The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (370 page)

I was pretty picky too and very selective what I fed them, so they naturally followed my lead. I relished in the moment for as long as I could before I told them. I had to be careful what I said and how I said it, especially with Lexus. She was too young to have to deal with this. They both were. It hurt that I was going to be the one to crush their little worlds.

There was a small play area where we were sitting, so as soon as Lexus finished her ice cream, I told her she could go play. When she was out of earshot, I turned to Drew. "Hey, sweetie, there's something I need to talk to you about."

He put down his game system and looked up at me curiously, not recognizing the tone in my voice. I didn't even recognize it. I started my nasty habit of picking the skin around my nails.

"Mommy, don't pick your skin," he instructed me.

I couldn't help but laugh. Unfortunately, tears followed. I wiped them quickly, hoping he didn't notice.

"Mommy, why are you crying?"

"Honestly, sweetie, I don't know how to have this conversation with you." I took a deep breath. "I was with Daddy, but at the hospital. Daddy got hurt at work, and he needs to stay there for a little while." I obsessively studied his face to gage his reaction.

"What happened?"

There was no way I was going to disclose the details to him, but he was old enough that he needed something. "He was saving a little baby's life and he fell, but the firemen got to him and helped him. Now, he's at the hospital, and the doctors are working really hard to make him feel better." My chest was tight, and I was having difficulty breathing. I wasn't sure if what I told him would be what he wanted.

"When can we visit him?"

"Soon, honey. He just needs a few days to get better, but he loves you very much, and I know he misses seeing your faces."

"Are you going to tell Lexus?"

"Yes, but she's a little too young to understand, so let me tell her later, okay?"

"Okay."

It was so hard to read him sometimes. He was introverted like me, which scared the shit out of me. He would have random outbursts of acting out over the smallest things, and then other times, he would clam up and ignore everything around him. There were even times that he would get hurt and refuse comfort. Instead, he would hide and cry for hours. He was my first, so I didn't know how normal his behavior was, but Lexus didn't act like that at all. She was mild-tempered most of the time.

I had brought it up with my therapist, and she had recommended a child psychologist for an evaluation. Of course, I was in denial and putting it off, but I knew that if things went south with Dean, he would need the extra help. It killed me that I wouldn't be enough, but I also knew how unpredictable depression could be, and if he were manic-depressive, I would get him the support he needed as soon as possible.

Drew was quiet on the drive home, but Lexus made up for it. She had a million stories to tell me in my absence. It was refreshing, and it took my mind off of the reality of our current situation. She even made me laugh. These moments with my children solidified my decision that they would be my salvation. They would make me stronger than any pill could ever make me. We would get through this together and come out all right on the other side.

The days became a monotonous blur. I would spend the days at the hospital when the kids were at school and the evenings at home. Lexus finally caught on to Daddy being gone for so long, so I just told her that Daddy got hurt, and he was in the hospital getting better. I wasn't lying. Over the past couple of weeks, the swelling had gone down completely, and the bruising was a faint yellow. I never thought I would see my old Dean again, but every day he got better, and my hope increased.

He was still in a coma, but the risk of pressure had passed, so now we were just waiting for him to wake up so the therapy could start. The PET scans didn't show any significant improvements with the compounds they were pumping into him. They said the best therapy was life, but if he didn't wake up soon, things could go the other way.

A physical therapist came in several times a day to work his muscles so they didn't start to atrophy. It would still be at least a month before the broken bones were taken out of the casts, but he looked good enough to consider letting the kids visit. My only trepidation was the breathing tube and the fact that he wasn't awake, but it didn't seem fair to keep them from him much longer.

I took his hand in mine. "Dean, please wake up. The kids need to see that you're going to be okay," I pleaded with him. His brain activity was starting to lower from the lack of activity, and the hopeful high I had been riding was slowly starting to fizzle. The doctors were concerned that he hadn't started breathing on his own. I knew there was an awful meeting with the doctor in my near future if Dean didn't show some sign of improvement soon.

