Life and Other Inconveniences(49)

Please, God, let the baby be healthy. Please. They’d waited so long. If she had special needs, that would be okay. Ashley had a cousin with Down syndrome; Miller had grown up with a kid who had brain damage from a car accident. They’d talked about this. It would be fine.

So long as the baby lived, they could handle anything.

It never occurred to Miller that his wife was the one who’d needed the prayers. He figured they’d put in their time, their heartache. Ashley was healthy and strong. She’d done yoga all the way through, even this morning. Truly, it had been a beautiful pregnancy unmarred by morning sickness or heartburn or swollen ankles. Her hips were wide, perfect for pushing out babies. Or, if they needed to do a C-section, that was okay, too. Ash was in great shape.

The night slipped by, measured by contractions, by Ashley’s soft groans, her grip on his hand tightening and easing.

When the transition came to the third stage of labor, they asked Ashley which position she preferred for pushing. She wanted to sit with her feet in the stirrups, and Miller stuck by her side like a burr. “You can do this, babe. You’re almost done.”

“I better be,” she said, gritting her teeth.

She’d been in labor for twenty hours. He had to wonder how she could keep going. How the baby was still okay, squished in there for almost an entire day.

“One . . . two . . . three . . . ,” he said. “Doing great, honey. You’re amazing.”

She pushed. And pushed. And pushed. Miller understood why women had babies, because he would’ve been a whimpering wreck begging for death by now. But his wife . . . she was otherworldly in her strength. An Amazon.

Half hour. Forty-five minutes. An hour.

Why was this taking so fucking long? How could the baby survive? He knew how, but it didn’t seem right.

“You’re making great progress,” Dr. Dunn said. “I can see a little bit of the head. Reach down and touch your daughter, Ashley.”

And so, before the baby was even out, Ashley became the first person to touch her. It would haunt him for the rest of his life. She looked up at Miller with an expression of such joy, such love and wonder, that he knew everything would be fine.

He was wrong.

She suddenly fell back on the bed. “I’m cold,” she said. “I’m freezing.” Another contraction gripped her and she tried to push again, but she was weaker this time.

The nurse, Chelsea, got her a blanket, even though Ashley was covered in sweat.

“You okay, babe?” he asked.

“Fine.” Her eyes were too wide.

She didn’t look fine. She was abruptly white. Her teeth were chattering, and her muscles were shaking.

“Ash. Ashley,” he said. She didn’t answer. “Doc?” Miller said. “Is she okay?”

“This is normal for the third stage,” the nurse said, glancing up from between Ashley’s legs. “Her muscles are in overdrive.”

“Get . . . the baby . . . out,” Ashley said. “It hurts . . . a lot.” It was the first time she’d complained about anything.

“A few more pushes, and you’ll have your girl. It’s a little late for an epidural,” the doctor said, looking between Ashley’s legs. “This baby will be out in five minutes. You’re almost there.” She glanced up. “You good, hon?”

“Yep.” There was a grimness to her voice, but when she looked at him, Miller’s heart started a sick, rolling thump.

“Doc,” he began.

“Next contraction, I want you to bear down, the best push yet, sweetheart,” Dr. Dunn said, and Ashley did, hard. Her teeth were chattering, and her tremors had turned to almost violent shaking. This couldn’t be normal.

“Almost there, honey,” Miller said. He felt like crying, and not with joy.

Ashley nodded. Tried to take a deep breath and then coughed. It was a deep, nasty, evil sound.

“Babe?” he said.

Ashley’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she was suddenly limp. The monitors began to bleat.

“Ashley?” the doctor asked. No, yelled.

“Oh, shit,” the nurse said.

Miller heard a wet splat. “Ashley? Honey?” She didn’t stir.

“Ashley! Ashley! Wake up!” the doctor barked. “Fuck! Get a crash cart in here and call the NICU! Massive transfusion protocol, stat! She’s coding!”

The words flew past in a blur, and terror bottomed out in his stomach. All he knew was that his wife was not awake. He pressed his forehead against hers. “Ashley,” he said. “Ash. Wake up! Wake up, honey, our baby’s almost here! Honey! Wake up!”

Then someone was dragging him by the arm, pulling him away from her. “Stand here and don’t move,” the person said, and he stood alone in the corner, stunned as if he’d just been clubbed. There were so many people around Ashley, and everyone seemed to be yelling. The bed was lowered so she was flat, and they were ripping open her johnny coat.

They were giving her chest compressions. Chest compressions! Miller’s mind went to a white roar of fear. There was so much noise, the monitors blaring, Dr. Dunn yelling things like “Suction, suction, where’s the transfusion team, goddamnit?”

Was that blood? Was that a puddle of Ashley’s blood on the floor? What the fuck was happening?