The Current Between Us

“Yep. Always,” Trent replied.

“Is that why you do it for us?” Hunter asked.

“Yep and you two need to go to sleep.”

“Wait! Where are we going for Em’s birthday?” Hunter asked.

“Daddy, are we going this weekend to pick out my decorations? I want a princess birthday, I think.” Em lifted her head to look at Hunter.

“No, Em. You said last night we could have the Ninja Turtles, and you would be Raphael, I would be Leonardo, remember?” Hunter lifted his head, looking back at Em.

“Daddy, I want a princess birthday.” Em shot a panicked look at Trent.

“Em, you change your mind too much.” The argument between the two started so fast, it made it hard to keep up.

“Hey, now, Hunter, it’s her birthday. She decides without our help. We can get you something to have as a decoration, too. Lay down. I’m serious, you guys, we need to sleep,” Trent lowered their heads with his hands back down to his chest. He ran his fingertips gently over both their backs, trying to lull them back asleep.

“Yeah, it’s my birthday, Hunter,” Em added, but another soft yawn tore from her lips before she could finish the sentence.

“Daddy, Em’s teacher said we can bring treats to school to send home with her pre-K class. Can we do it? Do we have enough money for treats and me a decoration and the princess decorations and the gifts?” Hunter asked.

“Of course we have enough money for treats and decorations, Hunter. Son, we have to talk about why you’re so worried about how much money we have all of a sudden. You don’t need to worry about things like that.” Trent smiled at the sounds of soft snores coming from both sides of the bed. He completely agreed, financial affairs were snooze-worthy as hell, and enough to make anyone crash while talking about them.

Trent looked back up at the ceiling and made a mental note to send an email to Hunter’s teacher asking about his sudden concern over their financial state. Did six-year-olds think about things like that?

“Close it off and go to sleep,” Trent whispered to himself, trying to stop his brain, but one thought led to another and his mind finally went there. Dang it!

On a normal day, it took a herculean effort to force his mind off his sister. Now with Em’s birthday approaching, of course he’d think about her more. The slap of a tiny hand hit Trent in the face. An offending leg came next, racking him good. The kids were sound asleep, tossing and turning. They hit anything in their way. He sighed. Between their flying limbs and his overactive mind, there would be no more sleep for him tonight. Carefully, he untangled himself from the kids’ hold and quietly made his way to the bathroom.

Trent flipped on the shower and dropped his pajama pants where he stood. He barely waited a minute before he stepped under the spray, letting the warm stream coat his skin. Even as he dunked his face under the pulsating showerhead, he still couldn’t seem to let go of the thoughts. No matter how many times he played it over in his head, or how it gnawed at him, the facts never changed.

Trent finally slumped back against the wet wall and scrubbed his hands up and down his face in defeat. He wasn’t going to escape the memories this year either. With a thump, his head dropped back on the tile, his eyes closed, and he gave in, centering back into that time almost four years ago.

Emalynn and Hunter’s father died during his last tour of duty in Iraq, six months before Emalynn was born. Lynn took his death hard and grieved badly for her husband. Trent always worried about the toll all that stress may have taken on Emalynn before her birth. He’d stayed by Lynn’s side throughout the entire pregnancy, eventually moving her and Hunter in with him. He tried to give Lynn comfort in her loss, and the stability she needed to get through her pregnancy.

Trent dedicated himself to getting Lynn strong and healthy. He took his job as big brother and designated birthing coach seriously. He studied the role for months, attending all the birthing classes, picking out the best focusing tools for Lynn’s use during her labor…The photos and music were all there on standby ready to go for when she needed them. Everything seemed to be going well. Lynn pushed gently with her contractions, and each stage progressed as it should, per all the books Trent read.

Lynn had allowed an epidural this time around, instead of the natural, home childbirth she’d endured with Hunter. It had surprised him, but he hadn’t questioned it. His sister, the absolute health nut, believed in the natural way of things. He hadn’t questioned her decision. Instead, he was thankful she hadn’t had to go through all the pain. In hindsight, he’d missed that big red flag waving at him, letting him know something wasn’t quite right with the whole situation.

Sophia, Lynn’s lifelong best friend, stayed in the delivery room with them. Lynn’s labor was in full swing. The doctor and nurses were in place, all set to guide their new baby girl out. The room bustled with medical equipment, most hooked up to Lynn, but Trent hadn’t known that wasn’t normal either. He appreciated how well they were monitoring Lynn and Em. There was talk of a caesarean early on in the day, but Lynn refused it, and Trent had agreed. Why would she need a C-section? They had studied for a natural birth, planned, prepared, and ready to do this thing!

He kept hearing from all the professionals that her numbers were good. Apparently, another huge indicator the process wasn’t as positive as it should have been.

Trent only had one defense for missing so many warning signs: the entire experience had fundamentally changed him. The emotion of bringing a new life into the world, being so up close and personal with it all transformed him forever. Trent connected to Em before she’d ever shown her little face to the world. When it came down to the final minutes, the doctor instructed Lynn to push carefully one last time. It was all it would take to get Em there with them. Emalynn’s head popped out, Trent concentrated on her swollen face seconds before his sister gave an agonizing scream and fell back on the hospital gurney.