First and Last (34 page)

“What happens if we have to deliver? Will the baby be okay?” Mia asks, her voice strong and steady which is at complete odds with me. I feel helpless and weak. And fucking terrified.

“We won’t know until you deliver. There will no doubt be complications. As you know, thirty-seven weeks is considered full term, and you’re six weeks shy of that, but it’s hard to predict how severe it’ll be at this point.” My hands run through my hair while Mia nods. “We’ll monitor the baby to make sure he’s not under any stress. I’ll be back shortly to check on you, okay?”

“Thank you, doctor,” I tell him. He nods and walks out, leaving us with one of the nurses. “It’s going to be okay.” I don’t know if I’m trying to convince her or myself. The truth is I’m scared shitless. I’m afraid for my wife and our baby.

On my way back from getting her some ice chips, the room is full again and people are bouncing around. “What’s going on?” My pulse instantly spikes, going on full alert.

“The baby’s heart rate keeps dropping. He’s under stress, so we need to get him out now,” a nurse tells me.

My mouth goes dry as I rush to Mia’s side. There’s no time to say anything to her as they start wheeling her out of the room and to the operating room. “Wait, I want to go back with her,” I tell the nurse.

“We’ll get her set up and come get you if there’s time, okay?”

They push her through a wide door and I’m left alone on the other side. I pace back and forth, wondering what’s going on and if everything is okay. Sickness hits me in the gut as my insides are twisted into knots. A million thoughts run through my head and all I can think of are all the things that could be going wrong. Times like this make me wish our family lived close by because right now I’m about to go out of my fucking mind. Several minutes go by and no one has come for me yet, further intensifying my anxiety. My hands go to my head as I look up at the ceiling.

Please, God, let them be okay.

How long has it been? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Time means nothing as I’m suspended in a state of limbo, waiting to hear how two of the most important people in my life are doing.

Finally, the doors open and a woman in scrubs comes out. “Mr. Collins?” I nod. “Dr. Phillips was able to deliver the baby.” Even with all my fears, a pang of disappointment washes over me because I missed his birth. “They’re assessing him now in the NICU, but we can bring you back to your wife now. You need to put on some scrubs over your clothes first.”

My hands tremble as I pull on the stuff I was handed. In my haste to get dressed, I fumble with the shoe coverings and can’t get it over one of my feet. “Dammit,” I mutter. I just want to get to my wife, and these fucking things are standing in my way. Finally, I’m dressed and ready to enter her room. The nurse leads me in and I’m relieved when I set eyes on Mia. She’s on the table, arms spread out to her sides, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m here, babe, I’m here.” I sit in the chair next to her as the doctor works behind the curtain to stitch up her stomach.

“He was so small,” she whispers, fighting back the tears.

“You saw him?”

She nods. I kiss her forehead and stroke her face.

The only thing more agonizing than getting in to see Mia is waiting to hear how our son is. This is such a stark contrast from Aubrey’s delivery. We experienced everything you expect when you’re going to meet your baby for the first time: labor, pushing, first cry, holding her immediately, cutting the cord. None of that happened today. But what’s worse is we have no clue what his health looks like.

If he’ll even make it.

I swallow hard at the thought, willing my brain to never think those words again. He’s a Collins. He’s a fighter. He’s going to make it.

Mia is wheeled into recovery before the doctor comes in to give us the information we desperately seek. “Alright, your son is going to have to stay in the NICU for the time being. He’s having a hard time breathing on his own because his lungs are underdeveloped, which is expected because they’re the last things to develop during pregnancy. He has a low birth weight of three pounds, seven ounces. He’s not able to eat on his own yet, so we have a feeding tube that runs up his nose. He also needs help regulating his temperature, so he’s under a heater to keep him warm. Overall though, he’s doing pretty well given how early he is. As long as there are no complications, I expect him to be fine, but I would prepare for a long road. He won’t be going home in a few days, or even in a week. He could be here for a while.”

We both nod our understanding, taking in all of this information.

“Do you guys have any questions?”

“When can we see him?” Mia asks.

He smiles. “I’ll have a nurse take you to him.”

“He’s going to be fine,” Mia says quietly when the doctor leaves.

“Yes, he is.”

I know Mia said he was small, but I wasn’t prepared for what I’m seeing as we’re brought to his incubator. “Oh my God. He’s tiny,” I say in astonishment, taking in our small baby with wires connected all over him. “Can we hold him?”

“Not yet. We need to make sure his blood pressure and heart rate are stable before moving him around. If everything goes well, the doctor should clear you to hold him tomorrow. But feel free to reach in and hold his hand and talk to him. Babies recognize their mother’s voice, so it’ll comfort him to know you’re here.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. I don’t want to leave him. He’s alone in here and I don’t want him to think we abandoned him. If babies can recognize their mother’s voice, then they must also recognize its absence. Fuck, this is breaking my heart.

