Chapter 3 - THIRTY-THREE WEEKS
Labor and delivery replaced the emergency room.
Dr. Priya Shah introduced herself while nurses cut away my muddy clothes.
“Rachel, I’m the obstetrician on call.”
“I can’t feel him.”
“You know it’s a boy?”
I stopped.
“No.”
Why had I said him?
Ryan.
He had called the baby him.
Not important now.
“Can you find the heartbeat?”
“We have it.”
Monitors wrapped around my abdomen.
A rapid rhythm filled the room.
Then slowed.
Then recovered.
Priya watched.
“What?”
“I’m watching the pattern.”
“Tell me.”
“There are concerning decelerations.”
I stared.
“Is he dying?”
“We’re not there.”
Not reassurance.
Accuracy.
“Any vaginal bleeding?”
“No.”
Nurse checked.
A little.
Not much.
Priya pressed gently over my abdomen.
Pain.
I flinched.
“Uterine tenderness.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’re concerned about placental abruption.”
I knew the phrase from prenatal pamphlets.
Placenta separating.
Blood.
Oxygen.
“Because Ryan hit me?”
Priya stopped.
“Because you experienced trauma and now have pain, tenderness, bleeding, and fetal heart-rate changes. We may never be able to attribute an exact mechanism.”
Good doctor.
Terrible answer emotionally.
They drew labs.
Ultrasound.
The ultrasound could not rule out abruption.
The monitor worsened.
Priya looked at me.
“I recommend emergency cesarean delivery.”
I began crying.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Can we wait?”
“I don’t think waiting is the safer option.”
I asked for my sister.
Megan arrived while anesthesia prepared.
She entered already crying.
I grabbed her hand.
“I was leaving him.”
“I know.”
“What?”
“You texted me.”
I did not remember.
Then she showed me.
Yesterday:
I’m telling him tomorrow. If I chicken out, remind me why I packed.
I closed my eyes.
I had planned.
Badly.
I told Ryan too soon.
Megan kissed my forehead.
“We talk later.”
“I made a mistake.”
“Later.”
Good.
The operating room lights came down.
Spinal anesthesia.
Pressure.
Voices.
Then silence where crying should have been.
My heart stopped.
“Why isn’t he crying?”
Someone said:
“Give us a second.”
Longest second of my life.
Then a small sound.
Thin.
Angry.
A cry.
I sobbed.
“Baby boy.”
Boy.
Ryan knew.
How?
They showed him to me briefly.
Tiny face.
Dark wet hair.
Then NICU team took him.
“Where?”
“Respiratory support.”
“Is he okay?”
“Premature. We’re helping him.”
Priya continued surgery.
I stared at the ceiling.
Ryan had known the sex.
That question should have been trivial.
May you like
It wasn’t.
It became the first thread leading somewhere I had not expected.
