28. Foster
FOSTER
“I’m completely ready to cut the cord with our software supplier for container tracking.
Leniency on their continued shipment delays is about to lose us a client who brings in a hefty cash flow for Haven Crossroads,” I rant to Hayes and Easton as we sit around a conference table.
I’m heated because we shouldn’t be paying their fees if they can’t deliver.
They both listen to me with the same look on their faces, grasping the repercussions should the software updates not be delivered on time as they promised.
Hayes started the meeting with the news that Sutton is in the clear, and my worries vanished.
She was still with HR, so I couldn’t go to her, but the news ignited my concentration and ruthlessness again.
“You want redistributed budgets for more innovative projects, then have someone fix this damn mess. Even better, find an innovative way to ensure this doesn’t happen again,” I say, raising my voice.
Hayes presses a button on his computer to bring up another sheet of numbers. “Well, that’s what the extra cash flow would be used for,” he replies dryly.
With Julian away in California to nab us another client, the rest of the leadership has been left to deal with the issue.
I love the rush of a business crisis some minutes and would rather throw something during the other minutes.
Still, I’ve managed to keep my head in the game and clicked through various documents when a question would arise.
Easton is already snickering and shaking his head. “If I hear it needs to be allocated to tech one more time, I’m going to lose it. Throw me some form of bone to increase visibility of our brand.”
Dropping a pen onto the glass desk, I sigh. “Don’t veer us off track. Get me Pete from their finance department on the phone, and we will threaten withholding payments.”
The sound of the conference door opening grabs our attention, and we’re all surprised to see Celeste, who is breathing as though she ran here.
“Your phone must be on silent. It’s Sutton.”
Something unusual begins to tip inside of me. “What about her?”
“She’s gone into labor.”
“What?!” I stand, panicked. “It’s too early.” I’m already swiping my blazer off the back of my chair with urgency taking over and a deep concern that shackles my heart.
“Olivia is helping her to your car downstairs. You need to go.”
The guys are already nodding, with worry also on their own faces. “Go!” Easton tells me, but I’m already at the door.
“What happened?” I ask as I jog, and Celeste attempts to keep up.
“We were in a meeting when she started having pain, and she said she was going into labor.”
I hear her, but I don’t respond, just enter the elevator alone and punch the button so hard that I could probably break it.
A thousand thoughts run through my mind.
Mostly, we’re not ready for this.
We are supposed to have more time.
Nothing calms my mind as I run through the lobby on an adrenaline high until I reach the waiting car where Olivia steps to the side of the open back door of my car.
“Go,” I direct my driver sharply as I slide in.
I don’t even acknowledge the woman who was helping Sutton.
Immediately, my eyes dart to Sutton, who is sitting and rubbing her belly.
“That was rude,” she chides. At least she’s making jokes. But I know my wife too well, and it’s the facade that covers her deep concern, especially as she holds her belly.
“What happened?” I scoot closer and hold her; my hand drops to her belly.
“It was good news, I should have been elated. But he’s been moving a lot today, then suddenly one kick didn’t feel like usual, and then it started to feel different in my pelvis, and my water broke. I’m positive it’s contractions, especially as it’s happened twice in ten minutes now.”
Keeping one arm protectively around her, I use my other hand to drag out my phone from my pocket and swipe. “I’m calling the hospital and letting them know we’re on our way.”
“I don’t even have a bag packed for labor, and we’re going to miss our dinner reservation,” she lists almost humorously. But then she sobers. “Foster,” she whispers, and I peer down at her with her doe eyes staring back at me. “It’s too early.” Her words are fragile, and I feel it, too.
“You’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you both,” I promise.
The corner of her mouth twitches as though I spoke the words she needed to hear.
Hell, I needed to hear them too.
I stare impatiently as the two nurses fret around Sutton, setting up monitors and taking her blood pressure. They accompanied us right away to a room, calmly, and all I wanted was more haste.
“Where’s the doctor?” I bite out as they help Sutton onto the bed.
The young nurse in a blue uniform looks at me. “He’s on his way. Don’t worry, we paged him as soon as your wife was admitted.”
Oh no, it’s not Sutton’s normal doctor. This isn’t going to ease her.
“He? Where is Dr. Ryder?” I interrogate as my eyes travel chaotically between the contraptions and Sutton, trying to understand what they’re doing.
