55. Katie
KATIE
W hen I come to, it's because Trace is banging against the window. I'm unsure if he's trying to get my attention or if he's just pissed, given the look on his face, it could be either.
Moving around, I try to make sure everything works, and that's when I feel it. The wetness between my thighs and the cramping in the lower portion of my stomach. "Trace," I yell back at him. "We're in trouble. My water broke!"
Fear like I've never seen takes over his face. "The paramedics are on their way. I can't get in. Cain is on his way."
Hearing that he can't get the door open causes fear in me I haven't ever felt either. A contraction hits me hard. "Oh my god this hurts," I breathe the way I've seen people do it in movies. We haven't even made it that far in our process yet.
"Keep it together, babe. You got this. They're going to be here in just a minute and then we'll be heading to the hospital. You're not going to have this baby on the side of the road."
I want to believe him, but this is all feeling so hopeless. I should never have gotten in the truck. Should've made sure it was who I thought it was. Instead I blindly trusted and assumed, and now I'm kicking myself in the ass. What if I don't get out of this alive? What if our baby doesn't get out of this alive? Could an impulsive decision on my part be the end of what we've worked so hard for?
Just as I'm about to give up, I hear the sound of sirens, and pray these are the people who will help me. Closing my eyes, I shoot up a prayer. Right now I feel pretty damn hopeless, but I know there are people who care, and people who are braver than I ever could be.
Watching, what's unfolding outside the window, is like watching a TV show instead of the real-life I'm actually a part of. It's as if I'm detached to what's going on with me. I'm outside my body, an observer to everything rather than a participant. There's loud talking going on around me, and I can't seem to understand exactly what they're saying.
"Katie," Trace yells, his voice getting through when no other one can. "Put your jacket over your body and face. They're going to punch out the glass to get to you."
Just like that, I'm back in my body, and ready to fight for everything that's mine. Taking my arms out of my jacket, I manage to get it off and put it in front of my face and cover my belly. Another contraction wracks me with pain, and I want nothing more than the epidural everyone talks about. When the glass breaks, I jump, especially when the weight of the glass presses down on top of my body.
"Okay, Katie. We're going to send someone in with you while we work to get this door taken care of."
This is a voice I don't recognize. "Okay," I manage to yell.
I can feel the presence of someone else here. They're smaller than even I am, and then they're on the other side of me. "Okay Mama, how are we doing?"
It's the voice of a woman. I answer her as best I can. "Having contractions and my entire body hurts."
"Bet it does, we'll give you something that's safe for the baby here in just a second. I'm going to get an IV started to help control the effects of shock. You may not feel it now, but you're going to. You've been through a lot in the past hour."
I nod, although she can't see me. "What about the baby? My water broke."
"We can handle that," she assures me. "First let's get you out of here. I've delivered my share of babies in the back of the ambulance or on the side of the road. You're in good hands."
"He or she is early," I swallow roughly. "About a month and a half."
"Doesn't mean what it used to mean," she continues. "We got this, there is no need for you to worry."
That's when I hear what sounds like a chainsaw.
"They're using the jaws of life, and I have a firefighter's turnout coat over top of you. You're perfectly safe," she yells.
I'm quiet, praying silently as I wait for them to tell me what can be done. I wonder how Tanner is doing, although he's the reason for this whole situation. I hope that Trace isn't having to watch his Dad struggle while I'm doing the same. I can't even begin to imagine how hard it is.
There's a loud commotion, when I assume the door gives way.
"Okay, they've got the door off. Let's get the turnout coat and jacket off of you, then we'll start your IV's. Are you still doing okay?"
"Yeah," I answer as I grimace. "The contractions are getting harder and closer together, though."
"We've got you."
As they get me on the backboard, I glance over and see Trace standing there, looking like he wants to physically harm someone. "Trace," I reach out.
Our fingers graze one another as he tilts his chin down. "I'm right here."
"What about your Dad?"
"Fuck him, all that matters is you and the baby," he reaches out to grasp hold of my hand. "We'll worry about him later."
Another contraction wracks my body and I scream loudly. "I think this baby is coming soon," I moan.
"It might be," the female paramedic coos. "But like I told you, we have all of this. You don't have to worry about anything. We're here to help you, and you're the most important thing to us right now. We're going to get to the hospital, we're going to deliver you a beautiful child, and then you'll heal. It may take us longer to get there, but we're going to get you there as safely as possible."
I breathe deeply, trying to calm myself down. "Okay, I will put myself in your hands."
"We've got this, Katie. You let us worry about the hard stuff. All you have to do is make sure you deliver this child."
I gaze over at Trace, his eyes hold mine, and I take every offer of strength he's giving me in this look. It's going to carry me through, and it's going to pull me through the ashes of what Tanner's left in its wake.
"I'm right here," Trace reminds me. "I'm not leaving you. You've got this. You're the strongest person I know."
I take all the encouragement he's giving me, and I internalize it. I'm going to use it, and I know with everything I am, I'm going to make it through.
We're going to make it through.
We have no other choice.