by Taylor Dean
“I’m still here. The ambulance will be there shortly. How is she?”
“Conscious. She says she’s dizzy and her breathing is rapid and shallow. She didn’t fall, she lowered herself to the ground when she felt faint.”
“Okay, listen carefully, this is important. I want you to turn her onto her left side as gently as possible. This will increase blood flow to her heart and to the baby. Don’t let her lie flat on her back.”
“Okay.”
I toss the phone aside. “Spencer, I need you to turn onto your left side, okay? I’ll help you.”
“My baby, my baby.” A soft whimper escapes as I help her turn onto her side. She’s so weak, I have to do most of the work. Her hands reach out and land on the floor as though she’s looking for stability or a way to stop the world from twirling. I feel for her. My fingers touch her pulse at her wrist and I find that it’s racing. I don’t know what it’s supposed to be, but I’m positive it’s not supposed to be that fast. I’m sure she’s panicking.
“Stay calm, Spencer, try to stay calm. Everything’s going to be okay. Just try to breathe slow and easy.”
Please be okay. Please be okay. I never should have left her. The blood is soaking through the dish towel on my hand and I’m trying not to get blood on her, but I don’t have time to worry about that right now.
I try to reassure her once again. “It’s going to be okay, Spencer. An ambulance is on its way. It will be here soon. Just hang on for a few more minutes.”
All at once, she hunches into a ball, her arms grasping her belly as she screams through gritted teeth.
A contraction is upon her and I have a feeling this is the real thing. I don’t think the Braxton Whatevers leave you in this much pain.
I rub her back and gently move the hair from her face. I try to coach her through it with encouraging words. “It’s okay, Spencer. Just breathe through it. Try to stay calm.”
I’m really telling myself to stay calm because I’m about to freak out. When it ends, I say, “Are you okay?”
She shakes her head in the negative. “Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong,” she mumbles. “I’m so dizzy . . . can’t breathe . . .”
“Help will be here soon. Don’t worry.” Why can’t I think of something better to say besides don’t worry? It seems trite at this point. She has reason to worry.
I grab my phone again. “She just had a pretty hard contraction. I think she’s in labor.”
“The ambulance is minutes away. Stay calm, she needs you to stay calm.”
All at once, a flood of water spills out, creating a puddle on the floor beneath her.
“Her water just broke!” I yell into the phone, losing my cool.
“Do not panic. Stay calm and keep her as dry as possible.”
I breathe in and out slowly. If I panic, Spencer will too. I need to be a calming influence for her. I’m freaking out on the inside as I dash off to the bathroom for towels. I’m back in a flash holding fluffy bath towels that I found neatly folded in a cupboard, waiting for guests. I’m not sure they’ve ever been used. Well, they’re about to be christened in a big way.
Spencer’s breathing is hurried, almost as if she’s gasping for air. “My water broke,” she says.
Since I’m standing there holding a pile of towels, it seems almost comical when I say, “I know.” I kneel down next to her again. “Breathe slow and easy, Spencer,” I tell her as I throw the towels down and wipe up as much of the water as I can so she’s not lying in a puddle. I place one under her to catch any more fluids. I throw the blanket off of her since it is now wet.
She shivers and begins to tremble. “I’m soooo cold.”
I look around the room and notice a small basket. I run to it and throw off the lid. Inside, there are neatly folded blankets. Figures. I grab one and tuck it around her.
Once again she collapses into a ball as a seemingly hard contraction rips through her belly and she can barely breathe through it. Barely a minute had passed in between the two contractions. When it ends she says, “The baby, the baby, it’s coming now. It’s coming NOW and . . .”
Then something happens that scares the life out of me. Her eyes roll in a strange way and her entire body goes limp, as if she’s a rag doll.
I don’t know what to do. I make sure she’s still breathing and she is, but it still seems awfully shallow. “Spencer! Spencer!” I say, but she doesn’t respond again. I don’t know why, but I’m the most frightened when she’s out cold. She’s so lifeless and still and it’s terrifying. I have no experience with women in labor, but it seems like common sense that if the mother is in distress, then so is the baby and I’m scared to death for the baby’s life.
