How the hell can it take longer than an hour to deliver a baby? Something had to have gone wrong. Surely I would’ve heard something by now.
“Stop thinking the worst, Si,” Claire murmured. I threw her a look. How could I not?
“I should’ve heard something by now,” I replied simply. The words barely left my mouth when the young doctor emerged through the operating doors. My heart in my throat, I searched his expression for any hint of the news to come, but he gave away nothing.
“Mr. Anderson,” he began, “let me start by saying things went well. Both your fiancé and daughter are stable. Your daughter is being transferred to a neonatal intensive care. She has underdeveloped lungs, but her heartbeat and vitals are strong,” he explained. I breathed out deeply, unaware that I'd been holding my breath.
“And Emma?” I asked, vaguely aware that Claire was by my side now.
“Emma is stable. She is still in a coma, but once her body has had a chance to recover from the trauma of the birth we will operate to remove the clot on her brain.” He hesitated for a second, which was long enough for me anticipate bad news coming. “They’re was extensive bleeding and scarring during the operation. I’m sorry, but we had to perform a hysterectomy.”
‘Oh,” I said, not sure what else to say. I’d barely gotten past the news that Em was okay, I couldn’t deal with anything else now. “How long will that be? Until she is stable enough for another surgery?” I asked, my head aching from all this new information.
“Hopefully we will know more tomorrow,” he assured me.
“And if the clot bursts before you can operate?” I asked.
He hesitated. My body tensed, I felt Claire’s hand on my arm. “We will do our best to get to the clot before it hemorrhages.” he finally said. I sat back down.
“When can I see them?” I asked.
“You can see your daughter now, Emma, in a few hours when she's out of recovery.”
We had a daughter. Emma had wanted a little girl, though she kept saying so long as the baby was healthy she’d be happy. I didn’t doubt that she would, but for Em there was something special about having a little girl and seeing her interact with Maddie I knew she was going to be a great mom. The doctor called out to a nurse who was sitting at the desk just down the hall from us.
“Can you take Mr. Anderson down to neonatal, Trish?” he nodded at me, then disappeared back through the wide blue doors that separated us from the operating rooms.
“I’ll let you go, Si,” Claire whispered to me.
“You don’t want to meet my little girl?” I asked, a smile spreading across my face for the first time in days. Claire looked uncertain.
“You don’t want me there,” she replied slowly, shaking her head.
“Come on,” I coaxed, pushing her down the hall with me, “come meet my daughter.”
Chapter Eighteen
Simon
Relief flowed through me as we stepped out of the elevator and onto the neonatal ward. They had at least gone to some effort to make this section of the hospital look warm and inviting. Bright paint covered the walls, along with paintings of animals, numbers and letters. It sounded silly, but the intensive care unit left me feeling empty, as if they wanted my expectations of a positive outcome to be low. Here, I felt as though there was hope, that my baby at least had a chance.
A nurse led us to a covered crib which she explained was distributing oxygen to bean. At first glance, all I could see were the many wires and tubes, all leading to machines that were keeping my little girl alive. I took a breath as I felt Claire gasp next to me.
Then I saw her.
Her translucent skin, she looked so delicate, as if she could break at the slightest touch. She was bigger than I was expecting, yet her body was still no bigger than my hand. Tears pricked my eyes, I should be sharing this moment with Em, not Claire.
The tiniest cry filled the room, it took me a second to realize it came from my daughter. The nurse appeared beside me. She reached into the crib and gently lifted her out, carefully, so as not to disturb any of the tubes.
“Would you like to hold your daughter?” she asked. I had no words as she gently placed her into my embrace. “She can’t be out of the crib for long,” she added.
“She's so tiny.” I whispered. “So pretty.” I added, pulling back the pink and white blanket to reveal her face. I'd never understood when people pick likenesses between babies and their parents, but at that moment, I swear I saw Emma in my little girl’s eyes.
“God Simon, she is adorable,” Claire whispered, reaching out to stroke her tiny little hand.
“She is,” I agreed. “She’s beautiful,” I smiled, it was one of those giddy smiles that you just can’t wipe off your face. Em
would be so proud of our little girl and how strong and brave she was.