by Kat T. Masen
“I am.” Will grins, leaning in to kiss my forehead before glancing at Austin. “Take care of my sister, please.”
Austin tilts his head, acknowledging Will. “I promise to. She’s stuck with me forever now.”
Twenty-One
Ava
“Ava, one more push.”
My hand squeezes tight as I buckle forward to push for the third time. The pressure is too much to bear, my entire body aching with this godawful pain that tears throughout me. I begged for pain relief the moment the contractions intensified, but it was too late, according to the nurse. With a team of medical staff around me, this baby is coming now.
A burning sensation causes me to moan until Austin’s face spreads into a wide grin. “The baby is here, Ava. It’s a girl.”
There is no cry, no sound besides people talking in medical jargon. My heavy panting refuses to subside, but I manage to tilt my head just enough to see the baby when the doctor raises her for just a split moment.
She’s so tiny and fragile-looking, the smallest baby I’ve ever seen.
Inside the doctor’s arms, she’s taken away to the other side of the room, where an incubator is on standby.
The absence of the long-awaited cry stresses me out. My body shakes with tremors even in my state of exhaustion.
“Why isn’t the baby crying?” I panic, out of breath.
And then, a soft wail, barely audible inside a room full of people, is music to my ears.
Tears cascade down my cheeks, the salty taste mixing with my dry lips. With clouded eyes, I turn to gaze at Austin.
“I’m so proud of you,” Austin mouths, having never left my side throughout the whole birth. Even though he’s used to being a professional, not once did he abandon me. “I know that wasn’t easy.”
“A girl?” I ask with a croaky voice. “Can I hold her?”
Austin rubs my hand, still remaining calm. “She needs to go to the NICU. At thirty-four weeks, her lungs are still underdeveloped, so she will most likely need a ventilator.”
I nod through my tears, my emotions mixed with worry and relief she is here.
“Hey,” Austin calls softly. “It’s going to be okay. You did amazing.”
“But she’s so little. I should’ve done better to keep her safe inside me.”
With a deep sigh and soft expression, Austin strokes my hair. His simple touch calms my racing heartbeat, allowing me to control my erratic breathing.
“There’s nothing you could have done, Ava. She was meant to come early.”
“Dr. Carter?” A nurse calls from across the room. “We’re taking her to the NICU now.”
“Stay with her, please,” I beg of him, not wanting our baby to be alone. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re with her.”
“Are you sure?”
“Go,” I insist, managing a smile. “I’ll be fine, and Millie will be here soon anyway.”
“She’s outside. Do you want me to tell her to come in?”
I nod, then Austin kisses my hand, pulling away with a yearning look. The loss of contact aches, but it isn’t just about me anymore. Our baby needs him.
The nurses are still between my legs doing something I prefer not to ask exactly what. My head rests against the pillow when Millie peeks her head through the doorway. The moment my eyes fall upon her, I begin to cry again.
She rushes to my side. “Ava? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” I gulp through my tears. “I’m scared. She’s so little, and that was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever been through.”
Millie grabs my hand, squeezing it tight. “Austin spoke to us for a moment. She’s going to the NICU, and you know what, she is going to be just fine. I saw her briefly when they wheeled her past.”
“How do you know she’s going to be okay?”
A smile graces Millie’s face. “She has the Edwards blood. Can you believe it, Ava? A girl.”
“A girl,” I murmur, still in disbelief.
“I can’t believe how fast she came. You were only in here for an hour. Austin mentioned how they tried to stop the contractions, but it was too late.”
Half-listening, I’m too tired to comprehend anything until Will comes to mind.
“Wait, where’s Will?”
“In the corridor, freaking out, of course.”
My reaction is to laugh, but exhaustion weakens my entire body. “Tell him I said thank you. If I were alone, I don’t think I’d have gotten myself to the hospital fast enough.”
“I will pass the message on,” she assures me, softening her tone. “You need to get some rest.”
“I know.” I yawn before my eyes fall heavily, and sleep is imminent.
My eyes flutter, the fluorescent light blinding me and making it difficult to open them wide. On my second attempt, the surroundings come into focus. I’m in a hospital room, though it looks slightly different from the one I was previously in.
Millie is beside me, watching with a watery gaze. Behind her, Will is also inside the room.
“What happened?” I croak, barely able to talk from a scratchy throat.
Millie grabs the cup with a straw on the table next to me, then encourages me to have a drink of water. I move my body slowly, so I’m slightly upright, but everything is sore.
After managing a few sips, I start to feel a bit better.
“They moved you out of the delivery suite,” Millie informs me, placing the cup down. “Now, don’t be alarmed. You were bleeding more than usual, which is why you were so tired. They managed to stop the bleeding but want to keep an eye on you.”
“But the baby?”
Will moves closer to me, resting his hand on mine. “She’s beautiful, Ava. I remember when Ashton was born, he was even smaller.”
Millie nods in agreement. “It’s true. He was born at twenty-nine weeks, but look at him now, he’s healthy and even enjoys eating mud if you don’t watch him.”
I smile gently, unable to muster up a simple laugh. “Do you know when I can see her?”
