Everything will be fine, Andi. I promise,” he whispers and kisses the top of my hand. Then he gently helps me to my feet.
I sure hope he’s right.
But then I feel it.
A trickle.
Not a lot, but a little.
Please, God. No.
“Jackson!” I cry out as I frantically haul my dress up and feel between my legs.
When I pull my hand back out, I see blood. Jackson’s face turns ghost white.
And I pass out.
Beeping.
Over and over again in a periodic rhythm.
It would almost be soothing if worry didn’t instantly consume me.
My eyes are heavier than they’ve ever been, but I somehow pry them open.
“Hello, Andi. I’m Sharon, your nurse. How are you feeling? Would you like something to drink?” she asks calmly with sympathy in her eyes. I instantly hate her.
“What happened?” I croak. “Is my baby okay? Where’s my husband?”
The machine beeps wildly as my blood pressure rises.
“Ma’am, calm down. Let me get Dr. Ellis in here to talk to you. Your husband is in the waiting room.”
“My baby?”
“Let me get Dr. Ellis.”
Before I can scream at her for ignoring my question, she rushes off. My hand shakes as I slide it to my belly—my very empty belly.
Please, God, let Thomas be okay.
When I see a somber Dr. Ellis round the corner with a red, teary-eyed Jackson in tow, I lose it.
“No! Go away!” I scream at him.
Dr. Ellis shakes his head sadly at me, and Jackson runs past him and over to me.
“Baby, I’m so sorry,” Jackson cries as he attempts to hug me, but I won’t let him touch me.
“No! Get away from me! Don’t say it, you son of a bitch! Don’t say it!” I wail as I slap the shit out of him.
He grabs hold of my wrists and keeps them still. “Andi, stop. I’m sorry, but Thomas didn’t make it,” he tells me firmly through his tears.
I hate him.
My chest rips in half. The ache is so severe that I cry out in pain. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. All I can do is cry so hard that my head feels like it will explode. I can’t take this.
“Andi,” Jackson murmurs as he pulls me against him.
I can’t talk to him. I can’t think.
Thomas.
Poor sweet Thomas.
“Where is he?” I suddenly demand through my hysterics. “I want to hold my baby!”
Jackson pulls away from me and looks at Dr. Ellis, who nods.
“Andi, we’re going to give you something to calm you down and we’ll bring him in here. The nurses are cleaning him up,” Dr. Ellis says softly before leaving the room in haste.
I don’t want to calm down. I just want to see my goddamned baby!
Sharon hurries back in and inserts a needle into my IV before I can even question what it is. Jackson tries to hold my hand, but I slap it away. I can’t look at him right now. He has his backup baby. My baby is gone.
After what seems like an eternity of silence—aside from the beeps of the machine—I hear Dr. Ellis clear his throat at his arrival. He pushes a cart with a tiny, swaddled bundle inside into the room.
My Thomas.
I feel more relaxed, but the anguish still threatens to tear apart my being.
“Give him to me,” I bark at Dr. Ellis.
He nods and picks the bundle up. “Take as much time as you need.”
Damn right I’ll take as much time as I need. He’s my damn baby.
When Dr. Ellis gently transfers him into my arms, a tortured sob rings out. My sorrow fills the room as I look down at the tiny face of my boy. My Thomas.
“You came too soon,” I whimper as my lips wobble. Bringing my face close to his, I inhale the scent of my baby and kiss his little head. “I love you, Thomas.”
A garbled cry from Jackson startles me, but I push it away as I study each feature of my son. His hair is dark, just like Jackson’s. My God, he’s so tiny. One of my tears splashes on his face and I quickly swipe it away with my thumb.
Jackson reaches over and tentatively strokes our son’s forehead with his finger. “I’m sorry, Andi. He’s perfect.”
I nod because he is perfect. I’ll get him the most
I sure hope he’s right.
But then I feel it.
A trickle.
Not a lot, but a little.
Please, God. No.
“Jackson!” I cry out as I frantically haul my dress up and feel between my legs.
When I pull my hand back out, I see blood. Jackson’s face turns ghost white.
And I pass out.
Beeping.
Over and over again in a periodic rhythm.
It would almost be soothing if worry didn’t instantly consume me.
My eyes are heavier than they’ve ever been, but I somehow pry them open.
“Hello, Andi. I’m Sharon, your nurse. How are you feeling? Would you like something to drink?” she asks calmly with sympathy in her eyes. I instantly hate her.
“What happened?” I croak. “Is my baby okay? Where’s my husband?”
The machine beeps wildly as my blood pressure rises.
“Ma’am, calm down. Let me get Dr. Ellis in here to talk to you. Your husband is in the waiting room.”
“My baby?”
“Let me get Dr. Ellis.”
Before I can scream at her for ignoring my question, she rushes off. My hand shakes as I slide it to my belly—my very empty belly.
Please, God, let Thomas be okay.
When I see a somber Dr. Ellis round the corner with a red, teary-eyed Jackson in tow, I lose it.
“No! Go away!” I scream at him.
Dr. Ellis shakes his head sadly at me, and Jackson runs past him and over to me.
“Baby, I’m so sorry,” Jackson cries as he attempts to hug me, but I won’t let him touch me.
“No! Get away from me! Don’t say it, you son of a bitch! Don’t say it!” I wail as I slap the shit out of him.
He grabs hold of my wrists and keeps them still. “Andi, stop. I’m sorry, but Thomas didn’t make it,” he tells me firmly through his tears.
I hate him.
My chest rips in half. The ache is so severe that I cry out in pain. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. All I can do is cry so hard that my head feels like it will explode. I can’t take this.
“Andi,” Jackson murmurs as he pulls me against him.
I can’t talk to him. I can’t think.
Thomas.
Poor sweet Thomas.
“Where is he?” I suddenly demand through my hysterics. “I want to hold my baby!”
Jackson pulls away from me and looks at Dr. Ellis, who nods.
“Andi, we’re going to give you something to calm you down and we’ll bring him in here. The nurses are cleaning him up,” Dr. Ellis says softly before leaving the room in haste.
I don’t want to calm down. I just want to see my goddamned baby!
Sharon hurries back in and inserts a needle into my IV before I can even question what it is. Jackson tries to hold my hand, but I slap it away. I can’t look at him right now. He has his backup baby. My baby is gone.
After what seems like an eternity of silence—aside from the beeps of the machine—I hear Dr. Ellis clear his throat at his arrival. He pushes a cart with a tiny, swaddled bundle inside into the room.
My Thomas.
I feel more relaxed, but the anguish still threatens to tear apart my being.
“Give him to me,” I bark at Dr. Ellis.
He nods and picks the bundle up. “Take as much time as you need.”
Damn right I’ll take as much time as I need. He’s my damn baby.
When Dr. Ellis gently transfers him into my arms, a tortured sob rings out. My sorrow fills the room as I look down at the tiny face of my boy. My Thomas.
“You came too soon,” I whimper as my lips wobble. Bringing my face close to his, I inhale the scent of my baby and kiss his little head. “I love you, Thomas.”
A garbled cry from Jackson startles me, but I push it away as I study each feature of my son. His hair is dark, just like Jackson’s. My God, he’s so tiny. One of my tears splashes on his face and I quickly swipe it away with my thumb.
Jackson reaches over and tentatively strokes our son’s forehead with his finger. “I’m sorry, Andi. He’s perfect.”
I nod because he is perfect. I’ll get him the most
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