Chapter Forty
ADRIAN
Minneapolis
Chase’s brother Drew was thankfully one step ahead of us, an SUV practically squealing its way around the corner from the parking lot. He jumped out, opening the back door. “We’ll get them checked in and come back to the reception. She’s not going to have the baby in the back seat.”
His husband Miguel seemed suddenly sober, freaking out more than I was that she was in labor. “That better be a guarantee. We’re burning the car if that happens. You cannot get the smell of placenta out of leather. I’ll never look at this car the same—”
His voice drifted off as I placed Isobel in the back seat, jumping in after her and slamming the door.
“Fuck,” she whimpered, squeezing my hand—hard—as I sat beside her in the back seat. All I could focus on was her while the car accelerated onto the highway, heading toward what I hoped was the closest hospital.
Miguel may have been freaking out, but I didn’t want to have to deliver my child in the back seat of a car either.
“Is she okay?” he asked, looking at me from the passenger seat, his eyes locked on mine.
“Is? How’re you doing?” She’d clearly already had two contractions, but she seemed to relax into me as the second one let up .
“Can he drive faster? It hurts. This isn’t how this was supposed to happen.”
Her sniffles broke my heart, knowing she had to be terrified. We’d discussed a birth plan, had bags packed at home, Dr. Reeves’ phone number programmed into both our phones. We’d toured the hospital and driven the route from both of our apartments. But nothing prepared us for this—going into labor hundreds of miles from home.
“You got this, babe. We’re going to be just fine.” We had to be.
“Is she...” Miguel trailed off, gesturing at Isobel like she was terrifying. “Leaking or anything? Is it sticking out of her? Don’t you need to be at the other end to catch it?”
Drew smacked his husband on the arm. “She’s had two contractions. I highly doubt there’s a baby coming out yet. Chill the fuck out, you’re freaking her out.”
Isobel leaned into my side, her hand clasped tightly in mine while we took an exit marked Abbott Northwestern.
“Oh, fuck,” Isobel groaned, squeezing my knee as she tensed up.
Miguel jumped out of the car like it was on fire, rushing through the Emergency Room doors. I had no idea what he said to get such a quick response, but before Drew and I could get her turned and ready to lift out of the backseat, a nurse was waiting with a wheelchair.
“How far along is she?” the nurse asked as Isobel clutched her stomach and panted through the rest of the contraction.
“Thirty-five weeks, three days.”
“Do you know which obstetrician she’s using? We can page them and see if they’re on call.”
She turned and headed toward the Emergency room doors, the three of us hustling after her.
“We were here for a wedding. Her OB and perinatologist are in Boston.”
“I’ll call up to labor and delivery to see who’s on. Do you have her identification? ”
Isobel smacked me in the stomach with her clutch, white-knuckling the arm of the wheelchair as she panted.
“I’m assuming you’re Dad?” she asked while I pulled out Isobel’s license and took out her small card wallet to find her insurance card.
“Yes, I’m the dad. She’s had three contractions so far. Water broke about a half hour ago.”
The nurse made a call using the walkie on her name badge, and two men came in to lift Isobel to a hospital bed. Another guy in a white lab coat came in moments later, rubbing his hands with sanitizer and reaching for a set of gloves out of the dispenser on the wall.
“Sound like we’re having a baby tonight, folks.”
“She’s not supposed to be here yet.” A few tears streaked down Isobel’s cheek, and I sat down beside her, gripping her hand.
“Babies don’t always come according to plan. We’re going to get you set up with some monitors and an IV. Since your water broke, we’re going to push some steroids with an antibiotic and give you something to slow down your contractions. As soon as they’ve got a room prepped upstairs in the baby center, we’ll transfer you.”
She nodded, whimpering as she squeezed my hand.
As soon as the monitor belt was strapped across her belly, the line on the screen arced and Isobel gasped, gripping my hand hard enough to turn both our knuckles white.
“Have you decided about pain intervention?” the doctor asked, watching the line on the screen arc upward. “Can you tell me on a scale of one to ten how much pain you’re feeling?”
“I don’t know. It feels like I’m being tortured one moment, but then it eases off and I feel okay.”
“Hmm,” he hummed. “Looks like you’re still in the early stages of labor, so those contractions will get much stronger as she moves down the birth canal and her head drops into position.”
Miguel made a gagging noise from his spot near the doorway, and I narrowed my eyes at him .
