his own child being born into the world. Whether it was early or not, he was missing out on one of the most important events of our lives.
The operating room was scary. Lights, nurses, equipment was laid out ready to be used. A blue sheet covered my body, cutting my view from what the doctor was doing below. I could see the top of his head as he stood down there at the end of the bed. A nurse at either side, more over the other side of the room, getting things ready for the baby.
“Amelia, can you feel that?” the doctor asked.
Looking from where his head came into view over the sheet, then toward the nurse to his left, I couldn’t feel a thing. Shaking my head no, my hand gripped the sheet at my chest. My brother sat beside me as he held onto my other hand, both of us looking toward the doctor. I’m shocked that he wanted to be in the room with me. I honestly thought it would have been my dad, but I know how much he hates hospitals and I’m grateful to have someone in here with me.
I didn’t want to be alone going through that. No one should.
“I’m going to make the first incision,” the doctor told me. I held my breath waiting to feel the pain of the cut, but nothing. Dwayne’s hand tightened in mine. He could see more than I could as I was laid flat on my back.
The blue curtain shifted in front of me, the nurse to the right smiled over the top at me. I couldn’t return the smile. I was shitting myself at what was happening behind there.
“Okay, Amelia. You’re going to feel a slight pressure, for a second,” the doctor said. Not even a second later I felt it. It wasn’t painful, only uncomfortable.
I held my breath for the millionth time.
“The baby is in a breech presentation.”
I didn’t know who the doctor was talking to. Maybe me, or possibly the nurses. One of the other nurses across the room came over and stood at the end of the bed. The tone of the machine hooked up to my stomach beeped erratically.
“BP is dropping,” the nurse beside it said.
My heart was pounding in my chest. Was it mine they were picking up on? I couldn’t think. Within seconds of the machine going off, I felt more pressure, and then suddenly it was gone.
“Amelia, you have a baby girl,” the doctor said as his head popped over the top of the curtain.
I wait to see my little girl. Second by second went by. His head ducked back down. Then out of nowhere, a nurse rushed over toward where the doctor stood, and hurried back across the room to where the rest of the nurses were waiting. I wait to hear something, anything. A single cry from my daughter. That first single breath of air. That one scream, letting me know she was here safe and sound.
Dwayne stood up from his chair and looked over the screen. His grip in mine tightened further to the point of pain. “Dwayne,” I whispered.
His head turned my way. He swallowed with difficulty. His eyes glistened over and quickly turned back to the doctor. Closing my eyes, I prayed. I prayed for the second time in my life.
Lord, I haven’t asked much of you lately, but please give me strength.
I need my little girl. I need her in my life.
You’ve already taken the one thing I needed most in life.
Please, please, please. I beg you. Please, watch over my little girl.
I want her safe, here in my arms with me!
My eyes opened instantly as Dwayne dropped my hand from his and moved quickly over to where all the nurses were standing. I couldn’t see anything. They were all standing around a crib in the corner, as the doctor continued to talk to them while he stood behind the screen at my feet. I watched on as my brother forced his way through the nurses, all with their backs to me. My sight blurred trying to figure out what was happening. Wiping my tears from my eyes.
“Why isn’t she crying?” I ask.
Still no answer. Not a single one of them turned my way and acknowledged my question.
“Dwayne,” I yelled out.
I couldn’t move from where I was, even if I tried. I was numb. Half my body was limp, unable to move or respond.
All the nurses were speaking at once. Then suddenly another doctor rushed in and toward where they all stood across the room. They broke apart slightly and moved to the opposite side, allowing me a glimpse of my daughter. Her body unmoving in the crib as a nurse performed CPR. A tube down her throat, a bag attached forcing the air into her tiny lungs. Her chest rising and falling with every pump of the bag. The doctor held a stethoscope to her chest, listening. He said something to the nurse beside him. I couldn’t quite make out the words that were said. I knew it wasn’t good when Dwayne yelled at him.
“You need to do more,” his angry tone floated across the room.
&
nbsp; “I want to see my daughter,” I screamed toward them all.
The doctor’s head kept popping up behind the screen as he looked from me to where my daughter and the rest of the hospital staff were standing. Shifting my head more to get a better look, trying to gain a better position to see what they were doing. The doctor shifted up and took over doing compressions on my daughter’s chest. Ten tiny pumps then the airbag pushed the air into her lungs. She still wasn’t moving, not even a cry from her little lips. The doctor shook his head at the nurse beside him.
