The Best We've Been

by Beth K. Vogt

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “I love you, Johanna.”

  “I love you, too, Mom.”

  Dr. Gray arrived before Mom, her familiar presence calming me as she pulled up the chair and sat beside my bed. “Dr. Chambers talked to me as I was coming to see you. You’ve had a significant bleed this time.”

  “I only had a little bit of spotting on my pad.” As if my words would convince Dr. Gray of anything.

  “The ultrasound showed evidence of hidden bleeding—and that’s our concern.”

  “Why don’t you do an ultrasound and check for yourself?”

  “I trust Dr. Chambers.”

  “Even though she looks like she just graduated from medical school?”

  “Now there’s the Johanna Thatcher I know.” Dr. Gray chuckled. “Yes. Dr. Chambers is very competent. And I’ve looked at the ultrasound findings. It’s a moot point, Johanna. All of this declares the need to get your baby delivered.”

  “You’re talking about tomorrow morning, then?”

  “No. As soon as possible. But you ate dinner at five. It’s now going on eight, so we’re going to try and wait until nine or so to give your body time to get the food out of your stomach.”

  For all my complaining about having to wait, things were happening too fast. “That soon?”

  “You’re the case of the day, Johanna. The OR is going to be a little crowded. The neonatal ICU team will be in the room, including a neonatal NP for the baby.” Despite the concern about delivering my baby, Dr. Gray seemed relaxed. “One of the complications can be excessive bleeding. We talked about this when you were admitted, remember? Sometimes we can’t stop the bleeding without taking out the uterus. This, of course, means you can’t have any more children—and you may not be able to give your consent then, which is why I’m talking to you now.”

  I hadn’t expected my ability to have any more children to be a topic of conversation tonight. “Let’s talk about something else—like how I expect you to make sure I have as minimal a scar as possible, okay?”

  “The incision will be big enough to get the baby out safely and promptly—no bigger.”

  “It was a joke.” I offered her a smile. “I trust you.”

  “Thank you, Johanna.” Dr. Gray returned my smile. “You’re my one case tonight. We’ll get you and your baby through this.”

  The trip to the operating room was not rushed, but they pushed my bed down the hall with intention. For a moment, I expected to hear some sort of ominous background music playing, like in a TV medical drama or movie, but the only sounds were normal hospital noises. Elevator pings. Phones ringing. Muted conversations.

  Then came my awkward contortions as I moved over to the operating table, trying not to disturb the IVs and fetal monitoring lines. For a week, I’d been bored because nothing much was happening, and now I wanted everything to slow down.

  “Do you want someone with you in the OR?” Cara covered my hair with a protective cap.

  I’d always envisioned myself alone when my baby was born. Well, me and the doctor, of course. “Can I have someone here?”

  “Yes.”

  “My mom. Please. She’s in the waiting room. I’m pretty sure she’ll come in.”

  “I’m certain she will. Most women are thrilled to be present when their grandchild is born.”

  By the time Mom arrived, the anesthesiologist had finished the spinal and settled me on my back with my head slightly elevated. He was seated above my head, watching a quietly beeping set of monitors. A pad of some kind was placed beneath my right hip to elevate it. My arms were spread-eagle—an uncomfortable position, but I had no real say in the matter.

  “Johanna.” Mom came and stood next to my outstretched left arm, wearing scrubs, booties, a cap, and a mask.

  “Well, aren’t we both stylish?”

  “Thank you.” Mom clasped my left hand. “Thank you for letting me be with you.”

  “Thank you for being here, Mom.”

  Before I could say anything else, an OR nurse spoke up. “We’re doing a primary C-section on Johanna Thatcher.”

  As the nurse checked my hospital wristband, I agreed. “Yes, that’s me.”

  Dr. Gray stood on the right side of the operating table, a cloth erected at my chest level so I couldn’t see my stomach—or Dr. Gray. “Just so we’re on the same page—Miss Thatcher has a complete previa. She’s bled several times. She’s thirty-six weeks, which is why NICU staff is here. Miss Thatcher is also a higher risk for postpartum hemorrhage, but we’ve taken all the precautions and we have two units of blood typed and crossed for her in the blood bank.”

