Chapter 8 Winston #2
“It’s okay, ma’am. Really. It’s fine,” Nancy reassures, peeking out to the rest of the passengers. “We definitely have an audience,” she whispers to me.
“Well, tell them the truth. It’s not like we can hide what’s going on. Right now, we’re only separated for physical privacy. Ease their minds so no one comes back here. No one can come back here, okay, Nancy?”
“No problem. I can make an announcement.”
“You’re doing great, little lady. I know it’s painful, but you’re doing good. Anyone have a cool washcloth or something for me?” Muffin is a great support system. I couldn’t ask for a better birthing partner—and let’s face it, that’s exactly what he is. “Don’t forget to breathe,” he adds.
“Here you go.” Nancy gives him a cold washcloth before grabbing the phone attached to the side of the plane to make an announcement.
“Oh my god, that feels good,” Dove groans, leaning against Muffin as he dabs her forehead with the rag.
I swallow down my jealousy again. She needs me right here. I’m exactly where I need to be. I just hate that she has to have another man support her. This isn’t how it should be. I should be the one by her side to comfort her.
“The captain has already reported our status to air traffic control. The paramedics will be on the runway when we land,” Nancy states.
“Great. Thanks Nancy.” I hold my hands between Dove’s thighs. “Push for me, Dove. The next contraction, push as hard as you can.”
“I can do that.” She swallows, inhaling a deep breath before she bears down, pushing through another contraction.
“That’s it! You’re doing great, Dove. A few more seconds.
Don’t stop.” I grin when I see the head is out and notice he or she has a head full of black hair.
“Head is out! The hardest part is the shoulders, Dove. I know it hurts, but you’re doing so good, sweetheart.
” The endearment slips out of me, wanting nothing more than to wrap my arms around the woman I’m obsessed with.
“Take my hands, little lady. Squeeze them to break them. I can handle it,” Muffin orders with his aged voice.
Dove does as she’s told and begins to breathe very fast. In through the nose and out through the mouth.
While she’s in pain and showing half her body to strangers, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her look more beautiful.
This moment is raw and pure. I’m seeing her give birth unmedicated, which I know she probably didn’t want, in a damn airplane.
This has only made me fall in love with her even more.
“We’re descending,” Nancy advises. “Just thought you should know.”
“Thank you, Nancy.”
“I can’t,” Dove mumbles, placing her head on Muffin’s shoulder. “I can’t do it. I’m so tired. It hurts so much. I can’t.” She closes her eyes, taking a much-needed moment to herself. Tears soak her face as she shakes her head back and forth. “I can’t.”
“Dove, look at me,” I order from on my knees. “Look at me, sweetheart.”
She opens her big blue watery eyes, exhausted, full of pain, hair tangled and damp from sweat, and it’s this moment I definitely know that this is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.
“I know it’s hard. I know it hurts. I know this isn’t ideal and this isn’t what you wanted your labor to be like.
I’m sorry for that. I wish I could take your pain away.
I wish I could make this experience better for you.
You’re doing so good. I need you to give me one last push.
The biggest push yet. Okay? Can you do that for me?
And then, we will get you to a hospital. ”
Muffin dabs her face with the rag again, then places the cloth on the back of her neck for relief.
She grunts when another contraction hits.
“Okay, this is it, Dove. Push for me. Push!”
She screams, gripping Muffin’s hands so hard his skin turns white and even the big bad biker flinches from the pain.
The shoulders show next, and I gently take the baby, pulling them free, and she groans, slouching against Muffin.
“You did it. You did it, Dove. You have a healthy baby boy!” I scoop my finger into his mouth to gather any fluid. “A beautiful boy.” In my heart of hearts, I have no doubt that this baby is mine.
Dove’s gaze locks with mine and her expression softens the longer our eyes stay connected.
“You did good, little lady! I knew you would,” Muffin praises.
I clean my son—because he is mine no matter what—and wipe him down with a damp rag. We need to birth the placenta and then she’ll officially be done. I wrap him in the blanket, loving how loud his cries are.
“Muffin, can you please take him while I help Dove birth the placenta?”
“Oh, you don’t have to tell me twice! It’s been ages since I’ve had a little one. Come here, fella. Aren’t you sweet? Look at you. Your momma is going to be with you soon.” Muffin scoops him up and presses him to his chest like a professional.
He stays close since the cord isn’t cut yet. I don’t have anything sterile to cut the cord with. Staying attached to the placenta won’t hurt him.
“You’ve done this before,” I praise him, hating the grunt of pain from Dove when the placenta comes out.
The medics can cut the cord when they get here.
My brows furrow when I see the amount of blood pouring down her legs. “Muffin! Give the baby to Nancy. I need you to help Dove lie down now!” I bellow, horrified at the scene in front of me.
We did not come this far to meet again on a damn plane for it to end like this.
Muffin does as he’s told, handing the baby to the flight attendant and helping a semi-conscious Dove to the ground.
“Winston,” she slurs, reaching for me. “Winston.”
“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m right here. You’re bleeding a lot. I have to reach inside and massage your uterus. It’s going to hurt but it’s the only way to try to slow down the bleeding, okay?”
“You’ll take care of him, right?”
I look up from between her legs, my hand buried inside her to stop the bleeding. “Don’t do that. Don’t talk like that. Not now. You’re going to be fine, okay? You’re going to be just fine.”
