I enter the room slowly. I shouldn’t be in here, but I also couldn’t stay away. I had to make sure she was okay. The room is warm and quiet aside from a few machines beeping here and there. The nurse scoops up the baby with ease and walks towards me. She hands me the baby before turning to check on another one.
I stare down at the fragile, innocent miracle cradled in my arms. My vision blurs as a surge of love and protectiveness floods me. I bring her up closer to me and gently place a kiss on her head, covered with a little pink hat. “Your mommy is going to be okay. I promise,” I whisper against her head.
Moving to the rocking chair in the corner of the room, I settle in with the baby, and rock her while she sleeps. I’m unable to take my eyes off her the whole time.
When the nurse returns for the baby’s feeding, I reluctantly hand her off. I know I must face the reality that awaits on the second floor.
Stepping inside Emma’s room, the sight overwhelms me. Emma is intertwined with a web of machines. Her frail body is being supported by a ventilator. Seeing her like this is devastating. The rhythmic beeping of the machines is a constant reminder of how fragile life is.
I slide a chair over to the side of her bed, and sit with her in the silence. Hesitantly I take her hands in mine and rest my forehead on her thigh. Feeling the weight of everything I’ve been holding inside, I can’t stop the sob that escapes me. I tighten my hold on her hands and let out all the pain and sadness.
———
The day passes by painfully slow. I stay by Emma’s side, refusing to leave her all alone. As night falls, a nurse brings me a pillow and blanket and says I can stay overnight. I don’t have tothink twice about it. Emma always hated being alone, I won’t let her feel that ever again.
I settle in the chair by the window, which barely reclines, and sigh. I never imagined things could turn out like this. I turn my head toward Emma, afraid to take my eyes off of her in case she wakes up. Eventually, exhaustion takes over, and I let the sounds of the machines lull me to sleep.
Chapter 30
Noah
The next day I remain by Emma’s side again. Marcus drops off a bag of clothes and toiletries for me, but doesn’t stay due to the ICU’s strict one-visitor policy. Marcus knew better than to ask me to give up my spot next to her for him.
The doctor comes and goes throughout the day, but Emma’s condition doesn’t change. After several hours of waiting anxiously, a nurse finally convinces me to leave in order to stretch my legs and get fresh air. I decide to also stop by the cafeteria for a hot meal before visiting the nursery again.
Stepping inside the warm room, I immediately spot a nurse holding the baby. “Hey dad,” she greets me with a smile. “It’s lunch time for this little girl, would you like to feed her?”
“Oh. Sure,” I respond, my voice barely above a whisper as I take the baby from her outstretched arms. I still can’t bring myself to correct them.
Settling back into the rocking chair, the nurse hands me a bottle and tucks a towel under the baby’s chin.
“Just keep her slightly propped up while she eats, it helps with the spit-up,” she instructs. “After she drinks one ounce, burp her and then see if she wants to eat more. If you need anything, just press this call button. I’ll be down the hall.”
“Thank you,” is all I can manage to say. Looking around the room, I notice the other infants are gone. Assuming they are all with their mothers, my heart fractures a little more. Life is unfair and cruel. She should be snuggled in her mother’s arms too. She’s brand new to this world and already so alone.
I do as the nurse instructs—feed the baby one ounce, burp her, then she eats another half ounce. The entire time I can’t tear my gaze away from her perfect little features. Her tiny hand wraps around my pinky, her pouty little lips, and the smallest button nose I’ve ever seen. Nothing could be more beautiful than this tiny being who has captured my heart already.
I spend the rest of the day in the nursery until another nurse practically kicks me out. The thought of leaving her all alone when she has no one else rips my heart into shreds. Emma wouldn’t want her to be alone, which is why I decide to sleep on the chairs in the hallway, just outside the nursery. My heart is being torn in half between the second and third floor and it’s hard to choose between the two. But I know Emma would want me to stay with the baby.
The next morning I awaken to the familiar bustle of doctors and nurses during their routine shift change. The nurse that has been with the baby since day one returns to the nursery.
“Good morning, dad!” she chirps as she checks on the other infants.
“Good morning,” I manage to reply, offering a fake smile.
“Today is the day! I’m sure you’re so ready,” she says, scooping up a fussy baby from the cradle and begins feeding him.
“What’s happening today?” I ask, confused. It may be because of the severe sleep deprivation, but I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Baby girl gets to go home today! Have you picked a name yet?” She continues feeding the baby in her arms, completely unaware of the panic bubbling up inside of me. I glance down at the baby in my arms—a child I have absolutely no legal claim to. Dread fills my stomach as I contemplate what will happen to her when they find out I’m not her father and that she has no other family besides Emma.
“Are you sure? I don’t think she’s ready,” I blurt out in desperation.
“She’s absolutely ready, dad. Her weight looks great, she passed her hearing test—there’s no reason for her to stay any longer!” She looks up at me with a reassuring smile. “Awww, don’t be so nervous. You will do just fine. It’s completely normal for first time parents to be scared.” She continues to reassure I’ll be a great dad. But she has no idea what I’m really worried about.
Would a baby go into Child Protective Service’s care in a situation like this? Would I be forced to call her father’s parents to take her home? They live in another state, I can’t let them take her that far away from Emma. I refuse to let that happen.
“Is there really no way to keep her here a little longer?” I ask, my voice strained with worry. The idea of facing any legal avenues, potential custody battles, or distance feels overwhelming.