Tiny Drops, Page 21

  He should know by now that I’m not going to utter a word. The truth is, I haven’t thought of any. I keep thinking I’ll know who she is when I look at her. Until then, the conversation is off limits, and yet he insists on bringing it up all the time.

  “I guess you’ll know soon, won’t you?” I raise my brow, my mouth a sarcastic smirk.

  “There she is,” Dr. Rowles says, bursting into the room, as if I were lost or something.

  “Yep, right where they put me, Doc.” I can’t help the sarcastic tone in my voice. My anxiety is a live wire dancing inside me, igniting a line of snarky behavior. I take a deep breath, trying to will my nerves to calm. “Are we ready for this?” I ask, beating him to the question I know is coming.

  “I think so,” he replies, eyeing the cath bag hanging on the rail of my bed and the IV site on my wrist.

  Luckily, Marilyn’s here. I was fortunate enough to have her for my nurse with Charlie, too. She has a knack for starting IV’s. I spin the beads that live on my opposite wrist, thankful no one has told me to remove them. I’ve worn them for so long now; they feel like a part of me. The color is now more black than green, every time the bracelet has broken, beads have been lost. Seemed fitting to replace them with ones that are the color of Jayden’s soul. Everything that I went through, everything that I lost and she never came. I swallow the thought, plastering my biggest smile on my face.

  Dr. Rowles turns his attention to Harrison. I let my eyes travel with his. He’s sitting up inside the long windowsill that runs along the back of the room, everything about him loose, relaxed.

  “What about you, Dad, are you ready for this?” Dr. Rowles smiles expectantly, enjoying himself now that he’s managed a way to take his question back.

  Harrison takes a moment to answer, looking at me instead of Doc. A slow, easy smile takes over his face, and I have one of those moments where I could cry out loud for all of the emotion that hits me when his deep dimple appears. It feels like a physical thing—a heart pang.

  “I’m ready, Doc. Let’s do this. Let’s make today great.”

  I love this man.

  On cue, the door springs open. Marilyn and Connie walk in, pushing a gurney between them. “Are we ready?” Marilyn asks, and I smile at the irony.

  I’m trapped in an eighties sitcom.

  “Connie, get a glucose on her before we go. If we’re good, number wise, we’ll proceed,” Dr. Rowles says, leaving the room to prepare.

  My heart begins to race, thumping the loudest in my throat as Connie scans my hospital band, then the monitor case. She grasps my hand, swipes my finger with alcohol. I jump when the needle is discharged. It doesn’t matter that I’ve done it thousands of times to myself through the years. It’s totally different when someone else does it.

  Please be a good number.

  She glances at the monitor, a bright smile lighting her face. “101. Let’s do this.”

  They help me onto the gurney, my heart competing with the rhythm of the wheels rolling down the long hallway. I feel disjointed from what’s happening—a spectator in someone else’s show. We stop in a small room with a sink, and both nurses begin to wash up. Harrison stands between them at the long basin. They each take care to scrub between their fingers and up their wrists.

  I’m about to be cut open.

  My only job is to lie, quietly, as the show proceeds around me. Harrison’s eyes connect with mine, and I force a smile.

  He mouths the words I love you to me, and I take them, holding them tight. I can do this.

  They all dress in light blue paper scrubs that cover their clothes. The only part of their faces showing are their eyes, and I feel exposed, alone, as we proceed through to the next room.

  A cold, sterile table lies in the center of the room, and I’m transferred once again. This time, they tell me to sit, knees up, head forward. I’m trying to contain my shaking. I know it will just make this next part harder. But my body has a mind of its own right now, and the tremble that’s coursing through me won’t go away.

  “Try to relax, Mrs. Wade. In a few moments, you won’t feel a thing,” David, the anesthesiologist, says from behind me.

  I feel a cold swab along my spine, then the first jab of a sharp needle. I begin counting in my head, trying to remove myself from the pain as the needle bites again and again. As I reach thirty, the biting stops.

