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Chapter 175

Nick woke up groggy, having slept like a rock, but not long enough. As he rolled over in his bed to check the clock, hardly lifting his heavy head from his pillow, he remembered the night before.

He’d spent it at the hospital with Claire, staying early into the morning to make sure she and her newborn twins were okay. He hadn’t seen her, nor the babies, since he’d been shooed from the operating room during her C-section, but he remembered her mother coming into the waiting room around two a.m. to tell the men that Claire had woken from anesthesia and gone to see the twins, now named Caitlin and Delaine, in the NICU, but that she was asleep now and would stay that way until morning, with the help of the painkillers and sedatives she’d been given.

“You should go home, Nick,” Carrie had told him kindly. “There’s no point in staying here any longer tonight. Go get some sleep.” Knowing she was right and that it would do him no good to spend the night sleeping in a chair, Nick had obliged.

Now it was nine a.m. and his twenty-ninth birthday, he remembered. Caitlin and Delaine Turner had missed sharing it with him by less than an hour.

He didn’t feel much like celebrating. Instead, he found himself anxious to see Claire, to find out how the babies were doing after their first night. Last night, there had been little news.

As if on cue, the phone rang, and he sat up quickly, suddenly alert, thinking it might be Claire or someone in her family. He hoped it wasn’t bad news.

But when he checked the caller ID on his cell phone, he saw Laureen’s name instead, and his body sagged with relief. “Hey, Lauree,” he greeted her, answering.

“Happy Birthday!” Laureen’s voice chirped, bright as ever, as if she’d already been up a couple of hours.

“Thanks,” he said.

Before he could get anything else out, she said, “So I was thinking we could spend the day together! I’ve got the whole day off work, and I have some stuff planned. How does that sound?”

Clearly, she hadn’t a clue what was going on with Claire. And how would she? She’d been sick the night before, and he hadn’t thought to call her from the hospital. Funny, she didn’t sound sick at all on the phone…

“Uhh, well, it sounds great, but… I actually was planning on heading to the hospital today.”

“Hospital – what for??” Laureen’s voice rose with concern. “Is everything okay?”

“I shoulda called you last night. Claire had her babies.”

“What?!”

“Yeah… I was hangin’ out with her, ya know, cause you weren’t feeling well and her parents were out of town, and she went into labor. She had the twins at eleven-something last night.”

“Oh my gosh! Is… is everyone okay??”

“I guess so… I mean, I don’t really know. The babies are in intensive care, cause they’re premature, you know. But Claire’s alright. She had a scare with some bleeding during her C-section, but she got through it alright. I haven’t seen her since then, though, so I wanted to go up today. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Well no, of course not,” Laureen replied quickly. “It’s your birthday; you do what you want. We can do something tonight though, right? I mean, we have to celebrate!”

“Sure,” he agreed. “Tonight would be fine.”

They got off the phone shortly after, and only once they had, Nick realized he’d forgotten to ask if she wanted to come to the hospital to see Claire with him.

Oh well, he thought to himself, as he climbed out of bed. She can visit her on her own if she wants to.

Maybe Claire wasn’t ready for a bunch of visitors yet anyway. It would be a good idea to check with her first. After all, he knew she wouldn’t mind if he visited. Claire had never turned down a visit from him before.

Smiling a little, he hobbled into the bathroom for his shower.

***

In the hospital, Claire awoke to a grim reality that had not been there in her blinding fog of drugs and emotions the night before.

She felt better than she had following surgery the night before, and though she was still on heavy pain medication, the loopy feeling had passed, and she felt much more lucid. This meant that the doctors now felt comfortable sharing with her the facts they had sheltered her from the first time she had awoken.

The pediatrician visited her early. His name was Dr. Connor, and he was blonde and handsome, with just a few wrinkles of age starting to appear around his blue eyes. She liked him at once when he introduced himself and leaned over the bed to shake her hand. But as soon as he started updating her on the twins, the good feeling was gone.

