by Beth K. Vogt
But even so, she hesitated. “You understand why I’m calling Beckett?”
“Yes—but even if I didn’t, if you’re certain, you need to do it.”
“Thank you for saying that.” Payton gave Zach a quick kiss. “Will you watch for the nurse, in case she comes back?”
“Yes. You focus on the phone call. I’ll be praying, too.”
Payton turned her back on Zach and everyone else in the room. Whatever Beckett was doing, he was about to be interrupted in the worst possible way.
“Hello?” Beckett answered on the first ring.
“Beckett, this is Payton, Johanna’s sister—”
“Is everything okay?” Beckett’s words were rapid-fire. “Johanna? The baby?”
Tricky question. “We’re at the hospital. Johanna started bleeding again a few hours ago and her doctor decided to do a C-section.”
“And . . .”
“Your daughter is in the NICU, but the nurse who came out to tell us seemed pretty calm about her condition. She talked about the baby being born a little early and at high altitude. My mom is with her.” Payton needed to just say things straight up. “Johanna . . . Johanna is having problems with bleeding. The nurse said she’s bleeding a lot . . .”
“What are they doing?”
“I don’t know.” Payton swallowed, searching for what the nurse had said. “Dr. Gray is still with her. She’s supposed to come talk with us as soon as she can—or the nurse said she’d come back. I thought you should know about the baby and Johanna, too.”
“Thanks, Payton.” Beckett cleared his throat. “I just finished a round of interviews here. I’m supposed to meet with the CEO tomorrow.”
“I understand. I’ll keep you posted. Put my number in your phone and you can text me, too. Anytime.”
“I want to be there, you know that, right?”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Beckett.”
“Thanks. Tell Johanna . . . tell her . . .”
“I’ll let her know we talked when I see her. And I’ll send you a photo of the baby as soon as I can.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds. “Thanks. . . . I’ll be waiting for that.”
Hanging up on Beckett was like seeing someone struggling in the deep end of the pool and leaving him there. She had nothing to offer him. Beckett had nothing to hold himself up with, either, except for his own strength. And Payton knew how that could fail him.
Her eyes glazed with tears as she added Beckett’s number to her Favorites list, making it easier to retrieve later.
Should she have offered to pray? But she also knew better than to push God on someone just because they were emotional or hurting.
A few moments after she returned to the waiting room, the same nurse came in again.
“Where’s the doctor?” Payton asked the question under her breath. “This can’t be good.”
Zach took her hand. “Let’s go hear what she has to say.”
“I’m scared . . .”
“I know.” He slipped his arm around her waist. “Come on. We’ll do this together.”
The nurse looked around. “Where’s the rest of the family?”
“They went to the NICU to check on the baby—and my mother. How’s Johanna?”
“Dr. Gray won’t be out for a while. She had to go back in through the C-section site to try and slow down Johanna’s bleeding using surgical procedures.”
A shock of cold coursed through Payton’s body, leaving her so weak she had to lean against Zach. “Are you saying . . . are you saying Johanna had a hysterectomy?”
“No. There are other things they can do. I wanted to give you an update. Let you know why it’s taking so long.” The nurse disappeared before Payton could even say thank you.
This was the part of a movie where things go from bad to worse, and then the scene ended as the nurse vanished, once again, behind the OR doors. Payton wanted to know specific details about what was going in the operating room, but then again, she didn’t. As long as she didn’t know the final outcome, she still had hope that Johanna would be okay.
34
I WAS WARM.
That was different. The last thing I remembered . . . how long ago was that? . . . I had been cold. And I’d been falling . . . falling into darkness, trying to find my way out. To open my eyes . . .
Something was beeping.
Now that I recognized. But . . . but . . .
The beeping accelerated.
That wasn’t my baby’s heartbeat.
It had to be my heartbeat. Why weren’t there two hearts beating together?
I needed to wake up. Figure out where I was. Where Ellison was.
I forced my eyes open, squinting at the small bit of sunlight coming through the partially open curtains. “This isn’t my room . . .”
“Good morning, Johanna.” A young woman wearing scrubs, her dark hair pulled away from her face, entered the room. “I’m Penny, your nurse. You’re no longer on labor and delivery. You were transferred to ICU after your surgery last night.”
“After my . . . surgery?” As I spoke again, something brushed against my upper lip and the sides of my face. I swiped at it with the palm of my right hand, tugging at an IV line.
“You have a nasal cannula for oxygen right now—” the nurse eased my hand away from my face—“as well as several IVs. The doctor may decide you don’t need to be on oxygen once she sees you.”
“Dr. Gray?”
“You’re under the care of Dr. Prisha Anand, the ICU attending, as well as Dr. Gray. They’ll both be in to see you.”
It was as if I’d planned a trip to New England and dozed off on the flight only to find out that the plane had landed in Chicago—and I had no hope of booking a flight to my original destination.
The lone sound of my heart beating continued in the background, a slower pace than my baby’s.
Hours ago, I’d given birth to my daughter. And I’d caught the briefest glimpse of her. Never held her.
Right now, this nurse was my only connection to life outside this room.
“Where’s my baby?”
