by M. H. Soars
By a miracle, the driver gets us to the nearest town hospital in ten minutes. The nurse on standby rushes to us and I explain the situation.
“Oh dear. We’re not equipped to handle premature births. She needs to be airlifted to the Children’s Hospital in LA.”
“And how long is that going to take?”
The nurse gets busy with Saylor and doesn’t answer my question, placing my friend on a wheelchair and wheeling her inside. I follow close behind.
“Don’t leave me alone, Liv.”
“I’m right here, Saylor. I won’t go anywhere.”
Saylor is then put in a hospital bed and hooked to a bunch of machines. Everything happens in a blur. A doctor comes to check on her, and after a quick examination determines she’s not yet fully dilated. He still thinks the babies are coming soon though.
“What’s the status of transportation to the hospital in LA?” I ask.
“Another five minutes or so.”
Saylor grabs my hand. “You need to let Ollie know.”
I nod before stepping outside the room to make that dreadful call.
SEBASTIAN
We’re in the middle of a late lunch meeting when Liv calls. Oliver and Allan are looking at the video footage of the bands we saw last night, making critical observations of who they think could be a good addition to Renegades. Liv had told me she had something planned with Saylor today, so I’m surprised she’s calling now.
“Hi, love. Don’t tell me you and Saylor got into trouble and you need us to bail you out.”
“Bas, our truck broke down in the middle of nowhere and Saylor’s water broke.”
“What? Where are you now?” My outburst makes Oliver and Allan cease talking and look at me in alarm.
“At the hospital, but they don’t have a NICU here, so we’re waiting for the air ambulance to take Saylor to the Children’s Hospital in LA.”
“What’s going on, Bas? Did something happen to Saylor?” Oliver asks.
I raise a hand, signaling him to wait a second. “Keep me posted, Liv. We’ll try to catch the first flight out.”
“For fuck’s sake, Sebastian, what the bloody hell is going on?” Oliver is almost jumping from his seat, ready to choke the answer out of me.
I say goodbye to Liv before taking a deep breath to break the news to my friend. Oliver is out of his chair the moment I say Saylor has gone into premature labor. I follow him out of the restaurant, asking Allan to take care of the bill.
“Ollie, wait up.”
He’s not listening to me, too busy trying to flag a cab. A taxi finally stops and he practically jumps inside. Following him before he takes off without me, I say, “Calm down, Ollie. They’re at the hospital. She’s going to be fine.”
My friend looks at me with fear in his eyes, the same kind I saw last year when Saylor wasn’t waking up from the coma. “You don’t fucking understand. I almost lost Saylor once. What if something happens to her or the babies?”
“Nothing is going to happen.”
Oliver brings his closed fist to his mouth and looks out the window. “I shouldn’t have come on this bloody trip. The doctor warned us that with twins there’s a higher chance of premature birth. I’m a fucking idiot.”
I don’t say anything else, letting Oliver go through his emotions and calm down a little. Allan calls me and I let him know we’re headed to the airport. He says he already called the airline company and we’re on a flight leaving within an hour. Thank God he’s around. I didn’t even think about getting us onto a flight from the cab.
Oliver remains quiet during the entire trip, which gives me time to put myself in his shoes. If the situation were reversed, if it was Liv going through that, I don’t think I would be brooding in silence like Oliver. I would probably be screaming at the driver to stomp on the gas pedal.
Twenty-Nine
LIV
Saylor can barely talk now that her contractions are coming much faster. Sweat has pooled on her forehead, soaking her hair. A group of people is already waiting for us on the helipad when we land. Introductions are made, but I can’t hear a thing over the roar of the helicopter’s propellers. Whoever they are, they quickly take Saylor away, and I have to run to keep up. We go down the elevator and when the door opens to our floor, a familiar face is standing on the other side—Derek.
I don’t have time to ask what he’s doing here. He only glances at me for a split second before turning his attention to Saylor.