  Murmurs of agreement sounded throughout the OR.

  Dr. Chambers entered the room. “Dr. Gray, I’m here to assist.”

  “All right then. Johanna, let’s meet your daughter.”

  And once again, I waited. The anesthesia had numbed me to Dr. Gray’s actions. All I could feel was pressure against my stomach.

  Mom squeezed my hand, her gaze focused over the curtain, intent on the arrival of her first granddaughter. I knew the moment she was born because of the tears that brimmed in Mom’s eyes and spilled down her face.

  “Johanna, your daughter is beautiful. Ten fingers. Ten toes.” Dr. Gray’s voice sounded from the other side of the curtain.

  “Her name is Ellison Pepper.”

  “What?” Mom gasped.

  “Surprise—I decided to use your maiden name for her first name.”

  “Thank you . . .” Mom’s gaze never wavered from Ellison.

  “Wait . . .” I wished I could remove the barrier between me and my daughter. “Why don’t I hear anything?”

  “She’s a little stunned by an early and abrupt arrival.” Dr. Gray’s usual calm tone reassured me once again.

  A member of the NICU team strode by carrying a large sterile drape, offering me only a brief glimpse of Ellison’s foot. “We’ll bring her back when she’s warmed up.”

  “Johanna, she’s so precious.” Mom’s gaze followed the person carrying my daughter.

  “Go with her, Mom.” I pulled my hand away. “I’m fine. Go be with Ellison.”

  Dr. Gray’s voice still came from the right side of her table. “You did bleed some, Johanna. I’m glad we did this now. Dr. Wilson, is the Pitocin running?”

  “Yes.”

  “Johanna, we’re getting you taken care of, but the placenta seems to be more adherent to your uterus, which complicates things. I’m dealing with it, but you may feel some pressure on your abdomen.”

  “Okay.” If Dr. Gray wasn’t worried, then I wasn’t worried. Besides, my daughter was born—and that was the most important thing.

  A soft cry reached my ears—the best music I’d ever heard. A few seconds later, the nurse practitioner returned with Ellison, cradling her so I could see her swaddled in a white blanket, her eyes closed, her head covered with a light-pink cap. My daughter. “She’s needing a little bit of oxygen. Not much, but we’re going to take her to the NICU and get her stabilized. Ellison will meet you back in your room.”

  The nurse held her cheek against mine—so soft and warm—and her tiny hand popped out of the swaddling blanket and touched my ear. I longed to hold my daughter close, to insist that she remain with me. “Stay with Ellison, Mom. I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Please. I don’t want her to be alone.”

  “All right then.”

  “Hayden, how much blood do you think she lost?” The anesthesiologist’s question pulled my attention away from the ache of wanting to hold my daughter.

  “Why?”

  “Pulse is 120 and BP is 90 over 60.”

  “Let me take a look.” Dr. Gray muttered under her breath. “Johanna, you’re still bleeding excessively. You’re on Pitocin and we’ve given you prostaglandins preventatively. . . . We’re going to have to give you a transfusion—”

  “Dr. Gray, she just passed another blood clot.” The OR nurse’s voice ov
errode Dr. Gray’s.

  “Ask Dr. Chambers to get back in here. Get the blood up here now and open up both IVs. And type and cross four more units after these two.”

  I hated to interrupt everyone, but I wasn’t sure what was going on. “I . . . I don’t know if this is normal or not, but I’m nauseated . . .” I licked my dry lips. “And you all sound like you’re talking in a tunnel . . .”

  “I only have a couple of minutes to let the medicines do their work before I’m going to have to do some surgical options.” Dr. Gray peered over the sheet, her gaze connecting with mine. “I’m going to get you through this.”

  I fought against the darkness obscuring the edges of my vision. “I told you . . . I trust you.”

  “I wish I was back there with Johanna and Mom.” Jillian gripped her phone between both hands so hard her knuckles whitened. Why hadn’t Mom texted them an update?