I grab the phone. “Are you still there?”
“I’m here. How is she?”
“She was conscious through a couple of hard contractions, but she just passed out again.” Then for good measure, I say, “She’s unconscious!” I’m pretty sure the operator knows that’s what passed out means, but I’m not exactly thinking clearly.
“The ambulance is almost there. Stay calm and just keep her comfortable,” the operator repeats.
I’m no longer finding her helpful.
I toss the phone down, feeling frantic in spite of the operator’s attempt to keep me calm. I press my hand to Spencer’s forehead. She still feels clammy and a cold sweat is beading on her face. I run to the kitchen, trying to avoid the glass, grab another clean dish towel, wet it with cool water and squeeze it out. I run back and wipe down her face, then place the towel on her forehead. With shaking hands, I change out the towel from beneath her once again.
I don’t think pregnant ladies are supposed to faint during labor. Are they? I have no idea.
So many thoughts are running through my mind. I walked away from Stony and left him when he needed me most. No matter how scared I am, I won’t walk away from his wife and baby. I won’t, I won’t. They need me.
Spencer awakens—thank goodness—but my happiness is short lived as I realize it’s another contraction that has brought her back to life. She folds into a ball again as it rips through her body, weeping through the pain. I kneel down next to her and rub her back—with my good hand—in the spot where she was rubbing it earlier. I can only hope it helps.
When the contraction ends, I continue to rub her back. I feel her body loosen and relax in between spasms. Tears are spilling down her cheeks and her eyes are a little wild. I’d like to move her to the couch for comfort, but I don’t dare try. Besides, the operator said don’t move her. I doubt she could stand anyway and I know I can’t lift her on my own.
“Spencer, stay calm. You have to stay calm. The ambulance is almost here. Everything’s going to be all right.” I really wish I could think of something better to say.
She shakes her head. “My baby. It’s too fast. It’s too fast. I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can do this. Listen to me, you can do this for Sophie and for Stony. They need you to be strong right now.”
“I can’t. I can’t. I need Stony.”
She’s panicking and I need her to stay calm. She rolls over onto her back and I push her back onto her side as carefully as possible. “It’s important to stay on your side, Spencer. Don’t lie on your back.”
Another contraction rips through her belly and she again collapses into a ball. Between the contraction and her gut wrenching tears, she can barely catch her breath. Her hands freeze up and her fingers lock together as she hyperventilates from her irregular breathing. I take one of her hands into mine and I massage it with my good hand until it relaxes. I do the same with her other hand. My cut hand is throbbing, but I ignore it.
“Try to breathe slow and easy, Spencer.”
She rests on the pillow, awaiting the next barrage. Her complexion has turned scary pale and I utter a silent prayer that everything will be okay. When her hands seem relaxed, I continue to rub her back.
“Mia, Mia, thank you . . .” she mutters. One
hand reaches for mine and grasps it tightly for comfort. “My baby . . .”
“Everything is going to be just fine, Spencer. Just fine, I promise.” I hope I can keep that promise. “Try to relax and breathe through the contractions.”
“Stony,” she mumbles. “Stony.”
When the next contraction hits, she doesn’t even have the strength to huddle into a ball. A weak whimper is all she can manage. When it’s over, she seems almost delirious. When I speak to her, she doesn’t respond, but I keep on consoling her, sure that she can still hear me and that somehow I’m bringing her comfort.
“You’re doing great, Spencer. Hold on. You’re about to meet your beautiful baby girl. Keep holding on. This will all be worth it when you hold her in your arms.”
At last, I hear the sirens. The ambulance is getting near. Thank goodness.
I don’t want to leave Spencer, but I have to open the front door for the paramedics.
“The ambulance is here. I’ll be right back.”
