“Sometimes babies get stressed during labor. The lowered heart rate can be an indication of that, so we just need to keep an eye on it.”
Stressed. My baby is stressed? Maybe from these contractions shredding me from the inside, but maybe because she’s tethered to me, feeling the anxiety thrumming through myveins. While I’m here, eyes glued to monitors I don’t understand, praying I don’t lose another child, her father is in some conference room, laying out his dreams for the next project.
Acid churns in my gut as memories from all those years ago assault my brain. The bathroom floor. The blood-soaked sunflower pajamas. The idle phone clutched in my hand like a futile lifeline.
The endless and suffocating tears, like a dark, heavy, thunderous cloud that makes you believe all sunshine is lost. They’re not the kind of tears that cleanse your heart, but the kind that annihilate your soul.
And then that raw, all-consuming numbness, as if all my emotions were dowsed with a general anesthetic, when the doctor confirmed what I already knew. That I’d indeed lost the baby.
Patton swore he’d never let me go through something like that alone again. That he’d be here every step of the way . . .
So where is he now?
“Neesh, I messaged Troy,” Sarina says, the corners of her eyes creasing with worry. “He’s trying to get hold of Patton’s agent, hoping maybe he knows something.”
“I’m going to try to call him, too,” Piper states, already pulling out her phone.
I don’t respond. Or maybe I do. Whatever leaves my lips is flat and toneless, a sound caught between resigned acceptance and a wail I don’t have the strength for.
They exchange another look before Piper dials Patton’s number, leaving him yet another voicemail with the same desperate message. “Patton, please call one of us back. Nisha needs you.”
My heart plummets.
But I beg it not to shatter.
Sarina squeezes my hand. “He’s going to be here, Neesh. I just know it.”
I stay silent, tears gathering behind my lids. I’m not going to argue with her, but every cell in my body wants to scream,“You mean like the way he was here the last time?”
“I called Dad, too. He’s on his way,” she continues, but her words barely register.
Another contraction slams into me, seizing my breath, my movements, and everything inside me as white-hot pain shoots through me. I grip the bed rails so hard, my knuckles turn white. Stars dance in my vision before my tears finally break free, streaking down my cheeks on a mission to set fire to my skin.
Piper’s gentle fingers brush them away. “Breathe, Nisha. I know you’re scared, but you're the strongest person I know. You’re going to get through this.”
A sob bubbles up my throat. “The only way I get through this iswithmy baby.”
Because if that’s not the case at the end of this . . . I won’t recover this time.
Piper’s eyes glisten. “You will, honey. I know you will.”
But I can’t answer. My fears are sitting on top of my chest like a boulder, pressing down until all I can manage is silence. Because even with my sister and best friend beside me, I feel that old suffocating loneliness creep in. The kind that can only be erased by one person.
It’s always him who should have been here. And always him who’s missing.
The baby’s heart rate drops dangerously once more, and this time Dr. Gilbert moves with purpose, summoning my dedicated nurse.
“Let’s change positions. Turn to your left side, Nisha; sometimes that can improve the baby’s heart rate.”
The nurse comes to my side, helping me roll before strapping an oxygen mask over my mouth. The movement sends a bolt of pain through my lower back, leaving me gasping and shaking. For a few moments, the change in position seems to help stabilize the baby’s heart rate.
But then it dips even lower.
“What’s happening?” My voice sounds hoarse to my own ears. “Please tell me she’s going to be okay.”
Dr. Gilbert gives me a look that has my spine straightening. “The baby’s not responding, and her heart rate is at a sustained deceleration.”
Not responding. Sustained deceleration.
