by Kaylee Ryan
“She’s too small,” I cry. “She’s not due for another two weeks and she’s already measuring tiny. It’s too early,” I argue.
Squeezing my hand, he says, “Yes, you are right on all counts. The doctors are giving Misty shots of steroids to help strengthen the baby’s lungs, just in case they do have to deliver early.”
“How is he?” I force the words out. I know how he is. His last text message flashes through my mind. “I need you.” I can’t imagine what he’s feeling right now.
Aaron is quiet the rest of the drive, allowing me to get lost in my thoughts, my worry for Evan. As soon as he parks the truck, I’m jumping out with him hot on my heels. “I’ll take you there,” he says, falling into step beside me.
We enter the hospital and Aaron leads us to the elevators. He hits the button, which one I have no idea. I don’t need to know. I just need to get to him. When the elevator doors open, Aaron motions for me to exit, letting me know this is our stop. As soon as I step out, we are in a waiting room and what I see breaks my heart. Evan is sitting all alone, elbows resting on his knees, face buried in his hands. I don’t even think as I move toward him. He must hear my heavy footsteps. Lifting his head, his eyes find me and he stands just in time for me to crash into him. We wrap our arms around each other, and I hold onto him telling him without words that I’m here.
“Kinley.” His voice cracks and, I swear, so does my heart. Neither one of us move. We stand there in the quiet waiting room of the maternity ward and hold on as tight as we can.
Eventually, he pulls away. His eyes are red and filled with moisture. “Are you okay?” he asks me. I can hear the concern in his voice.
This man.
He’s going through hell, the worry for his daughter evident, yet he takes the time to ask and worry about me.
“I’m good. I left my phone at the house. I’ve been busy in the studio all day,” I explain.
Evan nods as he laces his fingers through mine. I’ve completely forgotten Aaron was with me when I got here, until he clears his throat. We both turn to face him. I try to pry my hand from Evan’s, but he’s not having it.
“Any word?” Aaron asks. I can see the question in his eyes, but he doesn’t voice it.
“No change. We’re waiting for the doctor. I actually need to get back in there. I just needed…” He trails off and silently squeezes my hand. He needed to know I was okay.
“We’ll be here, go. You don’t want to miss what the doctor has to say,” I tell him.
“She’s right. We’re not leaving. You’ll find us here when you need us, man. Don’t leave the decisions up to Misty.” Aaron says her name with disdain.
Evan nods. “Thanks, man.” He releases my hand. Leaning down, he places a kiss on the top of my head, then squeezes Aaron’s shoulder and walks away.
“What was that?” Aaron asks.
“He’s emotional, Aaron. His daughter’s life is at risk,” I say defensively.
“Yeah, I get that, but I’ve been standing here the whole time. He was worried about you,” he points out.
“Well, yeah, I’m like a little sister to him. We’ve spent a lot of time together the last few months. I’ve been his shoulder through all this.”
“McKinley Rae,” he warns.
“Look, there’s nothing going on between us. Am I happy about that? No, not really. Can I change it? No. Evan is a great guy, you know that. He has too much going on in his life to notice his best friend’s little sister.”
“He looked like he noticed to me,” he retorts.
“He’s hanging on by a thread, Aaron. Misty hasn’t been taking care of herself and his biggest fear is possibly about to become a reality. His daughter is in danger. His parents don’t live here and his grandparents are not in good health. They can’t sit here with him, so he needs someone. That someone is me.”
Aaron’s quiet for a few minutes before he finally says, “I get that, Kinley. I do. He’s my best friend and I’m glad you’ve been there for him. Hell, I even encouraged him to let you help him. What worries me is your feelings are more than just helping out my best friend. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I won’t. You have nothing to worry about, Aaron. He needs us right now more than ever.”
He puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into him. “You’re right. I just worry about you. About both of you, really.”
“You don’t have to. I’m a big girl. I just…my heart breaks for him, Aaron.”
