by Kat T. Masen
I want it all back, every bit of her back.
I can’t fucking lose her!
Pressing my lips against hers once again, I beg the Lord above to bring her back to me. They feel warm, full of blood. They’re soft, they have life. I pull away slowly and see the green orbs staring back at me. The second they do, my heart falls back into place.
“Drew,” she mouths, barely above a whisper.
“I’m here, Zo.”
I’m used to running on no sleep, and at just shy of two in the morning, Dr. Wheeler pops her head in to check on Zoey’s progress. Zoey begins to stir, her eyes barely opening.
“What time is it?”
“Just after two.”
She mumbles something about a dream she had involving a lion and monkey until Dr. Wheeler’s expression shifts, her brows drawing together, and her eyes fixated on the monitor. Using the Doppler transducer, she removes it quickly and calls Josiah back in.
“What’s wrong,” I ask, concerned.
Dr. Wheeler doesn’t respond straight away, jotting something down which only irritates me more. “One of the babies’ heart rate is dropping.”
Fuck. I know what that means. The babies need to come out now, and if Zoey hasn’t dilated enough, they will perform an emergency C-section. I stand up moving to the other side so I can see the monitor properly, grabbing the Doppler transducer and listening with my own ears. The normal range for a full-term baby’s heart rate during labor is between one hundred and ten to one hundred sixty beats per minute. One of the babies is decelerating which may be a sign that the baby is in distress and can relate to the baby’s supply of oxygen being compromised in some way.
“Dr. Baldwin, you understand we need to get these babies out now.”
The nurses scurry, and while they begin prepping a barely awake Zoey, I hold her hand and explain calmly what’s happening.
“I’m scared,” she cries, her eyes now wide-open with fear as her lips begin to tremble. “This isn’t supposed to happen. I’m supposed to give birth naturally, push these babies out. I’ve never had an operation…”
I wipe the tear that has run down her cheek struggling to compose my own emotions.
Be strong for her.
You must be strong for her.
“I promise you, it’ll be all right. Soon those babies will be in our arms.”
Fighting my own tears back, I suck in a big breath and focus. I know what my role is in our relationship, and as if something clicks I straighten my shoulders, hold onto my wife’s hand tight as they wheel her into the operating room, and silently pray for the Lord to watch over the three most important people in my life.
In just a few short minutes I will become a father.
And my life as I know it will forever be changed.
Zoey
This isn’t at all how I planned it.
Expectation—fall pregnant after a year of marriage, carry baby, and give birth vaginally.
Reality—falls pregnant after two months, expects twins, and now lying here on an operating table being sliced open because my stupid body can’t do anything right.
I stare at the ceiling, the bright lights blurring my vision the more I try to focus. I’m surrounded by a team of nurses, doctors, and other people who introduce themselves during my confused and exhausted state.
There’s a lot of talking, but I’m not listening. Even though I’m numb from the waist down, I can feel them tugging on my stomach. It’s not painful, just a lot of pressure, and it’s odd—an out-of-body experience.
Beside me, Drew is fixating on what’s going on behind the curtain. This scenario isn’t out of the ordinary for him. He’s in his element. But despite all that, he is biting his bottom lip, sweat building up on his forehead. I’m absolutely freezing in this room. The more I begin to think about how cold it is, the realization sets in that my body is shivering uncontrollably.
A nurse lays a blanket on top of me, covering my shoulders and tucking it in nicely. I barely manage to smile or thank her, relishing in the warmth. My body relaxes, and just as I’m about to close my eyes, I hear it—a staggering cry.
“It’s a boy!”
They lift him above the curtain, and all I see is this beautiful baby boy covered in something slimy with a slight cone head. He’s screaming his lungs out and so tiny for such a loud voice.
“A b-boy,” I stutter, shocked at this surreal moment and disappointed when they pull him down from above the curtain. “And the other baby?”
“A boy. I have a son,” Drew whispers, kissing my forehead with a proud grin. He raises his head, eyes meeting mine with a loving gaze. “It’s coming, okay?”
Reassuring me that everything is okay, he anxiously resumes his post focusing on the activity behind the curtain. No one says a word, only adding to my worry. My throat is dry, and although my head is begging to ask who took our son, I can’t seem to communicate it loud enough.
Time is of the essence but feels like it’s dragging on. I brace myself for the bad news and wait the longest three minutes of my life until another raspy cry graces the room, and a loud cheer erupts from everyone behind the curtain.
“Another boy!”
Drew squeezes my hand, a tear falling down his cheek. “Two sons. We have… two sons.”
It’s over.
The babies are out.
They’re safe.
They lift son number two above the curtain, and just like son number one, he looks exactly the same—this beautiful little baby with a full set of lungs.
The nurse hands one of the babies to Drew while the other is left behind under the incubator. Drew brings him over to me, placing his soft little face against my cheek. I begin to cry, tears of joy and shock.
This little tiny baby is my son.
“Don’t forget this little guy,” the nurse calls, walking over to us and handing son number two to Drew. He does the same, lowering him so our faces can meet. He smells just like the other baby, and in the space of five minutes, I never could have ever imagined the love I feel for our children. Nothing, no textbooks or advice from anyone can prepare me for this.