“How are you feeling, Blue?”
“Like I’m getting split in two. Are you going to be delivering my babies?”
“No. We managed to get Dr. Zimmerman here. I’ll be there to check on your babies after they’re born.”
“Thank you.”
They take Saylor to a room, where she’s transferred to a different bed. Dr. Zimmerman comes in to check vitals and contractions. We can also hear the babies’ heartbeats. The doctor frowns as she looks at the monitor, raising a red flag in my head.
“What’s wrong, Doc?” Saylor asks.
“Saylor, I don’t want you to get alarmed, but one heartbeat is a little too high for my liking. I don’t want to risk you going through natural labor. I would like to perform a C-section.”
“How bad is it, Doc? Please don’t hide anything from me.”
“I don’t want you to worry, that’s why we want to get them out as quickly as possible.”
“Okay, but I don’t want to go under completely.”
“No, that won’t be necessary. We’ll only numb you from the waist down.”
“Can Liv be there?”
“What about your husband?” Derek asks.
“He was away on a business trip. He’s flying back now but he won’t be here for a few hours,” I say.
“Yes, she can come in,” the doctor replies.
Things get moving pretty quickly once the decision is made. I want to believe that everything will be all right once the babies are born, but I have a bad feeling Dr. Zimmerman isn’t telling the whole truth to keep Saylor from becoming more distressed.
I don’t like hospitals, especially ORs. Maybe if my best friend hadn’t almost died in one twice, I wouldn’t be so freaked out about it. Derek is also in the OR with us; he’s there for the babies, after all. When I throw a glance in his direction, he’s in the zone, his attention completely focused on Saylor and the machines hooked to her. He never glances my way.
While the crew prepares Saylor for the C-section, I focus on her face. Needles are not my cup of tea. I can tell the moment the drugs start taking effect, as her expression relaxes and she actually cracks a smile.
“This is really happening.”
“Yes, it is. No backsies now.”
“I’m going to be a mom.”
“You’re already a mom.”
“Okay, Saylor. We’re all good to go on our end,” Dr. Zimmerman says.
“I’m ready, Doc.”
I hold Saylor’s hand and talk to her about mundane things to keep her distracted from what’s happening on the other side of the partition. Minutes later, we hear the sound of a baby crying. They don’t bring it to Saylor right away, and she gets agitated.
“Is the baby okay? I want to see him or her.”
Derek is the one who brings a tiny little thing wrapped in a pink blanket. “She’s gorgeous, Blue.”
He places the baby on Saylor’s arm and she peers at her little girl. “She’s so small.”
“Dr. Simmons, we need you here,” Dr. Zimmerman calls, and Derek goes immediately to the other side. A nurse takes his place and tries to pry the baby away from Saylor.
“Can’t I hold her for a while longer?”
“We’re just going to clean her up.”
“Where’s the other baby?” Saylor asks. “Liv, is he out?”
I don’t want to look over the partition, but I strain my neck just the same, because if the situation was the other way around, I would want Saylor to do it for me.
I spot Derek holdin
g something in his arms, a bundle. He puts the baby down on an examining table and begins applying pressure to his tiny chest.
“What’s going on?”
Lots of things seem to be happening all at once. Derek is issuing orders, the urgent tone in his voice making me fear the worst. Nurses come to him, then place the baby inside a NICU unit.
“Liv? Where’s my son? Where’s my son?” Saylor yells.
Dr. Zimmerman comes to Saylor and explains that the second baby wasn’t breathing on his own, but that Derek was able to intubate him and has taken him to another room to run more tests.
“Is he going to be okay?” I ask.
“Dr. Simmons is young, but he’s one of the best pediatricians the hospital has.”
She didn’t answer my question. Saylor starts to cry so I don’t pressure Dr. Zimmerman, going to my friend instead.
“I want Ollie,” she says.
“He’ll be here soon.”
Saylor nods, but the tears don’t stop rolling down her cheeks. I don’t know what to say to comfort her.
