The Wedding Quilt by Jennifer Chiaverini

have a C-section.”
    â€œI know.” He tore off a glove, held her hand, and walked beside the bed as the orderly wheeled her toward the operating room. “They told me.”
    Her words came out in a sob. “I don’t know if the babies are okay.”
    â€œThey’re fine,” he said firmly, squeezing her hand tighter. “I promise you everything’s going to be fine.”
    She nodded, but how could he know? How could he promise her that?
    â€œAre you the father?” someone unseen asked Matt. She heard him confirm that he was. “If you want to attend the birth, you’ll have to put on these and scrub up.”
    Matt clasped her hand with both of his. “Sarah, I have to go for a minute but I’ll be right back.”
    â€œPromise?”
    â€œI swear I won’t be gone long. I’ll be right beside you the entire time.”
    She released his hand and heard him go. The operating room was unnaturally bright and cold. Dazed and exhausted, she sat up, supported by two nurses, and held her breath as they inserted the spinal block. By the time she was fully anesthetized and prepped for surgery, Matt had returned, barely recognizable in blue scrubs, cap, and mask, but she knew his eyes, full of love, concern, and reassurance. He stood by her side, just out of her range of vision, as Dr. Granger began the surgery, blocked from Sarah’s view by a blue drape. She felt pressure but no pain, and then there was a wrenching, and then a sudden flurry of activity and a baby’s cry and Dr. Granger declaring that she had a daughter, a beautiful baby girl.
    â€œCan I see her?” Sarah called out feebly. “Can I see my daughter?”
    Matt bent close to her ear. “They took her away, honey. They rushed her off to the neonatal unit.”
    â€œIs she okay?”
    â€œI’m sure she’s just fine.” Matt rested his hand on her shoulder, and she could tell he was shaking.
    He had barely finished speaking before Dr. Granger announced that she had a son—a strong, healthy son, by the sound of his wail, which was so outraged and indignant that the attendees laughed. “Can I see him?” Sarah called out, only to be assured that he was being examined and would be cleaned up, and she would be able to hold him soon. Matt could accompany the babies, if he wished.
    He seemed torn between concern for the children and his determination to keep his promise not to leave her. “Go with them,” she begged him. “Make sure they’re okay.”
    Matt nodded and hurried away. Blinking away her tears, Sarah started at an unexpected touch on her shoulder. “They looked perfectly healthy—strong and beautiful,” a woman hidden in blue surgical garb said. Sarah would have known the eyes even if she had not recognized the muffled voice—her mother’s eyes, shining with unshed tears. Sarah had not realized Carol had been allowed into the operating room, and she was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude that she was there. She placed her hand on her mother’s and held on while the doctor closed her incisions. Her mother walked beside her as she was taken to the recovery room, and there, when she shivered from the cold, her mother made sure she was draped with heated blankets. When Sarah felt warmer and less disoriented, Carol stepped away for a moment and quickly returned to report that Sarah’s son had an Apgar score of nine and her daughter’s initial score of six had risen to eight five minutes after her birth. Matt had been allowed to hold both of the children, and Sarah would be able to soon. It was the same answer as before, and yet Sarah seemed no closer to holding them. After months of waiting and hours of labor, to be unable to cuddle or even see her children now that they had finally arrived frustrated and worried her.
    â€œThis is routine,” Carol soothed when the nurse stepped away. “I know it’s