Chapter 11
Pushing the bathroom door open, I found Annie holding herself up against the sink, her pants around her ankles, little basin for her toothbrush and paste scattered on the floor. The toilet was full of blood. When I put my arm around her waist, I felt her tremor and pressed the emergency light. My heart raced as I carried her back to her bed, staring into her face suddenly devoid of color.
Only mere seconds passed and a couple of nurses were in the room. I told them what happened. One of them asked Annie to tell them how she was feeling. “Scared,” she answered. Our eyes went huge and locked on each other. Someone wheeled the baby out to make more room. Still at her bedside, I held her hand as a nurse placed the blood pressure cuff. The reading registered 72/54. Next, someone came running in with a bottle of IV fluid and connected it to the needle still in her arm. I heard them say the doctor was on the way.
“What’s happening?” I asked, trying to remain calm, but a primal fear gnawed its way to the surface.
“We’re doing everything we can. She’s going to be all right. They may have to take her to surgery to see where the bleeding is. Her belly is hard—” I didn’t hear anything else. This was certainly not routine. I could tell by the urgency and the worried expressions exchanged between the workers in the room. A sinking feeling took up residence in my gut.
“Mike?”
“Right here, baby. You’re going to be okay. I love you.”
“I love you—”
Her eyes rolled back.
I was told they were taking her up to surgery and to wait out in the hall. Someone would show me where to go. What a nightmare! As her bed pushed past me, I made them stop. I kissed her, then she disappeared into an elevator. Feeling for the phone, I called my mom. She was at work, and I had no idea why she even picked up, but she did. When I asked her to come, tears choked my words.
Standing with my hands shoved in my pockets and my back against the wall, I waited for someone to tell me where I was supposed to be right now, every fiber in me trembling with dread. Olivia, one of the nurses who helped with the delivery yesterday, came up to me. Putting her gentle hand on my shoulder, she moved it up and down, trying to offer a little comfort.
“Have you seen this sort of thing before?” I asked, grasping for anything hopeful.
“I haven’t personally, but some of the other nurses have. Usually we take the patient to surgery and stop the bleeding. She’s probably getting a transfusion, and she’ll have to stay in the hospital a few extra days because of the surgery, but she should be okay.”
God, I so needed to hear something encouraging. I clung to her words.
“I’m going to take you to the waiting area—and Mike? Dr. Eicker is the best. Annie is in good hands.”
We got on the same elevator where they’d taken Annie. There was a huge waiting area with a couple of flat-screen TVs, coffee, and snacks. With my eyes glued to the door of the surgery suites, I waited for news and prayed to God to keep Annie safe and protected. Mom got there about thirty minutes after I called her. Since I had talked to Olivia, I held it somewhat together as I repeated to my mother everything she had told me.
“She didn’t look good at all when they took her away.” That image brought tears to my eyes again.
Mom hugged me, then said, “Did you let Margo know?”
“I didn’t even think of it.” Taking out my cell, I scrolled for her number. With my free hand on my forehead, I told her what was going on. Already preparing to come to the hospital, she would be here shortly.
A few other people waiting to be reunited with their loved ones were called and taken through the doors where my eyes stayed focused. After about an hour, I could sit no more. My nerves were frayed as I paced back and forth near where we were camped out.
Please God, please God, please God!
Margo arrived, then my dad. The parents drank coffee and tried to think positively as time stretched on. At last, the door swung open and a nurse called my name. “The doctor will be in to speak with you momentarily. If you’ll follow me, please.”
“How is my wife?” I asked, my anxious eyes trying to hold eye contact with hers.
With a blank look on her face and a gaze that couldn’t quite reach mine, she repeated her message, but added, “Is this your family? They should come, too.”
We were brought to a consultation room, according to the little plaque on the door frame. Several soft chairs and a couple of two-seaters with tables in between filled the space. Tissue boxes adorned each table. I stared at the door, clasping my hands between my knees and trying to keep my thoughts from going to really dark places.
