Page 148 of Tides That Bind

There’s talk about a lack of oxygen.

“Harper,” one of the doctors says. “You’ve got a prolapsed cord.”

I feel Harper shaking through our intertwined fingers.

“What, what does that mean?” I ask, and then there’s someone with a lab coat, another person rushing to the other side of the bed. “Hey.” I get her attention with a stronger voice. “What does that mean?”

Harper must know what it means. She starts taking deep breaths. “I want Nate. I need Nate.”

“We’ll take the baby out now,” the doctor says. “In the operating room. Safest for baby and mom if we do a c-section.”

It takes half a second, but I get it. It’s not a suggestion. It’s more of a command. I look down at Harper who shakes her head like she equally doesn’t understand and I reach out, pushing her sweaty hair off her face. I don’t say anything, because I don’t know what to say, or what to do when a nurse says excuse me and suddenly the bed is moving. We’re separated and I catch just enough of Harper’s pleading eyes before she’s wheeled out of the room.

“Riley!”

I call after the nurse, “Can I…go with her?”

“Not until she’s had a spinal block. Come with me.” Another nurse takes me by the arm and guides me into a room, handing me scrubs and plastic shoes.

“She hates needles,” I tell her. “Can I be with her?”

“I’m sorry. Not right now. But don’t worry. We’ll take care of her. Just get dressed and wait by the door outside.”

I change my clothes so quickly I put the scrub top on backwards. Twice.

In the hallway, I stand, twisting my hands in front of the double doors. They open, but a doctor walks through as he talks on the phone with no interest in me. With the doors open, I hear Harper’s cries.

“Excuse me!” I yell, but when no one answers I step through the doors before they close. “Fuck it.”

“Sir—”

I turn and find the same nurse who got me dressed. “She’s screaming. Can I just calm her down? I don’t…she shouldn’t be screaming like that. Let me just go be with her.”

The nurse takes a deep breath and hands me something to cover my hair and leads me in. Harper is sitting up on the table, folded over a pillow.

“Hey.”

I ignore the stares from the doctors, but I think the anesthesiologist is relieved I’ve come in because Harper at least stops crying.

“You already got one.”

Harper gulps, trying to catch her breath. “Not the big one. Not in my spine.”

“Can I…can I touch her?” I ask the nurse.

When she nods I reach out and Harper leans into me. I’m careful to hold her arms only.

“You’ve got this.”

The smell of the antiseptic kind of makes me nauseous. But I can’t really let her know that or how I close my eyes to avoid looking down as they stick her with a small needle. I grow dizzy but tighten all my muscles to remain upright and keep Harper steady.

“Just some local numbing,” the doctor says. “Another small pinch.”

Harper flinches, but then relaxes. Her breathing against me slows even after the doctor reaches for a larger catheter to stick in her back.

“You’re almost done.”

“Really?” Harper whines.

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