****

P
arents

When I went into labor, I was thinking it would be just like the movies. Even in baby classes, they focused on all the positives and how to deal with the pain of contractions. They left out what to do when your baby is in full arrest, stuck, and dying inside of you.

It was the worst day of my life.

I shouldn't say day since everything was great up until I had to push. It was a baby book day and then the look of controlled panic covered the doctor's face as he asked us for permission to use a vacuum to get him out or perform an emergency C-section. I wanted as natural of a birth as possible, so I opted for the vacuum, something I would always regret. Had I been better educated on the risks of a vacuum, I would have chosen the C-section.

Dean maintained a calm demeanor, but held my hand tightly. I knew he was breaking down inside. Once I became pregnant, he had fallen in love with the idea of being a father. He read books, helped picked out the nursery colors, and even bought clothes right when we found out that we were having a boy. He was so elated.

I was still conflicted with how I felt, but it was because there were things I wanted to do before I had kids, but also because of my mood swings caused by my depression.

When the doctor sucked Drew out with the vacuum and didn't ask Dean to cut the cord, we knew it was bad. Later, I found out the cord was wrapped around his neck twice, and he wasn't breathing. I didn't even get to hold him. They had quickly put him on the little table, suctioned him, and rushed him to the NICU. The torture I felt not being able to move while the doctor patched me up was indescribable. My only choice was to close my eyes and imagine the worst.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dean came back. I was pretty out of it from the epidural, but anxious to hear how my baby was doing. I started crying as soon as I saw his face. It wasn't the glowing face of a proud new daddy that everyone expects. He looked worn, and his eyes were raw. If my heart could jump out of my chest and run away, it would have.

"How bad is it, Dean?" I was audibly shaken. He didn't answer. "Dean, you have to tell me the truth!"

"He's okay now, Len," he whispered as he took my hand in his. "He's going to be okay."

"What happened? I don't understand. No one will tell me anything." You could hear the hysterics in the varied decibels of my voice.

"He wasn't positioned correctly. He was sideways, so he got stuck. That's why you couldn't push him out. When the doctor finally got him out, the umbilical cord was wound around his neck twice, which is uncommon since it's not very long. It was strangling him." His words broke up as he tried to choke back tears. He was reliving the worst moments of our life. He continued when he regained composure.

"There wasn't time for me to cut the cord. He was turning blue from the lack of oxygen. He was barely alive, Len. We almost lost him." He couldn't hold it in anymore. He leaned over and hid his face in my chest as he broke down.

I caressed his head and tried to offer what little comfort I could as I, myself, tried to hold it together. "But he's okay now, right?" I pleaded. His silence was unnerving. "Dean, you said he was fine now? Is there something else?"

He looked up, and I knew that things weren't all peaches and cream now. Something else was going on. Something wasn't right.

"The doctor had to use a lot of force with the vacuum to get him out. It left a lot of bruising and swelling on his head."

"Okay, but it'll go away, right?" My body was tensing up as I waited to hear his response. All I wanted was to have a healthy baby. All anyone wants is to have a perfect baby. Was this my punishment for being indecisive about having kids?

"They are worried about the size of the swelling, so they are going to do a head scan to see if there's swelling on the brain."

How do you breathe after hearing that? I couldn't. "I don't understand. Why is this happening?" I sobbed.

"Listen to me, Len. He's going to be okay. No matter what, he's our baby. Just breathe. Stay with me, please."

He needed me as much as I needed him right now, and he was afraid I would succumb to the darkness and leave him alone with this burden. I wouldn't because leaving him meant leaving our son and that I would never do. "I won't. I promise."

He kissed my forehead.

"When will we have the results?" I needed to focus on the details to stay grounded.

"I'm not sure. They wanted him to be stable for a few hours before they did anything," he said as he soaked up his tears with his sleeve.