Dr. Eicker didn’t keep us waiting long. As soon as I saw her, I jumped to my feet. She came right over to me and took my hand. Instinctively I jerked it away, shaking my head. “I’m so sorry, Mike. We did everything we could do, but she just had lost so much blood. We couldn’t replace it fast enough.” Her eyes were red. She’d been crying.
“No—wait—what are you saying?” I demanded.
“Annie didn’t make it, Mike. She died. We did absolutely everything to try to save her. I’m terribly sorry.”
Turning around, I watched my parents getting to their feet and closing in on me. Even my dad was crying, so it had to be real. But I swear, it seemed like this was some awful mistake, and any second someone would blurt out, “Just kidding!” My mom grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me against her. Only then did I finally suck in an awful gasp of reality and started to weep. With my hand over my mouth, I stepped back and looked at Annie’s mom sitting there alone and in a state of shock.
I knelt down by her. “You trusted me to take care of her—I’m so sorry!” Those words were all I could get out. Putting my face in her lap, I cried.
It took a bit—I wasn’t sure how long—for me to realize that the doctor was still there. My parents were asking her questions. I probably needed to be listening. Mom’s fingers were tapping my shoulder. Margo’s hand slid off my head, squeezing my arm as I moved away from her and took a seat next to my mom. Leaning against her, I closed my eyes, still trying to wrap my mind about the fact that I came here with a wife and would be leaving without her. Margo asked another question I didn’t hear.
“Can I see her?” I blubbered out of the blue, interrupting whatever Dr. Eicker said.
“Of course. Once we have her moved, we’ll take you to her. Is there anything else you folks would like to know? I mean, this is the absolute worst kind of news I could have given you, and I’m sure down the line you may have other things come up that you want to discuss. Mike, you have my number. You call me with anything you need. I’ve sent off a bunch of blood samples to see if there was something going on I wasn’t aware of. I’ll get back to you with those results.”
“Sadie?” I could hardly get her name to come out.
“She’s in the nursery. We’ll keep her here for a few days until you do what you need to do for Annie. She’s doing fine.”
I nodded.
“Again, I’m so terribly sorry for your loss.” Then she left.
Some other woman had entered the picture. She worked her way around the room, making introductions and expressing condolences. Soft-spoken, kind eyes, almost white hair, and a gentleness about her, she came to me and touched my hand. “Are you the husband?”
I nodded. The husband—and I was gone again. Lost in a mind fighting frantically to grasp what was transpiring. She spoke to me. I could see her lips moving, but it wasn’t registering. She wore a nametag and carried a clipboard with papers on it, talking about belongings, funeral homes. My parents were talking to Margo and answering for me. They asked me things, and I just agreed to whatever they mentioned.
“Mike?” It was my mom. “She’s asking if you and Annie ever discussed organ donation.” Oh, God!
“I think we both have a sticker on our licenses—”
A person in surgical garb came in and announced, “I can take you to see your wife now.”
I glanced around. Guessed she was talking to me. “Okay.”
We were somewhere back in the bowels of the surgery department. We didn’t go through that waiting room; instead, we went the opposite direction, turning a couple of times. Then she pushed open the door and waited for me to go in. I could feel her warm hand on my back. My palms were sweaty, and my heart was twisting over on itself. The air seemed to have been sucked out, making it next to impossible to inhale.
Annie lay on a cart, wearing a hospital gown, covered with a sheet and blanket to her shoulders. A little moan came out of me as I stood next to her and reached under the sheet for her hand and brought it up to my face. She was cooler than normal, but there was still a bit of warmth to her. Her skin was so starkly ashen. I touched her hair next to her eye, put my hands on her shoulders and lowered my cheek to her chest. As tears streamed from my eyes, I silently prayed to God to just take me too, right now! Because I didn’t want to live another moment without her. But I didn’t get that wish, either. Still breathing, barely, I lifted my head and kissed her pale lips one last time. My hand found hers again, and I just couldn’t let go. The finality of it all was setting in. Never again would I hear the laugh that tickled my ears, or smell that sugary scent in the crook of her neck, feel our hearts pounding insanely as we made love, or taste the nectar of her sweet lips. Dad gave me a chair, and I sat with my face buried in my other hand.
