Page 3 of What We Broke

“Okay, Zara. Leo and Jesse.” Dr. Wong, our obstetrician breezes through the room, her voice reaching us before she does. She glances between the three of us and then keeps her eyes on Zara, who is noticeably in pain. “I’m glad you’re all here. Zara, as I already told you, you’re fully dilated and you mentioned pressure building, so we’re going to reduce the amount and strength of your epidural and get ready to start pushing.”

The doctor’s voice softens as she adds, “I know this is not an ideal situation. So, please take the time to ask any questions or request any clarification. I will do my very best to make this as seamless as possible for the three of you.”

“We appreciate that,” Jesse answers.

“Now, do you both want to stand on either side of Zara?” It was less of a question and more of a statement. Because why wouldn’t we? It had been the three of us from the very beginning, with a tighter bond than most.

I feel Jesse release his hold on me and I just stand there.

As he settles beside Zara, he looks up at me, expectantly. “What are you doing?”

“I want to be here,” I state.

Confusion mars his face. “Zara needs us.”

I shake my head just as Zara interjects, one hand cupping the bottom of her stomach and the other on Jesse’s forearm. “Leave him. Let him do what he wants.”

“Okay,” Dr. Wong says. “It’s time.”

Focused on nothing else but what is coming, I’m rooted to the spot, and it has nothing to do with Zara and everything to do with an innate need to watch our daughter as she enters this world.

I want to be there every step of the way.

I want her to feel the same love we had for her when she was inside Zara’s stomach, on the outside.

“I’m staying here,” I say more forcefully.

This time nobody argues, but Jesse’s gaze finally eases in understanding. Dr. Wong begins to settle herself between Zara’s widened legs, and two labor and delivery nurses enter the room and begin to fuss over Zara, checking her blood pressure, timing contractions, and giving her instructions.

And I feel a part of me almost dissociate.

Voices sound like I’m underwater, and everything around me moves in slow motion, but I can acknowledge that time itself is moving forward.

Because I notice the shift in the room and see the change in Jesse and Zara.

Deep breaths. Long breaths. Pained breaths.

Exhaustion and sorrow behind every single push.

“She’s coming.” Dr. Wong’s words seem to find me through my mental fog. “Just a few more pushes.”

“I can’t,” Zara cries.

“You can,” Jesse assures her. “You’re doing amazing.”

A final guttural sob leaves Zara’s mouth, and my chest recognizes the pain as I watch Dr. Wong slide the small, delicate body from Zara’s.

Reverently, she places our baby in the blanketed arms of one of the nurses, who walks her to me, caution in every step.

The tears fall, or maybe they never really stopped.

I hold my arms out, ready to cradle our bittersweet baby. She weighs no more than two and a half pounds, but the weight of our loss will crush me always.

“Hey there, sweet girl,” I whisper. “Papa’s got you.”

I touch her small tuft of light-brown hair and circle the pad of my thumb over her soft cheek.

Bringing her closer to my face, I gently press my lips to the top of her head and inhale the scent of her.

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