The Nurse's Baby Secret

The nurse seemed to read her mind and offered a sip. “Just a little one to begin with, though, until we see how you do.”

Savannah was grateful for something wet. The nurse held the cup to where she could take a sip through the straw. She’d barely gotten a few drops in her mouth when the nurse pulled back the cup. “Sorry. Just a little for now. I’ll give you more in a few minutes if you do okay with that.”

She wanted more, but her nurse’s brain understood the reasons why. Not that she felt her brain was working correctly. She didn’t. A fog clouded her mind, making thinking a conscious effort rather than something that came naturally.

Just how hurt was she?

Her left leg felt crazy heavy, much more so than her arms and right leg, which also seemed to be made of lead. Pain racked her body and yet pinpointing where she hurt, or even where she hurt most, seemed impossible. Quite simply, every inch of her hurt. She was sure it did.

When she hurt so completely, when the wreck had been as bad as she was realizing it was, how could her baby have survived?

“I can see my baby’s heart beating, but you’re sure he or she is okay? That nothing happened during the wreck?”

“You’ve had several tests. Your ultrasound didn’t show any abnormalities. It seems your body absorbed most of the impact of the wreck and protected your baby.”

Hopefully. She wanted to protect her baby, to always keep her baby safe from harm. She’d slept through an ultrasound where she could have seen her beautiful baby? That was sad.

“Did they take pictures?”

The nurse’s brows rose. “Pardon?”

“During my ultrasound, did they take pictures of my baby?”

Smiling gently, the nurse shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of, but I’ve no doubt you’ll be having another ultrasound prior to leaving the hospital. Probably a few more. You can ask the sonographer to print you a photo at that time.”

Savannah went to nod, but her head didn’t cooperate.

Panic must have shown in her eyes because the nurse touched her arm.

“You’re in a neck stabilization brace. You got whipped around hard. The hospitalist overseeing your care wants you left in the brace for now to keep your neck stable. Nothing’s broken,” she assured her. “The doctor is just being cautious.”

What had the wreck done to her body? All she’d asked about was the baby.

“What is wrong with me?”

“Mostly severe bruising, multiple lacerations, a few of which required stitching, and then you had a puncture wound on your leg that tore the peroneal artery. That’s why your left leg may feel really heavy. One of the vascular surgeons repaired the bleed.”

An arterial bleed.

“I checked your wound before you woke up. He did a great job. Once it’s healed, you’ll only have a tiny scar.”

At this point the size of a scar seemed such a trivial matter.

Just so long as her baby was going to be okay, everything else was trivial. The fog that clouded her mind moved in thicker, darker.

Exhausted, she closed her eyes. When she next opened them, the nurse was standing over her, telling her to breathe deeply again.

The last time she’d breathed deeply, she’d hurt. Vaguely she recalled talking to the nurse. She couldn’t recall if they’d just had the conversation or if it had been hours ago.

She already hurt. She sure didn’t want to do anything that made that pain worse.

But she had her baby to think about.

She took a few deep breaths and reminded herself that the intense pain was worth it if

it helped the baby.

“Good job,” the nurse praised.