Iwon’t.
“I’m sorry,” she continues. “Lucy.Lucy, look at me. This is urgent. We have to get the baby out now.” Despite the gravity of her words her voice remains calm, her tone gentle. It manages to pierce the veil of my anxiety better than had she yelled, and I nod in acceptance.
We can’t risk waiting for him.
Oh, God.Please take care of my baby!
“Okay. Okay,” I say again, gasping in the throes of both pain and panic. “Just get my baby out safely.”
Freckles takes off at a jog followed swiftly by grey bun.
I feel him before I even see him. There’s a palpable change in the atmosphere and it sets my heart racing impossibly faster just as Noah comes flying into the room. I let out a whoosh of air at the sight of him, my heart seizing and relief flooding my system. He instantly takes in the expressions on the doctors’ faces, on Piper’s. His brows pull together in that trademark frown just as concerned brown eyes meet mine.
“What’s happening?!” he demands, drawing up to my side. He moves seamlessly into Piper’s vacated spot just as I realize that she’s no longer in the room. Noah leans over me, wiping a sweaty lock of hair back from my face. His mouth is twisted to the side the way it does when he’s biting the inside of it.
“We’re prepping for surgery,” Doctor Lee informs him, and then she points towards the door where ponytail has just returned. “Go with Angela, she’ll get you outfitted with scrubs.”
Noah’s eyes are wild with fear. “What? Why?”
“We don’t have time for this,” she barks. “Go!”
Noah presses a quick kiss to my forehead then pulls back to meet my eyes. An entire conversation passes between us with that brief look, a wealth of emotion dancing in his expression.
‘It’s going to be okay,’ his eyes reassure me, and I believe him.
While the fear remains, I instantly feel calmer. He turns, his long strides carrying him quickly towards the door where ponytail awaits, but then he pauses on the threshold looking back at me once more.
‘I love you,’ he mouths and then slips from the room.
Everything happens fast after that. I’m wheeled into the operating room and immediately my body is wracked with shivers, whether due to the frigid temperature of the room or nerves I can’t be sure. My eyes bounce frantically around the room in search of Noah, but he’s not here yet. I can’t go through one more minute of this without him.
“Noah,” I moan through another contraction.
“He’ll be here momentarily, hon,” grey bun assures me.
The epidural is finally administered–thank fucking God–and a warm and tingly feeling spreads throughout my arms and torso. It’s harder to distinguish between the nurses now that they’ve all donned masks and caps, but one of them–freckles, I think–asks me to wiggle my toes, which strikes me as utterly ridiculous in this instance, but it seems I’m unable to do it, so I guess that’s the confirmation they needed that it’s working.
Ponytail–Angela–comes flying into the room with Noah on her heels. Another wave of relief surges through me. He’s fully garbed in scrubs, including a cap, and sweat glistens on his forehead. He takes his place up by my head and whispers in my ear how sorry he is; how much he loves me; that he’s going to make everything up to me. All I can do is shake my head while the tears start to fall in earnest. I’m overcome with a cocktail of emotions as fear for what’s to come, concern for the baby, and relief at his presence war in my chest.
Doctor Lee speaks calmly to us, explaining what is happening and directing the nurses around her as they raise a sheet between us and what they’re doing down below. Beyond that, I’m taking very little in. Noah squeezes my hand and continues to murmur comforting words of love and reassurance.
“I need the baby to be okay, Noah,” I whisper on a shaky breath.
He reaches over to wipe the tears from my cheeks. His thumb lingers, brushing a soothing circle against my skin. “The baby will be just fine, kitten. I can feel it.”
It’s then that I experience some pressure, the vaguest feeling of someone touching me, and I think it’s the doctor making the incision.
Noah swallows audibly. He takes a deep breath and I know he’s bracing himself for what’s next. I meet his gaze and see all the same emotions I’m experiencing reflected in his expression. He nods at me solemnly, those deep brown eyes saying, ‘I’m here. I’m scared too, but you’re not alone.’
Doctor Lee and the nurses continue to speak calmly to each other and it helps to allay my fear. Surely they’d sound different if there was any real cause for alarm. I know we need to get the baby out immediately, but beyond that underlying urgency they don’t seem concerned.
They do this every day.
They’re not anxious.
They’re not anxious.
I feel my own anxiety dissipating as I repeat it to myself over and over, and soon the tight knot in my gut loosens to be replaced with butterflies.
