The smells that greet me have me salivating after a long day at work. “Baby, I’m home!”

Surprisingly, no response greets me. Assuming Andy must be in the back, I set my satchel on the chair in the den then head to the bedroom.

“Baby?” The room is empty and the bathroom light is off. Maybe he just didn’t hear me in the kitchen. I move back through the hall and toward the kitchen. The scene that greets me couldn’t be any closer to a horror movie if I’d tried to imagine one.

Andy is laying on the floor in a pool of liquid that appears to be watery blood. I’m not sure what’s in the oven, but the scent from earlier now smells burnt. I flip off the oven and kneel on the floor, trying to wake Andy.

“Andy? Baby?” I check his neck for a pulse, which is faint but there. Oh, god. What’s happened. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I quickly dial 9-1-1.

“9-1-1. What is your emergency?”

“Please, I need help. My mate is passed out on the floor in a pool of blood.”

“Sir, what is your name and address?”

I rattle it off quickly before adding. “He’s pregnant. God, I hope he’s still pregnant.”

“Sir.” The female voice on the phone remains calm but that does nothing to settle my nerves. “I need you to tell me if he’s breathing.”

“Yes, he is. What do I do? There’s so much blood.”

“We’ve dispatched an emergency crew to your location. You said he’s pregnant?”

“Yes.”

“How far along is he?”

I’m trying to think, but everything is hazy as I try to focus on Andy. “Seven months.”

“Okay, I want you to take a look between his thighs and tell me what you see.”

I pull gently at the shorts Andy’s wearing, grateful he isn’t wearing anything more difficult to remove. “Oh, god… I think I can see the baby’s head.”

“That’s okay. We’ve got help on the way. But I need you to help me, okay, Jude? Can you help me?”

“Yes. I… I hope so.”

“I need you to lay him on his back so that you can get to the baby’s head.”

Turning Andy from his side to his back, I spread his legs apart. I grab a towel hanging from the oven door and throw it over the fluids between his legs. “I’ve got him on his back.”

“Great. That’s good, Jude. Now I want you to slip your fingers inside and feel around the baby’s neck. We want to make sure the umbilical cord isn’t wrapped around the throat.”

“How can I… The baby’s head… I can only see the top.”

“Jude. I need you to reach into his opening and feel around the baby. Put the phone on speaker and set it where you can hear me, okay?”

I do as she asks, hitting the speaker button on my phone and setting it on the counter near my head. Moving gingerly, I move my fingertips past the baby’s head and into Andy. Feeling around the throat is surreal, and thankfully, nothing feels as if it’s obstructing the neck. “I don’t feel anything.”

“That’s good. Okay, Jude, we’re going to get the baby free of your mate.”

“But it’s not time. It’s too soon.”

“Jude, we’ve got to help your mate. What’s his name?”

“Andy… He’s my Andy.”

“Responders are just a few minutes out. But we need to get the baby out of Andy. It’s going to be in distress and getting the baby out will help the strain on Andy’s body as well.”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“Jude, you can. I know you can. We are going to move quickly okay. Since Andy’s unconscious, we have to do the work for him.”

“Okay… What do I do?”

“Carefully, you need to start loosening the opening and gently try to extract the baby from the birthing canal.”

Trying to follow her instructions, I place my hands around the baby’s shoulders, careful not to put undue stress on the head or throat. Shockingly, the baby begins to emerge. I pull it out slowly, scared that I’ll be too rough and injure it further. But the baby comes out gently in my arms. “I’ve got it. But it’s not crying.”

“Good job, Jude. Now, stick your finger in the baby’s mouth and make sure nothing is obstructing the airway.

I pull some muck out and within seconds, my baby begins to wail in my arms. It’s the greatest sound I’ve ever heard.

“Hang in there, Andy,” I say over to his unconscious form. I pull off my own shirt and wrap my baby boy in it just as a knock sounds on the front door. “Help! I’m in here.”

I hear the click of the door as several footsteps make their way toward me. “Hello?”

“Please, I’m in the kitchen. I need help.” Two seconds later, a group of men and women step into the kitchen. A female first responder moves in next to me.

“You did great, Dad.” She pulls the baby from my arms and lays him on the table, doing a quick inventory of his body and heartrate. “He looks perfect, but we’ll take him in for an exam just to be sure.”

Two men are next to Andy. “I have a heartbeat,” one of the men say aloud. “Let’s get him on a gurney.” He presses a button on the radio attached at his shoulder. “Bring up a gurney.”

It’s not long before another set of responders come in with a rolling gurney. They lower it to the ground and the four surrounding Andy lift him up and place him on the bed. Then, lifting it up, they begin rolling him toward the front door. The woman holding my son follows behind the gurney. I grab my phone and run into the den after them, grabbing my keys.

I follow my family into the awaiting ambulance and hop inside just as they close the doors and speed toward the emergency room. My heart is beating faster than I can ever remember it beating before. When we pull up to the emergency room entrance, a flood of doctors and nurses greet us as they take over for the EMTs as the responders run down the situation.

A nurse grabs my arm. “Are you the father?”