He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he guides me to one of the chairs along the walls and we settle in, waiting to hear from Evan.
Chapter 17
Evan
She’s here. She’s okay. I keep repeating those words on my way back to Misty’s room. I needed her, and when I couldn’t reach her, I about lost my shit. My daughter’s life is in danger and McKinley was missing. It was almost too much for me to process. The rational side of my brain realizes she wasn’t missing, but the stressed, over emotional side put up a strong fight.
Knowing she’s here, it helps. I wish I could say I’m focusing on my daughter and make it better, but I can’t. It all comes down to hurry up and wait. Wait to see if Misty’s body can give her what she needs. Wait to see if my little girl’s heartbeat resumes to a normal, healthy rhythm. Wait for the doctors to tell me if I’m going to meet my little girl two weeks earlier than what I thought.
I fucking hate waiting.
When I enter Misty’s room, she’s resting. I don’t know if she’s really sleeping or just has her eyes closed. I don’t care either way. I have no plans to talk to her. I blame her for this. She refused to take care of herself, to take care of my baby, and now I could lose her. The doctor said the shots they are giving Misty will help the baby’s lungs fully develop faster and two weeks is minor in comparison to some early deliveries. Regardless, she did this. I will never forgive her.
Light filters through the room as the doctor comes in. “Evan, there’s no change and I’m not willing to risk waiting any longer. We’re going to take Misty in to do an emergency cesarean. You can scrub in and be in the room. I’m going to go prep. I’ll send the nurses in to get her ready.” He walks closer to the bed and to her. “Misty,” he says, turning the light on above the bed. She opens her eyes.
“I heard you,” she says, no emotion whatsoever in her voice.
The doctor nods his head. “Evan, if you’ll come with me, you can stop and update your family and then let the nurses know you need to scrub in.”
I wait for him to leave the room before I address Misty. “I’ll see you in there.”
She nods and rolls to her side, putting her back to me. Not able to be alone with her for one more second, I leave the room in search of my family—Aaron and McKinley. I find them where I left them in the waiting room. McKinley has her head on Aaron’s shoulder and they are watching whatever mindless show is on television. As soon as she spots me, she lifts her head and sits on the edge of her seat.
“Hey,” I say, stopping in front of them. They both stand and I want nothing more than to pull her into me and hold her, pull comfort from her. Instead, I clench my hands into fists to prevent it.
“So, uh…” I clear my throat. “There’s no change in the baby. Her heart rate is still too low and the doctor doesn’t want to wait any longer. They’re prepping Misty for an emergency delivery,” I explain.
Tears fall from McKinley’s eyes. Tears for me and my daughter. The woman who has carried her for over eight months shows no emotion, but this girl, she’s broken over it.
I clench my fist tighter.
“I have to go too. To scrub in so I can be there when she’s born.” My voice cracks. I’m trying really hard to keep my shit in check, but I’m scared to death for my daughter.
“Evan, man, she’s going to be okay. You’re going to have a healthy little girl here really soon. A little girl who we are going to spoil rotten and whose dates we are going to scare away.” Aaron tries to break
some of the tension.
It works. I offer him a watery smile. He’s my best friend. He’s been there for me through it all and I could not be happier to have him here to help me welcome my daughter into the world.
“I can’t wait to meet her,” Kinley says, displaying her own watery smile. I watch as tears stream down her cheeks.
No longer able to resist, I cup her face with my hands and wipe her tears away with my thumbs. “Thank you for everything,” I say, then kiss her forehead.
I then turn to Aaron and pull him into a hug. “Thanks for being here, brother.”
I feel him nod. With that, I spin around and walk away from them. Stopping at the nurses’ station, I ask them where I need to be. Following their directions, I head toward the surgery department.
“Evan Chamberlin,” I tell the girl at the desk.
“Yes, sir. Right this way.” She leads me behind the doors that read Authorized Personnel Only. Reaching into a cabinet, she hands me a pair of scrubs. “Slip these on over your clothes and these go over your shoes. Once you’re done, go through those doors,” she points behind her, “and give them your name.”