One nurse is putting a monitor belt across Sutton’s belly, and the other is taking her blood pressure.
“She’s on vacation, but Dr. Wolf is a fantastic doctor,” the nurse assures me.
“That’s not a comforting name, but fine. Just ensure she has the best medical care. Remember where donations come from,” I snipe.
“Foster!” Sutton scolds me, and her tone slaps me in the face to focus on the moment.
I rush to her and lean over her from the side of the bed, kissing the top of her head. She feels warm as I stroke her hair to help calm her. “Shh, it’s okay.”
Her body trembles as her cry begins to hiccup. “I’m scared. This isn’t supposed to happen yet. It’s too early. What if something is wrong?”
Even though I’m petrified, I’m about to attempt to ease her worries, but she begins to groan and grapple with pain. It’s obvious another contraction is coming.
The machines beep, and one nurse reads the monitor, while the other touches Sutton’s arm. “That’s good, honey. Breathe calmly.”
Despite being panicked, she breathes through the contraction, and I say soothing words that I’m not even sure she can hear as she is distracted by the pain. It reduces, and she manages to catch a breath.
“Sixty-five seconds,” the nurse reading the monitor calls out.
The other nurse has a consoling smile. “Can you tell me how often it’s been happening?”
“I don’t know. Maybe every three minutes,” Sutton answers.
“It’s three minutes. It started at five when we got in the car, it was a twenty-minute drive,” I added.
The door swooshes open, and the doctor enters. He’s in his forties, and that same damn smile that every medical professional in this hospital seems to be trained in is plastered on his face.
“Alright, I understand baby wants to come early.” He sheaths on gloves and rolls a stool to the end of the bed. “I’m Dr. Wolf, and I’m going to have a look.”
The nurse updates him, and his facial expression turns resigned. “I’m going to do a quick check, Sutton.”
She nods. “It’s too early. Why is this happening?”
He doesn’t answer until he finishes checking. “Okay, you’re already seven centimeters, which tells me that your labor seems to be progressing quite quickly.”
“What does that mean?” I rub Sutton’s shoulders with my arms protectively around her.
The doctor focuses on the monitor. “Don’t panic.
He’s early, but late pre-term. Many healthy babies are born at thirty-six weeks.
We’re going to keep an extra close eye on it, however, as a precaution.
But from your vitals, everything seems in order.
There has been nothing unusual during your pregnancy, and sometimes babies just want to come early. ”
Unusual on his list strikes me like a bolt.
Everything about Sutton and me has been anything but ordinary. Her strain level reaches beyond a scale. It all started because of me. My momentary lapse of judgment that led to a whole flurry of emotions over the intention of the pregnancy.
“Can stress or anxiety cause this?” I have to ask because everything from the past few weeks is replaying in my head, and guilt weighs me down.
“Sure can.” My stomach sinks. “But nothing tells me that mom or baby is in distress right now.” I’m responsible, and it could be the reason that our son is arriving early.
Sutton begins to tense, and another contraction hits her in a wave. It’s a distraction from my own thoughts.
A nurse goes to the wall where a plastic bassinette resides and another contraption that she turns on.
We all coax Sutton through until her contraction subsides.
“You’re doing well there. Listen, this is the plan,” he begins, his tone as calm as a breeze.
“Everything is fine.” He double-checks the monitor.
“As a precaution, we’ll have someone on pediatrics on standby and a NICU nurse.
Baby wants to get out, so you’ll be having him soon.
The nurses will see to you and let me know when it’s time, and I’ll be back. ”
“You’re leaving!” I nearly screech.
Sutton touches my arm. “Foster, I’m going to lose it,” she snaps, irritated.
The doctor calmly smiles at me, probably used to crazed parents. “I’ll be back soon to check on her, no matter if it’s time or not. Don’t worry.”
A nurse leaves with him, leaving us with one who is busy in the corner preparing things.
“Why is this happening?” Sutton cries.
Because of me and my choices that caused you stress.
Sutton is strong, but it doesn’t mean she should have to handle everything that has been thrown at her the last few weeks. One thing after the other. But this moment? I can’t assert any influence, I’m hopeless.
I need to keep it together right now. This is about her, and all of the good between us fills my lungs. There is also a simple fact. “Nothing goes to plan when it involves us, and he’s keeping that tradition alive,” I retort, trying to make her smile.
She bubbles a laugh, and I seem to have succeeded. “Very true.”