“She spent the night in the NICU—”
“What’s wrong with her?” My attempt to sit up straighter had me gasping at the sharp pain caused by my too-quick movement.
“Your daughter’s fine—and I need you to take it easy. Remember, you had a C-section a few hours ago.” Penny eased me back against the pillows. “She’s a few weeks premature, so it took a bit to get her temperature regulated. And you, unfortunately, had quite a go of it after your C-section, which is why you spent the night here, instead of with your daughter.”
“Quite a go of it—care to translate that?”
“I’ll let your doctors discuss everything in detail with you, but suffice it to say, you required a blood transfusion. Several, actually.” The nurse checked my IVs. “You’re on IV fluids and antibiotics and you have a catheter.”
“This is not quite how I imagined my first day of motherhood would go.”
“I admit, this is a tough way to start. Dr. Gray and Dr. Anand will be by to discuss how soon you can move to a room with your daughter. But I can have the NICU nurse bring her down to see you, if you’d like.”
“Now?”
“Let me get you settled first—take your vitals, get you up and moving around a little bit, and then I’ll notify them that you’re awake.”
I was never one for fairy tales, and yet I’d pulled some kind of Sleeping Beauty act during my daughter’s first hours of life. Granted, I’d had a medical emergency, but still, retelling her birth story and having to say, “I don’t remember this part because I was asleep” wasn’t going to impress Ellison in years to come.
Part of me wouldn’t mind closing my eyes and going back to sleep again, but I couldn’t do that. I had to choose whether I was going to be a new mother or an invalid. If I wanted to see Ellison, I had to ignore the temptation of sleep.
I would do everything the nurse demanded of me because I was not going to wait any longer than necessary to see my daughter. Some strange person was holding her. Feeding her.
That was my job.
“Why don’t we try you sitting up?”
Fine. If the nurse wanted me to sit up, then I’d sit up.
Slowly. There was no need to rush things.
“Good. Now let’s get your legs over the side.”
“Who knew putting my legs over the side of the bed would be such a monumental task?” I caught my breath as pain seared my abdomen. “I guess I won’t be going back to my Pilates class right away.”
“Not right away, no.” Penny stood beside me. “And now we’ll stand . . .”
“You’re already standing.”
“True. Why don’t you join me and we’ll take a few baby steps?”
“Baby steps. How appropriate.”
By the time I completed my three-phase morning exercise, I wanted to cheer and collapse in my bed—opting for just collapsing.
Penny arranged the blankets and multiple lines attached to my aching body. “The NICU nurse is on the way with your daughter, so let’s get you comfortable before she gets here.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
“You’re not going to be able to lift her right away—and then nothing heavier than your baby for the first few weeks. Again, Dr. Gray will discuss all this with you.”
“Then how am I supposed to manage taking care of her?”
“You’re going to need some help. While you’re in the hospital, someone will give you the baby and take her from you to put her back in the bassinet.”
After a soft knock, the glass door slid open and yet another nurse asked, “Is Ms. Thatcher ready for her daughter?”
“Yes. I am.” No one needed to answer that question for me.
Penny held the curtain back, and the next minute the nurse stepped in, and then a clear bassinet appeared, being pushed by Jillian . . . Jillian, who offered me a huge smile. “Here she is, Jo.”
“Jill? I didn’t know you were here.”
“Mom and I talked about it. I offered to stay with Ellison last night so Mom could go home and get some sleep.”
“You . . . you were with Ellison all night?”
“Yes. We all thought you wouldn’t want her to be alone.” Jillian eased the bassinet toward my bed. “She’s so sweet, Jo. She has long fingers. And I think she may have your hair color . . . your natural hair color. Of course, it’s too early to know what color her eyes will be.”
For a moment, this conversation seemed wrong, Jillian’s words blending together as she told me things I should be telling her. I struggled with the idea that I’d slept while my sister had rocked Ellison. Fed her. Mothered her.
But who better to be with my daughter than Jillian? Her aunt. The sister who’d seen me at my worst and loved me—forgiven me.
“Are you ready to hold your daughter?” The nurse brought the bassinet closer.
“Yes.”
Penny exited the room as the other nurse stepped forward. “Let’s raise the bed up and then I’ll position a pillow over your stomach to protect your incision site so it won’t hurt you when you hold her.”
“Fine.”
“Why don’t I go call Mom and Payton and let them know you’re awake?” Jillian backed toward the door, her smile warm. “They were going to go shopping for some preemie outfits for Ellison this morning.”
“Thank you for being with her.” I blinked away tears. “I’m so glad you were with her.”
“I was thankful I could do it for you.” She eased the door open. “Now you spend time with your daughter.”
Once the nurse had positioned the pillow, she lifted my baby—my baby—and placed her in my arms.
And for the first time in months, I was no longer waiting for something.
“She’s tinier than I expected.” I found myself whispering, afraid to startle Ellison as she slept in my embrace.
“She weighs five pounds, two ounces, and she’s nineteen inches long.” The nurse handed me a tiny bottle. “She’s sleeping now, but in case she wakes up, she might be hungry. Your mother and sister told us you didn’t plan on breastfeeding.”