I do as I’m told, slipping the blue scrubs over my clothes and the covers on my feet. When I make it through the double doors and give the nurse there my name, she instructs me to follow her to the sink where she proceeds to scrub my hands. After drying them, she sheaths them with rubber gloves. She hands me a mask for my face and opens a door, telling me to go on in.
The room is sterile. The smell that lingers in all hospitals is stronger here than I’ve ever smelled before. Misty is laying on a table with a blanket hanging at right about her chest. I assume it’s to keep her from seeing what’s about to happen. She’s staring up at the ceiling.
“Mr. Chamberlin, come on in. There’s a chair.” The nurse points to a stool that is up close to Misty’s head.
I mumble a half-assed, “Thank you,” and take my spot on the stool, thankful for the chance to sit. My legs are shaking. Hell, my entire body is trembling. The doctor comes in followed by a team of people dressed just like me.
“This is your team. Baby girl Chamberlin will be in good hands,” he says, stopping beside us. “Misty, do you have any questions?” he asks her.
“No,” she replies. Still showing no emotion, she answers just as she would if someone was asking if she wanted fries with her burger.
“Evan?” he asks.
“I don’t…I don’t know,” I tell him honestly.
“Once we take the baby, if all is well, which I’m optimistic about and is the reason I didn’t want to wait any longer, we will allow you to see her, but the staff behind me will take her, run some tests, and clean her up. Once she’s been assessed, you will be able to hold your daughter,” he explains.
“Okay,” I say because what else do you say to that? At least they are going to let me see her before they take her away.
The doctor nods, and just like that, a flurry of activity happens around us. Even though I blame her, I’m sure she’s scared as hell. At least I am. Reaching over, I take Misty’s hand in mine. She doesn’t speak, but she does turn to look at me. I hold her stare until she squeezes her eyes closed and points her head back toward the ceiling. Still nothing. I wish I knew what she was thinking. I wish I knew how she could be so indifferent to everything that’s happening.
I continue to hold her hand, offering her silent support. At least I tell myself it’s for her. In reality, it’s just as much for me. I hear the doctor ask for a scalpel and my chest tightens. I focus on trying to suck in deep, even breaths, waiting for them to tell me she’s okay.
There’s no semblance of time as I wait for them, just trying like hell to keep breathing. That is until I hear it, hear her. The moment I hear my little girl cry, I release a heavy breath at the same time the doctor announces, “It’s a girl,” to everyone in the room.
She’s here.
My daughter.
My little girl.
A nurse walks around the curtain and holds her up so we can see her. I don’t bother checking to see if Misty is paying attention. I know she’s not. Instead, I take her in as tears begin to fall.
My daughter is testing out her lungs as she screams, apparently not impressed with her arrival into the world. I don’t care. In this moment, her cries are the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. She’s here and I love her more than I ever thought possible.
This is real.
“We need to take her for some tests, but you can wait for her in the nursery if you want.” I nod, not bothering with the tears as they fall.
I’m a father.
I watch as the team places her under a light and wheels her out of the room. Once she’s out of sight, I turn to face Misty. “Misty,” I say her name, but she doesn’t bother looking at me.
“I know you can hear me. I just want to say thank you. Thank you for giving me my daughter.” I don’t waste time waiting for a reply I know will not come. Instead, I rush out the door in hot pursuit of the nursery.
Quickly stripping out the blue getup, I toss it in the trash and make my way back to the maternity department. Aaron and McKinley are there, waiting for me, just like I knew they would be.
“Well?” Aaron asks.
“She’s here. She’s got a set of lungs on her,” I laugh. “They took her for testing, but said I could wait for her in the nursery. Will you guys come with me?”
I need them there.
“Does a cat have climbing gear?” Aaron asks, causing me to throw my head back and laugh. I know she’s not out of the woods until they run all the tests, but her lungs are strong and I have faith my little girl is a fighter.