And as for Drew, his paternal instincts have already kicked in. Watching your husband hold your babies for the first time is a moment I will always cherish. My heart is so full that I’m afraid it’ll burst with happiness.
“We need names,” Drew reminds me, rocking them slowly. “How about Oliver? I’ve always loved that name.”
“Oliver,” I repeat, barely able to keep my eyes open, the exhaustion becoming a battle. “And Henry…”
“Henry.” Drew beams, staring proudly at his sons. “Oliver and Henry Baldwin. I think it’s perfect.”
“Perfect…”
The sounds of the voices become faint, further in the distance, and the struggle to keep my eyes open is too much.
“Zoey… Zoey,” someone yells.
“She’s hemorrhaging!”
The room begins to spin, everything becomes a blur, and I don’t know where I am.
I’m lost.
It’s pitch black.
And all I hear is dead silence.
Drew
Twenty tiny fingers
Twenty tiny toes.
Two heartbeats.
Two sons.
The day I lost my dad, I thought my world had ended. I wept silently in the confines of my own space and nothing, absolutely nothing at all, could have prepared me for the enormous amount of grief that followed.
This man—a man who had been a role model to me—raised me solely. And I wasn’t given a chance to say goodbye. He was taken away from me too soon.
I couldn’t recall a single moment in my life where he wasn’t present. He did it, though. He battled his own demons and still managed to raise a son on his own. He often told me that it wasn’t hard, I was a good kid, and he loved me. I could do no wrong in his eyes.
Dad will always be dad, and Zoey will always be my soulmate.
But these boys
, they are my heart.
I often hear people say that the moment you stare at your child for the first time, your heart beats crazily and your primal instincts kick in. You realize your only mission now is to protect this child for life.
Henry came out just in time. His low BPM was due to the umbilical cord being wrapped around his neck. After the nurses cleaned him up and checked all his vitals, he was free to join his brother in my arms.
And then—the unthinkable happens.
Zoey’s hemorrhaging.
Her uterus is failing to contract following the delivery of the placenta.
Zoey’s lost a lot of blood, and the surgeons are desperately trying to repair the damage. I’m going out of my mind, torn between trying to hold my babies and being there for her. Finally, the nurses request I leave given my emotions.
“Dr. Baldwin, I understand you’re a trained surgeon, but you need to step out. Let them help your wife, your sons need you.”
Even in my panicked state, the nurses suggest I feed the babies a bottle. Without Zoey by my side, I’m reluctant to do anything, but I have no choice. My sons need me, and the nurses constantly reassure me that the worst is over—they’ve managed to stop the bleeding, and Zoey simply needs some time to recover.
A few hours later after a feed, burp, and diaper change—still running on adrenalin—Zoey is wheeled out of recovery and into a private room.
“Hey there.” I stand up, barely able to hold back the tears from the overwhelming emotion. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” she smiles, faintly. “I want to hold the babies.”
Caressing her hair away from her face, I lift Oliver out of his plastic cot and into Zoey’s arms, following the same with Henry.
My heart is hammering, full of love and adoration for this woman. She carried our boys, brought them into this world, and still had to endure trauma afterward. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Zoey this content, deeply gazing at her sons in awe.
“I love you, Mommy.”
Her tired laugh is soft. “That’s new. If I call you Big Daddy, is that weird?”
Leaning in, I kiss her lips, sitting beside her as we both stare at our sons.
“I nearly lost you,” I mention, keeping my voice low and reliving the pain. “I don’t know what I would have done—”
“Shush…” she murmurs. “I’m here, and you didn’t lose me. No way can I leave the three of you.”
I place my lips on top of her head willing that trapped tear to escape. Never underestimate the power of your soulmate. Just when I think I have to be the strong one to carry us through this hardship, she surprises me with her own strength.
And it’s exactly what I need at this moment
The first few days are a blur. The babies refuse to settle, and when Zoey feeds one, burps, changes his diaper, and places him down to sleep, the other needs the exact same treatment.
Zoey’s exhausted and struggles with her movements. She vents her frustration, buzzing for the nurse whenever she needs to, battling with needing help and unsure how to feed the babies.
I help her as much as I can. Zoey’s milk supply is short, and given the babies’ appetites, we top them off with formula. At first, Zoey’s reluctant given one of older nurse’s pep talk on the benefits of breastfeeding. I don’t argue that, yet I know my kids are hungry, and her supply isn’t enough.
“This is all types of weird. I feel like a human experiment. Do you see the size of these things?” Zoey winces as Oliver latches on.
“Yes. Hard not to. How are your nipples?”
“They hurt. I think they’re cracked.”
“I read that continuing to breastfeed will help the nipples heal.”
“Thank you, Mr. Know It All.” She laughs.
Family and friends are desperate to visit. By day two, Lucille has been twice. The first time, bringing Bob and a bunch of balloons and flowers. The second time she brought home-cooked meals. She refuses for Zoey to be subjected to hospital food.
