Page 82 of 5+Us Makes Seven

I pushed back from my seat and grabbed my briefcase in the corner.

“Listen to me. Where are the kids?” I asked.

“Um… they’re still. At school. I mean, I have to pick up Clara soon-”

“Here’s what I need you to do. Pick up the home phone and call an ambulance. I’ve got our hospital bags in the SUV with me. Stay with Natasha until the ambulance gets there, and tell her she needs to go to UCSF Medical Center.”

“UCSF. Got it,” she said.

“Keep the kids on their schedule. I’ll keep in touch with you. Can you stay overnight with the kids?”

“Yes. I’ll be here.”

“Good. I’ll pay you the overtime. I’m headed out of the office right now. Have you called an ambulance?”

“On the phone with 911 now,” Isabelle said.

“Great. Stay on the phone with them until they get there. I’m calling Dr. Bernhardt now.”

My heart was racing as I locked my office. People were cheering me out of the office, congratulating me and patting me on the back. But this wasn’t my first rodeo. I was well aware of the complications that could arise during a delivery like this. One child was hard enough on a woman’s body, but two?

That was double the chances of something happening to Natasha during delivery.

I called Dr. Bernhardt and told him what was going on. He said he was going to meet me as the hospital, and hopefully Natasha wouldn’t be too far behind. I pulled up and skidded into a parking space before I grabbed our hospital bags, then I saw an ambulance pull into the bay.

And out came Natasha, crying and calling out my name.

“Where’s Carter!? Someone’s gotta call the father of my kids. Has someone called Carter Marshall!?”

“I’m here! Natasha. I’m right here.”

“Carter! Carter! It hurts. This… this really hurts.”

“I know,” I said as I kissed her forehead. “I know it does. Just hang on. Dr. Bernhardt-”

“Is right here,” he said.

“Thank fuck,” I said breathlessly.

“Natasha, can you hear me?”

“Yes, yes I can,” she said.

“Good. Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to get you into a premier room all to yourself, then we’re going to hook you up to an I.V. I’m going to check to see how much you’re dilated, then we can start talking medication if you want it,” the doctor said.

“Drug. Me. Up,” Natasha said with a growl.

“Duly noted,” I said. “Doc. Where are we going?”

“Through here. Follow me.”

Natasha was laid onto a bed and a very talented nurse set her I.V. as we were moving towards the elevator. It carried us up to one of the upper floors of the hospital, then spit us out into a long hallway. We were moving fast and Natasha was deep breathing and my heart was falling to my stomach. She was already sweating up a storm and her knees were curling to her stomach and Dr. Bernhardt looked very concerned.

“Give me a second, Natasha. Don’t do what I think you’re about to do,” he said.

“What? What’s going on?” I asked.

“Hold on… let me check…”

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