  “Not sure I’d be up to seeing a C-section—especially when Johanna is the victim.” Payton sat beside her, twisting the pages of an unopened magazine.

  “Don’t call Jo a victim.” Jillian shook her head. “She’s a patient. And I don’t want to see a C-section, either, but I do want to know she and the baby are okay.”

  “Just because Mom hasn’t texted doesn’t mean anything’s wrong.” Payton set the magazine aside and it unfurled into a loose pile of curved pages. “We don’t even know if she was able to take her phone back with her.”

  “Dad told her to, but that doesn’t mean the nurse let her keep it.”

  “Are you okay, Jill?” Payton lowered her voice and leaned closer. “Being here isn’t too hard for you?”

  “I’m fine. I won’t lie and say this isn’t difficult, but there’s no way I wouldn’t be here. I’m trying to remember today isn’t about me and what I can’t have.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “This isn’t your fault. It isn’t Johanna’s fault. The truth is, there are going to be a lot of hard days ahead. I’m not certain how I’m going to feel the first time I see Jo holding her baby—her daughter. Or how I’ll feel the first time I hold her. If I’m even going to be brave enough to hold her.”

  “I read somewhere that being brave is feeling scared and doing it anyway.”

  “I think for me, being brave might be saying, ‘I’ll let Mom hold her granddaughter today and take my turn tomorrow.’ Or maybe the next day.”

  “And that’s okay, too.”

  “Can we talk about something else besides me? Did the doctor give us a time frame for how long the C-section would take?”

  Before Payton could reply, a female voice sounded over the hospital intercom.

  “Code white to labor and delivery operating room. Code white to labor and delivery operating room.”

  It was as if all the activity in the waiting room slowed, the conversations muted. “That can’t be good. ‘Code’ anything is never good.”

  “We don’t know that it concerns Johanna.” Payton’s words were calm. Assured.

  “I didn’t say that. They have more than one operating room in labor and delivery, right?”

  “I know nothing about hospitals, except what I see on television. But I do know how to find out what a ‘code white’ is. You can google anything these days.”

  Jillian stood and paced. “Well?”

  “For this hospital . . . code white means someone on the OB ward is hemorrhaging.” Payton rose to her feet, turning her back on where their dad sat across the room with Zach and Geoff. “But they said operating room.”

  “Johanna’s in an operating room, right?”

  “Yes.” Payton pressed her lips together. “But we don’t know anything for sure.”

  A nurse wearing scrubs, her hair covered by a light-blue tight-fitting surgical cap, entered the waiting room. She scanned the area before crossing over to Payton and Jillian. “You’re with Johanna Thatcher, right?”

  “Yes, we’re her sisters.” Jillian motioned to Geoff and the others. “Hey, everybody. Come on over here.”

  The nurse waited until their small group had gathered around. “Johanna is still in the OR. Dr. Gray had to open her back up—”

  “Open her back up?” Payton interrupted. “What does that even mean?”

  “After the C-section was finished, there was some excessive bleeding. Dr. Gray’s addressing that right now. She’ll come talk with all of you once Johanna is stable.”

  “What about her baby?”

  “She had a little girl. Your mother is in the NICU with her.”

  “Is there . . . is there something wrong with the baby?” Jillian leaned into Geoff, his arm encircling her waist.

  “She’s a preemie and a C-section baby born at altitude. She needs some extra attention.”

  “Can we go see her?” Payton spoke again.

  “No. I’m sorry. Only one person in the NICU until she’s stabilized.” The nurse took a step away. “As I said, Dr. Gray will come and talk with you as soon as she can. If it’s taking too long, I’ll try to check back with you.”

  And with that limited amount of reassurance, she slipped behind the operating room doors.

  The nurse had appeared and disappeared as quickly as one of Colorado’s unexpected hailstorms. The day could be sunny, and then the sky would dump ice the size of golf balls on you. Here they were, waiting to celebrate the news of Johanna and her daughter . . . good news of a safe, albeit early, delivery.

  And now this.

  Wasn’t this when they should pray?

  Jillian had no words. No strength to move from the safety of Geoff’s embrace.

