One
one
YOU’RE GONNA BE - REBA MCENTIRE
CALLIE - OCTOBER 31, 2013
I shift on the hospital bed, trying to find a more comfortable position for my raw, aching body. My gaze moves to Ruby, fast asleep in her bassinet, her tiny fingers curled into delicate little fists. She’s so peaceful. Completely unaware of the world around her, the world that feels far too quiet right now. Her breathing is steady, each tiny rise and fall of her chest mesmerizing in its rhythm.
Owen’s been gone for, what, forty-five minutes? Maybe fifty? Already, the room feels different. Rather than feeling like the walls are closing in around me, it feels like the walls have expanded somehow, pushing everything further away from me. My fingers fidget with the edge of the hospital blanket, twisting it as I glance at the door. I catch myself doing it and stop, forcing my hands to rest flat on the bed. I know it’s stupid. I should be able to handle a few hours without him hovering nearby, but the anxiety gnaws at me. I’ve never liked hospitals; there’s something about them that makes my skin crawl. The sterile walls, the antiseptic smell, the endless waiting – all of it contributes to my discomfort. After the complications and trauma from giving birth to Ruby yesterday, it’s so much worse.
She wasn’t breathing when she came out because she swallowed fluid. It is the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. Thankfully, she’s okay and they don’t believe there will be any long-term complications, but I still catch myself checking her breathing every few seconds. Each time I lean forward to confirm she’s fine, my pulse slows slightly, but never completely.
I hate that I feel so alone right now… The tension in my chest tightens as I shift again, glancing toward the bassinet. I know Owen had to leave, but that doesn’t make the ache of his absence any easier. I take a deep breath, reminding myself why Owen needed to go. Barrett has been counting down the days until Halloween, excited for Owen to take him trick-or-treating. They do it every year, and I know how much it means to both of them. I couldn’t let my nerves keep Owen here, but deep down, I wish he had fought harder to stay. The thought feels selfish, so I push it aside.
As I lay in the hospital bed, a mix of anticipation and longing courses through my veins. The thought of seeing pictures of Barrett in his dragon costume fills me with both excitement and a twinge of envy. A bittersweet shiver runs down my spine, heightening my awareness of the sterile surroundings. The smell of antiseptic lingers in the air, sharp and unyielding, mixed with the scent of latex gloves. It feels suffocating. I pull the thin hospital blanket tighter around me, seeking comfort and warmth amidst the cold, clinical air. Each passing moment intensifies my yearning to be present, to witness Barrett's face light up with joy as he embarks on his Halloween adventure. I imagine the sound of his laughter, the sparkle in his eyes as he races from house to house collecting candy. The thought brings a mixture of warmth and sadness, creating a knot in my stomach.
Unable to escape the confines of this hospital room, I become restless, twitchy, my unease palpable, unable to be ignored It gnaws at my insides, causing my heart to race and my breath to quicken.
My mind conjures up vivid images of Barrett, his costume transforming him into a mythical creature. I can almost see the vibrant colors, the scales glimmering in the moonlight. The image triggers a fleeting moment of joy, quickly overtaken by the reality of my current situation.
I close my eyes, my body a vessel for the complex emotions swirling within me. The physical sensations of longing - the shivers, the restlessness, the unease - remind me of the distance between me and the Halloween festivities. I close my eyes and can almost taste the candy, almost hear Barrett’s laughter.
I glance over at her again, watching the slow rise and fall of her tiny chest. My heart clenches, a mix of overwhelming love and… something else. Something heavier. Fear, maybe? I’m not sure. A nurse had mentioned earlier that Ruby would need another check-up later today. Her tone had been calm, but it planted a seed of unease I haven’t been able to shake.
I love her more than I can put into words, but the thought of being here without Owen—without any support—leaves me feeling vulnerable in a way I’m not used to. This is all so new. So fragile. Even though we’ve only been together a few months, he is my safe haven. He’s the steady presence I didn’t know I needed.
My phone buzzes on the table beside me, pulling me from my thoughts. I reach for it, glancing at the screen. It’s a message from Adam, my ex-husband and Ruby’s biological father.
Adam:
Hey, sorry I had to step out earlier. You good?
I pause, staring at the text for a moment. Adam’s been weird–likely feeling out of place a bit. I don’t feel sympathy for him; this is how he wanted it to be. I get that things are complicated. Ruby’s arrival stirred up a lot of emotions,but I thought he’d be around more. I haven’t seen him much since he left the room to call his girlfriend Katie. She asked if she could come to the hospital, and I agreed since I had Owen here for me, but she never showed up.
I type back a quick response.
Me:
Yeah, we’re okay. Ruby’s sleeping. Did you hear from Katie?
I know things between us have never been smooth, but I thought she’d at least come by to check on Ruby. It irritates me more than it should that she doesn’t seem to care about my kids. If she’s dating a man with two children, how could she not ask about his baby after a complicated birth? Maybe something came up, and Adam has been keeping her posted instead. Still, I feel like I’m missing something here.
The typing bubble pops up on the screen and then disappears. When his response finally comes, it’s as clipped and vague as ever.
Adam:
No, she’s not coming. Don’t worry about it.
I blink at the message, my thumb hovering over the screen as I try to make sense of it. She’s just not coming? Wow, Adam sure knows how to pick them. Obviously, she would not be worried about me and I’m good with that, but I expected her to at least care about her boyfriend’s brand new daughter.
My fingers tighten around the phone, the frustration now boiling into something closer to anger. I hate when Adam gets like this–evasive, dismissive, and just acts like an overall dickhead. Whatever.
Ruby stirs in her sleep, a soft whimper escaping her, and I force myself to take a breath to push the tension back down. The last thing I need right now is to get worked up over people like Katie and Adam. Not when I have Ruby and my own recovery to worry about.
My sister Taylor is supposed to bring Sara, my oldest daughter, to the hospital in her costume. Adam and Katie are supposed to take her trick-or-treating tonight. I wonder if Katie will show up for that. I decide to give it a while before I push that issue. If it comes down to it, Taylor will take Sara with her daughter Ava.
My phone buzzes again. This time, it’s Owen with a picture of Barrett dressed up in his green dragon costume, holding up his traditional plastic orange pumpkin bucket. He looks adorable.
Owen:
Heading out with Barrett. I’ll check in a little later. I love you. Give that little princess a smooch for me.
Me:
I love you too. Give Barrett a big hug from me.
I lean over the bassinet and gently brush my fingers across Ruby’s cheek, marveling at how perfect she is. Her skin is impossibly soft, warm under my fingertips. For a moment, I feel the world narrowing to just the two of us. Her tiny mouth twitches in her sleep, and I smile as I lean over to give her the smooch Owen requested on her forehead.
I rest back against the pillows, the soft hum of the hospital fades into the background. The weight of everything–the birth, the fear, the exhaustion–still presses against my chest, but it’s different now. Less sharp. More manageable. I glance at Ruby again; her tiny fingers curled into her blanket, her little lips parted..
Owen’s message is still on my screen, and I smile at the picture of my little dragon guy. I’m glad they’re out there, making memories and keeping up traditions, even if it means I’m on my own for a while. It’s not ideal, but it’s okay. I’m okay.
And Ruby is okay. She’s here, and she’s perfect.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, my voice barely above a breath. “And Owen’s got us. We’re going to be just fine.”
The quiet stretching around us is starting to feel a little less empty. It feels like a new beginning, and I cannot wait to spend my life with Owen, Barrett, and the girls.