“Little lady, you have to hold on. Your little one needs you. You have to stay with us.” Muffin sniffles, a singular tear flowing down his cheek until it gets lost in the long gray beard.
Nancy watches, her own tears shining as she rocks my son back and forth. I hear applause from the plane when the passengers hear the baby cry. A massive jerk rocks me when we land, and I grab Dove’s knee to keep both of us settled.
Sweat burns my eyes along with emotion and fear. Never in my wildest dreams did I think this would happen. I finally have Dove right in front of me and she’s barely breathing.
“Dove, sweetheart, please stay with me, okay?” I continue to massage her uterus, but the blood won’t stop flowing. She won’t last much longer if we don’t get her to a hospital right away. “I won’t lose you like this,” I croak, blinking away the tears.
She’s unconscious. Her eyes are closed. Blood continues to pour from her, pooling under her body.
“Come on. Come on,” I say to no one, to myself.
Sirens blare, becoming louder the closer they get. The plane has stopped, and the door is open. Everything and everyone is ready for her.
“You’re so close. Please, don’t give up. Don’t give up on me. Don’t give up on him,” I beg of her, hoping she can hear me.
“Sir? We have it from here. We’ll rush her to the hospital.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t need to do that. We’ll call her family and—”
“I’m her doctor. That’s my son. I’m fucking going and there’s nothing you’re going to be able to do to stop me.”
The bald paramedic drops his bag and places the board to the side of her. “Fine, but we need to work fast. On the count of three, we place her on the board, and you’ll have to remove your hand.”
“But if I do that, she’ll bleed even more. She’s already lost too much blood.”
“It’s the only way to get her off the plane and in the ambulance. She needs surgery and you know that, Doctor. This is the only option.”
I know that. Of course, I know that, but actually doing it and listening to him is a whole other issue. He’s right. I have to do this for her, or she will die on this airplane.
And no one deserves to die in a metal fucking can.
“I’ll be right behind ya,” Muffin says. “You won’t be alone.”
“You don’t have to do that. You have plans.”
“My friends need me. I’m here. I ain’t going nowhere. Take the baby. Go into the ambulance, Dr. Warrick. Everything will be just fine. You wait and see.” He pats my shoulder.
“One. Two. Three.” They move her to the board, my hand still lodged inside to massage her uterus.
“I’ll walk to the door like this. And then she’ll be yours.”
“That’s fine. Let’s go. We have no time to waste.”
Everything happens so fast and so slow all at the same time.
The flight attendants and the pilots step out of the way.
Everyone stares at me with worried eyes, and a few flight attendants are crying.
I’m sure they’ve never seen anything like this before.
They won’t ever forget it. This day will linger in the back of their minds for the rest of their lives.
They’ll wonder if the lady who gave birth is alive and they won’t know.
When we get to the door, I remove my hand and allow the medics to go first. The stairs aren’t lowered, but the inflatable slide is, and they rush down in seconds to get her into the ambulance. A streak of blood is left in their wake, ruining the white of the slide.
“Dr. Warrick. Here you are.” Nancy smiles the best she can given the circumstances, placing my son in my arms.
My hands are dripping red with his mother’s blood, and I have to do everything I can to keep it together. I don’t have time to mourn, panic, or grieve. I need to be strong for Dove and my son.
“Thank you for all your help,” I tell them. “Fantastic airline. Amazing service.”
The slight joke eases the seriousness of the situation. A few of them give sad, but small chuckles.
Holding my son to my chest, I slide down, knowing Dove’s blood is now all over my pants and shirt.
She’s lost too much of it. I’d be surprised if she survives the trip to the hospital.
The air is hot. The sun is beaming down onto my face. My son cries. Everything is chaos.
I jump into the back of the ambulance, holding the baby in one arm and taking Dove’s hand with mine.
“She’s going to be okay, right?” I ask, knowing I sound like every other family member.
I should know better. They can’t tell me if she’ll be okay or not. If they do, they’re lying to me because they want to give me hope. They also don’t want to lie to me.
“We’re going to do everything we can, Doctor.”
Which is the nice way of saying they don’t think she’ll be okay. It’s a neutral statement. From my own experience, history shows patients in this kind of situation usually die.
“Sir. I need to make sure the baby is healthy. They’ll do a better evaluation at the hospital but let me clear out his nose and throat. Take his vitals. I’ll give him right back to you.”
“Right.” I snap out of it, handing my son to the only person who can help him right now. “Please, let me know if he’s okay. Please. I need that.”
He doesn’t reply. His focus is on the newborn baby. “Do you want to cut the cord?” He hands me a pair of sterile scissors.
“I’d love to.” I clear my throat, snipping the cord, and he’s finally free of the placenta.
The medic squeezes the bulb syringe, pulling the mucus from his lungs so he can breathe easier. Next, he listens to his vitals, counts fingers and toes, then wraps him in the blanket again.
“He looks perfect and healthy even though he’s early. They’ll probably put him in the NICU.”
Fuck. How could I forget that? She’s an entire month early, but survival rates are good with premature babies at this stage.
We pull into the emergency room bay. Not a second later, doctors and nurses run outside to take them away from me.
All I can do is let them, and trust that by tomorrow, Dove and my son will be safe in my arms. After that, I’m never letting go again.