  Dad pressed his hands together, one hand rubbing the back of the other again and again. “What do we do now?”

  Payton exhaled a soft sigh. “What we’ve been doing. We wait.”

  “We’re going to pray.” Zach spoke up, his words including everyone.

  Thank God someone had the strength to pray.

  Payton came to stand beside her husband, reaching her hand out to Jillian and drawing her close. Geoff came alongside her, never releasing his hold on her, while Dad chose to close the circle by coming around to Zach’s other side, clasping his hands in front of him like he did when he was waiting in a long line at the grocery store. Jillian closed her eyes. If she was going to pray, she couldn’t watch how Geoff and Dad handled Zach’s prayer.

  “God, please take care of Johanna.” Zach kept his voice low, so as not to disturb anyone else in the room. “Help Dr. Gray figure out why she’s bleeding and how to stop it. And help the baby to be okay, too. Whatever she needs . . . we don’t know, but You do. Amen.”

  “That’s it?” Geoff spoke as soon as Zach finished.

  “Yes.” Zach raised an eyebrow. “You want to add anything?”

  “No. It was just shorter than I expected.”

  Payton still clung to both Zach’s and Jillian’s hands. “Jillian, why don’t you and Dad go over to the NICU? I’m not certain where it is, but someone will help you find it. Maybe they’ll let you take turns being with the baby. It’s worth a try, right? And I know Mom would be glad to see you.”

  Jillian froze. “What? No . . . Maybe you and Zach should go . . .”

  Payton clasped Jillian’s hand, pulling her aside, away from the warmth of Geoff’s embrace. “You should go. It’s all about being brave even when you’re scared.”

  “Did you forget I was going to be brave tomorrow?” Even though she tried to make a joke, Jillian’s voice trembled. “I don’t know if I’m ready. . . .”

  “You also said you didn’t want to make today about you, right?” Payton gave her a swift hug. “Johanna needs us. Our niece needs us. And besides, I can’t go because I have something else I need to do.”

  “And what is that?”

  “I’m going to call Beckett.” Payton retrieved her cell phone from her purse.

  Jillian gasped. “I’m not sure Johanna would want you to do that, based on their last interaction.”

  “We can’t ask her ri
ght now, can we? And Beckett is the baby’s father. I know he and Johanna are still figuring out all the details, but Beckett has the right to know his daughter has been born. And he would also want to know about . . . about Johanna, too. She’s going to be fine.” Payton closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. “Beckett can decide what he wants to do—but I am going to talk to him.”

  “Johanna is going to be upset.”

  “Won’t be the first time, will it?” Payton gave a short laugh. “I’ll handle it.”

  Despite the seriousness of the situation—the words excessive bleeding—they were all taking their assigned places, which meant Payton was going to irritate Johanna.

  And Jillian . . . she was going to meet her niece.

  Jillian took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She didn’t know where the NICU was. Didn’t know if the nurses would let them see Johanna’s baby once they found the NICU. She could only hope no one would guess how scared she was. “Are you ready, Dad?”

  “We’re ready.” Dad nodded as Geoff took her hand, lacing their fingers together.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to come, too.”

  “Jill.” Geoff pulled her to a stop as Dad exited the waiting room. “I know this—all of this—is breaking your heart. That you weren’t sure how you’d feel once Johanna had her baby. Now you’re worrying about Johanna and the baby—”

  “Don’t say it, Geoff.” Tears choked her. “Please . . . don’t say it.”

  “I love you. You’re not facing this by yourself.”

  “Oh, Geoff!” Jillian wrapped her arms around his neck, collapsing into his strength. “I’m so scared . . .”

  “I know . . . I know.” Geoff brushed the hair away from her face, leaning his forehead against hers. “I’m glad Zach prayed. I’m not even sure why . . . but it seemed to help. Let’s not give up hope, okay?”

  “You’re right. We can’t give up hope.”

  Payton sought out a secluded corner in the waiting room, Zach standing nearby. During the time Zach had prayed, Payton realized she needed to call Beckett, despite how uncertain things were between him and Johanna.

  She’d do what she thought was right and face the consequences later.