That woman, the chaplain, still lingered. She said a prayer and made a little small talk before she brought up the donor thing again.
“Eyes,” came a thick sound from me. “I think she’d want them given away—nothing else. Just her eyes.” She left and someone came in to put a cold pack on Annie’s eyes. The rest of the details were worked out between the parents. Someone called the funeral home, and I signed a couple of papers. Tom came somewhere in there. He said Sheri went to be with Sadie.
The next thing I knew, they told me they were ready to do the harvesting of her eyes. Margo hadn’t stopped shaking her head and wiping away tears. She kept stroking Annie’s arm. When she leaned over to kiss her, I couldn’t watch. Once she moved away, I said, “I need a minute.” Everyone left. The moms and Tom went to the nursery. Dad waited outside the door for me.
Placing my hands on the sides of her face, I bent down. Haltingly I spoke, “I love you, Annie! I hope you know that.” With two fingers, I touched her under the chin, then I walked out.
“I’m going to be sick!” I croaked, hand over my mouth. My dad pointed me to a bathroom. Bursting in, I leaned over the toilet in a stall and puked my guts out, then did it a second time. On autopilot, I went to the sink and splashed some water over my face and grabbed a handful of paper towels.
In the next instant, I was on my knees, bent over in the middle of that small, echoing room and these ungodly sobs were ravaging me.
Dad rushed in and stood in front of me, trying to haul me up to my feet. When he eventually succeeded, he held me.
When I finally found my voice, I ranted, “I can’t do it, Dad! We were going to be in this together! I don’t know shit about a baby. How can I do it alone?” Panic ripped through me. “She deserves to have a mother. I can’t do it!” My chest heaved, the back of my hand pressed against my mouth, trying unsuccessfully to keep the sounds from escaping.
His hands were on my shoulders, and he gave me a shake. “Mike, you’ve got to pull yourself together! None of us knew what we were doing as new parents. It’s a learning process. That beautiful little child needs her daddy, now more than ever. You are her entire world. She will look up to you and love you unconditionally. She will bring you so much joy. I promise.”
“It’s not fair—”
Dad’s hand on the back of my head brought my face down into his shoulder, and he rocked me back and forth. “No, it’s not fair—it sure as hell isn’t fair, Mike. But you have us, your family. You’re not alone. We love you, Mike. Little Sadie’s got the best guy for the job. You’re going to be a great dad.”
One more deep, ragged breath, and I at last pulled away from him, searching his eyes for strength, something, anything to get me through to the next breath.
“Let’s go see that baby.”
“Okay. Dad, I’m so glad you’re here.” His arm went around my shoulder, and we went out into the hall. He seemed to know where to go. My eyes were on the floor. I didn’t want to have to look at anyone.
As we walked into the nurses’ station, Olivia broke away from the others at the desk and gave me a heartfelt, teary hug.
“I’m so sorry, Mike. I just loved Annie.”
My eyes filled as I hugged her back.
“I’ll show you where the others are.”
Between the nurses’ station and the nursery was a little room. Everyone waited there. I walked over to my mom and held out my arms. She handed Sadie to me. Our baby appeared even tinier now, and so fragile. She was awake; my knuckle brushed her cheek, and her face turned toward it. Do you know? Because I don’t want to be the one to tell you. I walked over to the window, raising her up so I could kiss her forehead, and my tears landed on her face. Wiping them away, I just stood there, staring out at nothing for a long time.
A hand on my shoulder caused me to turn around, and Margo was there. She took Sadie. She didn’t ask, or smile, she just took her right out of my hands. I looked at my mom, feeling almost like I was about to lose something more as Margo walked to the other side of the room with my child. Mom came over by me, putting her hand on the back of my neck. “It’s okay, honey,” she whispered. “She needs to be close to a part of her daughter.” My hands went into my pockets, and I turned back to the window—lost.
