Against the Odds (14 page)

“
Anytime.” Angel loops her
arm around Mason’s and says, “Ready, Handsome?” 

They leave and Leah smiles. I sit down beside
her and ask, “Feel better after talking with her?” 

“
I do. It helped talking
to someone who has been through it.” 

Our parents walk in laughing. I smile and
ask, “What’s so funny?” 

“
The waiting room looks
like a big birthday party,” Sue says. “Here, see for
yourself.”  

She hands me her cell phone and I scroll
through about a dozen pictures. Happy Birthday balloons are
everywhere along with wrapped gifts in birthday wrapping paper. The
waiting area is filled with our friends. I show the pictures to
Leah and ask, “Who did that?” 

“
Your friends. They came
here to celebrate the birth of your daughter.” I hear Leah cry and
it makes me smile. I know that they are happy tears. She hands the
phone back to me and says, “I think everyone we know is in the
waiting room.” 

We all talk about baby names and about our
friends being here for support. “I wish we knew Madison’s middle
name,” Leah says, again.  

I reach for my phone to see if Dove has
replied and she has. “Her name is Madison Grace.” 

Leah looks up at me and asks, “Do I want to
know how you know that?” 

I shake my head and say, “No, just be glad I
know it.” 

She nods and says, “I do love the name,
Grace.” 

“
I do, too. It’s a
beautiful name for a little girl,” I agree.  

Mom asks, “First name or middle
name?” 

Jamie’s name was Jamie Sue and the Sue was
after my Mom. “What about Grace Joy and the Joy is after you,
Margie?” Leah asks.  

I watch as Mom puts her hand on her heart and
a tear slides down her cheek. “Oh Leah, I would be honored.” She
walks over and hugs Leah gently. 

I repeat the name over and
over in my head.
Grace Joy Grether, Grace
Joy Grether
. “I like it. The names sound
good together.” I smile when I realize my little princess has a
name. Leah said I can’t call her princess because I called Jamie
princess. A king can have more than one princess, right? “Grace Joy
Grether it is.” 

Leah makes a face, squints her eyes closed
and says, “I feel pressure. I think she’s coming.” 

The nurse comes in, checks Leah, and
announces, it won’t be much longer. She says the baby is in the
birth canal and it’s time to push. I ask her for a permanent magic
marker and she leaves to find me one. Leah doesn’t laugh and no one
asks why I need it. They already know. There is no way they’ll mix
up this child.  

Dad and Tim make their way to Leah and kiss
her goodbye. Mom and Sue are next. I knew they wouldn’t stay for
the birth. They turn white just talking about it. They leave and
the nurse returns with a black Sharpie.  

“
Thank
you.” 

“
Ace, something small to
distinguish our daughter from the others.” 

“
Something small,” I
repeat. “X marks the spot,” I tease. 

Dr. Fouch and several
nurses come in and set the room up for delivery. They slide the end
of the bed out
and slide in the stirrups.
Suddenly a large mirror appears and it’s lined up correctly for me
from where I’m standing. Leah squeezes my hand and I know this is
all frightening. I am handed and instructed to glove and gown up. I
even have boot covers that fit over my shoes. I snap a few photos
of Leah and I even manage to get a selfie of her and me. She
doesn’t look happy.  

Another team of nurses and a doctor comes in
and are introduced as the N.I.C.U. staff. Leah says, “Please do
everything you can for our daughter. She’s so
young.”  

Dr. Murphy says, “We’ll do everything we
can.” He pulls out three wristbands and places one on Leah’s wrist
and one on my wrist. “This one we’ll save for the baby. It’s
identical to the both of yours.” 

Leah looks at it and smiles, “Thank
you.” 

“
Rest assured, your baby
is in the best hand possible.”  

I nod, “Thank you.” He walks away to join his
medical team.  

“
On the next contraction,
I want you to push,” Dr. Fouch says as he scoots his stool closer
to Leah.  

I stand behind Leah, never letting go of her
hand. I look down at my shirt and the marker is still attached to
my pocket of my gray tee-shirt. A nurse is standing on each side of
Leah, ready to call out instructions to her.  

