“Reece is fine. They’re going to put her in the neonatal ICU for a couple days, just as a precaution since she was early, but the pediatrician said she looks healthy.”
Mom’s lips turn down at the corners. “They put you and Helix in the NICU on your first night for observation. It was the scariest moment of my life.”
I can’t disagree. My knees almost buckled when they told me, but they assured me it was only because she was just shy of five pounds and they wanted to be cautious.
I prop my arm on my mother’s shoulders and give her a squeeze. “As for your other questions, four pounds, fourteen ounces, dark hair that I think will be curly, and blue eyes.”
“And Beatrice?” Mom asks kindly.
“She’s doing well. Handled everything like a champ. I just ordered her some food.”
“Did she?—”
“No.” I cut off my mother, and her lips form a ruler-straight line. “It’s fine,” I say.
“Why is your shirt wet?” Perri, my little sister, asks.
“Reece peed on me,” I inform them with a proud grin, and everyone laughs.
A few minutes later a nurse appears to escort me to the NICU. On the way, she explains the unit’s procedures and visiting times.
I get to spend a few minutes with my baby until they gently kick me out. I stand outside the door for a long time, feeling like a piece of my heart is missing. All I want to do is hold her and protect her, but I know this is what’s best. After what seems like hours of being in my baby-induced haze, I go back to the lounge area.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” Mom asks, pulling me into her warm, maternal embrace.
I kiss the top of her dark hair. “No, I’ll be fine. They have a room for me to stay in, and there’s only onebed.”
She pats my cheek and promises, “I’m only a phone call away if you need me.”
Once I’ve been hugged a hundred more times, my family finally leaves, and I head to the labor and delivery nurses’ station. “Hi, can you tell me which room Beatrice Bettencourt is in?”
The two ladies in pink scrubs glance uncomfortably at each other before one of them clears her throat. “Ms. Bettencourt has requested no visitors at this time.”
I shake my head. “But I’m her…” I pause because what the hell even am I to her? “She gave birth to my daughter today.”
They both smile sympathetically. “We understand, but she said she wants to rest uninterrupted.”
My stomach churns with the need to check on her, to make sure she’s okay, so I give the nurses my phone number. “Please call me when she’s ready for visitors or if she needs anything.”
Then I head to my room to get a couple hours of sleep before Reece’s next feeding.
On the third day, I exit the hospital for the first time since the birth. Reece is the picture of health and will be released this afternoon, but I have a burning need to check on Beatrice. All my phone calls and texts have gone unanswered, and I’m beginning to get concerned.
I’d walked around the labor and delivery ward earlier this morning and didn’t see her name on any of the doors, so I assumed she’d been released. Making the short drive to our apartment building, I take the elevator up to our floor and knock on her door.
Just like my phone calls, there’s no answer. Blowing out an exasperated sigh, I stare at the wooden door for five minutes, my mind going ninety miles an hour.What if she’s in there and she’s had some kind of medical emergency? What if she’s having postpartum depression and needs me? What if… what if… what if?
Finally I pull out my key and unlock the door.
As soon as I enter, I know she’s not there. There’s an undeniableemptiness pervading the space, but I call out her name anyway. When I get no response, I head to her bedroom, finding it empty. Like, completely empty.
There are no clothes in the dresser or closet, no linens on the bed, not even a bottle of shampoo in the bathroom. She’s completely moved out.
And just like that, without a single word, Beatrice Bettencourt is gone from my life. There’s a section of my heart that feels an aching vacancy that I didn’t expect to feel. It holds a hint of melancholy that it’s well and truly over.
So I do the only thing I can. I head back to the hospital to pick up my baby because Reece is my family now.
She’s my everything.
