Page 439 of One More Kiss

We put in an offer, and a month later, we moved in. I’d spent the following few weeks finishing up the nursery, knowing Alana wanted it perfect. The house needed some updating, but I knew we’d have to do a little here and there until it was complete. It was something we were supposed to do together.

At thirty-two weeks, Alana went into early labor and had no choice but to deliver. She was preeclamptic, and the doctor didn’t want to risk waiting longer. As much as we were excited to finally be meeting our little girl, I was also scared. Becoming a father for the first time is something I’ve been thinking about for years. Especially with Alana.

Everything started out smoothly as they induced Alana, and it became a waiting game as she started getting contractions. The doctor warned us it could be awhile before she’d be ready to push, so in attempt to keep her distracted, we talked about all the remodeling plans we had for the new house.

The next several hours were spent getting Alana ice, rubbing her back and shoulders, and massaging her feet. The contractions became more intense and closer together. She was tough, always had been, and even though she wanted to have a natural birth as much as possible, she started to beg for an epidural.

“Alana,” I said softly. “You’re doing great, baby. Are you sure you want the epidural?” I asked because she had made me promise to not let her get one, even though I didn’t see any reason not to when she was in this much pain.

“I can’t bear the pain, E. It’s like she’s clawing her way out,” she cried, and I winced. I couldn’t stand watching her suffer any longer.

“Okay, baby.” I grabbed her hand and kissed it. “I’ll tell the doctor.”

“Ah!” she screamed out and clenched my fingers in a forceful fist. She squeezed her eyes and lips, and I knew something was wrong.

I paged the nurse, and shortly after she came back in the room, she checked all of Alana’s stats on the monitor and read the contractions record. The baby monitor that wrapped around her belly had shifted slightly.

Once the nurse retightened the strap and the stats flashed on the screen, a look of worry flashed across her face.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, concerned.

“The baby’s heartbeat is slower than I’d like, so I’m just going to page the doctor and have him come check you out.”

She rushed out before I could ask more questions.

“Is the baby going to be okay?” Alana’s eyes watered, and I knew I had to keep her calm.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, but the doctor will come and check,” I reassured her, but I wasn’t certain myself.

Within a few minutes, the doctor had arrived and checked hers and the baby’s stats again. Two nurses followed.

“Alana, we’re going to roll you to your side and see if that helps increase the heartbeat. Okay?”

The nurses helped Alana get comfortable on her side, and after a moment, the heart rate went back up.

“Perfect.” The doctor smiled.

“Is she okay?” Alana asked.

“She is for now, but if the heart rate drops again, we’ll have to deliver via C-section.”

“What? Why?” Alana cried, looking panicked.

“Vaginal delivery is too risky if the baby is in distress. Her heart rate decreasing during birth could put her at risk for too many complications, and I’d like to avoid all that.” His words come out rehearsed, and I wish he’d give us some closure that everything was going to be okay.

We waited an hour before the doctor returned and told us the bad news.

“I’m sorry, the heart rate isn’t staying as steady as much as I’d like. I’d feel more confident if we did a C-section to avoid any other risks.”

Since she was preeclamptic, she was already a high-risk case, so we had no choice but to follow the doctor’s orders.

Everything happened so fast after that. The nurses prepped Alana for surgery, and I changed into scrubs. They gave us a briefing of what to expect, but no matter what they told us, none of it felt real.

They took Alana in first, and once the doctor was ready, the nurse escorted me inside by her.

“Baby,” I whispered, kissing her cheek. She looked terrified and as scared as I was, I couldn’t let her see that.

“E,” she whispered back. “Please tell me she’s going to be okay.”

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