“There’s meconium in her fluids.”
“Her temperature’s still climbing.”
“We need to get these babies out now.”
“Prep an O.R.!”
“Blood pressure’s rising.”
“One of the infants isn’t doing well.”
Emma’s eyes were fluttering closed and I was doing my best to keep her alert.
“Emma. Sweetheart. You have to keep your eyes on me, okay?” I asked.
“You have to move, Mr. Aaron.”
“I’m not leaving her,” I said.
“We have to get her into surgery. If you don’t move, she’s going to die.”
My head whipped up to the doctor as tears filled my eyes. I dropped my gaze back down to Emma and she was officially out. Unconscious on the hospital bed as monitors beeped wildly around us. I released her hand and watched them roll her out, fighting against the nurses as they held me back.
“Come on,” they said. “You can watch from the viewing window.”
I couldn’t even go in there with her. I had to stand behind double-plated glass and watch Emma’s shivering body being ripped open by a surgeon. One by one, our children were plucked from her womb. One by one, they were handed over to a nurse and cleaned down. Tears streamed down my cheeks as their piggish cries echoed through the glass, but my eyes were on Emma.
Emma and her plummeting stats.
My hand pressed against the glass as the surgeon started yelling something. The monitors were beeping and the nurses in the room were rushing around. They barreled out of the O.R. with three rolling bassinets.
All of them holding our screaming children.
All of them covered in blue.
“Congratulations,” the nurse at my side said. “Looks like you have three new boys.”
But my eyes were on Emma. Her helpless form as paddles were seated onto her chest.
“No, Emma. Come on. No! Emma! Wake up!”
“Mr. Aaron, you have to come with me.”
“Emma! Please! I’m begging you! Breathe!”
“Mr. Aaron!”
The nurse’s voice caught my attention and she ripped me away from the window.
“You have three boys that need you right now. Your fiancé’s in the best of care right now. You have to come with me. Come meet your sons.”
My entire world was collapsing around me and there was nothing I could do about it.
I walked into the NICU and reached down into the first bassinet. My baby boy. With large blue eyes like Emma’s and a wild head of blonde hair. They looked so much like her. From the apple-peaked cheeks all the way down to their dainty hands. I reached my other hand into one of the other bassinets and tickled my son’s stomach, then reached my lips into the last one and kissed his forehead.
Three identical boys.
And Emma was nowhere in sight.