Chapter 41
41
JARED
T he second day in the hospital was harder than the first. Watching Amelia lie there, hooked up to monitors and looking so fragile, made my chest ache in a way I wasn’t used to.
I’d spent my entire career on the other side of this—the doctor, the one in control, the one with all the answers.
But now, I was just the loved one of a patient.
It was a strange, uncomfortable place to be.
I hated not knowing what was going to happen next.
I hated feeling helpless.
The nurses weren’t exactly a font of information.
They were acting like I was just the patient’s family.
They didn’t give a shit I was a renowned brain surgeon that had spent hours in this hospital operating.
When I asked specific questions, they gave me the same bullshit generic answers medical professionals always gave.
I sat in the uncomfortable chair next to Amelia’s bed, my elbows resting on my knees as I stared at the monitor tracking her vitals.
They had removed the fetal monitor earlier after determining the baby’s heart rate was fine.
Every time she shifted or winced, I was on my feet, ready to call a nurse or demand a scan.
“Jared,” Amelia said softly.
I looked up to see her watching me, her eyes tired but warm.
“You’ve been staring at that monitor for an hour. It’s not going to tell you anything the nurses haven’t already.”
“I know,” I muttered, though I didn’t look away.
“I just… I need to make sure nothing changes.”
“Nothing’s going to change,” she replied.
“The doctor says I’m fine. The baby’s fine. You don’t have to hover like I’m made of glass.”
I finally turned to face her, frustration bubbling up in my chest. “You’re not fine, Amelia. You were bleeding. You nearly—” I cut myself off, unwilling to finish the thought.
The image of her pale and unconscious still haunted me.
“I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
“You’re not doing nothing,” she said, reaching out to place her hand over mine.
“You’re here. That’s enough. You have to be exhausted. I know you didn’t sleep well last night.”
“I slept enough,” I assured her.
“I’m not the one trying to replenish blood supply to support another human life. You are the only one I’m concerned about.”
Her fingers tightened around mine, and she gave me a small, tired smile.
“You’re impossible, you know that? Always so stubborn.”
“Pot, kettle,” I shot back, but my tone was softer than usual.
I couldn’t help it. She had this way of disarming me, even when I was wound up tighter than a spring.
She laughed softly, her eyes closing for a moment before she opened them again.
“Did the doctor say what time the ultrasound was?”
“It’s a hospital. They don’t do appointments or care about time. They show up whenever.”
“Good point.” She smiled.
“Doctors, am I right?”
We shared a chuckle.
The ultrasound was my request. Yes, they had done one already and I knew there were some risks to doing another, but I wasn’t taking her home until I saw things with my own two eyes.
When the ultrasound tech came in, I felt a mix of excitement and dread.
This was the first time I’d see the baby.
I’d missed the earlier ultrasounds.
The first one because I had my head up my ass.
The second because it was at a critical moment, and I couldn’t be in the room.
I hated that I’d let my fear and pride get in the way of something so important.
“Alright, Amelia,” the tech said, her tone calm and professional.
“Let’s take another look and make sure everything’s progressing as it should.”
Without thinking, I reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently.
She glanced at me, surprised, but didn’t pull away.
“You good?” Amelia asked.
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if it was true.
“Yeah. Just never been on this side of things before.”
She gave me a small smile.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?”
“Very,” I admitted, squeezing her fingers.
Normally, I’m the one who knows everything and is looking at the situation based on data and numbers.
It’s work. Nothing more.
But now, I’m looking at two lives that mean more to me than anything ever has.
I’m terrified I won’t live up to the expectations I’ve put on myself.
Last night, I barely slept.
I had created a list of things I needed to do.
Not just buying a crib and all that shit.
I needed to be present.
I was her person. She had to lean on me, and I had to prove to her I was the man she could count on.
The tech started the ultrasound.
I watched the screen intently, my heart pounding.
The baby came into view.
I felt a lump rise in my throat.
It was real. This was real.
The tech clicked the keyboard and moved the wand around.
“Do you know what you’re having yet?” the tech asked, her tone cheerful.
“No,” Amelia answered.
“Do you want me to tell you?” the tech asked as she clicked on the keyboard once again.
Amelia glanced at me, then nodded.
“We want to know.”
I didn’t say anything.
I was still processing the fact that this was happening at all.
It was still early, but it was definitely a tiny human in there.
My last time around any of this was during my rotation in the OB field.
That had been almost fifteen years ago.
I marveled at the human brain, but there was so much more to the human body.
Like how it could do this.
“Congratulations, you guys are having a boy.”