I reach in through the hole and touch his tiny hand that is the size of my thumb. When his little fingers wrap around it, a new sense of hope comes over me. It’s like a sign he really is going to make it out of this. We all are.

“Hi, baby boy. It’s Mommy,” Mia says in a soothing voice as she strokes the bottom of his foot. “We’re right here, okay?”

“You know what I just realized?” I ask her.

“What?”

“We never picked out a name for him.”

“I was thinking about that earlier. You know I like the name Michael.”

Mia and I argued over names ever since we found out we were having a boy. Naming Aubrey was so easy. I don’t know why this time around is so difficult. “And I like the name Chris.”

“I think having my body cut open gives my vote more weight, just sayin’.” Really? Is she going to play that card all the time now? “Plus, have you thought out Chris? Chris Collins? I don’t like the way that sounds.” I roll my eyes. “What’s wrong with Michael?”

“Nothing.”

“Then it’s decided.” She perks up, smiling bright.

“Uh, no. I didn’t say I agreed to it.”

“What about Michael Frank Collins? Frank for your dad.”

I focus on her, touched by the sentiment. The corners of my mouth twitch and I agree. “Okay, Michael Frank Collins it is.” She leans in and gives me a kiss and then turns her attention back to our tiny baby.

Mia’s wheeled back to her room when our visit with Michael is over. While the nurse is checking up on her, I step outside her room to call my mom. She picks up on the second ring.

“How’s the baby?” she rushes out. Mia sent a group text to our family when we were on our way to the hospital.

“He’s doing okay.” I take a deep breath through my nose, trying to calm myself. “Mom, I’m freaking out. I’m trying so damn hard to hold it together for Mia, but I feel myself cracking on the inside.” I swallow hard keeping my emotions down. “I’m afraid I’m going to break and I don’t know what to do.”

“Listen to me,” she says firmly. “You are so much stronger than you know. Think of that fearless kid who pushed his best friend out of the way of a car, or the little boy who stood up to a bully and defended his friend. I know this is hard. You’re afraid for your baby, and that’s okay.”

“I feel so helpless. No matter what I do, nothing is going to magically make Michael better. I want to take his pain and struggle away and have a healthy baby.”

“I know, honey. But instead of wishing you could take the pain for him, be his strength so he can get through it on his own. You all are going to make it, you just have to have faith.”

I’m still scared shitless, but my heart has slowed and the feeling of panic has subsided. “Thanks, Mom.” I didn’t realize how much I needed that until now.

“That’s what I’m here for. So, you named him Michael?”

With a small smile on my face, I tell her his full name. I could hear the emotion in her voice when his middle name registered with her. After promising to send her updates, I hang up and return to my wife.

The time came and went for Mia to go home. It was the strangest thing to have a baby, but leave the hospital empty handed. Michael was nowhere near ready to go, but we went back to the hospital every day to visit him. Some days we’d bring Aubrey and some days we’d come alone.

Watching him hit new milestones in his health was always encouraging. Like the first time he ate from a bottle. It was three weeks after he was born and a huge step in his improvement, but also showed he was that much closer to coming home with us.

Nine weeks after his surprise entry into this world, we’re heading to the hospital for the last time. The doctors are happy with his progress and told us yesterday they are releasing him.

If I said these weeks have been easy, I’d be lying. It’s been emotionally tasking on all of us. The days at the hospital were endless and the nights sleepless as we hoped the next day would bring good news and he’d come home. I took Mom’s advice and used it to be the rock my family needed, so when Mia finally broke down, I was there to pick her up and assure her everything was going to be okay.

“I can’t believe it’s finally here. We get to take him home!” Mia all but squeals. Her voice vibrates with excitement, but I feel the same way. This is a long time coming and I can’t wait to make my family whole again.

“I know, me neither. Are you excited for your brother to come home, Aubrey?” I ask, looking at her in the rearview mirror.

“Yep! I’m going to be the bestest sister ever!” I smile at her enthusiasm.

I want to freeze this moment in time. Looking at Aubrey, I know how fast they grow up. I swear it was just yesterday we were bringing her home from the hospital. Now she’s almost four. Mia and I sit on the couch, Michael in her arms and Aubrey on my lap. I pull my phone out from my back pocket and hold it out with my arm. I snap a picture, the sound of a camera shutter getting their attention.

“Smile everyone.” I take one more before putting my phone away. We’re definitely framing that one because right now, my life has never felt so complete. This right here is what it’s all about. Through the obstacles and struggles, we remain strong and hold each other together. I wish I could say I was the glue, but it’s all Mia. She’s stronger and more determined than I could ever hope to be. She always has been. There were days at the hospital I felt so discouraged every time the doctors would tell us he’s not ready. I was frustrated and broken. But Mia was always there with a comforting touch, ensuring me Michael was going to come home soon and be healthier than ever. And now, here he is.

In our arms.

At our home.

Exactly where he should be.