Chapter 19
JIYA
Cole and Geeta rushed into the house, and their expressions changed the second they saw me.
I followed their gaze and looked down.
My body went numb.
There was blood on the couch, bright and terrifying.
Oh, God! What’s happening?
My pulse raced violently, and my heartbeat thrashed in my ears so loudly that it drowned out everything else for a second. Fear crashed through me so fast that I could barely catch my breath.
I had felt a dull ache in my stomach that morning.
The pregnancy book had said mild cramps were normal, so I tried to stay calm and keep myself busy.
But by midmorning, the cramps had intensified, and I had called out for Geeta.
A scream tore out of me as the agony surged, and Lucas came running, grabbing my hand, his small face filled with fear.
The memory faded as I returned to the present.
“Stay with Lucas,” Cole yelled at Geeta. He dialled a number on his cell phone with quick, urgent movements. “Jack, Jiya is going into labour,” he yelled into the phone. “I’m taking her to the hospital. Come to her house now.”
I tried to get up, but I did not have the strength. My body felt weak, shaky, and overtaken by pain. Please, God, please let Emma be fine. Please give me strength.
Just then, Cole’s strong arms slipped beneath me, lifting me effortlessly.
“Geeta, get me towels and meet me at the car. Hurry!”
Everything happened so quickly after that. He carried me toward the car while I fought another wave of pain. Towels were placed on the car seat by Geeta seconds later, and Cole gently lowered me onto the seat. He closed the door, rushed around to the driver’s side, and sped toward the hospital.
Every few seconds, he glanced back at me, his voice controlled even though I could hear the strain in it.
“Breathe with me, Jiya… hee-hee-hoo, hee-hee-hoo, hee-hee-hoo.”
I tried my best to copy his breathing and held the towel tighter between my legs. The pain kept me fully awake, but my head swirled with frightening thoughts.
I wished Caleb was with me. Just the thought of him dulled my senses with longing and sadness.
My chin trembled.
My lips quivered.
My whole body shook.
Horns blared every few seconds as Cole sped through the streets, but I did not care about any of it.
All I cared about was getting to the hospital.
I tried to focus on my breathing and prayed the bleeding would lessen or stop.
I needed to get to the hospital, and I needed to get there fast. Through the panic and the pain, I was deeply grateful that Cole was with me.
“Stay with me, Jiya. Just keep your eyes open and breathe,” he said.
I was trying my best not to panic, but this was the first time I was ever going to deliver a baby, and terrifying thoughts kept forcing their way into my mind.
What happens if we do not make it to the hospital on time?
What if I deliver in the car? What happens if I deliver and something is wrong with Emma?
My skin was clammy, cold with fear and sweat, and I whimpered when another brutal contraction tore through me.
“I’m almost there,” Cole screamed over the sound of the road and my breathing. “Just hang in there, Jiya. Breathe, just breathe.”
“I’m trying. Dear God, it hurts,” I said, panting and forcing air into my lungs between cries. Please help me, God! This hurts so bad. Please let Emma be all right.
Cole pulled into the emergency section of the hospital and jumped out of the car.
Two nurses rushed forward with a stretcher, their faces alert and focused.
Sweating, shaking, and panting, I felt Cole gently lift me from the seat and place me on the stretcher.
“I’m right here! I’m right here!” he said, holding my face in his hands.
His touch calmed me, even while my pulse quickened at the intimacy of it.
Maybe it was just the moment. My emotions were all over the place.
I was hormonal, in agony, terrified, and exhausted.
Having someone with me right then, especially Cole, whom I had come to trust and care for as a friend, made me feel better.
It made me feel safe.
It made me feel supported.
It made me feel less alone.
Dr. Jean was waiting for me.
“Jack told me you’re on your way.” She immediately checked me and then smiled. “You’re ready for delivery.”
I cried out as another contraction hit and clung to Cole’s hand.
I did not want to be alone while delivering my daughter. I did not know if he wanted to be there or not, but he was the closest support I had. And I needed someone. The one person who should have been there was far away from me, and I did not think I could do this by myself.
“I’m not leaving you,” he said, holding my hand firmly.
He entered the delivery room with me and quickly put on a gown and a mask.
“Ahhhhhh,” I screamed. “Oh, my God! Get her out. Please get her out.”
Cole stood at my side and took my hand, squeezing it gently. He had been through this before with his wife, and something in the way he spoke to me made me believe I could survive the next minute and then the next.
“You can do this. Just hang on a little longer. I’m right here. You can do this.”
I looked at him.
Sweat dripped down my face. My breaths came faster and faster, and my pulse continued to pound wildly. I did not even know what was making it race so hard anymore—whether it was the pain, my fear for my baby, or Cole and the nearness of him while I was at my most vulnerable.
I had read books.
I had watched videos.
I had researched online.
