Pulled(24)
Author: A.L. Jackson

“I need to see her.” I sat up, struggling to right myself against the physical pain trying to hold me down.

“Please, Dad, take me to her. I have to see her.”

“I’ll call down there and see. Your doctor was already having your paperwork drawn up to have you discharged.”

It seemed like the next hour dragged on forever as I waited to be released. We received word that Melanie was out of surgery and in recovery, and they’d let us see her in about three hours. I could see the baby anytime. I almost got up and left, but Dad wanted to make sure I was cleared before I started walking around. Honestly, I didn’t care about that. I just needed to take care of my girls.

“Daniel, sweetie,” Mom cooed to me as if I were five again, but I didn’t mind. I knew she needed to take care of me as much as I felt the need to take care of my own child. “It’s going to be okay.” Worry lines were set deep into on her face. I couldn’t imagine the fear my parents must have felt when they got the call.

“Thanks, Mom.” I sighed into her palm against my cheek, welcoming her comfort.

“Mom, does Steve know?” I couldn’t even imagine how angry Steve was going to be. He didn’t even know Melanie was pregnant, and now he was a grandfather.

“Your dad just called a few minutes ago after Melanie got out of surgery. But, Daniel, he doesn’t know about the baby. We thought it would be best if you told him face-to-face.” I was certain that would be the most difficult conversation I’d ever had.

The door opened, and Dad poked his head through. “You ready, son?” I was cautious as I stood, the ache searing through my chest.

I nodded pensively, both eager and terrified to meet my daughter.

Mom had her arm around my waist as we followed Dad to the elevator. It wasn’t enough to keep my anxiety from boiling over. It was hard to breathe as the door opened to the floor below, leading us to the neonatal intensive care unit. I reached out to the wall for support as the window came into view, the one displaying the perfect, healthy babies. Families stood with smiles on their faces, excited for their first glimpse.

Dad wrapped his hand around my upper arm to give me support as he led me forward. “Daniel, do you need a few minutes?”

I shook my head. I needed to see her now, no matter how scared I was.

We walked farther down the hall to a window with a woman behind a counter. In a very low voice, Dad said,

“Baby Montgomery.”

“ID’s please.” She started to give the rules, but Dad cut in. “I’m a consulting physician on the case.” He took out his ID, and the woman verified it.

Even though infants were not his specialty, I took comfort in knowing my father would watch over her care.

Once the nurse buzzed us through double doors, we scrubbed our hands at a sink. I washed beside Dad, my gut twisted in knots, unable to grasp what I was preparing to face.

We finally entered through a second pair of double doors, the light dim and the room quiet. It was as if I had entered another world. Little incubators sat between curtained walls, nurses quickly and silently moving around the room. Couples sat in rocking chairs next to some of the incubators, a few of them with babies in their arms.

Fear traveled up my spine, settling in my neck as it all became real. A lump formed in my throat. I followed Dad across the room.

My knees became weak when I first saw her. Dad reached out to steady me. Placing all my weight upon him, I tried to rid myself of the apprehension I felt so I could focus on my daughter.

There were wires everywhere; in her legs, in her arms, running through her nose and mouth. I couldn’t hold back the sob as I saw just how small she really was. Her legs and arms were not much thicker than one of my fingers, and her whole body was not much longer than my hand. Her skin was almost transparent, as if I could see every vein in her body. Her eyes were closed, and her little chest rose and fell with the machine that kept her alive.

It was simultaneously the most horrifying and beautiful thing I had ever seen.

She was so broken and yet so perfect.

My daughter.

My heart swelled with love for her and broke all at the same time. “Eva,” I whispered to her, hoping she could hear me.

“What did you say?” Mom’s soft voice came to me, a small smile on her face, her cheeks wet with her own tears.

“Her name is Eva. We decided last night.” How long ago that perfect moment seemed now.

“It’s beautiful.” She reached a tender hand out to me, once again, giving me comfort.

“Can I hold her?”

Could I? I was terrified, but I’d never wanted anything more.

“Let me check, okay?” I watched as Dad walked to one of the nurses. She followed him back, pointing to the single chair that was in the enclosure.

“If you’ll sit there, I’ll bring her to you.” She shuffled wires around, obviously adept at her job, and wrapped a blanket around Eva while lifting her. Carefully, she transferred my daughter to my arms. I cautiously held my little girl, her chest resting against mine.

Precious.

I closed my eyes against the fear and the pain, and just loved her.

It was the only thing I could give her.

I breathed her in, remembering her scent. She smelled almost sweet like her mom, but something altogether her own. I smiled against her head and cradled her to me, rocking her, murmuring my adoration to her.

“Please, baby girl, you have to be strong.” In silence, my parents stood by my side, each with a hand on one of my shoulders, their support complete and unending.

I flinched with the flash of light as mom snapped a picture of us. “Sorry,” she mumbled. I shook my head. I didn’t mind.

I’d only held her for minutes when the nurse said it was time to return her to her incubator. I watched as the nurse settled her back and checked her monitors. As much as I hated the thought of leaving her, it was time to go to Melanie.

I reached in to touch her little hand, and Eva wrapped it around my finger. I smiled as I felt her against me. I whispered, “I love you,” as I caressed the back of her hand. Longing filled my chest when I turned to walk away.

The second we were in the hall, Mom pulled me into a hug. “I’m so proud of you, Daniel. You’ve grown into the man I’ve always prayed you’d become.” Her eyes, swollen and red, shimmered in the light as she looked at me.

I hugged her back. “Thank you, Mom.” My voice was strained with the fatigue setting in, my chest absolutely killing me.