“These are going to get stronger?” Isobel whispered, wincing at the line as it continued to travel up. When I thought she’d squeeze my hand off, she said something none of us were expecting. “Who do I have to blow to get an epidural around here?”
Miguel and Drew let out surprised laughs, finally deciding they’d seen enough of this show. “On that note, we’re gonna take off. Text Chase and we can make sure your rental car gets brought over sometime tonight.”
I fished the keys out of my pocket, describing the car and telling him where we’d parked it.
The two of them left, and the ER doctor followed shortly afterward. He’d been completely unfazed by her uncharacteristically crass demand for pain intervention, promising to let the nurses upstairs know she wanted an epidural.
“Please tell me this is just a false alarm?” Isobel whispered as she turned her head to face me. Her once polished up-do had fallen, curls cascading down her shoulders. She looked terrified, but still beautiful.
“She’ll be okay. If they thought it was an actual emergency, we’d already be in a delivery room. We’ll make it work, whatever happens.”
“How are we going to get her home? What if she has to go to the NICU?” Isobel’s breath faltered, more tears streaming down her cheeks. “I should have listened to you. I’m a terrible mother. It was so selfish of me to want to come here this weekend. I keep trying and nothing seems to go right lately.”
“Is,” I whispered, cupping her cheek. “We had no way of knowing this was going to happen. We just have to trust the doctors to get her here safely. Worrying won’t change anything. We’ll figure this out.”
Three hours later, the baby was still nowhere close to being born. Isobel had been settled into a private room that could double as a delivery suite as long as the baby and mom weren’t in distress.
Isobel had been in pain until the anesthesiologist had come with her epidural a short while ago. Once the giant ass needle had been inserted into her spine, she’d calmed down, eventually falling asleep. Even resting, her face was drawn with worry, and I wished there was something I could do. Just waiting like this made me feel helpless.
While I’d tried to be encouraging at the time, I was just as freaked out as she was. We were nowhere close to home and had no idea if our premature baby would be stuck here after she was born.
Drifting off in the chair next to her, I tried to get some rest while she did, knowing I’d need to be strong for both of us.
Five hours later, the lights in her room flickered on, and another doctor came in to check on her.
“Has she been resting alright with the epidural?”
Blinking the drowsiness out of my eyes, I squeezed Isobel’s hand, watching as she winced before she awoke.
“I think so. I fell asleep, but she never woke me up.”
“How’re we doing, Ms. Blom?” the doctor asked, moving to the end of the bed and shifting the blankets off her legs. “I’m going to see how far along you are.”
We both watched, Isobel squeezing my hand as the doctor’s gloved hand disappeared beneath her hospital gown. “We’re almost ready to get this show on the road. Are you feeling a lot of pressure down here?”
“Am I supposed to be?” Isobel asked with a yawn.
“I’d hope so. You’re dilated to a little over nine centimeters. I’m going to go ahead and page the rest of the birth team and we can get you sitting upright to try to push.”
“Already?” Isobel’s panicked eyes found mine, and I tried not to look as terrified as she did.
“Looks like your daughter isn’t going to hang out anymore. I’d expect she’ll be here very soon. I’ll get in contact with Peds and let the NICU know we will be expecting a pre-term delivery in case they need to step in.”
Isobel’s chin trembled as he let himself out, “NICU? She’s going to need the NICU?”
“We don’t know that yet. Babies born at thirty-five weeks don’t always have to spend time in the NICU.”
Watching her cry, I felt helpless, standing to pull her into my arms as much as I could with all the monitors attached to her. “You got this, babe. We can do this. You can do this.”
Two hours later, our daughter was born with an impressive wail, announcing her arrival. She’d been tiny at 5 lbs 4 ounces, but the doctors had assured us she was doing extremely well for a pre-term delivery.
Isobel had cried while she held her, lifting the small baby to kiss her forehead, while I watched on, completely overwhelmed with an emotion I had trouble identifying as it was one I never expected to experience. Watching the two of them together—despite being terrified, our daughter had a fight ahead of her—irrevocably changed something inside me. I couldn’t imagine loving anyone more than I did at that moment.
It’d been years since I felt overwhelmed enough to cry, but my eyes watered and my chest felt like it was going to burst as she cradled our tiny bundle. She was so beautiful despite her chaotic entry to meet us, with a full head of soft, downy hair and tiny fingers and toes. She was perfect .