I had tried so hard to prepare.
But going through labour was nothing like I had imagined.
My thoughts turned to Caleb again with a painful ache. He should have been there with me, holding my hand. He should have been there for the birth of his daughter. He should have been there, saying all the things Cole was saying to me now.
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
Cole wiped them away gently. “It will be over soon, I promise. I’m right here with you.”
If he only knew the real reason for my tears. Still, his reassurance helped a little.
“You can squeeze my hand as hard as you want. Even if you break it, we’re at a hospital, so do not worry.”
Despite the agony tearing through my body, I laughed along with the doctor and the nurses. It was brief and shaky, but it was there.
“You ready, Jiya?” Dr. Jean asked. “Your daughter is almost here.”
I nodded.
Seven minutes later, through the strain and the screaming and the exhaustion, Emma was born.
Six and a half pounds at 10:52 a.m. on March 23.
She was beautiful and pink, and she cried after she was given a gentle spank on her butt.
The nurse placed her on my chest for a couple of seconds, and emotion overwhelmed me so completely that I could barely breathe. I could not believe my daughter was finally here, in my arms.
She was perfect.
Ten little fingers.
Ten little toes.
A tiny, precious face that made everything else disappear for one suspended moment.
I stared at her in awe, drinking her in as tears blurred my vision.
Cole became emotional too.
He kissed my forehead and gazed at Emma with tenderness in his eyes.
“Smile, guys,” the nurse said, holding a Polaroid camera.
She took a picture of the three of us.
Another nurse carried Emma away to clean her up while the doctor continued with the delivery of the placenta.
Cole stayed beside me and helped me push again as the doctor delivered the placenta.
I was grateful to him in a way I would never forget.
“Thank you,” I said, looking at him while still holding his hand. I closed my eyes, and tears rolled down my cheeks again. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to do this without you.”
He stroked my forehead and squeezed my hand.
“I think you would’ve been just fine, even without me. You are the strongest and bravest woman I know... after my mom and my wife.” He smiled.
Smiling back, I said, “You’re right about that.”
After I was cleaned up, I was wheeled into a private room to rest, with Cole walking beside me. A cot was placed next to my bed with Emma inside. Seeing her there made everything feel real in a new and overwhelming way.
Then the nurse said, “Let’s start the breastfeeding process. It will help with your bleeding and pain.”
Cole excused himself and said he would be back with Jack and the others who were waiting outside.
I knew he probably felt awkward, and I could not blame him.
“You’re a lucky lady,” the nurse said after helping me feed my daughter. “Not many husbands are supportive and present as yours is.”
I was about to correct her when Jack and Maureen entered with Geeta and Lucas.
“Wow, this is her, Mama?” Lucas squealed. “She is so tiny. Was I like this too?”
“Yes, sweetheart. You were like this too.”
Cole came in a few minutes later with flowers and balloons for me. Then he captured many pictures of those first precious moments on his phone.
The baby shower gifts I had received the previous week came in handy. Jack and Maureen had thrown me a lovely shower, and now all those tiny clothes and blankets and little necessities no longer felt like abstract preparations.
They belonged to Emma.
They belonged to my daughter.
After everyone had left, I was finally alone with Emma.
The feeling of being a mother again was inexplicable, especially because this baby had been born out of me. I looked at my daughter and felt a love so fierce and immediate that it nearly frightened me. And yet, even in that sacred, exhausted, emotional quiet, my mind drifted to my parents.
Over the years, a small part of me had somehow kept hoping that they would come looking for me.
But they never had.
I wanted to know them. I wanted to know the story behind my birth. My mother. My father. What were they like? Were they in love? Did their parents oppose their union? Had they wanted me and lost me, or had they chosen to let me go?
So many questions.
Still no answers.
As I carried Emma to feed her again, I wondered about my birth mother.
Was she in the same situation as me? Was she young and single when she had me?
Did she feel the same joy when I was born, or did she feel regret?
I wondered whether she had support in her life then.
Had her parents stood by her? Had the man in her life, her partner or boyfriend, stayed with her?
Had she been alone? Had she been scared?
Had anyone held her hand the way Cole had held mine today?
I looked down at Emma.
She had my jet-black hair and dimples when she smiled, but she had the same blue-green eyes as her father.
“My beautiful little girl,” I whispered. “I’m gonna love you so much and take such good care of you.”
I adored my baby girl in my arms, but I could not fully enjoy my blessing because my thoughts kept returning to Caleb.
He had no idea his daughter even existed, and that truth sat in my chest like a stone.
I still questioned whether I was doing the right thing by not telling him.
I wished I could rewind time—stop it just long enough to share this moment with Caleb and our daughter, even if only for an instant.
Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks.
I wish your father was here to see you.
I closed my eyes, and Caleb’s handsome face appeared in the darkness.