“Dwayne, I want my daughter,” I yelled at him. He said something to the doctor and he didn’t look too happy about whatever was said. Eventually, he spoke to the nurses. They didn’t want me to see my own daughter. I could see it written all over their faces.
The doctor stood back and faced me. There in his arms was my little girl. Step by painful step he approached me. I didn’t once glance at his face. My eyes were glued on my daughter. His hands shook as he laid my sweet little girl in my arms. He shifted back, and then my brother was right beside me.
Wrapping my arms around her tiny little body, holding her tightly against my own, I lifted my hand and begun to trace over her small hands. Over each individual finger, then slowly down her arm. My hand trembled as I continued my trail down her leg to her foot. I counted each toe. Ten perfect little toes attached to her feet.
I rested my hand against her chest, feeling for any kind of life. A sob broke from my lips as I continued to stroke my thumb over her chest. I needed to touch, to feel her. Lifting my hand, my fingers lightly traced over her lifeless face, eyes closed to the world. A small button nose, delicate chin with a small dimple.
A hand rested on my shoulder, but my eyes stayed glued to my daughter in my arms. I raised my hand to her head. Hair as dark as night laid on top of her head. Lashes spread against slightly pink cheeks, eyes still shut as I hold onto her.
My breath hitched in my throat, as the doctor shifted closer to me. I knew what he was about to say. I didn’t want to hear the words. I pulled her closer into my chest, not letting her go. I couldn’t do it. I knew the instant the doctor shook his head at the nurse, my daughter was gone. I wanted her in my arms, hoping being close to me that she would survive.
I wouldn’t survive this.
“Amelia,” the doctor spoke.
Shaking my head.
He wasn’t saying it.
Once he said it, it was final. I need a little longer with her. Leaning my head down and pressing my lips to her head, I closed my eyes.
I wanted forever with her.
Dwayne’s hand gripped my shoulder. Looking up at him tears slid from his eyes as he leaned over and rested his head against my own.
“Doctor, you need to call it,” a nurse stated.
Lifting my eyes toward the doctor, I saw the sorrow in his. The pain. I swallowed the lump in my throat. My chest hurt as I stare at the doctor.
“Amelia, I’m so sorry,” he whispered to me. Looking toward the clock on the wall. “Time of death, 10:42 p.m.”
“No, no, no,” I whispered. Tears poured from my eyes, as he voiced what I didn’t want to hear. My little dark haired angel was gone. Completely. Her beautiful little body lifeless in my arms.
I’d never feel her touch, her cries. See her cute little smile, her sweet little laughs. Or ever watch as she crawled for the first time or her first steps. I’d never hear her voice. I wouldn’t see any of that from her. Even her eyes I would never see. The pain tore through me as I shifted down in the hospital bed and held her body. Her tiny lifeless body lay on my chest as I cried for her. My little angel, gone. I would never see her again, or feel her against me anymore. I kissed her cheek. “You will always be Mummy’s little angel, Savannah. My one and only, angel.” Pain ripped through me as I said the words.
Arms wrapped around me as I sobbed for my daughter. My angel. Now she would finally meet her father up in heaven. He would take good care of her. Look after her as he would have if he was here with me. Closing my eyes, my arms tightly around her little body, I held her to my heart. The one place where she will always be.
Pulling my black pickup truck to a stop at the back of my dad’s shop, I reach over for my bag and hop out. Closing the door behind me and begin the walk toward the back door. I’ve been working at Satonic Customs for the last four years as a graphic designer. Well, if you really want to call what I did that. My dad and brother and several of his friends build custom made motorcycles and they have the occasional restorations come in, but they are mainly built from scratch.
I’m the art designer. All the graphics on every motorcycle done are by me. And me alone. That is my job at my dad’s shop. Well, I can’t just call it his. Although I have tried way too many times to count the money I gave my dad toward my share, but he won’t take it. Even without me paying for my share in the shop, I own half of Satonic Customs and love every part of it.
Pulling my bag strap over my shoulder, I make my way through the back door and through the building. I stop and place my bag in my locker and continue toward my dad’s office. He’s always here before everyone else, since he lives in the attached unit upstairs.
