Counting Stars (37 page)

Chapter Seventy-Three

Jane reached across the hospital bed, capturing Mark’s toes. “This little piggy went to McDonald’s, this little piggy went to Burger King . . .” She wiggled each one as she tried to remember the silly jingle Peter used to play with him. She had it wrong, or she simply wasn’t as funny—either way Mark wasn’t laughing as he usually did. Instead, his face was sullen, and he leaned forward, arms outstretched, a pitiful cry begging her to take him away from this strange, scary place.

More than anything, Jane wished she could. Watching the nurses draw Mark’s blood, and seeing him poked and prodded for the early morning lab work, had been enough to bring them both to tears. He was so little, and they’d already hurt him so much. And the awful part hadn’t even begun. She tried not to think about that, about the scar that ran down the center of his tiny chest, or about the scalpel that would open it once again.

Fighting the terrible, gripping fear that had been building all week, Jane leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Mark in a tight embrace. She whispered soothing words in his ear, patted his head, and pulled his hospital gown closed at the back so he wouldn’t get cold.

But she didn’t take him and run away.
Help us, Heavenly Father,
she prayed silently.
Please comfort Mark, and give me the strength I need to see this through.

Mark’s arms wrapped around her neck, clinging as he almost never did. A sad smile touched Jane’s lips as she remembered how diligently she’d worked with him, teaching him how to give hugs. At home he wasn’t much for snuggling, but the cold, sterile environment at the hospital had made him as clingy as a koala.

Holding Mark securely with one arm, she leaned down to the chair beside the bed and picked up the large shopping bag she’d brought with her this morning. Opening it, she removed the teddy bear—nearly as big as its new owner—and held it up for Mark to see. She’d planned to give it to him after the surgery but decided there was no point in waiting. She could buy another stuffed animal to celebrate then. In fact, she’d buy a dozen. That’s exactly what Peter would do if he were here.

“Look at the bear, Mark,” Jane cooed. She pried one of his hands from her neck and ran his fingers down the bear’s arm. “Feel how soft.”

Mark didn’t seem impressed with the fur but eagerly poked a finger at one of the large, plastic eyes. Grateful he was distracted for the moment, Jane eased him back onto the bed and glanced up at the clock.

8:50 a.m. Any minute now they would come get him. Could she really let him go? It had taken her over fifteen minutes just to sign the papers this morning. Words like
liability, release
, and
death
had jumped out from the pages, making her wonder yet again if this was the right thing to do and the right time to do it.

Mark looked up at her again, his lips puckering in another cry. Jane smiled and rubbed his arm reassuringly.

Sitting in the big bed with the oversized bear beside him, he looked even smaller and more vulnerable than he had before. The sleeves of the hospital gown came nearly to his wrists—the whole thing was drowning him. It wasn’t made for such a miniature patient. For some reason this panicked Jane even more.
If they can’t get the hospital gown right, how are they going to perform surgery on a fifteen-pound one-year-old?

Tears burned behind her eyes, and she blinked them back.
He shouldn’t be here. He’s too little. How did you do this the first time, Paul?
She looked up at the ceiling, sending a silent prayer heavenward.
Please watch out for Mark today. Be with him when I can’t.
Jane wrapped her arms around her middle and bit down on her lip, trying to hold the tears at bay. It was all she could do not to scoop Mark into her arms and whisk him away from here.
What I wouldn’t give to have this all over and Mark safely at home where he belongs.

But she forced her feet to stay rooted to the spot, her eyes glued to her baby, savoring every minute she had.
Most parents think taking their babies in to be vaccinated is difficult—and it is,
she thought.
But it’s nothing compared to this, to knowing such trauma must be inflicted on your child in order to sustain his life.

Mark wrapped one arm around the bear’s head and held his other out to Jane. She bent over the bed, holding him again.
What will you think
when they take you away and I stay behind? Oh,
Peter, I wish you were here.

The door swung open and Jane let out a breath of relief when she saw it was her parents. Mark recognized them too, and his face seemed to light up at more familiar faces. Her mom took one look at her and came over and held Jane tightly, much as Jane had held Mark a few minutes earlier.

