Page 25 of My December Darling

“It sure felt like it for the last two years.”

Guilt sinks its sharp claws into my chest. “Gaby…”

“I can’t stand the thought of you avoiding me again, and I’m worried if you and Luke have a fling or something, then you’ll find another reason to stay away.”

“I’m not going to avoid you.”

“Even if something were to happen between you and Luke?”

I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze. “Nothing is going to happen, but yes, no matter what happens, I promise to stick around.”

She offers me a weak smile. “I’m sorry for freaking out. It’s just that I could feel the connection between you two, and the what-if scenarios freaked me out.”

Even more of a reason to steer clear of Luke.

Gabriela already has enough to worry about without me complicating matters by hooking up with her future husband’s best man, and it’s best I remember that.

I knew I wanted to become a NICU nurse when we visited my aunt in Puerto Rico after she gave birth to my cousin. We had originally planned for a fun trip to spend time with her and our family, but things changed after my aunt’s hellish C-section and my cousin being rushed to the hospital’s NICU floor.

It only took a few visits to the NICU for me to become fascinated by the nurses who were helping keep my baby cousin alive, and by the time he was finally discharged, I fell in love with the idea of saving lives like them. In my eyes, they were heroes, and despite the job’s challenges, I haven’t lost that idealistic view, although it’s been tested plenty of times during the bad days.

Most people assume because I work with babies, I must be the happiest nurse around, but they don’t see the darker side of the job. Managing feeding tubes and respirator devices that support many lives in the unit. Parents breaking down in front of the baby they desperately want to take home, blaming everyone under the sun, including themselves, for medical issues. All the lives I’ve seen snuffed out before they ever had a chance to really live, and the shattering of parents’ hearts as they wanted to die with them.

Unfortunately, today might be one of the worst ones yet. I’m not sure if I’m struggling more because it’s the holidays and I’m more sensitive to all the babies who may never get to make it to their next Christmas, but I find myself needing to take multiple breaks.

“You’ve got to do something.” Debra, a mom I’ve spent the last week getting to know, clings to my snowman-themed scrubs. “There must be something else we can do. If money is an issue, we’ll find a way to get it. Or if we need to take her to another hospital, then let’s coordinate a transfer. We’re willing to do whatever it takes.”

My damn eyes water, betraying me.

“Please.” Her voice cracks.

Debra’s wife tries to pull her off me, but I shake my head and wrap my arms around her.

“I’m so sorry.” I rub her back.

She trembles in my arms. “She’s my baby.”

“And you’re her wonderful mom.” I keep my tears from falling, but my heart weeps for the two mothers standing in front of me.

“Why, God? Why?” She lets go of me before turning to her wife.

Trish, who has been Debra’s rock for the last month that their daughter has spent in the NICU, throws her arms around her wife and pulls her into an embrace. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“This isn’t fair.” Debra clutches on to Trish’s shirt with a tight fist. “It was never supposed to be like this.”

My chest feels like it might cave in on itself. Not wanting the two of them to see me break down, I turn and fiddle with their daughter’s machines before my eyes land on the card at the front of her plastic encapsulated bed.

Sarah Lynn, 3 lbs 4 ounces.

Her moms even brought a one-month-old sign from home and hung it on the front of her bed. It was meant to be used in happy photographs in their home as they created their first memories as a family, but now, it’s a heartbreaking reminder of the life they could have had.

Sarah won’t live to see her second month, no matter how hard her mothers cry or what kind of medical intervention we do to help her.

I brush my hand over the sign. A tear slips out despite my best efforts, and I motion for another nurse to take over for me. She rushes over, whispers a reassuring comment in my ear, and lets me know to take as much time as I need.

With my heart feeling like it might split in two, I exit the NICU and head toward the closest elevators. I don’t care how cold it is or if I have a jacket. Ineedfresh air.

I pass by the shitty coffee machine. For a single moment, the ache in my chest lessens, only to return with a vengeance when I think of Luke finding me acting like this.

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