“No. I’m going back to work full-time.”
“Some women still choose that option—”
“I’m not one of those women.”
“And some moms choose to breastfeed for the first six to eight weeks because it’s proven beneficial for the baby. If you’d like to talk with a lactation specialist—”
“I’m just going to hold my daughter now. I’ve got some catching up to do.”
“I understand.”
I didn’t want my first meeting with Ellison interrupted with a public service announcement. I knew the nurse meant well, but right now, I wanted to get to know my daughter. Even though we had years and years ahead of us, I wanted these first moments—this delayed meeting—to ourselves.
Ellison’s little face was perfect—unmarred by any sense of worry or pain or sorrow. Soon enough she’d cry. Fuss. Get angry—even if it was only about a messy diaper or because she was hungry.
I should know her, but I didn’t.
But oh, how I wanted to.
“Hello, Ellison Pepper Thatcher. What a surprise you are.” I pulled back the edge of the blanket that was snugged so tightly around her tiny body. Touched her delicate fingers that were long, just like Jillian had said. “I can honestly say you are the most unexpected thing I’ve ever experienced. And I’m so happy you’re here.”
Ellison’s perfect mouth parted in a silent yawn.
“I’m sorry if I’m boring you.” I dared to press my lips to one tiny hand. “It’s you and me, Ellison. Life’s going to be interesting, I can tell you that. And I’ll be the first to tell you that I’m not always the easiest person to get along with—but choosing you, holding you, has done something to my heart.”
Tears blurred my vision again and I blinked them away. I didn’t want anything to interfere with my view of my daughter.
“I think . . . I think you’re going to be very, very good for me. And I’m going to try and be a good mother to you. I know I have a lot to learn. Let’s just start with today, okay?”
I had to be different. I had to be better for Ellison. Life wasn’t just about me anymore. My choices affected her.
And I needed to start by admitting I was wrong. It wasn’t just me and her. She hadn’t been alone while I faced a medical crisis. We both had a family who loved us.
“Welcome to the world, Ellison. You’re a Thatcher, baby girl. You’re named for your grandmother, who you met right after you were born, and your aunt Pepper.” Tears again? Childbirth made me weepy. “I’m sorry you won’t get to meet her, but we’ll tell you stories about her. And your grandmother and Aunt Payton are out shopping for you right now. And your aunt Jillian . . . your aunt Jillian is my best friend, so it’s only right she stayed with you last night when I couldn’t be with you.”
Ellison would learn soon enough that being a Thatcher was a good thing. Complicated, yes, but a good thing.
35
MY LIFE WAS GOOD.
Not perfect, but good.
My neck, shoulders, back, and arms ached from holding Ellison. No one ever told me that holding something—someone—who weighed less than six pounds could make me so tense I hurt. And that the thought of coughing or sneezing could scare me. Yet there was an altogether different sort of ache when she wasn’t in my arms.
My C-section site hurt on the surface where the staples were visible, but also inside where they’d had to sew off two of the uterine arteries to stanch the flow of blood. Even though I’d been given a medicine pump to mitigate the pain, I tried to avoid using it. No sense in depending on it too much since it wasn’t coming home with me.
“I can’t say Dr. Gray and Dr. Anand were totally convinced about moving me back up to the postpartum ward.”
Mom adj
usted the pillow behind my back. “They both realized you were going to fight them about staying in the ICU. And they recognized how stubborn you are.”
“Like I told them, the hospital is the hospital. They both admitted I’m doing well overall—better than they expected—and that being together is better for both Ellison and me.”
“Everyone agrees on that. A baby should be with her mom.”
“It also helps that you agreed to stay with me tonight.”
“We’re all here to help you, Johanna.”
“I know.” I hesitated. “I was jealous of Jillian . . .”
“Jealous? Why?”
“Just for a moment I was jealous because she was with Ellison that first night after she was born, instead of me.” Even now the thought caused my throat to tighten. “But then I realized it was an irrational response. I was thankful Jillian stayed with her. There’s room in Ellison’s life for Jillian and you and Payton . . . and we’ll all make certain she knows about Pepper.”
“Her namesake.”
“One of her namesakes.”
“Thank you, Johanna.”
“Thank you, Mom. I didn’t realize that you’d always been there for me.”
It was as if I was stepping closer to Mom, even as I sat in a hospital lounger holding Ellison. How odd, to be with Mom, holding my daughter. Her first granddaughter.
Ellison’s eyes opened for a brief moment as she turned her head, and she moved one tiny fist up against her face. I rested my hand on her body and savored the sense of her inhaling and exhaling. Her breathing was my new favorite sound. Earlier in the day, we’d both fallen asleep, Ellison in her bassinet, and me in the hospital bed, on my side, one hand draped over, resting on her little body, feeling the rise and fall of her breath.
My daughter’s breathing was a precious distraction.
“Where’s Dad? I thought you said he was coming over tonight to see his granddaughter.”
Mom paused from folding some of the clothes she and Payton had purchased for Ellison earlier that day. So many tiny outfits that they’d taken home and washed and dried and presented to me with huge grins of satisfaction.