The doctor finishes the surgery, and by the time we return to the room, I’m so weary I could collapse. Saylor is morose, and her mood doesn’t get better until the nurse brings her baby girl into the room. She’s so tiny that she almost doesn’t look real.
“Liv, could you get her for me?” Saylor extends her arms.
I’m a bit awkward, so the nurse helps me. I can’t help the tears that form in my eyes. She looks so much like Saylor. My friend melts when she looks down at her daughter.
“Hello, baby girl. You couldn’t wait to get out in the world, could you?” she says.
“Do you already have a name?” the nurse asks.
“Yes, Adeline, after my husband’s grandmother.”
“That’s very sweet and such a beautiful name.”
Dr. Zimmerman comes when I’m about to ask about Saylor’s boy. She explains without being asked that he didn’t develop as fast as his sister did and has respiratory distress syndrome, which is quite common in premature babies.
“A baby develops RDS when the lungs don’t produce sufficient amounts of surfactant, a substance that keeps the tiny air sacs in the lungs open. As a result, a premature baby often has difficulty expanding his lungs, taking in oxygen, and getting rid of carbon dioxide,” she continues.
“How can we treat that? It’s treatable, right?” Saylor asks.
“Yes. RDS is caused because the baby’s lungs don’t usually begin producing surfactant until about the thirtieth week of pregnancy. Fortunately, surfactant is now artificially produced, and we’ll give it to your child if we suspect he’s not yet making it on his own. He most likely will also need extra oxygen and support from a ventilator.”
“That sounds awful. My poor baby. When can I see him?”
“Dr. Simmons is still monitoring him, but he’ll come later to let you know how the baby is doing. It will be fine, Saylor. Your child is in good hands.”
I know the fate of her baby boy is dampening Saylor’s ability to enjoy her daughter, but she does try her best to put a smile on her face.
After the doctor leaves, I take the time to update everyone. Sebastian and Oliver won’t be here until the end of the day. I can’t imagine how Oliver must be feeling. In his shoes, I would be losing my mind for sure.
Thirty
LIV
Saylor’s mother arrived twenty minutes ago, and within that time, she was able to get some intel on how her grandson was doing. She knows some of the nurses, which helped tremendously in gaining information quickly. The prognosis is good, but even so, when Derek finally comes in to give us an update, Saylor sits up straighter in the bed and anxiety takes over her expression.
“What took you so long?” She glowers at him.
“It may seem that way, Blue, but a couple of hours is nothing in a hospital.”
“Stop stalling and tell me how my baby is doing. When can I see him?”
“He’s doing well, but he has to stay in the NICU for a few weeks. I believe Dr. Zimmerman mentioned that your son is suffering from Respiratory Distress Syndrome, most commonly called RDS. To treat it, we had to place a breathing tube in your son’s windpipe.”
“Oh my God. That’s horrible.” Saylor covers her mouth, but her mom is right next to her, comforting.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds. We’re using a breathing machine that pushes a continuous flow of oxygen to the airways. It helps keep tiny air passages in the lungs open. We also started artificial surfactant treatment because he wasn’t producing it enough on his own.”
“When can I see him?” Saylor asks again.
“As soon as you’re up t—”
“Saylor!” Oliver yells from the doorway before bursting into the room. He practically runs to her without noticing anyone else is there, including Derek.
Sebastian follows him, but unlike his friend, the first person he sees is my ex-boyfriend. Freezing on the spot, he narrows his eyes in Derek’s direction, clenching his jaw in the process before glancing my way. I don’t want him to make a scene in front of everyone, and it’d be good to give Saylor and Oliver space, so before Sebastian comes farther into the room, I walk out, dragging him with me down the hallway. I stop when Sebastian offers resistance.
“What was Derek doing in Saylor’s room? Did you call him?”
“Derek works here and was the pediatrician who took care of Saylor and Oliver’s babies.”