“
Are you ready?” the
doctor asks. 

Leah only nods.  

“
Put your chin to your
chest and push with everything that you have.” 

“
Bobby, count to 10 slowly
for her,” a nurse says. 

It’s all coming back to me from when Jamie
was born. I get in as close as I can to Leah and begin to count
slowly into her ear. I tell her how much I love her and how proud I
am of her, in between numbers. When I say ten, I lower Leah’s head
down so she can rest. I kiss away her tears and talk softly to
her.  

“
Great job, do the same
thing again with the next contraction.” 

I look in the mirror and I can see the baby’s
head. “Look, Leah.”  

She raises her head and looks in the mirror.
“Look at all that hair,” Leah says, laughing. She has a head full
of black hair. “Do you have your marker?” Leah
whispers.  

“
I do, Sweets. Don’t
worry, they won’t mix this child up.”  

“
Do you have your camera,
too?” 

“
I have everything I need
right here.”
I’m not just talking about
the camera and marker, I’m talking about my
family.
  

“
Okay, Leah. Chin to chest
and push,” the doctor says. 

Before the nurses say anything, I scoot in
close and begin to count. When I reach ten, I can see that the baby
is making progress. “She’s beautiful,” I say, lowering Leah’s head
to the bed.  

After repeating the same steps several times,
Leah is exhausted. “This should do it. One more time, Leah. Push
with everything that you have.” 

I get in close to Leah and the nurse count
this time. Leah squeezes my hand so tight, and it reminds me she
can still feel pain. On the count of eight, the doctor says,
“Stop.” 

“
Look, Leah,” I whisper.
The baby’s head is out and the doctor is suctioning her
nose.
 
 

“
Oh, she’s beautiful,”
Leah cries. The baby is facing sideways and it’s really hard to
tell what she looks like. But, I have to agree with Leah, she is
gorgeous.  

“
One more slow push and
that will do it,” the doctor says.  

Leah pushes lightly, never taking her eyes
off of the large mirror. When the baby comes out, she fills her
lungs with air and cries. Not just a petite little newborn cry, but
a scream. Leah laughs and I kiss her.  

They quickly place the baby on Leah’s belly
and we both touch her. She is still screaming. “Do you want to cut
the umbilical cord?” the doctor asks.  

I stand tall and proud as I walk closer to
where the doctor is.  

I remove the pen from my shirt and put a
small heart on the bottom of my baby’s right foot. He smiles and
hands me a pair of surgical scissors. “Cut here,” he
instructs. 

I do, proudly. I look up at Leah and she
doesn’t take her eyes off of me. I mouth, “I love you,” and she
cries as she mouths the same words back.  

Dr. Murphy stands beside me. He places the
matching wristband on the baby and says, “We need to check her
out.” I lightly touch my baby again before I move out of his way.
“Strong lungs,” he says thoughtfully as he carried her over to the
incubator. I stand up near the head of Leah’s bed and we both watch
as they care for our daughter, Grace. When they finish with Leah, I
am surprised the baby is still in the room with us. I thought they
would have rushed her to the N.I.C.U., but they didn’t. 

A nurse comes over and tells us the baby is
16 inches long and weight 3lbs. 4oz. long. She speaks to Leah about
nursing and asks does our daughter have a name. She writes
everything down and after a few minutes the nurse says, “We’ll need
to move your daughter. Dad, do you want to come with us? We have to
walk past the waiting area to get to the N.I.C.U. Your friends and
family will be able to see her quickly from in the incubator, but a
small glance is better than nothing.” 

Dad, she called me Dad. I
feel like I could burst with pride.
I look
at Leah and she smiles, “Take pictures.” 

“
I will, I won’t be gone
long.” 

Leah

I lie there and watch as Robert walks behind
the medical team and the incubator that is housing our daughter. He
stands tall, towering over everyone, including the doctor. The
nurses remove the stirrups and put the bed and the room back the
way it was prior to delivery. I close my eyes and pray to God and
talk to Jamie. I thank God for my many blessing and I tell Jamie
she has a baby sister. The doctor speaks briefly to me before he
leaves.  