"But he is stable?" I questioned cautiously.

"Yes, he's good now. It took them several tries to get an IV started, but as soon as they did, he started coming around."

I was still in shock. I couldn't believe this was happening. I wanted to throw a fucking rock at the TV for showing so many perfect births. Media was a fucking joke!

After I calmed down, my body started convulsing uncontrollably, and I started dry heaving. Dean hollered for the nurse who ran in immediately. They held me on my side, so I wouldn't choke on my own bile. Dean held onto me so I wouldn't fall out of bed.

Tears streamed down my face in place of words. The nurse took my temperature. It was 105. She rushed out and back in with the doctor who shot something into my IV. He said it was for the fever causing the tremors.

Once the drugs kicked in, my muscles relaxed. Dean had helped the nurse clean me up. He was used to this type of thing and even worse because of his line of work, so watching someone else do it for his wife was out of the question. He didn't leave my side until he knew I was better.

With my encouragement, he checked on Drew. He was doing much better. They had to bottle-feed him because I had to wait twenty-four hours after my fever to feed him. The hardest thing about it was that they wouldn't let me see him either. The first few hours are the most crucial for bonding, and I was being denied that.

The twenty-four hours passed, and I finally got to meet my son and provide him with the basic necessities, food and love. Holding Drew in my arms for the first time was like taking an eraser to a whiteboard of the last twenty-four hours. It was just he and I, and nothing else mattered. I was in love with my son, and I knew that I would never be alone again.

We were relieved when the head scan came back normal, so as far as we knew, we had a perfect little family. We just had to fight a little harder for it than most.

****

P
resent

It was strange how the roles were reversed now. I was taking care of Dean in the same hospital, only we all left together before. I wasn't so sure that this would have the same happy ending. A siren beeped suddenly, startling me. His nurse ran in and checked it. Unsatisfied, she pressed a button, and a moment later, the room filled with a doctor and more nurses with a crash cart.

I backed out of the way, reluctantly trying to understand what was happening. When they took out the defibrillator, I lost it. I fell back in the chair and bent over and cried. I must have been screaming because one of the nurses came over to check on me. I pushed her off. "Please just save him."

I thought Drew's birth was the worst moment of my life, but this was easily comparable. I was losing half of me and didn't quite know if a person could survive that way. The room was so loud with chaos I had to plug my ears to block it out. I even hummed a little song Dean had made for Drew when he was born. I was slowly losing it and then a hand touched my back and saved me from the darkness.

"Mrs. Ashford, he's okay."

I wanted to yell at her because it was a lie. They might have saved him now, but he wasn't okay. He was far from it, and so was I. The nurses left the room with the cart, and the doctor came and sat next to me.

"Hi, my name is Dr. Nelson."

"Hi," I said through broken words. I attempted to recover from my breakdown.

"Today is Dr. Griffin's day off, but I will give him a call and let him know what happened."

"Okay."

"I know I'm not Dean's regular doctor, but can I be frank?" he asked softly.

"Yes." I braced myself for the next sentence.

"I reviewed his chart earlier, and he hasn't improved since he was brought in. His body is physically healing, but he's not healing mentally. His heart stopping is an indication of it wearing down. I believe it's only a matter of time."

I just stared at his lips. I heard what he said, but I didn't want to believe him, and I didn't respond.

He got up and walked to the door, but before he exited, he said, "I'm sorry."

My focus went to Dean, and my heart burst. I could feel the blood spilling out and drowning all my veins. It was crying internally for the loss my family was about to endure. Suddenly, I realized I hadn't had the chance to confess my sins to him. I needed him to know everything. Not just so I could try to live with myself for committing them, but because I believed in my soul that he could hear me, and he would forgive me.

I scooted my chair over to his side. I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. I wanted to kiss his lips, but that stupid tube was still in his mouth.
Dammit Dean.
I sat down and tried to find the words to start what would be my last confession to him.