Page 58 of Doctor Dilemma

“Okay,” I said, feeling the blood rush out of my face in terror.

“I’ll meet you there.”

I hung up the phone and followed Dr. Lucas’s instructions, immediately calling 911, who arrived in just a few minutes. I also called Sloane. Before I knew it, they were racing me across the city, hooking me up to an IV in the ambulance and monitoring my vitals.

“Is my baby going to be okay?” I asked.

“We’ll do everything in our power to ensure that you have a healthy baby in your arms as soon as possible,” one of the EMTs said, in something of a non-answer. But of course they couldn’t directly tell me that, yes, everything would be fine with the baby. They couldn’t see the future any more than I could. “The staff at Cedars will keep you updated. For now, we need you to just relax and focus on your breathing.”

That was something I could do. Or at least try to do. My body wasn’t exactly in the most relaxed state at the moment, and that made breathing difficult. But I did my best.

Sloane was on her way. But right now I wished I had someone there with me to reassure me and hold my hand, telling me the things that may or may not have been truth, but that I needed to hear. What I wouldn’t have given to have had Leo right there, whispering in my ear that Dorothy was just eager to meet me and she was going to be healthy and happy.

As it stood, instead of holding his hand, I was gripping the side of the stretcher, as if that would somehow keep me safe, like a railing on stairs. Despite all the preparation I’d done and care I’d taken in ensuring that baby Dorothy would enter this world safely and ready for a wonderful life, none of it mattered now. It was all completely outside my control.

“We’re almost there, Ms. Saunders,” the other EMT assured me, her voice sweet and calm and her smile comforting, even if her expression was hollow. “And they’ll have a bed in a delivery room ready with your doctor ready and waiting.”

“Is everything going to be okay?” I asked again, hoping for this one to grant me just a hint of hope so I could relax.

She looked over at the other EMT, then back at me. “You’re in excellent hands,” she said. “Whatever happens, we’re prepared for it.”

Just as simple yes or no would suffice. Why couldn’t they do that for me? Why did they have to beat around the bush like this? Even an “I don’t know” or a rough estimate of the odds would be better than these empty, generic statements.

It didn’t help that my position in the ambulance made it impossible to see anything that was going on. I didn’t know where we were on the freeway and my only impression of the speed came from the sounds around me and the bumps in the road. It simultaneously felt dangerously fast and too slow. I just wanted whatever was going to happen to happen so that we could get it over with.

We pulled into the loading dock of Cedars-Sinai and a team of nurses pulled me out of the back with my stretcher, rushing me through the hallways just like on medical TV shows. They spoke jargon back and forth to each other, and their words just went in one ear and out the other.

It’s out of your hands, I thought to myself, repeating the idea that was so uncomfortable to me when I was on my way here. But now, a sense of relief came with it as I allowed my weight to sink back onto the bed when they transferred me into the delivery room.

Dr. Lucas, masked up and wearing gloves, walked into the room. “Good afternoon, Mila, how are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” I said.

“Your vitals are a bit elevated, but still within norms,” she noted. “Let’s take a look at what we’ve got here. I am going to check to see if you’re dilated, okay?.”

I was wearing a dress — I hadn’t fit into any of my pants for at least four months — making it fairly easy for her to make whatever observations she needed.

“Yeah, do whatever you need to do.”

“You’re dilated to 5 centimeters. Looks like we’re having a baby today.”

“Isn’t it early?” I asked.

“A little bit, but let’s worry about getting the baby out safely, and then we’ll run all the standard tests to ensure that she’s healthy.”

I nodded. At the very least, Dr. Lucas was working under the assumption that Dorothy was healthy. It wasn’t the reassurance I needed, but it was better than anything I’d gotten from the EMTs.

Then it was all happening. Dorothy was coming. Sloane was beside me, talking me through it, but I couldn’t even focus on her and whatever she was saying. I was just concentrating on blocking out the pain and stress I was in. I focused on pushing as hard as I could. Everything was a blur, and I was in and out of reality. But, when I had a goal, I could get through virtually anything.

And then it happened, I heard her crying. My heart melted for her and everything in the room disappeared. Sloane’s labor coaching, the pain, the worry all completely vanished, and there was only me and Dorothy. And all I wanted to do was hold her in my arms forever.

“Let’s get her cleaned up and run some basic tests,” Dr. Lucas said, taking Dorothy out of my arms. When she didn’t come back right away, I got nervous. I was exhausted and wanted to sleep with my baby safe in my arms, but that wasn’t an option until Dorothy returned.

A minute passed by on the clock on the wall. Then a second minute. My sister reassured me that all this was normal. Then by the time the second hand circled the 12 for the fourth time, Dr. Lucas returned.

“Mila,” she said, her voice as serious as I’d ever seen it, “Dorothy was born with TGV, transposition of the great vessels.”

I had no idea what that meant, but it didn’t sound good. My face must have expressed my confusion and pure panic because Sloane stepped in and asked the question that I was too afraid to ask myself.

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