Chapter 29
Sarah
T he first contraction hits me while I’m standing in the kitchen of the house by the water, where we moved three months ago, stirring honey into my morning tea.
The pain starts as a dull ache in my lower back, then wraps around my swollen belly like a vise.
I grip the counter, breathing through it until it passes.
“False alarm,” I mutter to myself, though my hand instinctively moves to my stomach, where the three little ones have been growing for the past thirty-two weeks.
My scheduled C-section is in three days, so it can’t be them announcing their arrival yet.
Unless they don’t care about schedules and appointments…
Yarik looks up from his laptop at the kitchen table, noting my stillness with sharp awareness. “Everything all right?”
“Just Braxton Hicks.” I say it firmly, as though that will make it true. “Dr. Ranick said they’d get stronger as we get closer.” I take a sip of tea, trying to project calm despite the lingering ache in my back. I return to plans for an omelet, but I’m on-edge, waiting for another one.
While I’m fussing with slicing mushrooms, he closes the laptop and moves to stand behind me, settling his hands on my shoulders with gentle pressure. “You’ve been restless all morning. Maybe we should call the doctor.”
“I’m fine, really. It’s probably just—” Another contraction cuts off my words, this one stronger and more insistent than the first. I slouch forward against the counter, focusing on my breathing as Yarik supports my weight.
“That’s two in under ten minutes.” He sounds calm, for which I’m thankful. “I’m calling Dr. Ranick.”
“Yarik, it’s probably nothing?—”
The third contraction doubles me over, and this time there’s no denying what’s happening.
Warm liquid runs down my legs, soaking through my pajama pants and pooling on the kitchen floor.
“My water just broke.” I look up at Yarik, who’s already reaching for his phone. “I think this is really happening.”
He dials Dr. Ranick’s emergency line while helping me to a chair, his movements efficient despite the worry I see in his dark eyes. We’ve been preparing for this moment for months, but the reality of labor starting before the planned C-section is scary, even if it’s only by three days.
“Dr. Ranick? It’s Yarik Barinov. Sarah’s water broke, and she’s having contractions every few minutes.” He listens intently, then nods. “We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
I try to stand and immediately regret it as another contraction hits with brutal force. This one feels more purposeful, as if my body has decided it’s time whether I’m ready or not. “The babies are coming.” I gasp, gripping Yarik’s hand as the pain peaks. “They’re really coming.”
“I know, love. We’re going to the hospital right now.” He helps me to my feet, supporting most of my weight as we make our way to the bedroom. “Can you get dressed, or should I help you?”
“Help me.” I’m already breathing hard, the contractions coming faster than I expected. “Call Nina too. She wanted to be there.”
Yarik helps me into a loose dress and comfortable shoes while simultaneously coordinating with his security team and calling Nina. The man who once ran a criminal empire now focuses all that organizational skill on getting his pregnant girlfriend to the hospital safely.
The drive to Greenwich Hospital takes fifteen minutes that feel like hours.
Each contraction makes me grip the door handle tighter, and by the time we arrive, I’m breathing through them with the focused intensity I saw on YouTube.
It doesn’t help much, but maybe I’m doing it wrong.
I didn’t take a birthing class because triplets are always delivered via C-section—unless these three decide to arrive while we’re still in the parking lot.
“I can’t believe they’re coming early,” I say as Yarik helps me out of the car. “I didn’t get the second steroid shot to develop their lungs.”
“Breathe, Sarah. Everything we need is already here or on its way.” He keeps one arm around my waist as we walk toward the maternity ward entrance. “The only thing that matters is getting you and the babies safely through this. They’ll be fine even if they have to stay in the NICU a little longer.”
I nod, clinging to his arm as we walk into the birthing center.
Dr. Ranick meets us at the elevator, already wearing scrubs and moving with brisk efficiency. “How are we doing, Sarah?”
“The contractions are about three minutes apart, and they’re getting stronger.” I pause to breathe through another one, noting how everyone around me stops and waits until it passes. “How long do we have?”
“Let’s get you into a room and see what we’re working with.” She guides us down a hallway lined with soft lighting and reassuring artwork. “With triplets, we’ll be doing a C-section as planned. The question is how much time we have to prepare.”
