But I wasn’t. I was sitting in a waiting room while my infant niece’s chest was cracked open, while surgeons worked on a heart so small it seemed impossible to fix.
I thought about her little fists, how her fingers had curled around mine when I had held her hand through the NICU isolette. I thought about how she had opened her eyes once, just for a second, and seemed to look right at me.
I thought about Snapper hoisting Neva onto his shoulders at Halloween. I thought about Reagan calling meTía. I thoughtabout the future I’d imagined—the one with kids and chaos and candy.
What if Beatrice never got to trick-or-treat? What if she never got to be three years old? What if this was it—I got up and walked out of the waiting room. I couldn’t let Felicity see me fall apart, not when I was supposed to be here for her.
At hour five and a half, my hands were shaking. Felicity had stopped crying and gone silent, which was worse. Dad and Wagner both paced, and my mom’s lips still moved in silent prayer.
Wagner’s mother kept checking her watch like she could speed time up through sheer force of will.
I did too. When six hours came and went, I felt like I’d crawl out of my skin. Where was the surgeon? Why hadn’t he come out yet?
At six hours and forty-five minutes, the door opened.
We all stood in a semicircle around the surgeon, my sister, and brother-in-law.
“The surgery was successful,” he said, and the relief that swept through the room was physical.
Wagner caught Felicity when her knees buckled, and my parents and Wagner’s both hugged.
I stood shaking, wiping away tears as fast as they fell.
“We were able to repair the defect,” the surgeon continued. “She did very well. Better than expected, actually. She’s in recovery now. Strong vitals. No complications.”
He gave us more details—Beatrice’s heart was pumping properly, but she would be in the NICU for a few days.
After he left, I texted Snapper with trembling fingers.She made it through. She is okay.
Call me, Saff.
I stepped out into the hall and pressed the speed dial for him. “Hey,” I said when he answered.
“God, it’s good to hear your voice. How are you?”
Exhausted. Grateful. Wrung out. Relieved beyond measure. “I’m okay. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, sweetheart. Tell me you want me to come and I’ll be on the way.”
I said I would and that I’d call him again later, once we were back at the house.
When I returned to the waiting room, Felicity and Wagner weren’t there.
“The doctor said they could see her,” my mom explained.
Ten minutes later, the door opened and my sister motioned to me. “Bea needs to see her godmother,” she said, wrapping her arm through mine as she led me into the NICU.
“You can touch her,” Felicity said.
I reached through the isolette and laid my hand on her tiny arm. “Hey, Beatrice,” I whispered. “You did so good. You’re so strong.”
Her eyes opened, just for a second. Dark eyes, unfocused but there.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I smiled.
Felicity hugged me. “Thank you for being here.”
“Where else would I be?”