“Everything will be all right.” Her mother whispered the soothing words in Jane’s ear as she stroked her hair.

In that moment Jane had a glimpse of understanding she’d never felt before. “I love you Mom.

“Eh-hm,” Robert Warner cleared his throat loudly.

“And you too, Dad.” She stepped from her mother’s embrace and wiped a tear away. “I never understood how hard being a parent is.”

“You still don’t.” Her dad’s voice was teasing, and he smiled at her. “And you won’t until you’ve raised a teenager like Caroline.”

Jane laughed, grateful for the distraction, and leaned forward to give her dad a quick hug.

The door opened again, and two nurses entered, their hair covered, blue gowns on, and looking ready for surgery. Jane had met one of them previously and knew she would be attending Mark today.

“All ready?” the familiar one asked casually—as if Jane were sending Mark off to a birthday party or his first day of kindergarten—or some other completely normal activity. But there was nothing normal about this. She’d never be ready.

“Not quite,” her father said, stepping close to Mark. “If you’ll let us have another minute, I’ll give this boy a blessing, and we’ll have a word of prayer.”

The nurses exchanged awkward glances. “We’ll be right back then,” the second one said, and the two left the room.

“I know we just gave Mark a blessing yesterday,” Robert said. “But on the way over, I kept thinking that maybe he should have one more—for comfort.”

“That would be nice.” Jane felt another swell of gratitude for her parents and the priesthood.

Her father stepped forward and tousled Mark’s hair. “How ya doing today, little guy?”

Mark looked up at the three of them, his eyes large in his pale face. He smiled, revealing his two new teeth on top. Jane felt her throat constrict as her father placed his hands on Mark’s head. She closed her eyes, listening to the words of comfort, and felt a quiet peace wrap itself around her heart. The strength she’d prayed for so fervently was suddenly hers.

The prayer ended. The nurses returned. A last-minute check of Mark’s blood pressure and temperature was all it took to start him crying again. Jane carried him to the bed waiting in the hall, and she walked beside it as they wheeled him toward the doors at the far end. At the last minute, the nurse took his teddy bear and handed it to Jane. Mark cried louder, his arms reaching toward her. Jane blew him a kiss as tears streamed down her face.

A second later he disappeared through the doors. Jane clutched the bear to her chest and closed her eyes, listening as Mark’s cries continued on the other side.

* * *

Caroline bent down, picked up Madison, and moved her away from the open dishwasher—for the third time.

“You’re a determined little girl, aren’t you?” Caroline said, moving the kitchen chairs to form an arc around her. “I dare you to get through that,” she said as she returned to the sink full of last night’s dishes. It had been Jessica’s turn to wash them, and she’d conveniently forgotten.

Madison toddled over to the first chair, climbed up, and held onto the back, shrieking as her little fingers gripped the spindles. Right behind her, Andrew dropped his bottle on the floor and followed, though he wasn’t quite as adept at climbing. After a couple of tries, he too was successful, and both babies jumped up and down on the chairs, screeching like a couple of caged monkeys.

Caroline fit the last dish into the washer and closed the door. She turned around, shaking a finger at Madison and Andrew. “You two—” The words caught in her throat. She wasn’t used to seeing just the two of them together. At family gatherings there were always
three
babies to keep an eye on—Andrew, Madison, and
Mark.
Caroline’s gaze slid to the clock on the wall. It was almost noon. His surgery should be well under way by now. She looked at the phone and wondered if she dared call to see how Jane was holding up. Caroline knew how she’d feel if it were Andrew having open-heart surgery. She reached for the phone.

She needs you. Jane needs you—right now.
The thought hit Caroline so forcefully that without a second’s debate she turned away from the phone and grabbed the diaper bag from the counter. Mom and Dad were at the hospital, but they weren’t parents of a baby right now. They hadn’t lived through having an infant in the NICU like she had last year. Jane needed her.

Caroline scooped Madison and Andrew off the chairs and ran to find her shoes.

* * *

Breathless, Caroline walked quickly through the hospital. It had taken her forty-five minutes to get the babies over to Karen’s and then to get here, but it looked like everything was going well. Jane appeared calm as she sat between Mom and Dad on a couch at the end of the waiting room.

