Page 29 of Wistful Whispers

My whole body aches from the swim and I’m freezing. The scratchy blanket around my shoulders is doing nothing for the chills, especially the one that’s taken root somewhere deep in my chest. It’s like my heart’s clenched up and I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or from sheer panic at seeing Hannah like this.

I look at her, her face pale, wet hair sticking to her forehead, eyes wide as she clutches her belly. She’s breathing heavily with little gasps and moans escaping every so often and I can tell she’s in pain. Real pain. We weren’t supposed to meet our baby today—it's far too early. Everything feels muddled like my head's underwater again, only this time there’s no lake around us.

A young nurse with short dark hair and a serious face hovers by the bed and wraps a warm, blanket around Hannah’s shoulders. “You’re in good hands Hannah. Just keep breathing, yeah?” she says in that gentle tone they have here, one I’m clinging to like a lifeline. “Baby’s a bit early, probably the shock that caused baby to get a move on, but we’re prepared for this. Doctor is on her way.”

Hannah’s face scrunches up as another contraction hits, and I wince as she squeezes my hand like she’s trying to break it but I can’t help her. All I can do is stand here holding on to her while the doctor rushes in with her gloves on, ready to take charge.

“I take it we’ve got a premature birth happening here,” the doctor says, her voice calm but brisk as she takes stock of Hannah’s condition. “Hannah, you’ve done brilliantly so far. You and baby are just a bit chilly, so we’ll keep you warm and we’re going to get this little one out safely. Jake, you doing alright there?”

I can’t do much more than nod.

The doctor studies me. “The nurse will bring you something to wear. You should put that on to warm up a little. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Hannah,” she tries to reassure me whilst a nurse guides me away from the bed and hands me a grey tracksuit.

I step into a small bathroom next door and take off my damp boxers before putting on the grey outfit. My eyes land on myself in the mirror. I look like the shadow of myself with dark circles under my eyes and a sickly white complexion. I’m tired and for the tiniest amount of time I am tempted to just curl up somewhere and sleep, but then I remember my two girls next door fighting on and all tiredness is forgotten.

“Hannah, I need you to listen to me now. You’re doing fantastically. Just keep breathing. I know it’s tough but we’ll take this slow and steady. When you feel the urge, push, alright?” the doctor asks just as I step back into the delivery room.

Hannah’s nodding through gritted teeth and her face is tense. I stroke her hand, wipe her forehead, and try to think of something—anything—to say that’ll help her through this. But every word feels flat and hollow.

She lets out a sharp cry and her whole body clenches. I’m not sure I can breathe myself. She’s squeezing my hand so tightly that I feel like my bones might crack, but I welcome the pain—anything to make this real, to keep me grounded.

The midwife is watching the monitor and nodding, “You’re doing great Hannah, keep it up.” She checks the heart monitor and I watch as her expression relaxes a little, which helps me breathe again.

Then suddenly the doctor says, “Alright, Hannah, big push now!”

Hannah takes a deep breath and bears down, letting out a sound that rips through me. I don’t know where she’s finding the strength after everything she’s been through but she’s like a machine. I just want to take all this pain away from her, I’d do anything to make this easier. But all I can do is murmur words, ones I don’t even know if she can hear. “You’re amazing, you’ve got this. Just a little more.”

There’s a strange, strained silence, punctuated by Hannah’s laboured breaths and then—finally—there’s a high-pitched wail, thin and tinny but fierce. Our baby, our princess.

The doctor lifts this tiny, wrinkled little thing who’s already flailing her arms. They whisk the baby over to the side where a team is ready to do their checks. My heart’s pounding in my chest as I stare at Hannah’s face, searching her expression to see if she’s okay.

Hannah’s looking towards the baby with a soft look in her eyes, and I lean over to press a shaky kiss to her forehead. She gives me a weary smile though her eyes are full of questions, of worry. The baby’s so small—too small. I don’t know what’s going to happen and it makes my stomach twist.

Then I hear one of the nurses saying, “She’s doing fine,” and I feel a rush of relief. “Your little girl is a fighter just like her mama but we’ll need to monitor her for a while. She’ll be going to the neonatal intensive care unit, the NICU, just for some extra care.”

“Did you hear that?” I whisper to Hannah, and she nods, her eyes swimming with tears. “Our princess.” The little energy she has left seems to disappear at this moment and she sinks back onto the bed. A nurse is checking her blood pressure but it seems to be just exhaustion.

The midwife brings our princess over wrapped in what looks like a thousand blankets, just her tiny red face peeking out. She places her on Hannah's chest. Hanny-bee is too weak at the moment to hold her but she gives the tiny baby a little smile.

"Jake's turn," she whispers and the midwife nods. I reach out a hand, hesitant, barely breathing, and the midwife carefully places our princess in my arms for just a moment. Her skin is soft and almost translucent. Her eyes are squeezed shut and she’s still whimpering with a faint, high-pitched sound. I feel something inside me breaking and healing all at once.

Then the midwife carefully takes her, explaining she’ll be settled into the NICU and that we can see her as soon as she’s ready. “She’s doing great, all things considered,” she says with a reassuring smile. “But we’ll make sure she’s stable and warm then you can join her.”

I nod and swallow the lump in my throat. I glance back at Hannah, who’s watching my every move, her face exhausted butso full of love. I squeeze her hand. “You did it, Hanny-bee. You’re incredible.”

She smiles weakly and I see the tension in her shoulders ease a little. “I just want to hold her,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah she’s okay,” I murmur, brushing her damp hair from her face. “She’s in good hands and they’ll let us see her as soon as she’s settled. They just need to keep her warm, you know?”

She nods, closing her eyes, her chest rising and falling slowly now as she finally allows herself to relax. Watching her, I feel a bit calmer, like the weight I’ve been dragging around isn’t quite as heavy anymore. We made it through. I don’t want to think what comes next with Grant. For now, I just want to revel that we made it through it all, we’re together, and our little girl is alright. I allow myself that moment of happiness.

Chapter 15

Hannah

After the midwife andnurses have cleaned me up, they roll a bed for Jake into the room and encourage us both to get some rest. I didn't think I could fall asleep, but eventually, I must have, because the next time I open my eyes, Jake is sitting on a chair next to my bed.

"How long was I asleep?" I ask.

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