“Austin said as soon as you get your energy levels up,” Will mentions, yet worry still etches his face. “So you need to drink and eat something.”
There’s a knock on the door, and a hospital worker pops her head in with a tray of lunch. With Will and Millie’s help, I manage to sit up to eat what I’ll call a less than desirable meal.
But beggars can’t be choosers. I end up finishing the mush and whatever brown thing they passed off as meat.
Somewhere during my rice pudding, there’s another knock on the door.
“Come in,” Millie says.
When the door opens, I see my parents’ faces. Mom looks relieved to see me, pressing her hand against her chest, then places her purse down to hug me. She pulls away as Dad hovers behind her. He draws his brows together, repeatedly rubbing his face. I instantly notice how disheveled he looks, not like the usually well-groomed Lex Edwards the world is used to seeing. Of course, he’s dressed in a navy suit, but his tie has been removed, and the shirt beneath looks creased.
“Hey, Dad.”
Mom touches his arm to comfort him. Then he moves closer to me as I wrap my arms around him. Inside his embrace, I bask in the familiarity, thanking my lucky stars they’re both here. Finally, we both pull away, but he lingers close by, sweeping the hair away from my forehead.
“You had us worried, sweetheart.”
“I know.” I sigh, then faintly smile. “I had me worried too.”
The door opens again, but this time, Austin walks through. The moment my eyes lay on him, I breathe a sigh of relief he is still around. As much as I love my family, seeing him brings a sense of calm.
He moves to my other side for Mom to ask about the condition of the baby.
“She’s doing well and weighing heavier than expected for her age.”
“And her heart?” Dad questions.
“Beating perfectly,” Austin assures him. “Our focus is her lungs. She’s on the ventilator ri
ght now. We’re closely monitoring how she progresses before we can remove it.”
“When can I see her?”
Austin’s mouth curves upward, and his reassuring smile is enough for me to relax for just a moment.
“Right now, if you’re up for it. She’s due for a feed.”
“Feed?” I ask, unsure what I’m supposed to do. “As in breastfeed?”
“There’s a lactation nurse on hand. She can help teach you how to position the baby to latch on.”
In the corner of the room sits a wheelchair. Will brings it over, and Austin and Dad help me transfer from the bed to the wheelchair. My legs are like jelly, unable to stand on their own. A simple task like moving is so much harder than I think.
Austin wheels me down the corridor to the NICU as my family follows. We reach the door, which instructs us to stop and protect ourselves before entering. Mom helps me with a gown, sanitizes my hands, and fits me with a mask.
“One person can come in with you,” Austin informs me.
I turn to look at my parents. Dad nods with a smile. “Take your mother in. She can help you with the baby.”
“Are you sure?” Mom asks, knowing how tight my bond is with Dad.
“Of course, Charlotte.”
Mom follows the protocol as well, dressing in a gown and sanitizing her hands. Then, when her mask is on, Austin wheels me to the incubator in the middle of the room as she follows.
With each step he takes, our baby comes to full view.
I stare in awe at this tiny baby lying inside the heated incubator. Inside my head, I count the fingers and toes—ten and ten—just perfect.
It’s hard to believe that she was inside of me only a few short hours ago, and now she’s here living and breathing.
Austin places his hand on the incubator. “You ready to hold her?”
Nodding, I then watch as Austin carefully removes her. He does so with such delicacy, and when she’s in his arms, I take a moment to admire our little girl being held by her daddy.
My arms shift into position while Austin slowly places her in my arms. The second she’s in my embrace, my heart gushes with a warm sensation and this burst of overwhelming love I’ve never experienced in my life.
“She’s so little,” I whisper, touching her fingers.
Austin crouches down, so he’s at my level. We both stare into her face, mesmerized by this tiny human who is ours. Never in my wildest dreams could I ever imagine what it would feel like to hold my baby for the first time. I want to capture this moment for the rest of my life, catalog it in my memories. And to think, my mother did this four times.
“Congratulations to you both,” Mom says with a proud smile. “Have you thought about a name?”
I have my own ideas, but nothing stands out when I look at her. Nothing is worthy of this beautiful little girl in my arms.
“I have a name,” Austin murmurs. “It’s not conventional.”
“What is it?” I breathe in anticipation.
“Emerald,” Austin begins with a wistful stare. “It was actually my great-grandmother's name. Though people actually called her Emmy for short.”
My eyes fall upon our daughter's face.
Emerald—I can’t think of a more perfect name.
“It’s beautiful, Austin.”
“Plus, you know she’ll have emerald eyes, right?”
A grin spreads across my face. “How do you know? She hasn’t opened her eyes yet?”
“Because, Ava, the Edwards’ gene is strong.”
I wish she would open her eyes, but as she continues to sleep peacefully in my arms, I can’t help but think just how perfect this moment is.
“Emerald Charlotte Carter,” I say out loud.
“Oh, honey,” Mom almost chokes, “you don’t have to.”
I look up at Austin, his gaze so loving and pure. “Needs one more adjustment…”
“Oh?” Me and Mom mouth at the same time.
“Emerald Charlotte Edwards-Carter,” Austin tells us. “The full circle.”