  “Go ahead and lie back on the bed,” he says, his voice low and calming.

  I try to imagine the contraption sticking out of my back as I lie down on it. Once my head is resting on the bed, the lower half of my body disappears as a sheet is raised in front of me, the magic potion entering my body through the portal they’ve inserted in my spine.

  Harrison stands beside me, his hand in mine, his view—both sides of the curtain. I know when they start based on the steady increase of pressure from his hand. I take deep breaths, trying to stay calm when I’m anything but.

  I feel sharp pressure in my chest and cry out. “I think there’s something wrong with my heart.”

  David takes a quick check of the monitor then smiles down at me. “Everything looks all right up here. I believe you’re just feeling the pressure from them. She’ll be out soon,” he whispers, giving my shoulder a kind squeeze.

  I lose Harrison completely to the other side of the curtain and see for the first time that Dr. White, Charlie’s pediatrician, is standing off to the left of me beside a metal scale. He smiles kindly when he sees my attention trained on him.

  The soft murmur of voices is interrupted by a sharp, beautiful cry. Harrison reappears, tears in his eyes as he says, “She’s gorgeous! Absolutely gorgeous! I’m so proud of you, Rice!”

  The emotion tumbles from within as I watch the flurry of activity take place before me. Marilyn hands the little wailing red being to Dr. White. He sets her on the scale, wiping blood and fluids from her face. He suctions her nose, mouth, and ears, causing her cries to escalate.

  “She has nice strong lungs,” he jokes, as he measures her height and weight.

  I laugh through my tears.

  “She’s a healthy seven pounds, eight ounces, and twenty and a half inches.”

  He picks her up, arms and legs flailing as she continues to scream. He lays her gently in my arms.

  Our eyes connect, and the rest of the room disappears. She stills, her cries going silent. She wraps her little fist around my finger, and we stare, lost in the universe that exists in each other’s eyes. I feel my heart expand, making room for her to live there forever.

  42

  The Rebirth of a Name

  “If you need anything at all, just push this red button,” Connie says, showing me the center button on the remote for my bed. It has a little white nurse on it—simple, easy.

  I smile up at her, wishing I could still the shaking. They say it’s a side effect of the medicine they use when they do the spinal block, but it feels like shock to me. My body has just been cut open, the perfect little being that had been cradled at its center plucked from her internal home. It leaves an emptiness—a shock to the senses.

  “Thank you for everything,” Harrison says as Connie walks toward the door.

  She smiles the warm smile of a practiced nurse. “You’re welcome. Thank you for letting us be a part of it. Congratulations to both of you. She’s beautiful.”

  The door closes with a soft swish of air and I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and try to align my center light. I continue to take deep breaths, exhaling them slowly, trying to will the quake to stop.

  I open my eyes when I feel the bundle in my arms begin to stir. I don’t know how long they were closed—it felt like just a moment, but the change in the light tells me that’s wrong.

  I hear a giggle and turn to see Charlie standing beside the bed. Harrison gives a little wave from the corner.

  “Good afternoon, sunshine,” he says, his voice full of gravel from the long day. “Did you rest well?”

  “It just felt like a min
ute. How long was I asleep?”

  “A couple of hours, not long,” he replies, stretching his arms up above his head. I wonder if he’s been in that chair the whole time. “Your mom brought Charlie up about an hour ago. He can’t wait to see her.” He nods toward my arms.

  “Is she really mine? My baby sister?” Charlie begins bouncing, his excitement too much to contain. “I didn’t get too excited before she came, Mama, just like you said. But I’m soooo excited now!”

  “Reel it in, Captain. Show me your calm, and Daddy will set you up here,” I tell him, glancing at Harrison for confirmation.

  His brow furrows, but just for a second before his easy smiles takes over again. I adjust in the bed, thankful the medicine hasn’t worn off. The pain won’t really come until later tonight when the effects of the spinal block completely wear off.

  “It’ll be fine. We’ll be extra careful.”