The examination room feels both sterile and comfortable, decorated in soothing blues and greens that remind me of the ocean view from our new bedroom window. Yarik helps me onto the bed while Dr. Ranick checks me out.
“These babies have definitely decided today is the day.” She strips off her gloves and makes notes on my chart. “You’re already six centimeters dilated, which means we need to get you into surgery within the hour.”
“An hour?” I look at Yarik, who’s gone slightly pale despite his composed expression. “That’s so fast.”
“Triplet pregnancies often move quickly once labor starts.” Dr. Ranick presses a call button to summon the surgical team. “The good news is all three babies are in excellent position, and their heart rates are strong. We’re going to take very good care of all of you.”
The next forty minutes pass in a blur of preparation and escalating pain. Nurses start an IV, check my blood pressure, and ask questions about my pain level while I breathe through contractions that are now coming every two minutes.
Nina arrives just as they’re wheeling me toward the operating room, her face flushed from running through the hospital corridors. “I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was insane, and I couldn’t find parking.”
“You made it, and that’s all that matters.” I reach for her hand as another contraction peaks. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Like I would miss this.” She squeezes my fingers gently. “I’ve been waiting nine months to meet these babies. I’ll be in the waiting room but with you in spirit.” She grimaces slightly. “Minus the contractions.” With a wink, she waves and moves down the hall.
Yarik appears beside the gurney wearing surgical scrubs that make him look younger and more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him. His dark hair is covered by a blue cap, and his hands are already gloved and sanitized.
“Ready for this?” he asks, taking my other hand as we enter the operating room.
“As ready as anyone can be for major abdominal surgery while conscious.” I try to joke, but my voice shakes with nerves and excitement. “Are you ready to be a father to three babies at once?”
“I’ve been ready since you told me you were pregnant with triplets.” He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles despite the surgical gloves. “We’re going to be amazing parents.”
The operating room is bright and bustling with activity as the surgical team prepares for the procedure. Dr. Ranick explains each step as they position me on the table and insert the spinal block that will numb me from the chest down.
“You’ll feel pressure but no pain,” she assures me as the anesthesia takes effect. “Yarik, you can sit right here by Sarah’s head and talk to her throughout the procedure.”
I can’t feel anything below my ribs, but I can hear everything, including the quiet conversations between the surgical team, the steady beeping of monitors, and Yarik’s voice as he describes what he can see over the surgical drape.
“Dr. Ranick is making the incision now,” he says, his voice calm and reassuring. “Everything looks perfect from here.”
“How are you doing, Sarah?” asks Dr. Ranick from behind the drape. “Any nausea or dizziness?”
“Just excited and terrified in equal measure.” I focus on Yarik’s face, using his steady presence to anchor myself as our children are about to enter the world. “How much longer?”
“Not long now. I can see the first baby.”
The next few minutes feel like hours as Dr. Ranick works to safely deliver our children. I can’t see anything, but I feel the tugging and pressure as she maneuvers each baby free. Then I hear a sharp, indignant cry that fills the operating room with the sound of new life.
“Baby A is here!” Dr. Ranick announces. “It’s a boy, and he’s got quite a set of lungs on him.”
I start crying before I can help myself, overwhelmed by the realization our son is finally here and breathing and making his displeasure known to everyone in the room.
“He’s beautiful,” Yarik whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Sarah, he’s absolutely perfect.”
A minute later, a softer cry joins the first as Dr. Ranick delivers our second child. “Baby B is a girl, and she seems much calmer than her brother.”
“Two down, one to go,” I say through my tears. “Come on, little one.”
The third cry is the loudest of all, startled and strong, as our youngest daughter makes her entrance. “And Baby C is here. Another girl, and she’s definitely got a temper. All three babies are healthy and breathing well,” she says a moment later. “Apgar scores are excellent across the board.”
I hear our children crying, but I can’t see them yet as the nurses clean and examine each baby. Yarik keeps hold of my hand, describing everything he can see while tears stream down his cheeks.
“They’re so small,” he says, sounding somewhere between shocked and in awe, “But they’re perfect. All three of them are absolutely perfect.”