Opening the door, I lean against it and wait as my dad is on the phone, his back to me. Looking around the room, a sofa sits against the wall closest to the door. A small table in front of it with several motorcycle magazines placed neatly on it. A bar fridge stands on the opposite wall with a fake palm tree plant in an overly large pot beside it. Shifting from the door, I edge closer to the desk where he sits.
I glance at the picture Dad has on his desk facing him. It’s me, Dad and my brother, Dwayne. Lexie took it a year ago one summer afternoon. It was a scorcher of a day, the heat was unbearable and Dwayne decided to have a water fight with everyone. Of course, it didn’t end the way he’d hoped. Lexie knew what Dwayne had planned and got him before he had a chance to get anyone. Picking up the metal frame and raising it in front of my face, I look over the image and smile. All three of us were soaking wet. I stood in the middle with Dwayne’s arm wrapped around my shoulder, my then blonde hair, damp, and stuck to the side of my face, as he pulls me into his side, Dad on the other, his hand raised where he had struck the back of Dwayne’s head. My head is thrown back in laughter from the slap Dad had given him, a smirk covering Dad’s lips and Dwayne with a silly grin over his mouth. I trace my thumb over Dwayne, remembering that day like it was yesterday. Well, it was around five months ago.
The day after the fun, Dwayne never showed up to work. We knew he wasn’t home, since he stayed with Dad, but we had no idea where he was till we got the call. The call I didn’t want to get. The local sheriff called telling us that Dwayne had been arrested for grievous bodily harm of a patron that was in the bar at the same time he was. I didn’t believe it when I was told. Yeah, Dwayne did shit I didn’t like, but still I couldn’t get my head around it. He wasn’t acting himself and this shit… well this wasn’t him at all.
He was refused bail and sentenced to a year behind bars because of the injuries he’d caused the other person. The pictures of the victim weren’t pretty at all. Well, in truth I’d only seen one image and that was enough before I spewed my breakfast on the floor in front of the sheriff.
I place the metal frame back down on Dad’s desk and glance down at the pile of papers sitting on the end. Picking the top one up and scanning over it. Invoice. Looking back, I flick several of them aside, one after the other, invoices. Shaking my head, I place the one I had back down, and cringe at the tone of my dad’s voice as he speaks over the phone.
“How many times do I have to say it, Brax? Stop sending me shit I can’t work with. I pay enough dollars for the good shit.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as he listens. “If you can’t get me what I want, I’ll go somewhere else.” This wasn’t good. “Fine, if I don’t have that fucking order by eleven o’clock, I’m sending over the boys to sort this fucking shit out. Got me?” After he finishes he slams the phone
down. “Fucking useless piece of shit,” he growls. He spins around in his chair and frowns when he notices where I’m standing. “How long you been standing there, Lia?”
“Hello, to you too, Dad,” I say as I walk over and give him a hug.
“Sorry, baby girl. I’m over these guys thinking they can pull the damn wool over my eyes.”
“What’s going on?” I ask as I sit down at his side, waiting for an answer.
“Nothing that I can’t handle, Lia,” he replies rubbing the back of his neck.
Rolling my eyes, I leave it at that. There’s no point in me arguing over this. It pisses me off a lot that my own dad won’t share half the things that are going on in our shop, but I know he doesn’t want me to worry over something so small by the sounds of it.
I look to the picture of us again. “Have you heard from, Dwayne?”
Dwayne has six months left till he’ll be let out of the joint, as long as he kept to himself that is.
Dad shifts paperwork on his desk, looking for something. “Yeah, I got a letter from him yesterday asking to come in.”
Sitting up straighter. “Why did he send a letter instead of calling?”
“Don’t know, but I’ll find out when I get there, Lia,” he answers, still not looking at me. He sits back after a moment with a piece of paper in hand staring at it. “You have a bike ready to go in the booth. The other will be ready later on today.”
“Did Sid leave what graphic he wants this time?” This was the seventh time I’d airbrushed Sid’s bike. The guy couldn’t make up his damn mind about what he wanted. But I’m glad he still pays for me to do my magic on his bike. I don’t care, he can change his mind any amount of times as long as he pays.
“Yeah, it’s pinned on your board in the booth.”
Standing from my chair. “Well, since I’m the only one here, I’m going to get started before the boys come in and can’t help themselves by coming into the booth. Really need a padlock on the damn door, Dad.”
