Chapter 2 - THE AMBULANCE
The lead paramedic’s name was Aaron Blake.
I remember because he said it twice.
“Melody, I’m Aaron.”
Then:
“Melody, look at me.”
I tried.
The ceiling lights blurred.
“Thirty-four weeks?” he asked.
“Thirty-four and five.”
“Twins?”
“Yes.”
“Any bleeding?”
“No.”
“Water broke?”
“Just now.”
“Any complications?”
“Twin B transverse.”
His expression changed.
Not panic.
Focus.
“Okay.”
Barbara moved toward us.
“I have her medical information.”
Aaron raised one hand.
“Stay there.”
“She needs—”
“I’m speaking to the patient.”
Beautiful sentence.
Richard stood near the broken front door.
He looked suddenly smaller.
I pointed at my hospital bag.
“That.”
A second medic grabbed it.
Barbara said:
“That isn’t the right bag.”
I turned.
“What?”
She immediately looked away.
Another fact.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
Aaron asked:
“Do you want either of them riding with us?”
“No.”
Richard flinched.
“Mel.”
“No.”
Aaron nodded.
“Understood.”
He did not ask me to justify it.
Police arrived while they transferred me to the stretcher.
I saw one officer take the keys from Barbara.
Another spoke to Richard.
The phone remained on my chest.
Recording.
I said:
“Don’t stop it.”
Aaron looked.
“Fine.”
In the ambulance he placed monitors.
My blood pressure was high.
Too high.
“Any history?”
“Gestational hypertension.”
“How high?”
“Usually 140s.”
“Tonight?”
He showed me.
168/104.
Great.
“Headache?”
“No.”
“Vision changes?”
“No.”
“Upper-right abdominal pain?”
“No.”
Another contraction.
I crushed the rail.
“How close?”
He timed.
Three minutes twenty seconds.
“Melody, we are going directly to Denver Memorial.”
“My doctor is at Saint Anne’s.”
“Denver Memorial has the closest appropriate obstetric and neonatal team from here.”
“Okay.”
He listened for fetal heart tones.
One.
Then the other.
Twin A:
Fast but present.
Twin B:
Harder to locate.
My entire body went cold.
“Find him.”
“We have a heart rate.”
“What?”
“About 120.”
Too low?
Normal could be 110–160.
Still.
I stared at Aaron.
“He’s okay?”
“I have a heart rate. The hospital will tell us more.”
No promises.
Good medic.
I looked at the phone screen.
The emergency recording still ran.
My voice shook.
“They planned something.”
Aaron did not ask.
“What?”
“My husband and his mother.”
“Police are at the house.”
“They had someone coming to deliver the babies.”
He glanced at me.
“At home?”
“Yes.”
“Was that your plan?”
“No.”
There.
May you like
First formal statement.
No.