Her breathing is erratic and her eyelids flutter. I jump to my feet, run out the front door and out the gate. I wave my arms at the ambulance and I push open the large gate so they can get as close to the front door as possible. I don’t say a word to them, I run as fast as I can back to Spencer.
I panic when I see her struggling through another contraction. “In here,” I yell. “Hurry!”
The paramedics take action immediately. “How far along is she?”
“She’s due in a week.”
A flurry of activity explodes around her and I have no idea what they’re doing to her, but they are intent on their task. They place an oxygen mask on her face and hook up a blood pressure monitor on her arm. The alarm on the blood pressure monitor keeps going off and it’s the sound that frightens me the most. They attach a bunch of wires to her chest and start an IV. I hear them yell sentences like “Low blood pressure,” and “Ephedrine, now!” My worry increases by leaps and bounds. Where is Stony? I grab Spencer’s phone because I don’t have Stony’s number and I need to call him right away.
They have her stabilized and in a stretcher in record time. I follow along and when they ask if I want to come, I don’t hesitate. I join her in the ambulance and hold her hand as we speed down the road toward the hospital.
Spencer mutters my name a few times. I think she’s grateful I’m with her. Her breathing is not quite so shallow and her color already looks a little better.
The contractions are still tearing through her body, but the only way I know when one is happening is by the agonized expression on her face and by the way she squeezes my hand. Her pain has lessened. I don’t know what they gave her, but it worked.
“Stony. Call Stony,” Spencer whispers.
With all the commotion, I haven’t even called Stony yet. I was too fixated on coaching Spencer through her ordeal. “I will. Right away,” I tell her.
CHAPTER
Fourteen
WE ARRIVE AT the hospital and she is whisked away. I watch her go, feeling helpless. I have to remind myself that I’ve done what I could and she’s in good hands.
Stony. I have to call Stony. He has no idea what’s going on. I pull out Spencer’s cell phone and find his number easily in her most recent calls.
“Hey, baby. I’m just about five minutes away,” he says casually.
I get right to the point. “Stony, Spencer’s having the baby. Get to Fisher County Hospital right now.”
A stunned silence meets me for a hot second. “Mia?”
“Yes, get here as fast as you can.”
“Is everything all right?” I hear the immediate panic in his voice.
I have no idea. “Just get here now!”
“On my way,” he says and before he hangs up, I hear his engine rev into high gear.
I call Grayson next, but I use my phone.
“Miss Mia, I hope you’re close. I’ve been missing you something awful today.”
“Grayson, get to the hospital right now. Spencer’s having the baby.”
On a dime, he turns all business. “Fisher County?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there.” The line goes dead.
Next, I call Caroline and Shay. The phone call is just as brief as the others. Everyone is on their way. Spencer is in the hands of medical professionals. My job is done.
I collapse onto a chair and breathe a sigh of relief. I want to burst into tears, but I hold it together. I think I’m slightly in shock at the events of the evening and I feel almost numb. I want to break down, but my body is saying, not yet, not yet.
Stony comes running through the door about five minutes later. He must’ve sped as if the devil was on his heels to get here this fast. He goes to the desk and asks for Spencer Randall. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard so much anxiety in his deep voice or if I’ve ever seen him look so stressed. They rush him inside to be with her. He doesn’t notice me sitting in the waiting room.
I need Grayson. I hope he gets here soon.
The ramifications of the timeline hits me then. By the time Spencer was at the hospital, Stony was still five minutes away. I was with Spencer for probably ten. I shiver to think what would’ve happened if I hadn’t broken into the house. Time was of the essence. A medical emergency can’t wait for even just a few minutes.
A nurse approaches and asks to take a look at my hand. Even though it’s throbbing, I forgot all about it. It’s hard to miss since the towel is now soaked with bright red blood. After they take me into another room, clean the wound and examine it, it is determined that I need to have stitches.
Evidently Grayson asked after me, because he enters the room next with Caroline and Shay in tow.
