35. Chapter 35
Chapter 35
Emilio
W hat the fuck is happening to my wife? One minute, Serena and I are joking and she’s eating food she's been craving; the next, she starts to panic, screaming my name.
I watch, powerless, as the color drains from her face and her lips turn blue. She can’t get any air. Why the fuck can’t she breathe?
The nurses stream in, in droves, and immediately start working on her. One is on top of her, straddling her as she inserts a tube down her throat, while the others work on different parts of her body. As they pull the blankets away, I see a huge puddle of blood on the bedsheets. My wife’s blood.
I've seen a lot of blood in my life, and I've watched the life drain out of a lot of people, but watching it happen to the person I love the most and not being able to do a damn thing is killing me.
"Sir, your wife is going to be taken to surgery ASAP. We have to deliver this baby. How many weeks is she?"
"She's thirty-one weeks, Doctor. Isn't it too early?"
"In a situation like this, there's no choice. If we don't act now, we'll lose both the mother and the child, but at thirty-one weeks, the baby has a very good chance of survival. Mrs. Esposito is hemorrhaging, and a blood clot has traveled to her lungs, which has caused them to collapse. We've had to intubate her." The doctor is a middle-aged man wearing a white coat and glasses. He's looking at me with pity in his eyes.
"She's my everything, Doctor. Please save them both." Tears are streaming down my face.
"We are going to try our best. I'm going to be honest with you. Things look bad, and there's a very good chance we won't be able to save them both. You wait here, and I'll come out as soon as I know more."
They take Serena through the operating doors as I stand, my mind racing. I can't believe what's happening. My soul is dying from the thought of losing her. I know if this baby doesn't survive, it's going to rip Serena's heart out. I can't even fathom a life without my soulmate.
I don't know how long I stand in the long hallway, the cloying smell of antiseptic in the air, as I wait for any news about my wife’s condition. Every passing second feels like an eternity. My heart pounds in my chest, the thumping reverberating in my ears. My hands tremble, and a cold sweat breaks out on my brow as I struggle to control the rising tide of fear and anxiety.
Somehow, I manage to move to the waiting room and pull my phone out of my pocket, dialing Gio. Telling Serena's family that she's critical and might not make it, is one of the hardest things I've ever done.
Her family arrives a while later. Valerie makes a beeline for me, hugging me tightly, her eyes swimming with tears. I don't think the woman has ever spoken to me and yet she's offering me comfort when she's experiencing what must be a mother’s worst nightmare. The thought of losing a child is hard for anyone to take and it has my thoughts turning to own son.
The fear of losing a child is a primal gut-wrenching emotion that shakes the very foundation of life. I'm struck with the significance. I can't imagine losing Alessandro and he's not even born yet.
Gio and Marcello place their hand on my shoulder as they pass by with their chins on their chest and dread in their eyes. Their wives come by, giving me a hug and telling me everything is going to be okay. It does nothing to stop the panic and desperation streaming through my veins. My heart is in that room and there's nothing I can do to save her.
I don’t know how long it’s been, but it feels like an eternity before the doctor walks into the waiting room, removing a mask from his face. The look he carries is one I will never forget.
"Doctor, are they both okay? Please tell me she's alive." I am frantic again.
"Mr. Esposito, the situation is worse than we hoped. Your wife lost a lot of blood. A clot went to her lungs, and they collapsed. She's on life support and her organs are failing. I am going to be honest with you here. With her kidneys not functioning, she might have twelve hours at most. You need to prepare yourself that she might not come off life support."
His words hit me like a bullet in the chest. Reaching up, I massage the pain, and a lone tear falls down my cheek. "What about my son?"
"Your son is premature. His Apgar score was one. Mr. Esposito, a normal Apgar score on a healthy newborn is ten. The score is zero when they are no longer with us. Your son is extremely critical. With the placental abruption, the baby was without oxygen for an extended period of time, which means there is a chance of major brain damage. That's if he survives.”
My body loses control and I fall to my knees. Covering my face with my hands, I can't stop the tears. I've always been a strong man who stood over others as they cried and begged, but here I am, on my knees, crying.
I will beg and pray if that's what it takes. I’ll do anything, pay any price to have my wife and son in my arms.
After the doctor leaves, a nurse comes out and leads me to the NICU where my son is located. As I walk into the room, there are several incubators holding tiny babies. Some the size of a coke bottle. When we come to the one that contains the baby labeled Baby Esposito , I look down and see the most perfect creature I've ever seen.
He's tiny and so fragile. Dark hair and lots of it. Perfect features that are a mix of me and my beautiful wife.
"He's still very critical so you can't hold him today, but you can stick your hands through this opening and touch him. Talk to him. Let him know you are here."
I give the nurse a nod, too overwhelmed to speak.
"He weighs 3lbs 14oz, so he's got some weight on him for a thirty-one weeker. That's in his favor."
"Three pounds is good?" I ask, shocked that being so tiny is a positive thing.
"Sir, we have babies born weighing just a single pound in here every day. Your son isn't full-term weight but he's at a manageable weight, nonetheless."
"What are the tubes going into his nose?"
"That's how he receives nutrition. Your wife isn't able to provide milk just yet, so we had to substitute with a formula specifically made for preemies."
"What about the one in his scalp?" As I look at the needle connected to a tube in my baby boy's head, I'm horrified.
"That's an IV, and he has a central line in his belly button as well. That's to give him lifesaving medications, and he had to have blood transfusions."
All of the tubes and needles sticking out of the tiny human in front of me are shocking and terrifying. He's a bundle of tubes and machines that keep beeping.
The nurse is young and has a warm, gentle smile about her. As she handles my son, she's loving and caring. It gives me a little relief to know such a sweet person is taking care of him. The look in her eyes as she cares for him and other babies in the room is filled with love.
"Do you have a name yet?"
"Alessandro Rome Esposito."
"That's such a great, strong name for a strong little man." She smiles.
A doctor walks over who I haven't met yet and goes to shake my hand. He's tall and younger than the doctor who performed surgery on my wife. The clipboard in his hand tells me he's got some information to give me, and I'm terrified of what he's going to say.
"Hello, it's nice to meet you. I'm a pediatric neurologist. I'd like to talk to you about your son."
"Yes, sir. Is he going to be okay?"
"The amount of time he went without oxygen has me extremely concerned. I'd like to do an MRI to check for damage caused by hypoxia. It's the lack of oxygen to the brain."
As the doctor spits out stats, percentages, and probabilities my brain can't process, I reach into the incubator and touch the soft, warm skin of my son. My precious boy.
He has to survive, because I can't see a way to live without him.