Chapter 29
Noah
I walk numbly down the hall of the third floor, my steps echoing. When I reach the front desk, a nurse in pink scrubs smiles up at me. She’s too cheerful for me, the complete opposite of my dark mood.
“Good afternoon, who are you here to see?” She asks, her voice upbeat.
“Umm,” I stammer, I’m at a loss for words. “I don’t know. She doesn’t have a name. Emma didn’t have the chance to name her yet.” My chest tightens.
“Oh! You must be the father of sweet baby Sterling.” I don’t bother to correct her either, I don’t have it in me. I just nod instead. “I’ll need your ID so I can make a copy of it, and I need you to fill out a few forms while I grab your hospital bracelet.” She hands me a clipboard and walks off.
I stare down at the consent forms. I’m sure Emma would be okay with me signing these. I quickly scribble my signature on the pages and set them down on the desk just as the nurse returns.
I hold out my wrist while she fastens a bracelet around me. “This one will get you in and out of the nursery so you can see your baby as you please.” She fastens a second one next to it. “This one matches your baby’s bracelet. A nurse will verify the numbers match every time you come see the baby to ensure you have the correct child.” I don’t say anything, I think I’m also going into shock. Everything was fine just a few hours ago. How did we end up here?
“We are praying so hard for your wife,” she offers me a pitiful smile. “Follow me, I’ll show you to the nursery.” Again, I don’t say anything, they may not let me see the baby if I admit I’m not her husband.
The nurse turns past the desk and leads the way down a different hall. I follow her on autopilot until we reach a large glass window. I turn to see five tiny babies lined up in front of the glass. I immediately spot Emma’s baby and my heart races. She’s bundled up in a soft pink blanket, sucking on a pacifier with her eyes closed.
“Come inside and you can hold her.” The nurse holds the door open for me, not waiting for a response.
I enter the room slowly. I shouldn’t be in here, but I also couldn’t stay away. I had to make sure she was okay. The room is warm and quiet aside from a few machines beeping here and there. The nurse scoops up the baby with ease and walks towards me. She hands me the baby before turning to check on another one.
I stare down at the fragile, innocent miracle cradled in my arms. My vision blurs as a surge of love and protectiveness floods me. I bring her up closer to me and gently place a kiss on her head, covered with a little pink hat. “Your mommy is going to be okay. I promise,” I whisper against her head.
Moving to the rocking chair in the corner of the room, I settle in with the baby, and rock her while she sleeps. I’m unable to take my eyes off her the whole time.
When the nurse returns for the baby’s feeding, I reluctantly hand her off. I know I must face the reality that awaits on the second floor.
Stepping inside Emma’s room, the sight overwhelms me. Emma is intertwined with a web of machines. Her frail body is being supported by a ventilator. Seeing her like this is devastating. The rhythmic beeping of the machines is a constant reminder of how fragile life is.
I slide a chair over to the side of her bed, and sit with her in the silence. Hesitantly I take her hands in mine and rest my forehead on her thigh. Feeling the weight of everything I’ve been holding inside, I can’t stop the sob that escapes me. I tighten my hold on her hands and let out all the pain and sadness.
———
The day passes by painfully slow. I stay by Emma’s side, refusing to leave her all alone. As night falls, a nurse brings me a pillow and blanket and says I can stay overnight. I don’t have to think twice about it. Emma always hated being alone, I won’t let her feel that ever again.
I settle in the chair by the window, which barely reclines, and sigh. I never imagined things could turn out like this. I turn my head toward Emma, afraid to take my eyes off of her in case she wakes up. Eventually, exhaustion takes over, and I let the sounds of the machines lull me to sleep.