He spoke at length about all the concerns he had, all the conditions they had or could develop, due to their prematurity, everything from heart and lung problems to blindness and mental retardation. It made her upset, but she tried not to think the worst, remembering all the conversations she’d had in the past with doctors about side effects and possible complications that went along with the drugs she’d taken and procedures she’d had done. And despite all the risks and worries, she was still alive, she reminded herself. She knew better than to start freaking out just yet.

And in the midst of the doom and gloom, there was some good news.

“Caitlin seems to be doing well,” Dr. Connor said encouragingly. “She’s a little jaundiced, and she showed some signs of respiratory distress last night, which is why she’s on a ventilator. But I expect she’ll be ready to come off of that within the next few days. We’re giving both babies artificial surfactant, which is a substance that helps the lungs expand. Preemies don’t produce enough of it, compared to full-term infants, which is why they struggle.”

But of course, the good news was followed by more bad, as the conversation turned to Claire’s second-born.

“Delaine is struggling more than Caitlin. Her RDS – respiratory distress syndrome – is much more severe, and she’s relying solely on the ventilator to breathe right now. She’ll have to be on it for some time, which is a concern because too much dependence on a vent can cause problems later on. We’ll try to wean her off of it as soon as possible, but it’s going to be awhile. Her lungs are just too immature. She’s also showing signs of Patent Ductus Arteriosus, which is a fancy name for a heart condition that’s often found in preemies. There’s a blood vessel in the heart that stays open in unborn babies to allow blood to bypass the lungs, since they get oxygen for their blood from their mother. The vessel is supposed to close once the baby is born and starts using its lungs; otherwise, it puts a strain on the heart and lungs. The vessel fails to close in a lot of preemies. It can’t be officially diagnosed until it’s been ten days since birth, but I just wanted you to know it was a concern.”

Claire’s own heart was beating fast with the thought that something could be wrong with Delaine’s heart. “What happens if she does have that?” she asked. “How do you fix it? Will she have to have surgery?”

“Sometimes it can be corrected with medications alone, but in some cases, yes, it does require surgery. Don’t worry about that for right now though.”

Then why did you tell me? wondered Claire, but she supposed she was glad he had prepared her. She didn’t like to be kept in the dark about things. And yet, it had been more pleasant last night when she could look in at her sleeping twins without knowing all of the things that were and could be wrong with them. In her eyes, they were perfect. Small, but perfect.

She thanked the pediatrician for the debriefing, but when Dr. Connor left, she broke down into tears, completely overwhelmed by all he had told her. She hated crying, but with her hormones in a frenzy and her newborns in the NICU, she had a feeling she’d be doing a lot of it over the next few days.

***

Nick was pretty sure he was familiar with just about every wing of Tampa General Hospital. The ER… Oncology… and now this place, he mused as he entered the maternity ward.

He stopped at the nurses station to tell them that he was a friend of Claire’s, so that no one would think he was just some creepy person stalking pregnant women and newborn babies. Then he made his way down the pastel-wallpapered hallway to Claire’s room.

The door was open just a crack, and he knocked lightly before looking in, not at all sure what to expect. He was relieved when he heard Claire’s voice call, “Come in!”

Pushing the door open further, he walked into the room and over to the bed, where Claire was lying. She appeared weary, as if the last twelve hours had taken nearly every bit of life out of her. Oddly enough, she looked as pregnant as she had been the night before; he could still see the bump of her belly beneath the blankets, but maybe that was just swelling. However, the pregnant “glow” she’d had was gone; her skin was colorless, and her eyes were tearstained.

Still, she cracked a smile and said, “Happy birthday,” as he approached.

His own smile was brief. “Thanks. How are you doing?” he asked gently, frowning as he sat down next to her bed, instantly wrapping his hand around hers.

“Oh, alright,” she sighed, but her voice broke, and her bloodshot eyes welled up with fresh tears. This caught him off-guard.

“What’s wrong?” he persisted, squeezing her hand. “Tell me. Is it something with the babies?” His heart began to thud against his ribs; he prayed neither of the twins had taken a turn for the worse.

