Page 96 of Fade (Fighting Fate)

Gritting my teeth, I swore every bad word I knew under my breath. I had just blown the only chance I had to get the fuck out of here.

Chapter 51

Amy

Deployed time: 19 weeks

MIA: 9 weeks

From: Amy Benson [email protected]

To: Daniel Stephenson [email protected]

Date: Fri, Aug 19, 2016 at 7:37 PM

Subject: Still in 1 piece

Daniel,

I’ve now been in the hospital for 3 weeks. I know it’s the best thing for the baby, but boy do I get lonely and bored in here. I’ve resorted to doing cross stitches to keep me entertained. The baby is 23 weeks now. It’s been hard to resist finding out if we’re having a boy or a girl. But I didn’t want to do it without you here with me. He/she is getting bigger and stronger every day. Or so Dr. Anderson tells me. She also tells me the baby is laying in a breech position (butt first). Without any fluid, it’s unlikely it can turn around in there either, so unless it’s born in the next 5 weeks, Dr. Anderson says I’ll need to have a cesarean.

I’ve been sitting here, staring at the screen for the last ten minutes. I’m trying Daniel. I’m trying so hard to be positive for our baby, and be positive for you, but it’s hard. I feel torn in so many directions. I’m scared. Scared for you. Scared for the baby. And scared for myself. I don’t know how to make everything work. I don’t know how to keep myself going. I know I’ve come so far learning to be independent and strong for myself, but this is too much. I want you here with me. I want you here so much. I love you. Please come home to me.

Amy xxx

Staring at the hospital menu, I sighed. I didn’t think I would ever have a need to stay long enough to see how a hospital menu rotation would work. Shit, I never thought about hospital food at all. But now, staring at the weekly menu form, I sadly discovered it had a two-week rotation. At least I knew what I liked and what I didn’t like. Toast was a no. Salad was a yes. Potato mash was a definite no. I cringed just thinking of the white, sticky mass.

Marking out the foods I thought I was brave enough to try, I slid it to the side of my table and picked up the cross-stitch I’d been kindly given by a volunteer worker.

When I first arrived at the hospital, I was looked at like I was a naïve little girl who didn’t know anything about how the female body worked. I’d been told I most likely just wet myself and couldn’t tell the difference. I’d had internal checks for dilation and swabs taken to test for amniotic fluid.

After that, they finally believed me.

One of the nurses did apologize to me, explaining how they get quite a number of women pretending their waters have broken just because they’re sick of being pregnant and want to be induced. I’d had to pick my jaw up off the ground after hearing that one. I still had a hard time believing it. I mean, here I was, twenty-three weeks pregnant, doing everything I could to keep my baby inside until it was healthy enough to survive the outside world, and those women were just . . . sick of it. It made me shake my head.

The doctors had then told me all the survival statistics if the baby was born at different gestations. To be honest, I think most of it went straight past me. The only thing I remembered was the survival rate increased significantly when the baby reached twenty-eight weeks, so that was my goal. Stay bed bound and pray it was happy to chill in there for another five weeks. At least.

What I hadn’t prepared for was the boredom. I’d read books, had Susan bring in a sewing machine so I could make some maternity clothes, learned how to crochet, cross-stitched whatever was given to me, and started making Halloween decorations. I’d also had Amber bring in some sweets for me to break up the hell that was hospital food.

Then, when night would come and the lights were dimmed, I would be alone. With my thoughts. And sadness would envelope me. All I could think of was Daniel. I wondered where he was. If he was injured. When he would be found so he could come back to me. Then I thought of our baby. Fighting for its life. Hanging in there. Giving me the strength I needed to carry on.

And I would cry.

I prayed for our family to make it. For everything to work out how I dreamed it would. Because I didn’t know how I would survive if it didn’t.

A quick rap on the door jerked me from my dark thoughts, making the needle pierce my thumb.

“Shit.” Dropping the cross-stitch onto my lap, I shoved my thumb in my mouth to stop the sting.

“Are you okay?”

I glanced up at Ryan standing in the doorway, my body going still. I hadn’t seen him since the day my water broke. Seeing him now, while I was feeling so fragile, made it hard not to hurt. His likeness reminded me too much of Daniel.

I swallowed, removing my thumb from my mouth. “Yeah.”

“Is it all right if I come in?”

Gauging myself for the most accurate answer, I nodded.

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