Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
I frantically googled placental abruption on my phone. Before a few minutes ago, I’d never heard of it. How had I not known this was a possibility? The words on the screen knocked the wind out of me.
Life-threatening complications.
Hemorrhage.
Possible death of mother, child, or both.
I had to exit out. I didn’t even want those words in my head right now. Shutting my eyes tightly, I began to pray again. When I’d told Lavinia to do that earlier, I’d had no idea how badly we would need prayers tonight. There were times in this process where I’d thought of Abby losing the baby. But never had I imagined I could lose Abby. And losing both? Incomprehensible.
If anything happened to either of them, I wouldn’t survive it.
God help me.
God help us.
Please.
For the first time, I thought to text Kate and Phil. Shit. They needed to know we were here. Thankfully, they were already in England, staying at the flat they owned here in anticipation of the birth. It would take them a while to get here from London, and it was late. They were probably sleeping.
My hands shook as I typed.
We’re at Reddington Hospital in Westfordshire. Abby had a placental abruption and is having an emergency c-section as we speak. Don’t know anything more. They won’t let me in the OR. Get here as soon as you can.
The door suddenly opened. My heart jumped, and then it nearly leapt out of my chest as a nurse approached, holding a baby—a baby whose arms and legs were moving around, a live baby.
“Your son is here. His vitals are good. We’re taking him back to the recovery room.”
My son.
A son.
As she placed the whimpering infant in my arms, I looked down in a daze. This should have been the most monumental moment of my life. But it felt like I was experiencing it from outside my body. This moment had been hijacked by the dark cloud of fear looming over me.
“What about Abby?” I asked.
The nurse’s expression darkened. “Abby lost a lot of blood. She’s going to need a transfusion. But they’re doing everything they can to stabilize her.”
Looking down into my son’s precious eyes—Britney’s almond-shaped eyes—I began to sob. I’d lost the woman I loved before. It was excruciatingly painful, but I’d had time to prepare. By the end, we knew it was coming, and as awful as it was, we were able to properly say our goodbyes, say everything we needed to say. But this? Losing Abby like this would be crueler than anything I could imagine.
The nurse’s voice barely registered. “Although he likely won’t need to stay there, we’ll be taking the baby down to the NICU as a precaution. Everything checked out fine thus far. I assume you’d like to stay here until you know Mrs. Knickerbocker’s status?”
The words coming out of her mouth sounded muffled.
I felt dizzy. “Uh…”
“Are you alright? Can I get you some water?”
“No, thank you.”
She reached for my son. “I’ll take him down to the NICU now.”
I handed him over. “Thank you.”
Cold swept over me the moment I let him go. I wanted so badly to give my child the attention he deserved as he entered this scary world, but I couldn’t think straight until I knew Abby was going to pull through this.
A couple of people in protective gear brushed past me carrying units of blood. I closed my eyes again and prayed.
Please don’t let anything happen to her.
Please.
It was the most painful wait of my life. Nearly a half an hour had passed, and I’d gotten no additional news. I wanted to burst in there but was too afraid to disrupt things or draw attention away from the task at hand for even a second.
Then the steel door finally opened.
CHAPTER 49
* * *
Sig
Track 49: “There Goes My Life” by Kenny Chesney
The doctor removed her mask. “Abby is stable. She lost a lot of blood, so we had to give her three units.”
“She’s going to be okay?” I asked.
“I’m optimistic that she’s going to be just fine.”
Oxygen returned to my body for the first time since we’d left the inn. What felt like a thousand-ton weight lifted from my chest.
“And we didn’t have to do a hysterectomy,” the doctor added.
Hysterectomy? My chest constricted. “I didn’t realize that was a possibility.”
She nodded. “That’s sometimes necessary with placental abruption. So she’s very lucky. If you’d waited any longer to bring her here, I’m not sure that would have been the case.”
My lip trembled. “Can I see her now?”
“Not in the operatory. But why don’t I take you to recovery? That’s where they’re bringing her.”
“Alright.”
She took me down there, and I paced as I waited. When they finally wheeled Abby in, her eyes were closed.
My beautiful Abby. To think she’d nearly lost the ability to have children—or worse—was unthinkable. But for once, God had answered my prayers, and I was so very grateful.