“You just missed the pediatrician telling me everything that is wrong and could be wrong with them,” she replied, her voice wavering as she tried not to sob. “They both have to be on ventilators because their lungs are too immature, and Delaine is really sick.”

Feeling awkward, Nick searched for something to say to that. “I know this is scary,” he said finally, “but you’ve got to believe that they’re both gonna be just fine eventually. I do. If they’re as strong as their mom, they’ll tough it out.”

Claire smiled through her tears. “Do I look strong to you? Look at me, I’m a mess.”

“You just gave birth to twins. I think that makes you look very strong,” replied Nick, smiling back. He bent and lightly kissed her forehead, whispering, as he pulled away, “And you’re a beautiful mess.”

***

I don’t deserve you, thought Claire as she surveyed the handsome blonde man sitting placidly at her bedside, his eyes trained to the TV mounted on the wall. Hers took in his profile, trailing along the lines of his nose and jawline. She couldn’t focus on whatever he was watching, her mind too occupied by worry, but his mere presence was helping that. He had a calming effect on her; he made her feel like everything would be okay and that, even if it wasn’t, he would still be there to get her through it.

Here it was his birthday, and he was spending it here at the hospital with her. And she, hormonal and upset and in pain, could not be very good company. But still, Nick was here for her.

In that respect, he was everything that Jamie was not.

She’d heard no word from her husband since last night, though her other friends and family had been calling her hospital room all morning. Since Nick had arrived, she had told everyone else not to visit, that she needed some time alone. In reality, she would rather be here with just Nick than be alone. He provided a pair of listening ears to hear the concerns and complaints she just couldn’t help but voice, a smile to reassure her, and a warm hand to hold onto. It was strange that she should prefer him over her mother, who had birthed two children of her own, but even now, Nick just seemed to get her better than anyone.

Neither one of them paid attention to the pair of approaching footsteps in the hallway. They were too used to the hustle and bustle of people coming and going in these halls – nurses and doctors, mothers in labor and soon-to-be fathers, gurneys holding patients, bassinets carrying newborns – all became familiar sounds after a night in this ward.

But these footsteps were familiar in a different way. They shuffled to a stop outside Claire’s door, and there was a pause, then a hesitant knock, and then, before she could call “Come in!” again, the door swung open. And it was odd, for even though she had been wishing he was here, she could scarcely believe he really was. But there he was, in living color, clothes rumpled, dark curls disheveled, blue eyes weighed down by heavy bags… her husband.

“Jamie!” she burst with more energy than she’d felt like expelling all morning.

A smile spread over his wan face, and he left the threshold and crossed the room, surprising her with a kiss on the lips. Something inside of her that had been sleeping for a long while seemed to awake, and she felt like a woman again, not just a broken vessel who had failed in carrying two babies to term.

“You’re here,” she breathed as he pulled away, looking up into his tired eyes. “When did you leave Denver?”

“First thing this morning. Earliest flight I could get,” he replied.

“What about your business trip?”

He shrugged. “They’ll make do without me. They had to let me off on family medical leave for something like this. And I had to come and see you and our babies. How… how are they doing?” His forehead creased with lines of worry, and she found herself thinking quickly, trying to filter out what she should tell him and leave behind the parts she should shelter him from for now. If the pediatrician’s information this morning had upset her, there was no telling how he would react to it.

“As well as can be expected, I guess. They’re not in perfect health, being so premature, but… they are perfect. Ten little fingers and ten little toes… they’re beautiful, Jamie.” The emotion swelled within her again, and she fought off the tears that wanted to come. “Wanna go see them?”

“Y-yeah… I mean, is that okay? Can you go?”

“Sure. Last night I made my nurse wheel my whole bed to the NICU, but maybe I can try a wheelchair today. They’ll probably have my ass up and walking by tonight anyway, right, Nick?” She had just realized that Nick was still there and probably feeling awkward, being in the midst of Jamie’s and her reunion. The last time they had seen each other, Jamie had nearly broken his jaw.

