- PIP -
It started with a headache, the slight dull pounding of someone trying to hack a hole into my head.
I’d been on bedrest for over a month, but I made everyone promise not to tell Gage. He’d only worry, and there was literally nothing we could do about my condition other than rest. I was working from home, and Blair didn’t leave my side all day. Every day.
I loved Garrett and Blair, but fuck, living with their overbearing protectiveness of their child was hard.
I called out for them, because I definitely felt off. They were staying in Gage’s room—which I hadn’t even realised was Gage’s room until the guys pointed out all his shit in there. I had to laugh that he’d moved in without my knowledge and without telling me. Should’ve been pissed, but he did it so stealthily, I had to give him props for it. I had no doubt it was going to happen eventually, but he was waiting for me to bring it up.
Garrett got to me first, only wearing boxer briefs. “What’s wrong?”
I covered my face. “My eyes for one thing. Don’t you have clothes?”
He laughed. “Come on, you can’t say you don’t want a piece of this.” He gestured down his body.
“Gage’s muscles are more impressive. Sorry.”
“What’s up?” Garrett asked, more serious now.
“I have a headache.”
“Where’s the blood pressure cuff?”
“I think in the living room?” I went to get out of bed, but he stopped me.
“I’ll get it.” He disappeared, and there was the sound of him ruffling around. “I can’t find it,” he called out.
“What’s wrong?” Blair asked, appearing in my doorway.
“Just a headache, but it’s bad. Like when I was diagnosed.”
I was at work a month ago, and I wasn’t feeling well. Garrett came to take me to lunch, but when I stood, I almost fainted. I thought I was hungry or dehydrated. Turned out it was pre-eclampsia.
“We won’t risk it,” Blair said. “They said if you got any more symptoms to go to the hospital.”
When I stood, my ankles caught my attention. “Holy shit.”
“What?”
“My feet are the size of an elephant’s.”
“Garrett, call an ambulance,” Blair called out.
Ah, shit.
***
“Who’s ready to have a baby?” the doctor asked.
“Not me,” Garrett said.
Blair rubbed his husband’s back soothingly. “You’re ready. You’re just freaking out.”
“It’s too early,” I said.
“You’re thirty-five weeks,” the doctor said. “I’m afraid it’s close enough. Your blood pressure’s too high, and there’s double the protein in your urine than there was at your last check-up. If we don’t deliver today, both you and the baby will be in jeopardy.”
“What about the baby being premature?” Blair asked. “What are the risks?”
“Right now, it’s more of a risk to keep the baby in there. Once we deliver, we’ll know more. At least a day in the NICU, maybe more. But thirty-five weeks is a lot better than thirty-four or thirty-one.” He squeezed my shoulder. “You did a great job of going this long from your last trip here. We’re getting the operating theatre ready as we speak. Won’t be a long wait and you get to meet your baby.”
Holy shit, I was having a baby. Not my baby, but a baby.
When the doctor left the room, all three of us were stunned into silence.
“We’re going to be dads today,” Garrett said and then started hyperventilating.
“Why’s he getting antsy? He’s not the one who’s going to be cut open,” I said.
Blair smirked. “He always hyperventilates when he tries new things. Should’ve seen him the first time we—”
“Don’t even say it,” Garrett said.
Their antics were the distraction I needed. I did a stupid, stupid thing a few weeks back and watched birthing videos. Since being diagnosed with pre-eclampsia, I knew the chances of natural delivery were small, so I’d researched C-sections. Totally the wrong thing to do. The blood, how rough the doctors were …
I fused my eyes shut.
Blair’s laughter died. “Pip, you okay?”
I nodded but didn’t open my eyes. “Can they knock me out for the whole cutting me into pieces thing?”
“Hey, you’ll be fine.” Garrett said, his panic attack gone and replaced with a voice I was sure would become his fatherly, soothing voice while trying to calm their baby. “Look at it this way. At least your vag—”
“Almost got a sincere moment out of him,” Blair said. “And we’ll be in there with you.”
“I want Gage,” I whimpered.
“We’ll call him, but you know it’ll take a few days for him to get home,” Blair said.
“I know.”
Blair got me my phone, but Gage didn’t answer.
I didn’t know if it was the headache and the pre-eclampsia symptoms or if it was nerves that were making me feel sick, but I had a bad feeling about going into surgery before speaking to Gage.
Unfortunately for me, that wasn’t an option when they came to wheel me down to the operating theatre.
They attached me to machines, put in a spinal block, and waited for me to become numb from the waist down.
Blair and Garrett were right beside me, wearing surgical hats and scrubs.
The shakes started not long after they started with the “procedure.” Regardless of the anaesthesiologist telling me it was a normal side effect, I couldn’t help worrying something was wrong.
My mind blurred, and I found it hard to breathe. Machines beeped erratically around me, and voices were muffled.
Light shone in my eyes, but I couldn’t squint the brightness away.
A single sentence cut through the sterile air.
“She’s having a seizure.”