  Charlie stills, his shoulders slightly hunched, as if he paused mid-action. “I’ll be calm,” he whispers out the side of his mouth, and I laugh, causing an uproar of tiny wails from the bundle in my arms.

  Charlie throws his hands over his mouth, his eyes taking over the rest of his face. I laugh again, my heart so full. Happy tears begin their slide. “Put him up here, Harrison.”

  “Yeah, put me up there!” Charlie throws his arms straight up, his feet beginning to bounce again.

  “Shoes off, then you’ve got yourself a deal.” Harrison smiles down at him, and it only takes a moment for his shoes to be ditched in a haphazard pile beside the bed.

  Charlie snuggles in beside me, his eyes full of wonder as he reaches his hand out and traces a finger down her upturned little nose. He pulls back in surprise when her little fist comes out, her fingers wrapping possessively around his. I watch the exchange quietly, holding my breath as I commit it to memory.

  He leans down, so his face is just above hers, and whispers, “I love you, little sister.”

  Harrison bends down, placing a kiss on my cheek, breaking the stream of tears flowing from me. “What’s her name, Rice?” he whispers. I know this time he needs an answer.

  I don’t say anything as I think about what I’m going to name her. Thoughts of the past consume me, and I dig deep for the courage to let it all go. I think about Amelia and Bernard. I held his story, and even though it didn’t belong to me, I belonged to it in a sense. It stained me—changed the color of my world. I look down into the face of my beautiful, perfect baby girl, and I find the strength to let it go the only way I know how—by giving the name a new story.

  “Leila Grace.”

  I pause, watching my words wash over him. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I hope he understands. He and I have never spoken of Bernard’s daughter, Leila. But judging by the look on his face, he’s the holder of secrets, too.

  “I want to name her Leila for him, but for me, too.”

  “It’s perfect,” he whispers, a single tear running slowly down the outside of his face.

  I let go.

  Bernard warned me that I had no more control than the weatherman. Right now, I’m an unsuspected tsunami on a hot summer day. My emotions—waves with claws and teeth. I’m helpless to do anything except let go. Let go of all the loss. Bernard’s. Harrison’s. Mine.

  “Don’t cry, Mama.” Charlie puts his tiny hand on my face. Pulling me toward him, he peppers my cheeks with kisses.

  “They’re happy tears, Captain. I just love you all so much, I’m overflowing.” I smile, placing a single kiss on his nose.

  “I think it’s time to introduce this girl to her grandmas.”

  Harrison knows what I need. He takes Charlie, putting him back on the ground. “Put your shoes on,” he tells him, ruffling his hair. Turning, he picks up Leila, his lips brushing my cheek as he does. He holds my eyes for a moment before the three of them leave the room.

  I take a shaky breath as the door swishes behind them. I close my eyes and breathe. I open them a moment later and he’s back.

  Sliding his shoes off, he carefully crawls into the bed beside me. He rests one arm behind my head, and I snuggle into him the best I can with all of the tubing and monitors covering me.

  “I love you,” he whispers, kissing the side of my head.

  We let go together. We let go of the loss. The gain. We just be together—in this amazing world full of emotion and wonder.

  “I love you, too.”

  43

  People Parade

  “Are you ready for this?” Harrison asks, walking into the nursery.

  I smile down at Leila, snapping the last two snaps on her sleeper, its light cotton fabric perfect for her first barbeque. “That question again. What is it with that question?” I laugh, letting it fill me with happiness as I bundle my little burrito. “Yes, the princess and I are both ready. Are you ready? Is the Captain ready?” I raise my eyebrow in mock seriousness and laugh when his mimics mine.

  “Of course, my lady.” He gives a quick bow, and I shake my head. “Can I deliver the princess to the garden for you?” His honey eyes grow serious, and I see the pleading there.

  I straighten, feeling the ache in my abdomen, and smile. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

  He takes her from me, and lays her in the basket. It’s become her favorite resting place. Seems she has a soul for adventure just like her big brother, who decided this old basket was a better place for his sister to rest than the boring, frilly cradle. I’m not really sure where the basket came from, but seeing Leila nestled in it, I’d bet money that its woven reeds have held an infant before.

