Page 60 of Written in the Charts

I trusted him. I nodded and he vanished. A polite red-headed nurse helped me change and climb in bed, covering me with monitors and starting an IV. She checked to see that I was fully dilated and rushed out to call the doctor. By the time Evan got to me, I was begging for pain medication but the anesthesiologist was getting the other mother ready for her surgery. I had to wait.

“It hurts so bad,” I cried, clinging to Evan’s arm. He winced now, the tightness of my grip on him a bone crushing sensation, no doubt.

“I know it does, baby. You’re doing so good.” He lavished my forehead in kisses. “Your mom is on the way, okay? She’s coming.”

Derek came in, dressed for surgery. He had a mask on, booties, and gloves. I felt like something was wrong. His brow was furrowed as three nurses entered and began breaking down the bed. Evan looked panicked too. No one was explaining anything, and I was in so much pain I wasn’t even able to comprehend what was happening.

“What’s going on?” Evan left my side long enough to slip a gown on, but it felt like an hour. “What’s happening?” I asked again, catching Derek’s attention.

“We are getting ready to push. Okay? I got in for surgery and we were prepping, but the nurse came and told me you were ready to push, so I’m here.”

“What about the surgery?” I asked, now frantic. Derek guided my feet to the stirrups and pulled a stool up to the foot of my bed. I tried pushing myself up but the pain was too bad. I wanted pain meds.

“No, no,” he cautioned. “Stay here, like this.” He pulled my hips into position and held his hands up. Instantly, there were two new gloves on them, courtesy of a nurse standing behind him. “We’re having a tough time getting your little guy’s heartbeat. I’m the only doc on duty, so I’m here. Okay? I gave you my word that your baby would be fine and I’m seeing to that. The other mother is not in any pain or danger. She’s been in labor for three days with a transverse baby whose heartbeat is strong and steady.”

I nodded, not fully following him but grateful he was there with me. Evan returned to my side just as Derek coached me to start pushing. Each contraction brought with it more coaching, pushing, heaving breathing, screaming. I felt like it went on for hours, the pain and contractions.

“We’re almost there. Evan, you want to see?” Derek pushed the blanket draped over my knees back and Evan peeked between my legs. He was crying, gripping my hand as I pushed.

I almost blacked out from lack of oxygen, and Derek made me take a break for a second. When the contractions were so unbearable I couldn’t stop pushing, He told me to work with them, bearing down as my body forced me to.

Five minutes later, relief came. My body ceased with the torment. My little guy entered the world, screaming and bloody. I collapsed back on the bed, crying and catching my breath. It was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. Evan’s attention was torn, as it would be for the rest of our lives, between the face of our son and a blinding happiness cast in my direction.

“You did it,” he muttered. Tears streaked down his face, and he kissed my head again and again, dashing from my bedside back to the bassinette where the nurses cleaned the baby.

I couldn’t believe it either. It was over, and I could rest. Exhaustion started to kick in, my eyes heavy. Derek talked about something, but I faded in and out of sleep as they worked to clean the bed, me, the room, everything else. I hadn’t realized how messy childbirth was. Just as deep sleep was about to take me, I felt a gentle nudge.

Derek laid a clean, swaddled baby on my chest and grinned. “Congratulations, Mama. He's a perfect, healthy boy. I have to get to the OR now, but before I go, I need to know his name.”

I smiled softly. “Dillon Chance Miller, because Dillon means hope, and the fact that Evan took a chance on me says the rest.”

Derek chuckled, patting my arm. He kissed Dillon on the head and excused himself as Evan took his place at the side of my bed while the nurses put the bed back together. We talked about Dillon’s future, the wedding, which we’d plan for before the holidays, and how his job would affect our living situation. I barely kept my eyes open, but I was happy. I fell asleep with the two men in my life who meant the most to me at my side, and every fear was wiped away.

EXTENDED EPILOGUE

Cameron

New life always brought a wave of hopefulness into any room. To be reminded that life goes on at all times was a good thing for most people. Unfortunately, due to many factors in my line of work, I was also reminded that life was very fragile and could end at any moment. For this moment, however, holding little Dillon Miller in my arms was the only thing that mattered.

“So, you conquered pregnancy, residency, and finals. All you have left is the state board. Do you still need a tutor?” I bounced the sleeping baby and looked up at his mother. Gypsy had slept for nearly twelve hours straight, and at two in the afternoon, I found myself with a bit of time to stop in and see her and her new bundle of joy.

“Yes!” She grinned and glanced at Evan. “As long as it’s okay with him.”

Evan shook his head and his cheeks blushed. She told me about the miscommunication they’d had. I was flattered to think that he was threatened by my place in her life. At forty-two years old, I was hardly a spring chicken.

To think someone as wonderful as Gypsy would look at me twice was nice. I’d been out of the game for more than a decade, deciding that my life and career were better off without the trappings of a relationship. Not that I wasn’t open to the prospect. I just needed the right woman.

“Well, then, we’ll get started when this guy is a few weeks old. Remember, two weeks like a queen.” I passed Dillon to his father, sharing the old adage.

My phone buzzed and I pulled it out, noticing it was Chelsea calling, my new surgical resident. “Guys, I have to take this. It’s my new resident. Gypsy, I’ll call you about the tutoring. Take care of that little guy.” I talked as I walked toward the door, swiping my thumb across the screen to answer the call.

“Dr. Marshal.” I held the phone to my ear as I let myself out of the room and started toward the elevators.

“Um, Dr. Marshal, I think I need your opinion on this before I go into surgery. The patient is being prepped, but I’m looking at her X-rays and I just want a second opinion.” Chelsea was a good student and would probably make an excellent surgeon, but she lacked self-confidence at times.

“I’ll be there in three minutes. You’re in theater three?” The elevator was waiting for me when I pushed the button, lessening my commute down to the surgical ward by at least a full minute.

“Yes, in the R/F room?” The elevator started to descend, and I listened for her reply as static interference from the metal cage I was in messed with the signal.

---