“You heard the doctor. Our baby wants to come early.”
“Thank fuck I got waxed this week,” she jokes drowsily. But then her lip begins to tremble. “Listen to me.” Her voice is resolute. “If something happens. You’ll choose h—"
“Don’t say it. Nothing will happen.”
The fact she is even thinking these things has me spinning in worry. There are choices in life we don’t want to make, and that is one of them.
“We don’t even have a name,” she points out.
My thumb rubs her arm resting on the bed. “You choose.”
“No, you.”
“I’m positive this is the part where the one doing all of the work gets to choose.”
She snarls a sound. “Don’t make us go in a circle. You’ll choose.”
The thought is lost as another contraction rips through her. More intense than the last. Sutton hums through her pain, and she claws my arms for stability.
“This one really hurts,” she grinds out as she works through it.
“But you keep going,” I praise her.
And she does, for another round and another. The nurse continuously takes her blood pressure and checks the baby’s heart rate. Everything becomes a haze for us.
“Foster.” Sutton clings to me as I sit half on the bed next to her. “If he’s this stubborn now, then imagine what the hell is in store for us.”
“Levi. He’ll make our days interesting.”
She sighs, resting her head against me while she recovers from her last contraction. “That’s his name, Levi?”
“Yeah. It means bound together… it suits us.”
“Then Levi is a perfect name.”
Her next contraction arrives and breaks our discussion; the doctor returns, and now it seems he won’t be leaving.
“Okay, I think you’re almost there, but I’m going to do a quick check.” Dr. Wolf is back on his stool as Sutton adjusts her knees. Nothing about this vision is enjoyable. “Yep, you are ready to welcome him into the world.”
“For fuck’s sakes, finally.” Sutton releases her relief. Her moment of calm is disrupted by a different type of pain and grunt. “Ow.”
“It’s okay, you can push. I’m not going to count, it’s in your own time,” he encourages.
I won’t urge Sutton to breathe because she is in her own world of focus, and it will only piss her off if I’m completely honest. But she takes a moment when she stops pushing.
“Sweetie, do you want to stay in this position? Or try leaning over the bed or on all fours?” a nurse asks.
“No, I don’t want to stay in this position! Who the hell does?” Sutton snaps and begins to scoot off the bed. Adrenaline is clearly taking over. “I feel so uncomfortable.” She’s understandably frustrated.
We both help her adjust, and I’m massaging her back when another push comes.
Then I’m kissing her wet hair from sweat, and on another, whispering to her as the doctor’s voice is only background noise.
It’s the fifth push when Sutton grunts while gripping with strength I’ve never seen, and in one moment, everything changes as the sound of a baby’s cry fills the room.
She smiles groggily that it’s over. “You did it.” I kiss her cheek with a euphoria of emotions taking over.
A type of cry inside me is building, unknown to me; it isn’t sad.
It’s short-lived, though, as our smiles wilt away.
They cut the cord before they scoop our son away to the side table, and the rest of the staff are huddled around him.
“Stay with him. Don’t let him out of your sight,” she pleads in panic.
I step away, trying to peek over the heads of the staff. Something doesn’t feel right, or does it? I’m not sure.
As the horror begins to sweep into me, it soon vanishes as the doctor turns around, holding Levi. “Let’s bring you to Mom.”
When he sets him in Sutton’s arms, tears begin to spill down her cheeks. “So this is what you look like.”
“Is everything okay?” I check in with the doctor and keep my eyes fixed on my son, who is a tiny wonder.
“Everything is fine. He’s a little small. Five pounds one ounce. I’m not concerned based on the first assessment. We’ll do a more thorough examination in a few minutes, and I’ll keep them both here for at least a few days for observation,” the doctor explains. “Congratulations.”
I nod in acknowledgment, but my stomach feels sour. Stress caused this, probably what I put her through the last few weeks. He’s here early and small. They both could have been at more risk. It’s all my doing.
Slowly I step toward my wife and son. Sutton’s blissfully happy, staring down at Levi. I sit beside her on the bed and look down at the squinched face of our little boy, his first breaths out in the world.
It’s a flash before my eyes of all the possibilities for him, all the hopes.
Every turn of Sutton’s and my journey led us to this very moment.
A son who binds Sutton and me forever.
But he won’t bear that responsibility on his shoulders, because Sutton and I were bound to end up for life, anyhow.