What felt like seconds later, the nurse had whisked her away, inspecting her before they tucked her into an enclosed bassinet. I watched helplessly as they wheeled her out of the room, hoping the nurses hadn’t been blowing smoke up my ass about her being healthy. My baby girl would be strong like her mother, despite the uncertainty we faced.
Isobel had fallen asleep after they’d gotten her cleaned up, the tears only tapering off as she fell asleep. I’d been watching her, trying not to cry. She needed—they both needed—someone to be strong through this. And while it killed me, I couldn’t take away Isobel’s fears, but I had hope that things would turn out okay.
A nurse crept into the room, whispering to get my attention. “Is Dad ready to visit his little girl?”
“She’s asleep, I can’t leave her without...” Isobel didn’t stir as we talked, completely exhausted.
“I can have an aide come sit until she wakes up. The doctor wanted to give her a chance to rest and recommended we hold off on moving her for a few hours. We’ll need to see if she’d like to pump until they give the all-clear to nurse. If you’d like to see the baby, they’ve got her settled into the NICU nursery for observation. The attending physician didn’t see the need to admit her to a bed yet. We’ll watch her overnight and probably most of the day tomorrow. But you can go see her now if you’d like.”
Nodding, I slowly slipped my hand from Isobel’s, following the nurse into the hallway. The floor was quiet, which made sense considering it was the middle of the night.
The sound of beeping monitors and crying babies followed us as we walked through the hallways, my mind focused entirely on what was about to happen.
I was a dad. Part of me had wanted to wait for Is to see her, but I didn’t want to leave the baby by herself. She’d had a rough entry into the world, and if her mother couldn’t be with her right now, I would be .
“She’s doing well so far. Her APGAR was an 8, which is high for a preemie. Definitely has a set of lungs. Which is good. If they’re strong enough to cry, they’re strong enough not to need a vent.”
I was quiet as I listened to her talk, following when she swiped a badge next to a door and it swung open.
“She’s got quite a bit of blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Longer than we thought she’d be after we got her uncurled to measure. We’ll have to watch her temperature since her body fat is low.”
“Do you think she’ll need to be in the NICU for very long?” I knew it’d likely be weeks until we could go home with her, but I hoped she wouldn’t be in the NICU that whole time.
“It depends on if she eats or not. If we need to use a GI tube, she’ll probably be in here for a week or so at least, but we don’t know until we try to feed her.”
“Doesn’t she need to be with Isobel for that?”
“We’ll let Mom rest for now. They like to start preemies on a special formula first sometimes. Just to make sure they’re getting the nutrients they need that mom might not be producing yet. The nurses can go over more when mom wakes up. We can give your wife something to help jumpstart her milk supply, but it may be a few weeks until the baby is ready to nurse on her own.”
She stopped in front of a door with little cutouts of pink and blue baby footprints.
“We can put you in a family room, so you’ve got some privacy to hold her. Are you ready?”
Nodding, I followed her through the door, listening to her directions on how to wash my hands. It felt like my body was on autopilot as she led me to a quiet room with a rocking chair and told me to sit and she’d be right back.
She returned moments later with a bassinet, wheeling it into the room and plugging a monitor stand into the wall.
“Is she okay?” While she seemed to be breathing on her own, she still had several wires hanging out of the blanket she was wrapped in .
“She’s great. We just need to monitor her temperature and oxygen levels, so these cords need to stay connected. I’ll get you set up. Are we planning to do skin-to-skin?”
“Can I?”
She nodded, pulling my daughter out of the bassinet and carefully laying her in my arms. Tears sprung to my eyes as I gazed down at her tiny features, amazed at how light she felt. She was like a delicate little angel.
“I’ll let you situate her. You can unbutton your shirt and unwrap the front of her blanket to lay her on your chest. Just don’t try to stand with her. Use the call button on her cart when you need a nurse to help you get her back into the bassinet.”
As I gazed down at the tiny little bundle in my arms, my throat tightened, and I felt the rest of my walls start to crumble. The same rush of warmth that flowed through me when I looked at Isobel was there, but this was something more. Something deeper.
I wanted to be a better man for this tiny little goddess in my arms, with her mother’s soft blonde hair and shining blue eyes that matched my own. Her mother had the potential to break my heart, but this little girl owned it.
And I was going to try my damndest to deserve her love. And show her the man I should be, not the one I’d been hiding behind.