Page 169 of Like A Moth To A Flame

“Y-yes,” I said, nodding. Placing my shaking palms on the bed on either side of my hips, I tried to readjust, to lift myself into a more comfortable position, but all I got was a stab of pain twisting into my abdomen so violently that I couldn’t bite back the scream that crawled up my throat. Instantly, my forehead slicked with sweat, and a flash of heat pulsed through me.

“Woah, sweetheart. Hold on.”

She pulled back the blanket, and when I looked down, she was rolling the hospital gown up from the bottom. Across my stomach, and the swollen bump that should have been there, I was wrapped in bloodstained bandages.

“I’ll have to call the doctor,” she sighed. “You had an emergency Cesarean, honey. You can’t use your abdominal muscles. If you do, you could rip—”

“Where’s my baby?” I asked her, blinking away the tears. “Where’s Tommy? I need to see him.”

“It’s okay,” she said, flashing me a smile as realization bloomed behind her eyes. “The baby is just fine. A little small, but she’s a fighter. She’s down in the NICU right now, didn’t even need help breathin’. And that man of yours? He’s right there alongside her. Hasn’t left her side for a minute, except to come in and check on you.”

I felt a mixture of relief and anxiety wash over me. Our baby was alive, and her father was right by her side. It was a small comfortknowing that she had someone, and she wasn’t alone, even if I was. He was there for her, providing the support and love that I couldn’t offer at that moment.

“S-she?” I whispered, my voice quivering. “I had a g-girl?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding. Her smile widened, and her eyes sparkled. “And she’s gorgeous.”

I tried to push aside the pain and focus on the happiness that swelled inside me.

“Can I see her?” I pleaded. Every fiber of my being yearned to hold my baby, to see her tiny face for myself.

The nurse nodded.

“Of course, sweetheart,” she whispered. “As soon as the doctor gives the go-ahead, we’ll take you down to the NICU to see your little fighter.”

As I lay there, waiting for the doctor’s approval, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of fear and unease beneath the happiness.

Where was Barrett? What had happened in that house? The last thing I remembered was pulling myself through the front door and losing consciousness on the porch.

Finally, the doctor arrived and gave me the green light to visit the NICU. With a mix of excitement and trepidation, I mustered the strength to sit up with considerable help from my nurse, whom I came to learn was named Rebecca. She helped me into a wheelchair, and together we made our way down the sterile hospital corridors, past happy families meeting their babies for the first time, and fathers outside surgery suites, their hands wringing anxiously as they waited for news.

Then there was me—battered, alone, and confused.

As we reached the NICU, my heart raced. Rebecca wheeled me through the doors, scanning her badge with a beep. The doors popped open and she wheeled me through them.

Inside, there was a long, pink and blue hallway. On each side were twin sets of clear glass doors, each of them decorated with pink or blue cutout construction paper handprints, and the baby’s name spelled out in bubble letters written directly on the glass.

Quietly, Rebecca and I made our way down the hall and turned the corner, continuing down another brightly colored hallway towards several handwashing stations.

I couldn’t wait to see my baby, to hold her and let her know that I was there and that no one would ever take me away again.

We finally got to her door, and I looked up at the handprints and the name.

Babygirl Eades

I sighed a bit and looked up at Rebecca.

“We didn’t have a name for her, so…” she shrugged and gave me a warm smile.

“I didn’t have one either,” I muttered, and I had never felt lower in my life.

She was already here, and I didn’t even know what to call her.

“Hey,” she said, and I felt the warmth of her hand on my shoulder. “This is completely normal. You should have had more time, and no one is faulting you for that.”

I nodded, my heart pounding as she pressed the button on the wall that would slide the doors open and allow us to wheel inside. The minute they popped open, I smelled sterile air and hand sanitizer—and beneath it, the familiar scent of Tommy. When thecurtains parted, I looked into the dimly lit room and saw him, and instantly, my eyes filled with tears.

His brown leather jacket had been discarded, and he wore a simple white t-shirt and jeans. His brown eyes were tired and half-lidded, but when he looked up and saw me, they popped to life with a vitality that I only saw when I looked into them.

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