“A’s happy. B’s showing off,” she narrates. “C is…opinionated.”
“Opinionated,” I echo numbly. “They keep saying stuff like that about her.”
“So you know the sex?”
“I have an idea,” I say shyly, even though it’s all inferences.
Declan sits where I can see him without turning my head, one ankle hooked over his knee, a posture that looks casual untilyou see his knuckles. “Contraction coming,” he says, before the machine does. He’s right; a cramp climbs, tight and mean, then lets go like it remembered its manners.
Cheyenne fluffs my pillows and tells me I’m handling this like a champion. “You can do this,” she coaches. “You’re right there.”
“In for four, out for six,” Sean says over me, his hand stroking my forehead. “Mabel would be proud,” he teases, his voice as soft as his hazel eyes and his touch.
I nod, jaw clenched. The curtain of the IV tubing sways when I breathe too hard.
Rowan shows up with a cup of ice chips, something I had forgotten to want but that I’d heard of people wanting before. He kisses my forehead in front of my mom and sister, who know better than to say anything right now. “Those little dips when the bands get loose,” he says, still looking at the glass, “they read scarier than they are. Reposition, water, oxygen. See?” He points to B’s line as Marta shifts the monitor. “Back to baseline.”
The contractions sharpen. The world shrinks to the inches around my body, to the faces I’ve gathered like talismans. When Dr. Patel returns, she takes in all the faces and nods. “Mom?” she asks my mom, who nods gratefully. “Okay, Mom, nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Patel. We’re all doing well. We keep going.”
We keep going.
The next contraction has teeth and a grudge. I count, breathe, count again. Sweat slicks the back of my neck; Cheyenne swabs it with a washcloth that smells like our kitchen. Sean presses the heel of his hand against my sacrum. Declan watches the mountain rise on the screen and says, “You’re not doing anything wrong,” in a tone like a wall.
The cuff inflates. The machine beeps. The contraction lets go.
Then B’s heart rate takes a breath and doesn’t give it back.
At first it’s the usual dip, a little slide, the monitor’s version of a sigh. Then it keeps falling. The room turns into a new place—same walls, different gravity. My own heartbeat flares into my throat.
“Turn her,” Dr. Patel commands, and Marta’s already rolling me to my side. Oxygen mask. Cool plastic over my face. “Deep breaths, Willow.”
I do. In for four. Out for—no, too fast. Try again. A second nurse is already at the IV.
Sean’s hand slips from my back to my shoulder. “Hey, hey. It’s alright.” His voice is soft, scared around the edges.
Dr. Patel is calm but her voice is sharp. “Okay,” she says, and it’s a change of weather. “We’re calling it. Decel not recovering. We’re going to the OR.”
“The…?”
“A C-section,” Rowan mumbles against my ear. The word hits me like I was already falling and just realized it. C-section. Now. All the air leaves my chest, and I grab for anything, landing on the front of Rowan’s chest, a handful of buttons.
“Willow,” Declan says, close enough that I can see the little crescent scar near his eyebrow. “Look at me.”
I try. The oxygen mask fogs. My eyes sting.
“You’re not failing,” he says. “We’re pivoting. This is the plan changing, not the plan failing.”
I nod, but it’s not my head moving, it’s the world. The lights. The ceiling. The nurse is already handing me a consent; it’s a blur of bolded risks and black lines. “We have your prior signature,” Marta murmurs. “This is just the update. We’ll take care of you.”
I sign. My name looks like someone else’s.
“Can everyone come?” I ask. The mask turns my voice into a dream, and Marta’s shaking her head. A panic builds in my chest. “I need them!”
The men all push Cheyenne forward, silently appointing her the position of support person.
“Sean,” I try, but he’s already nodding like a metronome and pulling a ridiculous blue cap over my hair, his hands suddenly gentle like they were made to do this one silly task.
“You’re going to meet them in about ten minutes,” he whispers, eyes bright and unsteady. “We’ll be here for you.”
