A Different Blue(117)

face. “Did I ever tell you how beautiful I think you are? You're almost there. I will help you.

Hold on to me. It's going to be all right.”

“Wilson?”

“Yes?”

“If I see her . . . I don't know if I will be able to let her go. I'm afraid if I hold my baby,

I won't be able to let her go.” The tears ran down my cheeks, and I didn't have to strength to

hold them back.

Wilson wrapped his arms around me as the agony inside me rose up and howled.

“Come on, Blue!” The doctor was insistent. “Here we go! One more.”

[page]And somehow I did. Somehow I did. A last desperate effort, the final thrust, and a moment

of relief as the baby was pulled free. Wilson's arms fell away, and he rose to his feet as the

room erupted in excited exclamation. A girl. She was here, arms flailing, black hair wet and

slicked to her tiny head, eyes wide. She howled in outrage, a war cry worthy of the battle that

had been waged and won. And I reached for her.

In that moment she was mine. The nurse laid her on my chest, and my hands were there to hold

her. The world around me fell away. Time ceased, and I drank her in. I felt simultaneously dizzy

with power and impossibly weak as I stared at my tiny daughter. She blinked up at me, her eyes

blurry and swollen, her mouth moving, making mournful sounds that ripped at my heart. Terror

rose inside of me, blinding me, and for a heartbeat I considered fleeing the room, running

wildly down long corridors and out into the storm with my child in my arms to escape the promise

I had made. I loved her. Insanely and completely. I loved her. I swung my head around, wild with

turmoil, sick with dread, searching for Wilson. He stood only a few feet away, his hands shoved

into his pockets, his face haggard, and his hair falling across his forehead. His eyes met mine,

and I saw that he was crying. And then the nurse whisked her away – just like that – and the

moment was gone. Time resumed its normal speed, competently unhindered by my devastation. I fell

back against the pillows, stunned, and let the world rush on without me.

It was mere minutes before the room emptied and I lay alone, the refuse of childbirth

efficiently bundled and trundled away. Wilson had stepped out into the hall to call Tiffa, the

nurses had taken the baby to places unknown for measuring and bathing, the doctor had neatly

finished his work, removed his gloves, and congratulated me on a job well done. And now I lay,

spent and rejected, like yesterday's news. And it was done.





I was moved to a recovery room, helped into the shower, and unceremoniously tucked back into my

bed. Nobody asked me if I would like to see my baby. Wilson had hovered for a time, but when it

was evident that I was in good hands, he decided to run home and grab a shower and some clean

clothes as well. The rain had finally stopped. The flash flood warning had been lifted, but the

lowest level of the hospital had had to be evacuated because of flooding – which had caused

chaos throughout the rest of the hospital. My nurses had apologized profusely that I had been

neglected during my labor. Staff had already been skeletal due to the difficulties of getting to

the hospital in the storm, and the flooding had almost done them in.

Jack and Tiffa were unable to get home. The storm that had caused flooding in Las Vegas caused a

blizzard in Reno as the massive storm stretched from one end of the state to the other. The