Amelia’s face lit up, her eyes shining as she squeezed my hand.
“A boy,” she whispered, her voice filled with wonder.
“Did you hear that, Jared? We’re having a boy.”
I nodded, my throat tight.
I’d never been one for sentimentality, but in that moment, something inside me shifted.
It wasn’t just the idea of becoming a father—it was the realization that this tiny, fragile life was ours.
A part of her. A part of me.
A person who wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for the two of us.
“Yeah,” I managed to say, my voice rough.
“I heard.”
The tech continued to move the wand, capturing images and measurements.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen.
The baby—our son—was so small but already so distinct.
I could see his tiny hands, his little feet, the curve of his spine.
It was surreal to think that in just a few months, he’d be here, in our arms.
“Everything looks good,” the tech said, breaking the silence.
“Strong heartbeat, good growth for this stage. You guys are doing great.”
“That’s a relief,” Amelia said.
“Yeah,” I agreed, though relief didn’t quite cover it.
I felt a surge of protectiveness so fierce it almost knocked me off my feet.
If anything happened to her or the baby—my son—I didn’t know what I’d do.
I’d scorch the world and lay it at her feet if it meant keeping them safe.
It was overwhelming in a way I hadn’t expected.
I was going to be a dad.
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and suddenly, all the old feelings of inadequacy and rejection came rushing back.
I wasn’t good enough for this.
I wasn’t good enough for her.
When the tech left, I stood up, my chest tight.
“I need to make a phone call,” I said, my voice rough.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Amelia nodded.
“Okay.”
I stepped out of the room.
I needed air. I needed to clear my head.
I found myself walking toward Neuro, the one place in the hospital that always felt like home.
It was quiet today, though, and part of me wished for an emergency—something I could jump in on, something I could fix.
But there was nothing.
Just the usual quiet conversation and the soft beeping from the machines up and down the hall.
Shawn found me wandering aimlessly.
“Jared,” he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
“You look like hell.”
I let out a humorless laugh.
“Feel like it too. What are you doing here?”
“Follow-up on one of my cases,” he said.
“I was just going up to OB to check on Amelia. How’s she doing?”
I nodded, still feeling dazed and confused.
“Come on,” he said with a laugh.
“Let’s get some coffee.”
I followed him, my mind still spinning.
We grabbed coffee and found a quiet corner to sit.
Shawn didn’t say anything at first, just sipped his coffee and watched me with that knowing look of his.
“I know you’re not okay,” he said finally.
“But you will be.”
I shook my head, staring down at my coffee.
“I don’t know, Shawn. This… it’s a lot. I’m not sure I’m cut out for it.”
“Cut out for what? Being a dad? Loving someone?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Because last I checked, you’re already doing both.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It never is,” Shawn said.
“But you’re not alone in this, Jared. You’ve got people who care about you and Amelia. And that little nugget. People who want to help. You just have to let them.”
“It’s a boy,” I said.
Shawn’s face broke into a big grin.
“Congrats, man. That’s awesome.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“You’re freaking out, but it’s not like you’re the first man to ever panic at the thought of being a father,” he said.
“You’ve got nieces. I’m sure Michael can give you some advice.”
“I haven’t talked to Michael in months,” I said.
“Call him,” Shawn said.
“Call your brother. He’s your family. He should know he’s got a nephew on the way.”
I hesitated, then nodded.
“Yeah. Maybe I will.”
Shawn clapped me on the shoulder again, then stood up.
“Good. I’ve got to get back to Neuro. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll stop by and see Amelia before I head back. Do you know how long she’s going to be here?”
“The doctor thought she’d be going home today, but her labs are still not where they should be. They’ll keep her for at least another day.”
He nodded.
“But she’s going to be okay.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Baby’s strong. Measuring right. No more bleeding, but she’s still high-risk.”
“She’s not the first high-risk pregnancy,” he said.
“It’s going to be fine. I know it.”
“Thanks.”
I sat there for a while after he left, staring at my phone.
Finally, I dialed Michael’s number, my heart pounding.
It went to voicemail, and I almost hung up, but then I heard the voices of my nieces on the recording, giggling and shouting, “Leave a message for Daddy!”
I smiled despite myself.
I missed them. I hated that I hadn’t seen them in months.
When the beep sounded, I took a deep breath.
“Hey, Michael. It’s Jared. I, uh… I know it’s been a while. But I could use some help. If you’ve got the time, give me a call back. Thanks.”
I hung up, my hands trembling.
It was the first time I’d ever admitted out loud that I needed help.
And as scary as it was, it also felt like a weight had been lifted.