I can’t sit, my legs are trembling so hard I don’t know how I’m still standing, but sitting feels wrong right now.
I pull out my phone and text Clementine.
Me: Lo is in hospital.
Clem: OMG! It’s baby time? Holy shit! I’m coming now.
Me: She’s unconscious. Had no pulse.
Clem: Gabe. That’s not funny.
Me: Can you come, Clem? I need you. She needs you.
Clem: I’m on my way.
I slide my phone into my back pocket and crumple to the ground. My chest constricts painfully, and I can’t breathe. My body’s going through the motions, but I can’t inhale fast enough. I can’t get any air. I hang my head between my knees, and wait for the panic to fade and the dark spots to clear from my vision.
“Mr. Laurier?”
I glance up at a nurse in bright scrubs covered in kittens. The print pops out like one of those Magic Eye things and does fucked-up things to my head. In her arms, she’s cradling a small bundle. A startled cry fills the empty waiting room, and for a half a second, I’m sure it belongs to me, but something in me shifts at that sound.
“Mr. Laurier?”
I shoot to my feet, my head spinning as all of the blood rushes to my extremities. “Yeah.”
“Would you like to hold your son?”
A cry escapes me, not unlike the one my kid made just a moment ago. “My son?”
“He’s a perfectly healthy baby boy with ten fingers and toes.”
“Oh my god. And Lo?”
“She’s still in the OR.”
“W-what happened? Is she okay? She’s gonna be okay, right?”
She gives me a tight smile and proffers the kid like it’ll console me and stop me from asking about the welfare of my wife. She thrusts the baby into my arms, and I glance down at the tiniest and most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.
We made this. Freckles and I made him, she grew him and sheltered him in her womb even though it could have killed her, and she can’t even be here to see that all her hard work and pain was worth it. As I stare down at his little button nose and shock of blond hair, and the frown on his little baby face, I know I’d give my life for him a million times over, but I’m just not sure I’d give hers.
I can’t do this without her.
I never wanted kids. And once I knew this pregnancy could’ve killed her, I wanted it gone. Now I know I’ll never do anything more worthwhile in my life than helping this little being come into existence. But I’d do everything differently if I was given the choice. I never should have stayed late at work. She may never recover because I wasn’t there.
“Look at that,” the nurse says, tucking the blankets away from the kid’s face. “You’re a natural, Daddy.”
“What about my wife? When can we see her?”
“We’ll let you know as soon as the surgeons give the green light.”
“Surgeons? As in plural?”
A woman’s voice filters out across the intercom. “Code blue to maternity.”
The nurse’s demeanor changes in an instant. Her back is ramrod straight as she ushers me into a chair. “I have to go, but I’ll let you visit with him for a moment. When you’re feeling up to it, we’ll move him back to maternity and place him in the humidicrib.”
“Why does he need that?”