Brisé (25 page)

I’ve had a burst of energy this last week; I guess because I’ve been nesting for almost three months, this is my last hurrah before I get to meet this little person. The myocarditis hasn’t resolved itself, and after giving birth they will see about permanent medication for my heart. We had hoped it would stabilize once the infection was out of my system, but that didn’t happen.

Folding receiving blankets, little socks, and smelling all of the baby stuff, I feel my first contraction. It’s close to three o’clock in the morning, and I was able to sneak out of bed to sit in the nursery, wanting to do something on my own. I move from the floor to the rocker, gently allowing it to sway back and forth. “Hey little one,” I smile at my stomach. “You’ll be here soon. I’m going to be the best mommy in the world. You know why? Because I had the best role model. Your daddy and I will love you so much. You’re our world, little one. I can’t wait to hold you, love you, and watch you grow. Just go easy on Daddy for a bit, he tends to get worked up. You’ll see soon enough.” Another contraction hits, and I feel a trickle of water down my leg. I know next time I speak to the baby, I will be staring down at him or her, sharing my words of wisdom. Standing slowly, I shuffle down the hall to wake up Luke and get this show on the road. Our family will begin to grow today.

Chapter 29

Luke

Feeding her ice chips, wiping the sweat from her face, rubbing her back. I can handle all of that, what I can’t handle is seeing her in pain, hearing her scream out from the contractions. I’m slowly losing my mind and have to take a break letting my mom take over every so often. Seven long painful hours she has been in labor and only progressed to seven centimeters. She’s tired, having to use the oxygen more often than not, and she needs a fucking break.

I watch her suffer through another contraction, feeling her squeeze my hand so hard I think she may crush it. “Breathe, Twinkle. You have to take a breath.”

“I know, but it hurts.” She cries. She isn’t yelling and crazy like I have heard, more resigned to doing this, and she knows what to expect. The contraction ends, and she gulps in air. “You still think it’s a boy?”

“Yep!” I tell her proudly.

“What are you going to do if it’s a girl?” she teases me. Truth is, I don’t care what we have, as long as the baby is healthy.

“Don’t talk nonsense like that woman. I can only handle one woman, and you’re filling that position.” I wink at her. A loud beep comes from a machine along with red lights and I’m trying to figure out what this one is monitoring. I watch as her eyes unnaturally roll back and her head lolls to the side. Nurses and physicians run in, pushing me back from the bed, shouting orders.

“Prep her for C-section. Heart rate dropping, and baby’s in distress. Not enough oxygen.” She’s given medicine through her IV, and all I can hear is BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. More shouting. “Mr. Nichols,” her doctor approaches me. “Her heart is weak, it can’t handle the stress. It’s causing undue stress to the baby, and we have to do an emergency C-section. They will bring you papers to sign and show you where to wait.”

“It’ll be fine. Her heart will be okay once the stress is off it?” I ask. I need answers.

“That’s the plan, but we have to move now.” I back up, grabbing for anything to support me. I watch as they wheel her bed out of the room, she disappears from my sight. Papers are shoved in front of me, and I sign.

I grab the nurse before she leaves. “Save her, please. That’s my life.” She pats my shoulder and leaves the room. My parents rush in the room, my dad leading me to the couch.

“Her heart. Weak. Baby not doing well.” I can’t explain it to them; it doesn’t make sense to me. My mom leaves the room and comes back in telling us we need to go to the waiting area in the hallway, that’s where we wait for the doctor and any updates.

I hear every tick of the clock hanging on the wall that is the only sound in this room. Each second that ticks by feels like a dagger to my heart. I don’t feel her with me, I don’t feel her love surrounding me, and I need anyone to tell me what is going on. Her obstetrician appears in the darkened room, and I jump up. Rushing to him, I try to read his expression.

“Mr. Nichols,” when his eyes dart down for a fraction of a second I want to flee. I don’t want him to open his mouth again. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could; Phoebe’s heart was just too fragile. She died while delivering your daughter.” I want to punch him, but instead I sink to the floor. I stare up at him from his knees, urging him to tell me ‘
but we were able to save her
.’ I wait and wait but he never says those words. “Your daughter is in the nursery, she’s healthy, but she’ll need you. Have them call me if you have any questions, and again I’m sorry for your loss.”

I beg to trade places with her, I would give my life to have Phoebe take another breath. To hold her daughter. Beating my fists on the floor, I scream out for her, my pain bouncing off the walls in the corridor. I need her. This can’t be real, just put me out of my misery. I wish I am dead with her.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, “You need to get up and go be the father she knew you would be. You can break down later, but don’t do this right now.” Brett speaks behind me. My parents must have called him. I want to tell him to shut up, but I know he’s right. She would hate me if she saw me right now. I accept his hand and allow him to pull me up. One foot in front of the other I follow the signs to the nursery. Never once speaking to anyone. I sign in and get my bracelet, and I am ushered into a private room. A nurse comes in holding a bundle of pink in her arms and nods at the chair for me to take a seat. Placing my daughter in my arms I look down and see Phoebe. The same tuft of white blonde hair her mother had, her gorgeous smooth skin, and when she blinks her eyes, the blue reflects back in my green. “Emma Marie Nichols, I’m your daddy.”

The funeral is excruciating. If I didn’t have my little girl on my chest, holding the shattered pieces in, I wouldn’t survive it. I get it, now. All those years ago the struggle she had when I chose her that day in the hospital. She wanted to leave her mark on me, imprint it within me forever. She did. I run my hand over my daughter’s head, and while I will never have Phoebe again physically, I hold the best part of her in my arms. It won’t be easy, but she is still alive in our daughter.

It’s Emma’s fourth birthday. Four years ago death mixed with life, and I hold her in my arms as I take her to visit her mother. She doesn’t understand it, but she will grow up knowing her. Each night, instead of a bedtime story, she gets a memory of me and her mother. My heart will never heal, but it’s mending. She lives on through her blonde-haired blue-eyed ballerina. She dances like her mom, acts like her mom, and if possible, is just as beautiful as her mom. Phoebe left me with the biggest piece of her, and I once again get to protect her, love her, and cherish her . . . in Emma. She may have left me, but she gave me a gift that I will never be able to thank her for. I put Emma down, and place the flowers on her headstone.

“I forgive you, Phoebe. I love you, always.”

Chapter 30

Phoebe

I stare at him, softly snoring in slumber. I’ve tried waking him up for ten minutes and whatever is holding him in sleep has a grip on him. I wrap my hand around his arm again, shaking. “Luke, it’s time.”

His eyes snap open, disoriented and wild, searching the room. His gaze lands on me, “Phoebe?”

“Yes, babe. It’s time. Our little bean is ready to make his appearance.”

“Her. It’s a girl.” I smile at him. He reaches up and caresses my cheek, tears in his eyes.

“You okay?”

“I think so. I just had the weirdest dream. I’ll tell you about later.” He still doesn’t stop staring at me, touching me like he can’t believe I’m here.

“C’mon sleepyhead. My water broke.” He jumps out of bed, but before he gets three steps he turns around and crushes me to his chest.