  “Grandma’s here!” Charlie yells, racing into the room. His top lip is stained red, a telltale sign that summer has descended upon us.

  “Which one?” I laugh, my question causing him to pause in his tracks.

  His eyes sparkle with glee. “Both of them! They came together!” He begins to bounce, filled with the excitement a day of family and sunshine brings.

  “We better get out there then,” I say to both of them.

  Charlie turns, bounding out of the room with as much energy as he entered with.

  Harrison walks up to me and runs his thumb across my bottom lip. He leans in and places a feather-light kiss there, reaches around me, and picks the basket up off the bed. “Let’s do this.” He smiles his easy smile and extends his free hand for me to hold onto.

  “She’s gorgeous,” my mom says for the third time in the last ten minutes. I’ve been keeping track of the various compliments and the rate in which they’re coming.

  “Such a gift.”

  This one is in the lead. Every person here has said it at least twice. The truth is, she’s all of those things and more. I just hope everyone realizes, soon, that they don’t need to continue to say it.

  “Did you know Mama has a new studio?” Charlie asks, effectively gaining the attention of everyone around him.

  “Really?” Jesse asks, his eyes imploring mine.

  “I’m set up in Bernard’s house,” I tell him, self-consciousness settling like a pebble in the pit of my stomach. I avoided it for so long; I know they all thought it was odd. “Harrison made it really lovely in there.”

  I scan the yard searching for him, hoping he’ll come save me from the feelings that are creeping in and stealing my breath.

  “Great, let’s see it,” Jesse says. Standing from the picnic table, he reaches his hand out to Cassie. She stands with him, effectively starting a trend around the table that quickly spreads to the chairs beyond. Great, I guess we’re doing this.

  I give an easy smile, my heart racing, eyes beginning to fill. I glance away quickly, hoping he didn’t see. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I try to recapture a bit of control over my traitorous body that’s crumbling like the sand at the water’s edge—my emotions the stormy sea crashing on its shore.

  I take each step on legs that belong to someone else. They feel like rubber, detached. Just breathe.

  Cassie walks up, looping her arm through mine
. Her head dips toward my shoulder and she whispers out the side of her mouth, “Can you believe I married this fucker? We’ll get him back later.” She winks, an amused smile on her face. “We’ve got this, sister. You and I.”

  I laugh, the weight of the angry sea lessened with her closeness. “Thank you. I was about to show my crazy,” I whisper back, climbing the steps to my new space.

  “Do you need to do a quick check before this little tour? I know a little man that would love to show off your space. I’m sure he would take over as tour guide.” She dips her head toward Charlie, who’s entertaining the small crowd gathered behind us.

  I pause, taking a quick check of my body.

  My heart is still racing, the rhythm filling my ears, and my face is tingly, my lips feeling like a foot that’s been sat on for too long.

  “Yes,” the word slips out, a hot tear on its tail. “Will you come with me?” I ask, my voice shaky. I don’t panic every time I’m low, but when I do—when the fear grips me—it’s hard to do alone. I need someone to care for me, to guide me through it.

  “Of course,” she whispers to me, turning to address the rest of the family. “Charlie’s going to lead this little tour. I expect you’ll all be respectful to the Captain.” She pauses, staring hard at Jesse Jr., her oldest son. “Try to keep your questions to a minimum. We’ll be back in a minute.” She laces her fingers through mine, and we walk quickly to the house. “What do you need me to do?” she asks, as we walk in, her dark eyes full of concern.

  “My monitor is in my purse. Get it for me?” I slip into a chair at the table, hot tears continuing their trek down my face.

  She glances around the room, her eyes landing on my purse on the counter. Rushing to it, she pulls out the little machine from inside.

  “Have you heard of the continuous glucose monitor?” Her question distracts me from my emotions. I’m grateful for it.