I run into his arms and let his comfort surround me. I bury my head in his chest and absorb his strength. Tears are close to the surface, but I’m still trying my best to remain stoic. I can’t break down just yet. Not until I know Spencer and the baby are okay. Caroline and Shay watch me latch onto Grayson with wide eyes. They rub my back to console me.
“Mia,” he asks with trepidation. “What is it? Are Spencer and the baby okay?”
“I don’t know yet. They rushed her inside and I haven’t heard a word. She fainted and the contractions started coming and . . .”
“You were with her?” Caroline asks.
“Yes. Stony wasn’t home and I didn’t want to leave her alone. She didn’t seem well.”
“You were with Spencer?” Grayson asks, even though I already said I was.
“Yes, I wanted to talk with her. I felt like we had some . . . unfinished business between us.” That’s all I’m going to say on the matter. I don’t want Grayson to think I don’t trust him. My doubts were all about my insecurities. He’s been nothing but wonderful to me. “Stony wasn’t home. She was having contractions, but she didn’t think it was the real thing. Her breathing was labored and she was lightheaded, but she thought it was just the baby pressing on her lungs. So I left, but I heard a weird noise and I went back and she was passed out on the floor. So I broke the window to get to her. That’s how I hurt my hand. The contractions started to come and this time they were hard. Then her water broke. Her breathing was uneven and she passed out again. She scared the life out of me. The ambulance came and the paramedics took over. I haven’t heard anything since.” I’m not sure that made any sense, but it’s the best I can do right now. Massive amounts of adrenaline are still pumping through my body.
“Is Stony here?” Shay asks.
“Yes, I called him. He’s in there with her.”
Grayson wraps me in a bear hug. “I’m so glad you were there for her. Thank you, Mia.”
Caroline joins in the hug. “Oh, Mia, thank you for helping Spencer.”
I cling to Grayson. Everyone thinks it’s because of the stress of the evening and it is—but it’s also so much more than that. Shay joins the hug too, only she allows her tears to fall. This should be a happy occasion and yet we’re all filled with worry.
&n
bsp; While my anxiety is still at an all-time high, another emotion is making my chest feel as though it’s about to burst open.
I actually did something good and it feels amazing. I can finally feel proud of myself for my actions. I helped Spencer and this holds so much significance in my heart because of who she is. Helping her is just like helping Stony—and it feels so wonderful to help him for a change.
I feel as though I can finally begin to love the person I am.
I know I didn’t do something amazingly heroic or anything, but it doesn’t matter. I didn’t need to do some kind of daring, far-fetched act in order to feel good about myself. I just needed to help someone who couldn’t help themselves. No matter how small. I’m truly proud of my actions and frankly, it feels incredible.
I just hope the outcome will be incredible as well.
Grayson stays with me and holds my good hand as my cut is numbed and stitched up. The process is fairly quick. In spite of how much it bled, it’s not a bad cut and will heal up nicely.
With my hand bandaged as though it was nearly severed, we join Caroline and Shay in the waiting room, sitting together anxiously. It’s the longest wait I’ve ever endured.
At last, a doctor approaches. At first his solemn expression frightens me.
“It was touch and go there for a while, but we now have a healthy baby girl. Mother and baby are doing fine. You can see them in about an hour. They need some alone time first.”
More hugs ensue, this time accompanied by huge smiles. I’m ecstatic that it all turned out well in the end.
Around forty minutes later, a nurse comes to tell us that we can now visit them in their room.
The sight that greets us is heartwarming. Spencer is sitting upright, pillows propped behind her, a little pink bundle of cuteness in her arms. There’s still an awful lot of wires and tubes hooked up to her, evidence that she just went through an ordeal. Oxygen tubes are still attached to her nose and she’s still hooked up to a blood pressure monitor, but the alarm is no longer going off, thank goodness. Stony is sitting next to her, one hand lightly resting on top of his daughter’s head as he talks quietly to her. Spencer is smiling at whatever he’s saying.