Whenever she came, I’d make a quick trip home to shower, sleep a few hours, and get the nursery ready as much as I can. Due to Zoey’s impromptu labor our bags were left at the resort, and we didn’t have time to collect them nor finish the nursery. Thankfully, Mia and Troy have done all that for us. Troy collected our bags, and Mia got everything washed, sterilized, and ready for the babies to come home.
According to Zoey, things are much better between Mia and Troy. They’re attending marriage counselling to work through their marital issues and have booked a family vacation to visit Greece. A toddler on a plane for sixteens hours? Good luck to them.
For extra precaution, the hospital wants Zoey to stay for five days.
By day four, the baby blues have well and truly kicked in, and Zoey’s a complete mess.
“I stink. I’m so tired, and Henry won’t stop crying,” Zoey sobs uncontrollably the second I walk in the room.
It is common for hormones to be out of whack after giving birth, and Zoey is no exception to this. I do my best to support her, but many of her frustrations stem from her difficulty in feeding the babies.
She needs rest, and with Lucille dropping by on her usual lunch route, we take the babies around the hospital for a walk so Zoey can sleep without interruption.
We opt to take a seat outside the small garden where many patients gather for sunshine and fresh air.
“Zoey tells me you’ve been offered a job in Australia,” Lucille raises the topic, much to my surprise. “You know, Drew, Bob and I love you very much. You’re the best thing to happen to Zoey.”
I’m not sure what to say, but given it’s a compliment, I simply thank her.
“Bob’s retired now, and he’s getting bored. I want to tell you if you move to Australia, we can come and help. Our boys are old enough now, and a change in scenery wouldn’t be so bad.”
“You’d move to Australia?”
Lucille is the spitting image of Zoey only thirty years older. They have the exact same eyes. Uncanny, really.
“We wouldn’t move per se because of visas and so forth, but we can have extended holidays whenever you need us. In fact, we’ve already been looking on the internet. There’s one place that Bob loves near a river, of course… a small holiday home and the perfect place for him to go fishing.”
Since our argument on the marina, I still haven’t raised the topic with Zoey, but I’m surprised to learn she’s discussed this with Lucille.
“Lucille, with all due respect, I wouldn’t get too excited. Zoey isn’t keen on the idea, and my focus needs to be on my family.”
“I understand,” she tells me in a gentle tone. “We’re here to support your family, okay? After all, these beautiful babies are our grandbabies.”
I welcome the kind words and unconditional support and know that this decision will be heavily based on what Zoey wants. Though now is still not the right time to bring it up again, Dr. Watson, the chief of staff in Australia, needs an answer soon, but today isn’t the day. I need to be with my wife more than ever.
Zoey is a new person when we return two hours later. She got a solid hour of sleep, showered by herself, and is drinking tea while watching some godawful soap opera on the television.
When the night nurse and doctor complete their final rounds for the day they’re optimistic that Zoey can be discharged tomorrow. Her wounds are healing nicely with no signs of infection, her feeding is still touch-and-go, but Zoey has now surrendered to using the bottle in between feedings to help her cracked nipples. The pain is too much to bear, and it isn’t my body. Therefore, I don’t want to enforce anything.
On the morning of day five, I bring in the carriage and baby carriers and help Zoey pack her things.
“I’m so glad to get out of here. Bye, bye, uncomfortable bed.”
“I’m glad not to have to fall asleep on that plastic chair again.” My back’s taken a beating and is in desperate need of some gym time to help restore my posture. “Are you ready?”
“So ready to take our babies home.”
We say goodbye to all the nurses, thank them for their help, and with our babies safely secured in their carriers we walk slowly the corridor toward the elevator. The door pings open, and Chief Arnold is standing inside the elevator.
“Dr. Baldwin.” Chief Arnold extends his hand which I cordially shake, and he immediately diverts his eyes to the babies. “I guess congratulations are in order. You must be the lovely Mrs. Baldwin.”
“Actually, I’m just a stand-in,” Zoey teases with a bemused smile. “His wife is much prettier than me and doesn’t resemble a deflated hippopotamus with the worse fatigue possible.”
Chief Arnold laughs. “I remember it like it was yesterday. Wait until they’re teenagers, then you’re not sleeping for a whole different reason.”
I’m grateful to have sons hearing how difficult girls can be in their teenage years.
“So, tell me, have you managed to think much about the proposal?”
Somehow, I knew the second he began speaking this would come up. Struggling to find the right words with a wavering smile, I’m about to tell him no when Zoey begins to speak, “We have…” she states confidently, “… and it would be a waste for our family to pass up this very generous opportunity. I’ll leave the discussion between yourself and my husband but count us in.”
Count us in?
My mouth falls open, followed by a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Chief Arnold expresses his gratitude for accepting the offer and sadness for losing me at the same time, willing we meet tomorrow to discuss with Chief Watson the finer details.
Saying goodbye, he leaves us be in front of the elevators.
“Um… what was that? We h-haven’t even talked about it,” I stutter, confused. “The last time we discussed this, you were angry. Livid, actually.”