“Have you called your family?” Kinley asks.
“Shit, no. I just…I came straight to you guys from the operating room.”
“Do you want me to call them?” she asks.
I run my fingers through my hair, torn. “Yeah, I don’t even know how much she weighs or anything. Can you just let them know she’s here and doing well and I will call them when I get to finally hold her?” I ask.
“Sure. You guys go on. I’ll make the calls and catch up with you,” Kinley suggests.
I hesitate, because out of everyone, I want her there with me. She’s been there for me more than anyone else and I want to share this with her.
She picks up on my hesitation and she says, “I’ll hurry. Now go, both of you. You better get your time in because I can’t wait to hold her.” Her eyes mist with tears. Reaching out, I give her hand a gentle squeeze and mouth, “Thank you,” before turning to Aaron. “Ready?”
“Let’s do this,” he says, handing me a pink cigar.
Aaron and I stand outside the glass of the nursery, peering in at all the babies. One of the nurses notices us and comes to the door. “Who are you looking for?” She smiles.
“My daughter, um, Chamberlin. Baby girl Chamberlin,” I say.
“Oh, she’s a cutie that one. We just finished with all her tests. Do you want me to bring her to your room?”
My room. Shit, I didn’t think about that. Normal couples would be in the room together, but Misty wants nothing to do with my little girl. “Uh, her mom, she doesn’t---—” She holds up her hand to stop me.
“We are well aware of your situation, Mr. Chamberlin. We’ve moved you to a room at the end of the hall. It’s one of the small rooms that we hardly ever use. It will be yours while you’re here. I’ll send her in with the doctor. It’s room 612.”
Aaron and I make our way to the room and wait. More waiting. “You nervous?” he asks me.
“You have no fucking idea,” I admit.
The door opens and in strolls a nurse pushing a bassinet of sorts with a little bundle wearing a pink hat, the doctor right behind them.
“Evan, everything looks good. Her lungs are strong and she passed all her tests. You have a healthy little girl. I’ve instructed the staff that no one is to be left with her except for you. Misty is on the opposite e
nd of the hall and has made it clear she wants to be discharged as soon as possible. As for you two, she will be able to go home in the morning. We just need you to fill out some paperwork, give this little one a name, and you will be all set. We ask that you follow-up with your pediatrician within three to four days of discharge due to her low birth weight.”
“H-how much did she weigh?”
“Six pounds one ounce and she’s nineteen inches long. Congratulations, Dad,” he says.
I can’t speak, so I nod. The nurse scoops her up and brings her to me. “Would you like to hold your daughter?”
What is it that Aaron said? Does a cat having climbing gear? What kind of question is that? Hell yes, I want to hold her. “Yes,” I croak out. I’m an emotional fucking basket case. I’m nervous as hell. My hands are shaking and my palms are sweaty. What if I drop her? I’m excited to meet her. To be able to hold her after wondering all these months what she would look like.
I finally get to meet my little girl.
The nurse hands her to me, explaining that I need to always support her head. My nervousness must be showing.
“Why is she wrapped up so tight?” She looks like a little white and pink burrito.
The nurse smiles. “Babies like to be swaddled. It makes them feel secure. She was in her momma for all this time, not a lot of space in there,” she patiently explains. Everyone here has been amazing.
“Can I unwrap her? I need to count fingers and toes.” When I was in Alabama visiting my parents and grandparents, Dad made the comment that when he held me for the first time he had to count all my fingers and toes. I remember thinking about how I would feel in this moment; nothing could have prepared me for this.
Nothing.
“Of course, you can,” she says.
With shaky hands, I slowly remove the blanket. “She’s so tiny.” I touch her little hand and she clutches onto my finger, onto my heart. I love this little girl with everything in me. I have no fucking clue how to raise her, but I vow in this moment to be the best father and best stand-in mother she’s ever had.
