I hold Monica’s hand as the doctor checks her. As I predicted, the baby was taken to the NICU.
“Everything looks good,” the doctor says, smiling down at Monica, and then up at me. “Good job, Dad. You must have some knowledge about how to deliver a baby.”
“Just some EMS training from the Air Force,” I tell him. “Pararescue unit.”
Or maybe not any more, I think.
“Well, you handled everything by the book. You even saved the placenta for us to take a look at. It looks healthy and strong. Now, about the baby…”
Monica and I look up at him, both of our eyes searching his.
“As you know, he was born a bit early, which can cause some complications. At this point, it appears he’s having some slight respiratory problems. His breathing to a bit shallow and slow. We have him hooked up to oxygen and we will continue to monitor him. We expect it to get better, but we can’t predict everything.”
“Okay,” Monica says.
That doesn’t sound so bad.
“He’s also lost some body heat, which isn’t uncommon in premature babies. We have him on a warming blanket but at this point he doesn’t need an incubator. We’ll keep an eye on that. We’ll also be monitoring him for any other possible complications.”
“Such as?” Monica asks.
“There’s a host of possible problems that premature babies can experience, including issues with the brain, heart, gastrointestinal system, blood, metabolism, or immune system, among others.”
Monica gasps, and only then does the doctor add, “But there’s no need to worry about any of that as it hasn’t happened yet. They’re just things we look out for. There are also some long- term problems that result from premature birth, but again, we won’t even get into that until further on down the road if necessary.”
“Can we see him?” Monica asks.
“Yes, but at this point you can’t hold him, except to touch his hands or feet. A parent concierge will be in in a short while to explain the visiting process in the NICU and take you over there to visit him.”
“Okay,” Monica says, looking a bit disappointed, but as if she’s trying to remain brave and calm. “And how can I feed him?”
“We have a pump here if you’d like to supplement him with breastmilk,” the doctor says, and Monica nods. “Right now he’ll probably be bottle fed, and we may have to use some special formula for newborns, but we’ll do what we can to get him breastmilk. Hopefully it’s only for a brief amount of time and once you can hold him, you can breastfeed him. But worst case scenario, by pumping you’ll maintain your supply and you can save it for later, when he can eat it. A lactation consultant will visit you within the next hour or to help you with pumping and storing the milk.”
“Great,” says Monica. “It’s not what I had in mind but at least we can find a way to make it work. Thanks, Doctor.”
She sounds resolute, determined, and I’m proud of her. But as soon as the doctor leaves the room, she looks distressed.
“It sounds so scary!” she says. “Everything is ‘best- case scenario, worst- case scenario, with no real answers! They don’t even know if he’ll be able to have my milk!”
“I know it sounds scary, but usually everything turns out fine,” I tell her. “They just have to cover all bases, and inform you of every possibility.”
“Okay,” she says, and I squeeze her hand.
“So how did you manage to get here?” she says. “I’m sure word might have gotten out that I was pregnant, but no one knew when I would go into labor…”
“I have ESP,” I tell her.
We both manage a small laugh despite the circumstances.
“No. I’ll fill you in on it all later. Right now I just want you to rest and relax. But really, the short story is that I’m on ‘medical leave.’ Due to some… outbursts.”
“PTSD?” she whispers.
“Yeah. But there are no good grounds for it. I can do what I need to do to get back in. Whitney and Riley are going to help. The plan is to get me some treatment without screwing up my military career.”
“That’s good,” she says.
Her tone is a little smug, as if she wants to take credit for the changes, which she rightfully should. But, just to pay her back, I ask, “And what about your military career? Because I did hear some rumors…”
“I’m retiring,” she says.
I look at her in shock, still not really believing it, because it’s so different than the Monica I knew the last time we were together.
“Why the big change?”
“This baby just… changed me,” she says. “I can’t explain it. I want to explore some life goals that don’t involve a substantial likelihood of my plane getting shot down. I’ve enrolled in a Master’s program in the fall, for mechanical engineering.”
“That’s great,” I tell her. “It sounds like you’ve done a lot of… thinking.”
“I have,” she says. “And I want you to know that I was going to tell you. I was actually in the process of doing that— the only way I knew how. It’s just that, the baby came before I could finish!”
I give her a quizzical look, and she says, “Do you have that letter?”
I pull it out of my pocket.
“Sorry it’s a little squished,” I say. “I was kind of in a hurry.”
“Well, it’s yours anyway,” she says. “Go ahead and read it. Sorry I didn’t get to finish it.”
I scan the letter, my eyes moistening for the second time today.
“It’s in code!” I tell her. “Like, a secret language.”
“Of course,” she says. “A language that only music lovers like us would know how to decipher.”
I read it.
“Do you get it?” she says, anxiously.
“Sure I do,” I tell her. “You’re talking about that silly pop song, ‘Baby,” by Justin Bieber featuring Ludacris. And it’s not a horrible song, all things considering.”
“Exactly,” she says, laughing. “And I agree. At least now I know that you would have understood the code.”
“And at least now I know you wanted to tell me this big important news.”
She must see the hurt on my face, because she says, “I’m sorry. I know I should have told you sooner. It was just… complicated.”
“I know it was,” I tell her. “And I’m pretty sure I’ll get over it. I have the rest of our lives together, to work on forgiving for you for this one thing, when there are so many other things you’ve done perfectly. Like carrying our little baby.”
“You helped make him,” she insists.
“I sure did,” I say. “That’s something that both of us did perfectly.”