Page 42 of Mistletoe Omega
“I was just trying to get his pressure down,” Nurse Slate whispered.
Widening her eyes, Doctor Agatha’s face flushed an angry red. “You have absolutely no authority to give my patient a drug without my consent. What were you thinking?”
Thrashing in pain, I pulled my legs to my bulging belly, and I yelled, “I need this damn baby out of my body rightnow.” I gritted my teeth, wanting to cry from the agony.
Graham was beside me again, his face white. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“Am I?” I screeched, giving the doctor a dirty look. “Will you fucking people please do your jobs?”
Laughing uneasily, Graham said, “Sorry. He’s obviously not himself.”
Doctor Agatha spoke firmly to the younger nurse. “Take him to the operating room now.” She glanced at Nurse Slate. “I’ll deal with you later.”
Nurse Slate slumped, looking demoralized.
“Graham. You want to suit up and join us?” Doctor Agatha asked.
He nodded slowly, looking like he would really rather not. “Um… yep.”
“Hurry, please,” I moaned. I was in so much pain, I just wanted this over. I wanted to breathe without feeling like my insides were about to burst out of me.
Once everybody got to work, I seemed to fade in and out of consciousness. There were a lot of people running around, and my vision was blurry. Graham was in the background, dressed in teal scrubs, and looking like he was about to faint. He came over to me at one point, and I knew he was speaking, but I couldn’t make sense of his words. Once I was rolled into the OR, someone put a rubber mask over my nose and mouth, and everything went dark.
****
I was so warm and there was no more pain. My eyes didn’t want to open, but I kept at it until my lids lifted sluggishly. My mouth was dry and tasted horrible, and when I tried to speak, only a croak came out. Graham appeared in my line of sight, and relief rippled through his eyes. He took my hand, his grip so tight it almost hurt.
“You scared me, Sam.” His voice was soft and tense.
I tried to lick my lips, but I had no spit. “Drink,” I hissed.
He nodded and grabbed a plastic pitcher near the bed. He filled a small paper cup halfway. Then he slipped his other arm behind my shoulders and he helped lift me enough to drink. My abdomen ached and throbbed where I knew I had an incision, but sitting up was worth it because the water tasted so good.
He lowered me to the pillows and set the cup down. “Better?”
“Yes.” I sighed. My drowsiness was beginning to clear slightly, and it occurred to me why I was in the hospital. “The baby?”
The sweetest, sappiest look came over Graham’s face. “It’s a boy.”
“Really?” I squeaked, looking around the room.
“He’s the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.” He grinned. “He looks just like you.”
“Where is he?” I tried to sit up, and winced as my stitches pulled painfully.
“I’ll tell the nurse you’re awake. They wanted to let you sleep.” He left me.
After a while he came back with the nurse behind him, pushing a bassinet type of thing. I couldn’t see the baby, just a blue blanket wiggling around, and I heard some whimpers. The nurse smiled at Graham. “Pick him up, like I showed you.”
Graham grimaced, and then he reached into the little bed, and carefully lifted the infant. The baby cooed and wiggled harder. Graham smiled down at the baby, as he placed him on my chest. “Here’s your other dad, little one.”
My heart ached as I met my son’s eyes for the first time. His chubby cheeks were pink, and his eyes wide as he stared at me. He made gurgling noises as his arms and legs moved clumsily. I tickled his nose. “Hey, we finally meet.” I grinned. “He’s adorable. His cheeks are so fat.”
Chuckling, Graham leaned closer. “He has fingernails. Did you know he’d have fingernails already?”
“I think I saw that on You Tube.”
Graham shook his head. “I didn’t know that.”