I shiver and the nurses cover me in a heated
blanket and it’s all I need to fall into a deep sleep. When I
finally wake up, I am surrounded in a room full of Happy Birthday
balloons, gifts, and cards. It looks like a birthday party. I smile
as soon as I realize these are all here to celebrate the birth of
Grace. I don’t see Robert, but our parents are here. 

Walter says, “Robert walked down to see
Gracie. He thought you would sleep for a while.”  

“
How is she?” I ask and I
realize how raspy my voice sounds. I take a sip of the melted ice
chips on my bedside table. 

“
She’s great. She’s on
some oxygen to help with her breathing,” Mom
says.  

“
No
ventilator?” 

Mom confirms, “No vent, just
oxygen.”  

“
That is excellent
news.” 

“
We have pictures,” Margie
says as she walks over to me carrying her cell
phone.  

I try to sit up and scroll through her phone.
There is a picture of everyone in the waiting area. Everyone who
attended our gender reveal/baby shower, plus their children, are in
the waiting area. I look at pictures of the medical team walking
down the hallway pushing the incubator. Robert is standing tall and
proud. I see an image of Grace inside the incubator with her tiny
feet showing. I tap on the image to blow it up and see a little
black heart on her right foot.  

The nurse comes in and examines me and tells
me that all the nurses are talking about the lung capacity of my
daughter. She teases and says, “We may have given you too many
steroids in your I.V.” I smile as I remember her screams right
after birth. I also smile when I remember her strong kicks when I
was upset. My daughter is a feisty one. Nothing like me, but more
like her Daddy.  

Robert walks in smiling. “You’re awake?” he
asks, surprised.  

“
How is
she?” 

“
Beautiful.” 

“
Do you want to see
her?”  

I look into the piercing blue eyes of the
nurse, “Yes, I would love to.” 

“
Dad, do you remember how
to get there?” 

“
I do.” 

As soon as I am situated
in the wheelchair, Robert spreads a blanket across my lap. “It’s
chilly in there.
It keeps the medical
staff alert,” the nurse says and I hope she is teasing about the
medical staff staying awake.  

Robert pushes me in the
wheelchair to the N.I.C.U. He pushes a code into the keypad and the
door unlocks. We walk into a very busy premature nursery. The
beeping and alarm sounds fill the room. We see that small babies
are on ventilators and some are on oxygen, some babies are under
ultra-violet lights and some are lying helplessly in their
incubators. Each baby has his or her own incubator, except I see a
set of twins lying together.
That's a very
good idea.
Some of the incubators are
decorated and some aren’t. A sob escapes my mouth and Robert pats
me on my shoulder. He wheels me further away from the door and I
soon see a black-haired baby lying still and alone. As we get
closer, I recognize the newborn as Grace. She has a small I.V. in
her left arm with fluids running into it. She is also hooked up to
a heart monitor and a blood pressure cuff is around her right arm,
for continuous monitoring. She would be naked if it weren’t for the
diaper.  

Robert pushes me right next to the incubator.
It is covered with a hard plastic top to protect Grace from outside
germs. There is nothing on or in her bed, but her. I make a mental
note of things I could use to decorate it with. Robert moves to the
foot of her bed and looks at her feet. He smiles. I know he sees
the heart he wrote on the bottom of her right foot. A nurse comes
over and smiles. I ask, “She doesn’t need oxygen?” 

“
She does, it’s blowing in
through here,” she says as she points to an air vent at the head of
the bed. “It’s supplying her with just the right amount that she
needs.” 

“
Is she cold?” I
whisper. 

“
No, it’s very warm in
there.” She shows me where the thermometer is that reads the
temperature inside the incubator. She tells me what Grace’s vital
signs are and how she is doing. “To be born at just 30 weeks
gestation, she is very healthy.” 

“
There is any way to know
how long she’ll be in here?”