The moment I stepped off the elevator for the cafeteria, I called her, pretending to confirm her order but really needing to hear her voice when I couldn’t keep an eye on her.
The nurse cautioned againstzooglingwith a low amniotic fluid condition, but I’d done it anyway, and the results were frightening. According to the website, issues with the amniotic fluid could cause Jo to go into early labour, putting both her life and the baby in danger.
The thought of losing either of them wasn’t one I thought I could survive. Even I had survived so much, including the challenges of being a Ranger, and the mission that wentwrong, had seemed like a walk in the park compared to my family being in danger, a silent enemy I didn’t know how to fight.
While I was gone, not only did I stop by the cafeteria and get her something to eat, I stopped by the gift shop as well.
“Ryan, I’m tired. I’m going to close my eyes.”
“That’s fine, Sunshine, you just stay on with me and close your eyes.”
We weren’t planning on a stay at the hospital, and we weren’t prepared. The suddenness of it all left me feeling as though I’d failed her, like I’d been caught in a storm without an umbrella. I vowed to make it up to her. I gathered toiletries, word puzzles (she loved those), a soft gown, cozy slippers, her favourite snacks, and a phone charger. But the absence of a sleep bonnet—Jo never went to bed without hers—stung like a forgotten promise.
When I got back, she was asleep. I disconnected our call and put her phone on charge.
A nurse stopped at our room to check in on Jo, looking at the items I purchased. “You’ve been busy. Is everything okay? I was checking to see if she needed anything to eat, but I see you have it covered.”
“I wanted her to be comfortable tonight.”
Her expression shifted in a way that made me feel deeply concerned.
“It will just be for the night, won’t it?”
“The doctor will give you an update tomorrow once they have a better picture of what’s going on.”
The nurse went over dietary restrictions and preferences, then placed an order for Jo’s breakfast in the morning.
I knew things were serious, but even withZoogle’sinformation, I didn’t consider that our stay would extend beyond the night. It was a cold wake-up call.
While Jo rested, I slipped into the washroom and made a call to Harrison. He and Amara were already planning on heading our way in the morning. I told him what I wanted him to grab from the cottage.
“It sounds like you’re planning an extended stay,” he mused.
“I’m being thorough.”
Jo woke up feeling much better and was eager to eat. I shared the conversation I had with the nurse about her stay possibly being longer than a night. This did not surprise Jo. She looked up at me and sighed. “I figured as much,” she said. “I guess I’ll just have to make the best of it.”
She spoke with unwavering determination, her voice steady and resolute. “Don’t worry whether I’m here for a night or longer; both the baby and I will be healthy,” she declared, leaving no room for doubt. God, I admired her. She was strong, not just in her words but in the quiet resolve that seemed to emanate from her very core.
The room was spacious, with a sofa that could be pulled out into a bed. However, it was positioned too far from Jo for my comfort, so I opted to spend the night in the chair by her side, keeping watch over her. In the middle of the night, she woke up shivering. I went in search of the nurse on call. When they checked Jo’s temperature, it was elevated.
“She’s burning up. I’ll give you some extra blankets.”
“Are you going to give her something for the fever?”
“Not until we have results for the blood tests. They should be available in a few hours.”
The nurse returned after half an hour to collect a blood sample for testing.
“Dad, get some sleep. The next couple of days are going to be busy. You’re going to want to be at your best,” she advised.
I tried to follow the nurse's advice, but I was hyperaware of every movement Jo made. By morning, she seemed better again. The doctors determined they needed to continue monitoring the amniotic fluid until the baby was delivered, so Jo would not be released.
When we were alone, her brave face crumbled. “We had this delivery all planned out.”
I felt her frustration, which mirrored mine. The extra equipment set up at the cottage was ready for delivery just in case. Instead, we were at the hospital, far from home.
By noon, we had visitors. First, Nancy stopped by, bringing with her a light mood, cracking jokes and bringing treats.