“Yes.”

“Please come with me. We need some information.” She pulls me inside the hospital and to a customer service desk where a young man hands me a clipboard with papers attached.

“Can I get you to complete these for me?”

I nod almost as if in a trance and take the papers from him. “You can have a seat over there. Just let me know when you’re finished.” He points toward a large waiting are where several people are already grouped around. Some look as though they are in pain while others are crying, obviously distraught by whatever situation they or a family member, or heck even friend for that matter are going through.

I take a seat and try to focus on the papers in front of me. Taking the pen in my hand, I try to fill in the empty lines. It’s not until I see the dried blood that covers my hands that the emotional toll on my body and soul floods over me and I begin to weep. Weep at the thought of losing my mate. Weep at the prospect of raising our beautiful baby alone. Weep at the loss of a life I’ve come to love.

Unsure of what to do, I think of the one thing that can help. I pull out my phone and text Matt, letting him know what’s happened at that we are at the ER. Not a minute passes before he responds. On my way.

Thank god for him, because I don’t know if I can do this without someone at my side. I’m supposed to be the big, strong alpha that takes care of my own, but without Andy at my side, I’m nothing. I’m at a loss as to how to function without knowing he’s going to be okay.

When Matt arrives, he pulls me into a hug. “I’m so sorry that this is happening. Do you know anything yet?”

I shake my head, tears streaming down my face. “I can’t even fill out this,” I say, showing him the clipboard full of papers.

“We can get it done. Don’t worry.” Matt takes the stack from me and helps me work through the information I know. When we finish, he takes the information to the man at the desk. He comes back shortly and sits next to me.

“The guy at the desk said he doesn’t know anything, but the doctors will come out when they have some information.”

“Thank you.” I know my voice sounds weak, but Matt simply nods.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Time ticks by slowly as we wait to hear something…anything. But nothing comes. My heart is in my throat, constricting it tighter each second that passes without hearing what’s going on with my mate and my baby.

I’m not sure how much time has actually passed when I hear my name. “Mr. Taylor.”

Jumping up from my seat, I step over to the woman who has called my name. “I’m Jude Taylor.”

“Mr. Taylor, I’m Gwen Stevens, the prenatal doctor who was helping with your son.”

“Is he okay?” Tears threaten to spill again as I await the outcome of our child.

“He’s stable right now, but I hate to say we have a long road ahead of us. He’s about twenty-four weeks right now, which is extremely premature. We have him in an incubator and will maintain a close eye on his vitals. The next several weeks will be vital.”

“Thank you.” Joy overwhelms me that he didn’t die…that what I tried to do didn’t cause further injury.

“You’re welcome. But prepare yourself. We aren’t out of the woods yet.”

Matt places an arm around my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Any word on Andy?” he asks.

“I’ll find someone on his detail to come and give you an update.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Matt says. He guides me back to our chairs and we sit.

Another hour passes before my name is called again. This time, from a gentleman. I look up and raise a hand. “That’s me.” I try to stand, but the man waves a hand.

“No, please. Stay seated.”

This can’t be good.

“I’m Dr. Marks, one of the surgeons assisting on Andy’s case. I’m sorry you’ve had to wait out here for so long without any news.”

My stomach sinks again as I prepare for the worst.

“Andy suffered from preeclampsia. We also found bruising on his back and side, which we believe occurred during his fall.”

“Is the preeclampsia what’s taking so long to fix?”

“Unfortunately, when Andy fell, he ruptured his spleen. We had to go in and do emergency surgery. He had lost a lot of blood. You’re lucky you called for help when you did.”

“But he’ll be alright?” Matt is able to ask the questions that I can’t seem to formulate with the barrage of information coming at me. “When can Jude see him?”

“He should be just fine. We’ve replenished his blood supply and the other surgeons are closing him now. He’ll need an hour or so of recovery before we move him to a room.”

“Thank you,” I say. Matt moves with me back to the chairs we’ve occupied for the past several hours as the doctor walks away. A few minutes later, a voice calls out to us again.

“Mr. Taylor?” A young female nurse stands in front of the waiting area. Matt and I stand, walking toward her. “Hi. I’m Shayna. How would you like to see your son?”

My eyes must light up because she smiles and motions for us to follow her. We walk through what seems to be a thousand hallways, turning corners here and there and taking an elevator to the fifth floor before finally landing in front of a large doorway. Shayna swipes her badge across a panel next to the door and a large click sounds as the door swings open.

We follow her into another waiting area where she turns toward us. “If you’ll each put on a gown over your clothes and gloves, I’ll take you to the neonatal unit.” She points toward packs of sterile gloves and gowns in the corner of the room.

Matt and I react quickly, each putting on the required garments. Then, we follow Shayna through another set of double doors and into a dimly lit room full of enclosed baby beds. She steps over to one with the name Taylor on a small index card in the corner. Fresh tears come to my eyes as I look beyond the plastic enclosure at the tiny baby sleeping. He’s so tiny that I can see his ribs stretching his skin as he breaths.

But he’s ours. Mine and Andy’s. Our baby to love.