Page 4 of Certified Pressure 3
The ride felt long even though the hospital wasn’t far. Every red light made me wanna jump out the car and run us there myself. Ka’mari leaned against me, her face buried in my chest, and I just held her, tryin’ to keep her steady. My mind was racin’ with a million thoughts but I forced myself to stay quiet so she wouldn’t hear none of the fear in me.
When we got to the hospital, I was out first, grabbin’ the nurse’s attention before Ka’mari even stepped out. “Say! My fiancé need a wheelchair right now, she can’t feel the baby movin’.”
The nurse’s eyes widened and she rushed off, comin’ back with a wheelchair. I helped Ka’mari sit down, kissed her forehead, and walked right beside her while they pushed her inside.
We was moved into a room fast, and a different doctor came in, introducin’ herself real quick before settin’ up the ultrasound. Ka’mari explained in a shaky voice that she hadn’t felt our son move since early that mornin’. The doctor nodded and said, “Let’s take a look.”
I stood right by Ka’mari’s side, holdin’ her hand again. They smeared more gel on her stomach, and I stared at that monitor like my life depended on it. The screen lit up, and the doctor moved the probe around, but still no sound came. She kept searchin’, her face turnin’ more serious by the second. My heart was poundin’ so loud I swear I could hear it echo in the room.
Then the doctor turned to us, her voice heavy. “I’m so sorry. There’s no heartbeat.”
Ka’mari’s scream ripped through the room before I even had a chance to process what the fuck was said. She broke down, sobbin’ so hard it shook her whole body. I froze, just standin’ there with my mind blank, because the words ain’t make sense. No heartbeat…My son gone…
I couldn’t even cry right then. My hands felt numb, and I just kept starin’ at the monitor like maybe if I looked hard enough my baby boy would come back, and maybe they was wrong. But Ka’mari’s cries dragged me back into reality. She was clutchin’ her stomach, beggin’, “No, no, no, please no.” I grabbed her, holdin’ her tight, kissin’ her hair, whisperin’, “I got you, baby girl. I got you.” Even though I ain’t believe my own words, I had to give her somethin’ to hold onto.
The doctor sat down and explained that Ka’mari would need to deliver. She said they would induce labor because the baby had already passed. My ears was ringin’ while she talked, but I caught enough to know this was the worst nightmare come true. I looked down at Ka’mari. Her face was red, her eyes swollen from cryin’, and she stared back at me like she was lookin’ for a miracle. Neither one of us could believe it.
We had to deliver our son’s dead body.
I rubbed her cheek, kissed her lips slow, and told her, “We gon’ get through this. I don’t know how, but we will. I’m right here with you.” My voice cracked but I ain’t care no more. This was the most pain I ever felt in my life.
The nurse started preppin’ her for induction, movin’ around the room with quiet efficiency. Ka’mari squeezed my hand, beggin’ me not to let go, and I promised her I wouldn’t. I stayed right there, whisperin’ to her, remindin’ her how strong she was, even when I felt broken myself.
Hours stretched out while they got everything set up. Ka’mari cried until she couldn’t no more, her tears dryin’ but her body still shakin’. I wiped her face, stroked her hair, and kept my forehead pressed to hers. I wanted to scream, punch walls, break everything in sight, but I held it in because she needed me calm.
I kept talkin’ to my son even though I knew he couldn’t hear me. I rubbed her belly and whispered, “Kamir, daddy love you forever. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. You was supposed to be my heir, my lil’ prince. I’ll never forget you.”
The weight of it all sat on my chest so heavy I could barely breathe. I wanted to trade places with him, take his spot so he could live, but life ain’t give me that option. I had to stand there helpless while the woman I loved prepared to bring our son into this world only to bury him after.
And that’s when I realized this pain was gon’ stay with me forever. No matter how much money I had, no matter how much power I carried, I couldn’t protect my own blood. That broke me in a way I ain’t even know was possible.
But I couldn’t let Ka’mari see me fall apart. She needed me more than ever, so I held her hand tighter, kissed her again, and told her, “We gon’ walk through this together. You not alone. I’m right here.”
And I meant it with every piece of my soul.
“Okay, Ka’mari. I need you to give us one big push,” the doctor said.
I stood beside Ka’mari, still grippin’ her hand. My palm was sweaty and my fingers locked tight with hers ‘cause I couldn’t let go, not when she was lookin’ at me like I was the only thing holdin’ her together. Her face was wet from tears, her hair stickin’ to her cheeks, and she kept shakin’ her head like she ain’t have it in her to do this.
Her cries hit me in the chest harder than any bullet could. “I can’t… I can’t do this,” she sobbed, her body tremblin’ all over.
“Yes, you can, baby girl,” I told her, tryin’ to sound strong even though my voice was heavy as hell.
My throat burned, my eyes was stingin’, but I had to swallow it all down. “I’m right here. You not by yourself. Just push one time for him. Do it for lil’ man.”
The doctor kept encouragin’ her, the nurses movin’ around quick, everybody focused on bringin’ our son into the world even though we already knew he was gone. That shit was eatin’ me alive. It felt wrong, it felt cruel, but there was no other way but through.
Ka’mari screamed when she tried to push. Her body tensed, her nails diggin’ deep into my skin, and I gritted my teeth ‘cause I couldn’t show no weakness. She needed me to be strong. I bent down close to her ear, kissin’ her temple, whisperin’, “I love you. You got this. Push for me.”
She tried again, cryin’ harder, her face twistin’ in pain. I could see how weak she was, how much it was takin’ out of her, and it was killin’ me to watch. My knees felt weak and my head light like I was ‘bout to pass out, but I kept rubbin’ her arm, squeezin’ her hand, tellin’ her she was the strongest woman I ever knew.
Minutes felt like hours. Her cries filled the room, and my heart poundin’ so hard it felt like it was gon’ bust out my chest. Then finally the doctor’s voice cut through everything. “One more push, Ka’mari. Almost there.”
Ka’mari screamed from the bottom of her soul and gave that last push, and then it was quiet. It wasn’t no cryin’, no wailin’ or sound of life.
The doctor lifted our son and I swear the world stopped movin’. He was so small. His skin was a soft brown that looked like mine when I was a baby. His lips was full like mine, and hislil’ nose was shaped like Ka’mari’s. He looked perfect. He looked like he was just sleepin’, like any second he would open his eyes and reach for me. But he didn’t move…
Ka’mari screamed again, a sound that cut through me different this time. “No! No, please no!” She shook her head as her arms trembled, but when the doctor tried to hand her our son, she couldn’t do it. She turned away, cryin’, her voice breakin’.
