Ty’s hand squeezes mine. “What?”
“She’s not moving. She’s normally so active this time of day and she’s not moving.” My voice rises in pitch, and my chest feels heavy as hysteria starts to slither under my skin.
Before he can respond, the doctor walks in. “Hey Lexi, I’m Dr. Price. Let’s see what’s going on, okay?”
The nurse wheels in an ultrasound machine, and Dr. Price squirts some warm gel on my belly and then focuses intently on the screen. The only sound in the room is the faint hum of the machine, until she puts the transducer down and faces me.
“Okay, Lexi, I want you to take a deep breath for me real quick because I can see you’re panicked, and I need you to bring your stress down for the baby.”
I nod my head like I’m some kind of bobblehead doll, but I’m hyperaware of what she hasn’t said yet. “Is she okay?”
“Her heart has slowed and she’s in distress. Did you have any kind of impact on your stomach at all?”
I shake my head profusely. She puts her hand on my arm. “I only ask because it appears you have a placental abruption which is usually caused by some form of trauma to the stomach, but not always. We’re going to get you prepped for an emergency C-section and get baby girl out of there for her safety and yours.”
“But it’s too early. I’m only thirty-four weeks.”
“I want you to take a breath for me, Lexi.” She inhales, gesturing for me to mimic her, and I do, trying to slow my racing heart. As the panic lingers, I realize we’re wasting precious time.
“Please save her,” I plead. “Do whatever it takes.”
“They’re prepping an OR right now. Thirty-four weeks is a little early, but most of her development is done. Once she’s out we’ll assess her and see if she needs any steroids to help out her lungs, but right now the most important thing is getting her out and stopping the bleeding, okay?”
I nod, tears still streaming. I’ve lost a lot in my life, but nothing scares me more than the thought of losing my daughter before I’ve really had her. Before I get to see her smile or laugh or hold her in my arms.
It’s a flurry of movement as nurses come into the room, prepping me. One tries to push Ty into the bathroom to change into some scrubs.
“I’m not leaving her for a second. I’ll change right here if I have to, but I’m not letting go of her hand.”
“It’s okay, Ty. Go get changed. I know you want to be in there when she’s out.”
He bends over, resting his forehead on mine, his eyes searching mine like he’s hunting for something. I’m confused and overwhelmed by the pleading and longing in his gaze.
“I’m going in there for you. Withyou. I’m not leaving you, Lexi. Not now, not ever.”
Tears fill my eyes. This is not the time for this.
He grips my face, refusing to let me break our connection. “I love you,” he says, his voice begging me to believe him.
My heart wants to—God, does it want to.“Now’s not the time,” I whisper.
“You’re wrong about that, Precious. You’re at risk here, too, not just our daughter, and like hell will I let you be wheeled in there thinking losing you won’t rip me apart. I won’t lose you. I wouldn’t survive it.”
“Mr. Russell,” one of the nurses interjects, urgency filling her tone. “We really need you to get changed if you’re going in there.”
Without looking away from me, he tells the nurse, “Hold one side and help me put these on over my street clothes. I’m not letting go of her hand. I’m not letting her go,” he repeats, but the second time I know it’s for me, not the nurse.
I think all the women in the room swoon.
But they don’t argue with him. They just work around him holding my hand. Once he’s in scrubs, they wheel me to the operating room, and the whole time, Ty never lets go of my hand.
Throughout the entire procedure, he’s there, always touching me in some way.
And then the most beautiful sound pierces the air. Our daughter’s cries are loud and strong, and tears leak down the sides of my face as the doctors hold her up for us to see.
Ty kisses my forehead, his own eyes bright with tears. “God, she’s perfect, Lexi. I love you so much. I’m so proud of you, and grateful for you.”
I close my eyes, crying as his words find weak links in my armor. My hormones are all over the place, and I can’t make heads or tails of anything except the way he makes me feel in this moment.