Hell drops her head in defeat. “Okay. I’m sorry, I’m just scared.”
“That’s understandable, but please remember we have you and your baby’s best interests at heart. We also need to take a blood sample from the baby. We have to be sure the baby is getting enough oxygen. So, once the epidural is in place, we’ll get the consultant to come and do that.”
My brows knit together in confusion. “A blood test?”
“Yes. They take a small sample from the head of the baby that will allow us to see the baby’s blood oxygen levels.”
“Will it hurt her?” Hell asks, sniffling.
“No, not at all. For you, it’s the same process as a smear. The doctor inserts a speculum and then inserts a small tube. They’ll do a small scratch on the surface of the baby’s head.”
ROCHELLE
I stare across the room and out the window, looking at the skyline. The noise of the ward fades out until all I can hear is my pulse pounding in my ears.
My heart is breaking into a thousand pieces, and the last few months is playing over on repeat in my brain. What could I have changed?
My attention spans to Drifter, who’s sitting in the chair opposite me, his hands raking through his hair.
I couldn’t have changed his actions, but I find myself wondering if my own behaviour contributed. At the beginningof our journey, I became someone else entirely. I thought I was ready, but looking back, maybe I pushed him away.
Maybe I’m just as much to blame as him in this mess.
I close my eyes as a lone tear rolls down my face. I sniffle, swiping it away with the back of my hand. Drifter looks up, and our eyes connect. I see in that moment that he’s as scared as I am.
He reaches up, grabbing my hand as a small reassuring smile ghosts his lips.
“I’m sorry,” I sob, slapping my hand over my mouth to smother the noise.
He stands and pulls me into his arms, cradling my head to his chest whilst his hand tangles in my hair.
“Hell,” his voice cracks with emotion, “you didn’t do anything wrong, not a thing.” He breathes deeply, and I can feel his heart ricochetting against his chest. “This is all on me. I’ll spend the rest of my life full of regret, hating myself. But this . . .” He pushes me away from his chest, hooking his finger under my chin and lifting my gaze to his. “None of this is on you.”
The door swings open, and we both turn as the doctor fills the space. There’s a look of concern on his face, and it immediately has me spiralling. More sobs escape, my body shaking as my mind conjures up the worst-case scenario.
We’ve lost her.
“We need to get you through to the theatre as a matter of urgency.”
He places a clipboard on the end of the bed before turning to the midwife and speaking in hushed tones.
“What’s happening?” Drifter rushes out.
I can’t string a sensible word together as tears cloud my vision.
“No, no. This can’t be happening,” I scream.
“Rochelle,” the doctor says calmly, “we need to get you through for an emergency C-section. Your baby is in distress, and we have to act quickly,” he speaks firmly, as if talking to a scared child.
“Wait,” I whisper. “She’s still here?” I cradle my stomach.
“She is,” he confirms, “but she isn’t happy. We need you to sign the paperwork. One of the midwives will take your husband and get him ready for theatre. He can be with you through the entire process. We just need to get you prepped first.”
I lie back and watch, dazed as the room buzzes with activity around me. Nothing feels real as words are spoken around me, my brain not making sense of any of it.
Drifter is pulled out the room, and I stare after him as sickness swirls in my stomach. The doctor continues talking, but I can’t register the words.
“Do you understand?” he asks again.