This plainly had not been forgotten, as Nick was now watching Jamie through narrowed eyes, his jaw clenched. But all he said was, “Yep, you’ve got that to look forward to.”

She offered him a smile. Then she turned back to Jamie and said, “Hey, will you run down to the nurses’ station and tell them we’d like to go visit the NICU and could use some help?”

“Can’t you just call them with that?” asked Jamie, pointing to the call button sitting off to the side of her bed.

“It’s been acting up. Just go ask,” she insisted, eager to get him out of the room for just a minute. He left reluctantly, and she turned to Nick. “I’m sorry, I had no idea he was coming today. I didn’t know if he was coming at all.”

Nick shrugged. “Don’t apologize. They’re his kids; he should be here.”

She nodded. “I want you to come see them too, if you want to, but would you mind if, just this first time, Jamie and I went alone?” She didn’t want to exclude him; after all, he had been the one to see them born, not Jamie. But a part of her was desperate for this moment with her husband, this chance to bring their new family back together.

“Of course I don’t mind,” said Nick, and he looked sincere, surprised, even, that she would expect him to mind. “I should probably get going anyway.”

“You don’t have to, you know, just because he’s here. But what am I saying – it’s your birthday; I’m sure you’ve got all kinds of plans. Go enjoy your day! I’ll be thinking about you.” She smiled, hoping he wouldn’t think she was kicking him out.

“I’ll be thinking about you too,” he promised and stood, leaning forward to kiss her forehead again before he walked away. “Call me if you need anything,” were his last words before he left the room.

He must have passed Jamie on the way out, because Jamie’s first words upon reentering the room were, “Has he been here all morning?”

“Not all morning. For about an hour,” she replied.

“Just him?”

“My family will be by later. They were all here really late last night; I wanted to give them a break.” She failed to mention that Nick had been here then, too. Jamie didn’t need to know that just yet. She could only imagine his resentment if he found out that Nick had been the only one around to coach her through her C-section.

He nodded, sinking into the chair formerly occupied by Nick. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

“It’s alright. No one could have predicted I would go into labor so soon. Well, aside from the fact that I’d already been in preterm labor once.” She let a wry smile pass over her lips.

Jamie just shook his head. “I feel like I missed out on so much. I mean, the birth of my children… and I wasn’t there.”

“It’s okay,” Claire reassured him. “You probably would have passed out and missed it anyway.”

“Hey,” Jamie said in offense, but he chuckled. They exchanged tiny smiles, and Claire began to wonder if this day, this occasion, would be the one to heal their relationship. After all, if the birth of their twins couldn’t bring them back together, what could?

She had no chance to voice any of the thoughts in her heads, though, for at that moment, Claire’s day nurse, Anita, arrived with a wheelchair and an encouraging smile.

Getting up and out of bed hurt a lot worse than Claire had expected. The steady dosage of pain medication coursing through her veins had almost made her forget she’d had major surgery the night before, but she got a painful reminder as soon as Anita helped her sit up and ease her legs over the edge of the bed. She moved gingerly, her hand held lightly over the dressings covering her belly. As Anita and Jamie helped her to stand, supporting her on each side, she gasped aloud, not just from the pain, but the dropping sensation in her abdomen, the feeling that her incision was about to split open, spilling her insides onto the floor.

Of course, this did not happen, and Anita assured her that the feeling was quite normal as she eased her into the wheelchair. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was worth it to be sitting up and mobile, thought Claire as the nurse readied her IV pole and catheter bag for the trip down to the NICU.

“I gave them the names we picked out,” Claire told Jamie softly, slipping her hand into his as he walked alongside her chair.

He looked at her in surprise. “You named them already?”

She nodded. “I wasn’t so keen on them being called ‘Baby Girl A’ and ‘Baby Girl B.’ So now they’re Caitlin Patrice and Delaine Ryann Turner.”

She watched as he mouthed the names soundlessly, finally smiling. “I love them.”