Twenty-Two
Austin
It’s not unusual for laboring women to arrive at the ER almost every day. During my time working at this hospital, I’ve assisted in multiple deliveries that never made it to the delivery suite.
I just never expected Ava to be the one to walk through those doors and with Romano out of all people.
And at only thirty-four weeks gestation.
There was no time to even get angry at Will for arguing with Ava. It was my job to remain calm throughout the whole ordeal.
No matter what the team tried, nothing was going to stop this baby from coming. Ava had dilated, ready to push.
And that she did, at exactly 10:47 a.m.
The hardest part of being inside the room was controlling this overwhelming feeling of unconditional love for our baby while battling the statistics I know come with premature babies. Thankfully, she checked out healthy in all areas we were concerned about.
Ava finally gets to feed Emmy, and I’m glad we both agreed to the name. In fact, Ava thought it fit her perfectly.
Emerald Charlotte Edwards-Carter.
My daughter.
It still feels surreal.
The lactation nurse assists Ava with nursing as I watch on, trying to retain the information but mesmerized by our baby enjoying her first feed. Ava’s milk is yet to come in though it doesn’t stop her from feeding.
“How does it feel?”
Ava purses her lips. “Weird. How long does a woman breastfeed for?”
“It’s completely up to the individual,” I inform her.
Charlie shuffles beside us, stroking Emmy’s hair gently. “You and Amelia were about six months. With Addison, I suffered from mastitis, so she pretty much went straight to formula. As for Alexa, she was about a year.”
Ava laughs faintly. “Addison is the smart one. Maybe the experts are wrong? Breastfeeding doesn’t equal intelligence. I mean, look at Alexa.”
Charlie presses her lips flat, trying to hide her smirk. “Alexa is gifted in other areas.”
“Texting friends doesn’t count, Mom,” Ava quips.
Ava mentioned Alexa going through her wild phase, leaving the sordid details out of our conversation. At the time, I laughed, thinking Lex had it tough. But then it dawns on me that I have a daughter now, and I will probably be in Lex’s position one day.
Suddenly, it’s no longer a laughing matter.
The moment I held my daughter, I knew I’d never be the same. She instilled this confidence in me to become a better person. To be a role model and give her the best life possible.
And going through this experience made me look at Ava differently.
To watch a woman go through the birth of a child, and that child being your own, is a life-changing moment.
Ava’s endurance, determination, and knowing just how much pain she was in delivering our beautiful daughter, she deserves only the best, but with everything going on, our moments in private are far and few between.
As the days wear on, Lex and Charlie are with Ava almost all day, every day. Will and Millie left the day after Emmy was born as they didn’t want to leave their son alone for too long.
We somewhat called a truce, though not verbally agreeing to anything. I have no issues with their relationship. I just don’t want Ava subjected to any more negativity nor criticized for her involvement with me.
There’s a stream of visitors, including my parents, who flew over. As much as I want to spend more time with them, I am already juggling work and trying to support Ava.
On the day of Emmy’s birth, my supervising doctor was more than accommodating, allowing me to spend the day up in the maternity ward. However, the next day, it was back to usual.
Whenever I have a break, plus before and after my shift, I sneak upstairs to check on Emmy and her progress, then pop my head in to see how Ava is going.
Despite my dissapproval, I barely manage to get her alone, especia
lly when Eric insists on setting up his office in Ava’s room.
“I’m keeping her company.” Eric tries to justify with an intimidating stare.
“Just make sure she gets some rest.”
“Of course, Dr. Carter. So…” Eric claps his hands with a cheerful smile. “Show me the room where all the doctors are getting a quick bam bam, thank you, ma’am.”
“Eric,” Ava scolds, tilting her head. “Is it that room marked private near the elevator? I swear I heard something.”
I shake my head at the two of them. “Believe it or not, we’re all professionals.”
Both Eric and Ava roll their eyes at the same time they release an exaggerated groan.
“You’re telling me that out of all the hot doctors roaming around this hospital, no one is even getting any fellatus?”
Ava bursts out laughing. “Just because you say it in Latin doesn’t make it any less crass, Eric.”
Eric beams with an upturned gaze. “I can imagine it now, two hot doctors, cloaks ripped off, stethoscope falls to the ground…”
“Oh, my God, stop,” Ava chastises, throwing her hands to cover her face. “It’s disturbing, and I’m pretty certain I’ll never have sex again because stitches mean something tore, and I really don’t want to know what exactly.”
“Well, honey,” Eric begins, fixing his cufflinks at the same time. “You can start off with a small wiener. You know, get that pencil in you before you transition to the king-sized sharpie.”
“Eric, your analogy is next level. Actually, I don’t even have words for you right now.”
Quickly checking Ava’s chart, I hide my smirk over this ridiculous conversation.
“Your tear will heal,” I advise her in a serious tone, not wanting her to think I’m desperate to fuck her. “You’ll be able to have sex again when it’s safe to do so after six weeks.”
Eric raises his finger to his lips. “But with who, exactly? So what are you saying? Technically, Miss Edwards is able to perform the act of fellatus on, let’s say, a man who is in desperate need. Perhaps, hasn’t had any activity for months…”