Caroline hurried over. “Hi.” She held out a white paper bag. “I brought orange rolls. I know they’re your favorite.”

“Thanks,” Jane said. She took the bag but made no move to open it. “Aren’t you missing a couple of kids?”

“No worries. Maddie ran out of things to destroy at my house, so I took her over to Karen’s. She said she’d keep her as long as you need. I wanted to be with you.”

Their dad reached for the bag. “Well I, for one,
am
hungry.” He scooted over on the couch, and Caroline squeezed in beside Jane.

“How you holding up?”

“Okay,” Jane said, sounding anything but okay. “I’ll just be so glad when it’s over. Then we’ll only have one more surgery to go, and that won’t be for at least another year and a half.”

“And Peter will be home by then,” Caroline said, assuredly.

“He’d better be.” Jane gave her a wry smile.

“Isn’t that Mark’s surgeon?” their mother asked, looking up from her needlework.

Jane nodded. “Yes.” She rose from the couch, and Caroline and her parents followed. Together they walked toward the doctor. Jane rubbed her palms together nervously.

“Mrs. Bryant,” Dr. Ray spoke as soon as they were close enough to talk. “We’ve got a room over here for you and your family. If you’ll just follow me.” He held his hand out to indicate the direction.

Jane didn’t move. “How is Mark?”

Dr. Ray again pointed to the room on the far side of the waiting area. “We’ll have more privacy in there.”

“Why? Has something happened?” Jane’s voice trembled.

Caroline placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Come on. It’s okay.”

The four followed Dr. Ray into one of two smaller rooms. A nurse joined them, shutting the door after they were all inside.

“Please, have a seat,” Dr. Ray said.

“How is Mark?” Jane asked again. “Is the surgery over? Were you able to connect the artery—?”

“Mrs. Bryant,” Dr. Ray said. “We have many things to tell you. Please, sit down.”

Caroline took Jane’s hand and tugged her into the closest chair. She sat down beside Jane, and her parents took their places on either side.

Dr. Ray pulled up a chair of his own and sat directly across from them.

“As you know, most babies with Mark’s condition have the Bidirectional Glenn Procedure at around six months of age. With him, we had to wait because of his other problems, and simply because he hadn’t gained enough weight and his heart wasn’t big enough.”

Jane nodded. Caroline kept hold of her hand and squeezed gently.

“The problem with waiting as we did—and I believe we discussed this at several of his appointments—is that—”

“The single ventricle is overworked longer,” Jane finished. “I know all of that. How is he now? Did something go wrong with the surgery?” her voice escalated, and Caroline could tell her sister’s worry was edging into panic.

“The ventricle was worn out. He had a heart valve infection on top of that.” Dr. Ray’s words were quiet—sad.

“But he took the antibiotics,” Jane said. “I made sure of it. He never missed a dose.”

“The endocarditis has probably been present for some time,” Dr. Ray said. “The antibiotics were simply too little, too late.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees, a pained expression on his face. “Mrs. Bryant, Mark’s heart failed during the operation. He—”

“Failed!”
Jane rose from her chair, tugging her hand free from Caroline’s. “How long was it stopped? Is he all right? Is he going to have brain damage?”

“He didn’t make it through the surgery, Mrs. Bryant.” Dr. Ray also stood. “We tried for over twenty minutes to revive him, but the combination of the overworked ventricle and the infection was too much for your son’s heart.”

Jane’s hand covered her mouth but it didn’t muffle her anguished sob.

The doctor’s words shocked Caroline, but she forced herself out of the chair and wrapped a comforting arm around Jane, who was shaking.

“Who’s with Mark now?” Jane demanded. “Are they still trying? There must be something? Do
something!
”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bryant. But there is nothing more we can do. If there was, believe me, I would be in there now.”

“No!” Jane wailed. “No, you’re wrong! I was just playing with him this morning. He was healthy. He was fine.”

“Mrs. Bryant,” the nurse said calmly, “Mark wasn’t healthy. His heart has been struggling since before he was born, and the evidence of infection we saw today indicates that it could have failed anywhere. That it happened here—with Dr. Ray and his medical team able to do all they could—instead of at your home or the park, is something to be grateful for.”