A doctor poked her head out, looked at me teetering on the edge of control, and finally waved her hand. "Get him an isolation gown. Quick."
I fumbled into the thin blue disposable surgical gown, then rushed into the harsh white lights of the delivery room.
Those hours in that delivery room were the most terrifying, endless hell I've ever experienced.
Wave after wave of pain destroyed Chloe.
Sweat and tears covered her face. She gripped the rails on either side of the bed, nails nearly tearing off.
I stood beside the bed, my hands wrapped tightly around hers, feeling like I was shattering right along with her.
"The baby's breech! The mother needs to push!" A nurse's sharp voice echoed through the room.
Hearing that, my vision went black. Her situation was just like my mother's. No wonder she was in so much pain.
There were moments—watching the wildly fluctuating numbers on the monitors and her gradually weakening breaths—when I genuinely thought Chloe wasn't going to make it.
No. Without her? I couldn't imagine how I'd go on living.
"Chloe, please... don't leave me." I kissed her sweat-soaked knuckles, tears falling beyond my control. "Just hang on a little longer. For our child, and for me... please..."
Chloe didn't have the strength to answer. She drifted in and out of consciousness from the pain, and each time the nurses shouted to wake her up.
This nightmarish torture lasted seven hours. Finally, with one piercing, guttural scream as she bit down hard, the doctor shouted excitedly, "It's out!"
The ordeal was finally over.
Chloe collapsed limply on the delivery bed, seemingly without even the strength to open her eyes. The nurse quickly cleaned the tiny baby that had slipped from her body, then carefully placed it on Chloe's chest.
The child gave Chloe her last bit of strength. She weakly opened her eyes to look at this small life that had just entered the world.
I saw tears spill from Chloe's eyes. She lowered her head and gently touched her lips to her daughter's forehead, her voice hoarse as she whispered, "Your name is Emily, okay? Emily, hello there."
Watching this scene, the taut string of my nerves finally snapped.
Overwhelming relief, wild joy, and heartbreak all hit me at once. I completely collapsed to the floor.
I could no longer maintain any shred of dignity. I bent deeply forward, my hands covering my face, scalding tears flooding through my fingers.
"My God, oh my God..."
I buried my face in my palms, shoulders shaking violently, sobbing like a believer reborn under the harsh fluorescent lights of the delivery room.
Chloe
I don't remember when I fell asleep.
When I woke up, the delivery room lights were off, replaced by the soft wall lamps of a hospital room. My baby was in the bassinet beside me, wrapped in a pale pink blanket, sleeping peacefully. I stared at her, my chest swelling and full, waves of tender emotion nearly overwhelming me.
My little angel, welcome to this world.
Then I turned my head and saw someone sitting in the corner of the room.
Enzo.
He sat in a plastic chair, posture awkward, long legs stretched out with nowhere to fit, upper body leaning against the backrest with his head tilted. He'd changed into clean clothes, but his hair wasn't completely dry, messily plastered to his forehead. Dark circles heavy under his eyes, his whole face looked like someone had drained two shades of color from it.
Enzo's eyes were open. He'd clearly been awake all night. He was watching me. Had been for who knows how long.
