Page 142 of What if It's Us

She is furious at the world and alive and I love her instantly, completely and desperately.

“Baby B, 3:16 P.M.,” the nurse says before she begins to towel her off. The nurse holds her up to the side so Marlee can see her, and for a second Marlee’s grip goes slack. I panic until I see it’s just exhaustion, everything loose in her face except the shine in her eyes, locked on me. I bring my lips to her forehead and kiss her tenderly, my own tears dripping down my cheek.

“You’re almost done, babe. You’re fucking crushing it. They’re so beautiful.”

“One more to go,” she whispers. “Your son.”

I choke on a sob the moment she says, ‘your son’ because holy fucking shit this is it. Two babies are here, safe and warm.

My princesses.

And now my son is about to make his entrance into the world as if he was the one protecting his sisters inside their mother’s womb this entire time.

My little hero knows how to protect his family already.

My hero of a son is about to show up his dad.

They say things go fast, but this is outside of time. Baby C takes his damn time making his entrance. Apparently, he doesn’t want to let go. I almost laugh at the notion, until the mood shifts through the OR and the room tightens around us. Voices lowerand become hushed murmurs instead of excited declarations and then suddenly there’s talk of cord entanglement and excess blood loss.”

Again, I don’t know what it all means but it doesn’t sound good.

Are they scared?

Fuck.

What’s going on?

“Ledge? What’s happening?” Marlee’s face twists and when I look down she looks weaker. Every part of me wants to lift her up off this table and take her out of this place, run with her as far away as I can get. Away from these people with their busy, bloody hands. Away from the bleeping machines. Away from the anxiety and the crushing fear and to a place where we can be calm.

Happy.

At peace.

Silently I curse her body, curse myself for what I did to it and for every time I put hope in it. I curse the universe for asking it to bring my family safely into existence.

There’s movement on the other side of the curtain and then the doctor has him.

My son. Baby C. The smallest of the three, blue and still for a breathless eternity.

No.

Please, God. No.

No, no, no.

Don’t do this.

I want to scream, but my breath is frozen. I want to sob but every piece of my body has stopped working. I want to die.

Take me.

I’ll take his place.

I’ll do it!

I’ll do anything!

Fuck, I want to kill someone. I want to crawl into the hole that’s just opened in the universe. Anything to pull the precious cry of my son from his lungs.

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