Before we left the hospital, we went back to the room where Sadie was born. The bed had been stripped. My brother had taken all the gifts out, and my bag sat on the couch. Annie’s things were stuffed into her bag and another plastic bag with the hospital logo. The baby’s things must have gone with her since her little cart was nowhere to be seen.
My parents insisted I go home with them. I didn’t even know what time it was or when I had last eaten. It didn’t matter, nothing did. After saying good-bye to my daughter, still locked in Margo’s arms, I followed them like a robot out to the car.
~ ~ ~
It was still light out in the late afternoon. The clock on the dash read 4:45. Back at my parents’ house, I took my bag and went up to my old room. Sitting down on the bed, my head in my hands, I realized I hadn’t told anybody except my family. I called Pete and bawled through our short conversation, asking him to let Dalton know. Sometime later, I wandered downstairs and into the kitchen, where both parents sat at the island.
“Do you want a cup of coffee, honey, or some soup or something?”
“I want to go back to the hospital. I’ve got to make sure they’re taking care of Sadie. That she’s being fed and held—”
Mom put her hand on my face. I started to cry, again.
Dad stood up. “Come on. I’ll take you back.”
One of the nurses was holding Sadie when I got there. The baby squalled, not quieting at all. I asked if anything was wrong, and I learned she had been carrying on for a while and hadn’t taken her last feeding.
I took her into the room we’d been in earlier. Sitting down in a rocking chair, I held her close to me and kissed her a bunch of times. Stroking her fine, reddish hair, I whispered, “Your daddy’s here, Sadie. We’re going to get through this. Daddy’s sad too, baby. Please stop crying—” We rocked, and in time, she did stop. So did I.
The nurse I talked to earlier brought a bottle in and asked me to try to get her to take it. Sadie took the whole thing with a little patience and coaxing. I stopped to burp her every couple of minutes. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not. When she finished, she kept looking up at me, calmly, contently, and for a couple of minutes I only felt ninety-nine percent terrified of my new life.
I’d been there maybe an hour when Margo came back. Before I could even greet her, she once again took Sadie from me. That same dread from earlier crept back in, only worse. We’d always gotten along great, I thought. But now she felt like a threat, and I had to confront it.
She sat down and was just staring at the sleeping infant. I moved so I stood right in front of her. “She’s so precious,” she said softly.
“Are you—” I started, then my voice cracked. She finally looked at me, with a question on her face. Sucking in another breath, I repeated, “Are you thinking about trying to take her away from me?”
“What? Oh Mike, no! Why would you ask me that?”
By now, I was sobbing, again. “Because—you keep taking her from me!”
She handed her back to me without hesitation. “I’m sorry, Mike! I didn’t mean to cause you any more pain.” As I turned away, I buried my face in the baby’s stomach. Margo’s hands pressed flat on my back, then moved up to my shoulders. “She’s all I have left of Annie, Mike. She’s stolen my heart! I know I won’t have much time to be with her. That’s why I came back tonight. That’s why I want to hold her, but I would never dream of taking her from you. I’m so sorry. And Mike—I know how much you loved my daughter and took care of her. Please don’t blame yourself for any of this.”
Turning around, I gave Sadie back to her. “You’re her grandma. She needs you in her life. I don’t know how, but we’ll find a way to make that happen, Margo, I promise.”
Her lips met my cheek and stayed there a couple seconds. “Oh, thank you. That means everything to me.”
It was after eleven at night before I drove my own car back to my parents’ place. I entered their house through the door in the garage, got a glass of water, and then noticed a light on in the living room. My mom had been waiting up for me, sitting on the couch with a throw over her lap. “How’s our little Sadie doing?”
“She’s okay. She was crying when I got there—Margo was there, too.” I paused, then I asked, “Mom, do you think Sadie knows?”
“They say babies can sense when you’re tense or upset, but she’s just too little to really know or understand.”
I nodded. When I finally let my gaze meet with hers, I moved over to the couch and sat down next to her, putting my arms around her and pushing my face into her neck.
“Oh, Mama! My heart just hurts so bad.”