Sebastian’s jaw slackens as he processes the significance of my answer. He looks away and runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck. I’m glad I didn’t sucker-punch him, then.”
I touch his arm, drawing his attention back to me. “Bas, how many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to worry about Derek? I love you. It has only been you, even when we were apart.”
“I know, Liv. I know. It’s not that I don’t believe that, but he’s a reminder that I fucked up, that I abandoned you. If I hadn’t been such a selfish idiot, he would have never been a part of your past.”
I touch his face and look deep into his eyes. “I would probably be a different person if I hadn’t experienced what I did. I don’t regret any of it. My mistakes are part of who I am now and the same applies to you. Despite everything, you’re the most wonderful, selfless man I’ve ever met.”
Sebastian traps my face between his hands and crushes his lips to mine. Not missing a beat, I curl my arms around his neck, rising on the tips of my toes. Our kiss is getting hotter by the second and totally inappropriate for our surroundings. We only break apart when Sebastian’s phone starts to ring. He pulls the device from his pocket and frowns as he stares at the screen. “It’s the adoption agency.”
“What are you waiting for? Pick it up.”
“Hello. Yes, this is Sebastian Coleman.”
I watch Sebastian’s face closely. First, he’s frowning as if he’s in deep concentration, and then he looks at me with both eyebrows raised. “Okay, yes, we can do it. We’ll be there in half an hour.”
He puts his phone and away and I ask, “What did they say?”
“They asked if we want to take little Bas home today.”
“Wait, what? How… why? Oh my God, I can’t think.”
“It seems the foster family that had him claimed they couldn’t take care of him anymore. Since we’re in the process of adopting him, the agency was able to get permission to bring him home with us.”
“Are you saying little Bas can stay with us until the adoption is final?”
“I think so.”
I let out a yelp and throw myself into his arms. Sebastian needs to take a few steps back to keep his balance. Laughing, he untangles from my hug. “If we want it to happen, we have to get him now.”
“What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go!”
SEBASTIAN
When we arrive at the adoption agency, little Bas is already there accompanied by a social worker. He’s sitting with his shoulders hunched forward, which makes
him look even smaller. Upon hearing our arrival, he looks up and runs into my arms. I pick him up, and with his face buried against my chest, it takes me a moment to notice the absence of his glasses and also the bruise under his left eye.
I touch the sore spot, and controlling the ire running through my veins, I ask him what happened. Instead of answering me, he hugs me tighter, hiding his face from view once more.
“What happened to him?” I ask the social worker.
“We aren’t clear on the details. It seems there was a fight with one of the other kids, and Sebastian fell.”
“I see. Well, he’s obviously distraught, so let’s take care of the red tape so we can take him home.”
Liv taps little Bas on the shoulder, asking if he wants her to carry him. The boy goes willingly, and now I can glare at the social worker properly. I know it’s not her fault that little Bas was placed in a home not suitable for him, but she represents a flawed system, and I can’t help but aim my anger at her.
Inside the lawyer’s office, the woman begins to explain the procedures and paperwork we must fill out. She also informs us that there will be scheduled and unscheduled visits to check how Sebastian is adapting to his new environment, reminding us that the system can still take the boy away if they deem us unfit parents.
“Tell me, how often did you visit Sebastian in his last home?” I ask her.
“The family he was placed with has been working with us for years. They have been vouched for, so we only visited the boy once after a week to make sure he was settling well.”
“Once? That’s horrible. Everyone at the Reinhardt center knew he was miserable at his last place. That’s why he loved going to the center so much,” Liv says.
“We can’t visit every single child who complains. There are too many children in the system and only a handful of us.”
But she will find the time to visit us several times before the adoption is finalized. The comment gets lodged in my throat. As much as I want to throw it in her face, I can’t risk pissing her off. She could take little Bas away from us with a snap of her fingers. No. Until the ink is dry on the adoption papers, we have to be very careful.