Claire smiled too. “I figure we can call them Cait and Lainey for short. You know, when they’re old enough to want nicknames.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Jamie’s voice was light and casual, but he clammed up and stopped talking as soon as they were in sight of the NICU. His silence was drowned out by the chorus of blips and beeps that greeted them when Anita escorted them inside, and, looking up, Claire could see him turn pale as he looked around at all of the heavily monitored incubators with tiny, tiny babies inside.

“Our girls are back here,” said Claire, reaching to the depths of last night’s foggy memory to guide Anita to the right section of the ward, where her twin babies lay.

A nurse stood beside Delaine’s incubator, scribbling notes on her chart as she checked the numbers on all of the monitors. When she looked up and saw Claire and Jamie, she smiled. “Are you Delaine and Caitlin’s parents?”

The question made Claire swell with pride; she was a parent now. “That’s us,” she said, weakly stretching out her hand to the nurse. “Claire Turner. This is my husband, Jamie. It’s his first time seeing the girls.”

“Nice to meet you both. I’m Fernanda,” the nurse introduced herself, speaking with the faintest of Spanish accents. The melodic accent gave her voice a soothing quality, perfect for working with babies. “You have a beautiful set of twins here.”

“Thank you,” said Claire and smiled over at Jamie. But he was not looking back at her. He was staring, transfixed, into the transparent incubator where Delaine slept, naked except for a diaper and a tiny pink stocking cap, her fragile body almost lost in a tangle of tubes and wires. Whereas her skin was a jaundiced red-orange, Jamie’s was chalk white.

Claire wasn’t the only one to notice. Fernanda must have been used to such reactions because she smiled and said kindly, “I know it’s a little intimidating, seeing them hooked up to all these machines, but it’s not as bad as it looks. If you’d like, you can reach in and touch her. She won’t break.”

Jamie didn’t respond at first, but in his silence, Claire asked eagerly, “Could I?”

“Of course. There’s two round panels here on the side that come off so that you can reach in and handle her.” Fernanda showed her how to take the plastic circles out of the incubator and guided her hand through one of the holes. And before she knew it, Claire was touching her baby for the first time.

Delaine’s skin was unbelievably soft, made silkier by the fine layer of lanugo that covered it. And yet, it was so thin, Claire could see all of her blood vessels and feel her tiny bones. Skin and bones… that’s all she seemed to be. She felt so frail that Claire was not entirely convinced she wouldn’t break if she pressed too hard. And yet, just stroking her delicately with one finger was incredible. She could feel herself bonding with the infant, her second-born.

Anxious to do the same with Caitlin, she pulled her hand back out after a few minutes and turned to Jamie. “Trade places with me,” she said. “Put your hand in and touch her; it’s amazing.”

But Jamie shook his head, close-lipped, wanting no part of it. Claire frowned. “Come on,” she urged, repeating Fernanda’s words, “she won’t break. It helps to touch her; it helps with the bonding process. Isn’t that right?” She directed the question to Fernanda, who was now recording Caitlin’s vital signs.

“Yes, of course. Touch is very important for preemies.”

“See? She needs you, Jamie; she needs her daddy. Now come on.” Claire needed him to do this. Determined, she reached for his hand and guided it into the incubator, as Fernanda had done to her. Stretching his index finger out, she moved it very gently over Delaine’s exposed chest, guiding his touch with her own. “See?” she murmured softly, smiling over at him. “Nothing to it.”

A weak smile made its way onto Jamie’s face, though his hand shook as he stroked the baby’s chest. Confident that he would warm up to it, Claire turned her attention to Caitlin. A minute passed, and she became lost in the motion of caressing her baby, able to block out the sight and sounds of all the machinery and focus on just her daughter, her beautiful daughter.

But she was jarred cruelly from her reverie by a shrill beep coming from Delaine’s incubator. Gasping, she whirled around – too fast, she realized all too soon, as her abdomen ignited with pain – to find Jamie gaping, white-faced and horrorstruck, back at her.

***