I didn’t know what I needed.
Every second of the last several minutes was replaying in my head.
Her pacing.
Her shortness of breath.
Her anxiety.
Her chills.
Her impending doom.
She knew.
But I didn’t.
She knew ... and I didn’t.
And I’d promised her she was going to be okay.
I’d fucking promised her.
“I didn’t know.” I couldn’t breathe. “I had no idea this was an AFE.” I swallowed something—it wasn’t spit, it was heavier, thicker, it burned as it went down. “I thought she was having anxiety and then her water broke ...”
“Of course you wouldn’t have known, honey. No one would have. AFE comes on too fast. It presents symptoms similar to labor. There’s nothing that could have been done to stop this or prevent it.” Her hand went to my cheek. “This is one of those situations where even the best medical professionals are helpless.”
The door next to us swung open, and one of the surgical nurses exited, pulling off her hair covering and removing her mask. “The C-section will be starting at any second.”
“You’re not doing it?” Vanessa asked her.
“Another emergency came in. I have to scrub in for that surgery.”
“How’s the mother? Sarah Lucas?” I asked.
The nurse began to walk away, stopping just long enough to say, “We couldn’t resuscitate her on the table.” She shook her head. “She’s gone.”
No.
Nooo.
Fuck no.
I reached inside my pocket, realizing I still had gloves on, and I didn’t bother to take them off as I removed the notepad, handing Vanessa the sheet of paper I’d written on. “Sarah knew something was wrong,” I forced out, not letting myself cry. “She knew she wasn’t going to make it.”
“She probably just didn’t feel well and, like all first-time mothers, feared the worst.” She glanced down at the paper in her hand.
“She had me write that for her.”
She slowly looked up at me. “It’s for the baby ...”
A baby who will never know his mother.
“I can’t give it to the father when he arrives.” The heaviness was doubling. Tripling. “I ... have to get out of here, Vanessa.”
“I’ll give it to him.”
She went to give me a hug, and I wiggled away, the thought of arms wrapping around me too much, and I raced for the stairs. I didn’t want to wait for the elevator. I didn’t want to be boxed in. When I got outside, I expected the air to pull me into its warm arms. For a wave of relief to wash over me.
