Authors: Elena Matthews
He reaches into his jeans pocket and retrieves his phone.
“Somebody keeps calling. I’m going to have to answer it. I’ll be right back.”
When he returns he has a face like thunder, mumbling something about incompetent bastards.
“I can’t fucking believe them,” he whispers as he approaches me. “Sorry, gorgeous, I have to go into work for a couple of hours; apparently nobody can do my job except for me. Are you going to be okay on your own for a while? It is literally just for a few hours.”
I stand up from my seat, stretching my legs trying to ease the cramp from being sat down for too long.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine, what’s the emergency?”
“Just idiots who can’t get things right. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“Yeah, just go.”
He leans in to give me a quick kiss on my forehead.
“I’ll be back soon, I promise.”
It isn
’t long after he departs when a nurse approaches me with a smile. “I have some good news for you. I have been speaking to the doctor, and I can confirm that you can finally hold your baby.” I stare at the nurse in disbelief when she asks the question I have been waiting a full week to hear. “Would you like to hold your baby, Ava?” the nurse asks, and I could cry I am so frigging ecstatic.
“Really? She’s strong enough for that?”
She nods, a pretty smile spread across her face. “Yeah, honey, she is well enough to be held. Have we spoken to you about the kangaroo care?”
I nod. They spoke to me about it briefly just before I was discharged from the hospital. I was told that
kangaroo care is skin-to-skin contact with the parent and baby. In the neonatal books I have been reading, they have all mentioned that the method of skin-to-skin contact is beneficial for a preterm baby. It can stabilize their heart rate, breathing and oxygen; develop a deeper sleeping pattern and a more rapid weight gain. It also explained that it’s a great technique to help parents bond with their baby, but I am here so often I doubt that would have ever been a problem anyway.
“Okay, that’s great. Well let
’s get you into a comfortable position, and considering this is your first time it is probably best if you sit down in the rocking chair. I will disconnect the oxygen tubing from her and then reconnect it through the side port on her incubator. Then I will rearrange the rest of the wires so we can have a smooth transfer from the incubator to you.”
I prepare myself by going for a quick
restroom break, which was greatly recommended by the nurses. The last thing I need is nature calling when I’m holding my baby for the first time. After thoroughly washing my hands and arms again, I make myself comfortable in the rocking chair beside my baby’s incubator. I watch as three of the nurses do their final preparations by checking her temperature and other medical necessities to ensure she is still strong enough, while I unbutton the first three buttons of my blouse so my baby girl can get to my chest without restrictions. I am told to sit back against the chair; then they delicately remove her from the incubator and transfer her over to me, wrapped loosely in a thick pink blanket. I look down at my chest in apprehensive terror when they finally place her vertically against my bare skin, removing the blanket in the process. Her little arms rest gently against the top of my chest while her hat covered head is turned to the side and nestled against the middle of my breast bone and her neck positioned into a sniffing position to avoid obstruction to her airways, or so I am told. I barely move an inch as they continue with their calm transfer, their hands securely on her at all times as I watch with fascination. One of the nurses fastens two of the buttons of my shirt back up, so my baby is laid inside the material, while a second nurse arranges her tubes, so they are wired securely under my clothing. They ensure the oxygen prongs are attached correctly to her nose. The nurse, who buttoned up my shirt, is now covering her securely with the blanket and the third nurse positions my hands, so they are now the hands holding her securely.
Oh my God.
I am actually holding my baby.
There are no words to describe how I am feeling right now. I am speechless.
“How are you doing?” the third nurse asks reassuringly. I nod at her, unable to help the one tear that rolls down my cheek. The experience is overwhelming but absolutely beautiful. Seven days I have been waiting for this one moment, to be able to hold her in my arms, and now it is finally happening.
“I will be nearby at all times, and I will be carrying out visual inspections, so if you have any problems just let me know.” Again I can only nod politely at the nurse as I look down to my beautiful daughter clutching her against my chest. I smile as I look down at her intently, another tear escaping. I take a second to appreciate this moment. From the instant she was placed on my chest, she immediately took another piece of my heart, and I fell deeper in love with her.
My thoughts suddenly travel to Sebastian, and I desperately wish he were here. He is missing a crucial moment of her life, and he isn’t here to witness it. Her father should be here for this. When I have finally found my voice again, I ask the nurse to take a snap shot with my phone and to send it to him.
An hour passes and even though my arms are aching a little from being sat in the same position for a long time, I don
’t want to let her go. She is laying so peacefully against my chest that I desperately want to stay like this forever. However, nothing lasts that long, and the three nurses come back and help transfer her back into the incubator. I instantly feel a chill when the nurse picks her up from my chest and transfers her back to her temporary residency. I feel alive with enchanting warmth, warmth I haven’t felt in such a long time, not since I was a child.
They successfully, yet carefully, place her back into her incubator, re-adjusting all of the wires into the right positions and ensure her oxygen is in correct working
order and her vitals are stable.
“Well that went better than expected, she definitely loved being in her m
omma’s arms,” the nurse says softly as she gazes down at my daughter. Her words make me smile with comfort. “Most preemies can find this process a little distressing at first, but your little one was a real trooper.” I smile again at my daughter before turning to look at the nurse.
“It was incredible...she
’s incredible.” And for the next hour I just continue to stare down at the miracle that is my daughter, feeling so blessed to have her in my life.
At some point during the evening I must have fallen asleep because one of the sweet nurses has to wake me up. “Sweetheart, it’s nearly ten o’clock, you should head on home and get some rest,” she whispers. I sit up, craning my neck from side to side, moaning as cramp shoots up my neck, massaging the knot away with my fingers. For a moment, I actually forget where I am until the beeping of the machines brings me back to reality and I stand up in mid panic looking down at my daughter. “Is she okay, have there been any changes?” I ask in a panic stricken voice.
“No
, there’s no need to panic, she’s doing brilliantly. Now, go.” She smiles encouragingly at me before walking away to check on a baby on the other side of the room. I stay for another five minutes saying goodbye, taking extra glances and crying a little that I have to leave her. I don’t want to leave her, it breaks my heart but I force myself to.
As I make my way out of the hospital, with my phone in my hand, I realize I have two text messages. The first one is from Caleb, and that
’s when I suddenly realize he hadn’t returned from his work emergency seven hours ago. I open the message up.
Caleb
: Sorry Ava, this emergency has actually turned into a fucking catastrophe.
It looks as though I’
m going to be here all night.
Make sure you grab a cab when you’re ready to go home.
I don’t want to hear that you walked home alone!
x
“
Yes sir,” I mumble under my breath, smirking as I read the text message. I am hardly in any fit state to walk three miles home, so I was just going to grab a cab anyway. I go through my second text message, and I am instantly uplifted when I see it’s from Sebastian, a reply from my messages this morning.
Sebastian
: Babe, that is amazing, my baby girl is a little fighter.
That pic is awesome.
Can’t wait to see her.
I miss you.
Xxxxxxxx
Then I notice there is a picture attached to the text message, so I tap on the image with my forefinger and smile when the image enlarges. It is a self-portrait of him blowing a kiss to the camera. I am so wrapped up in the photograph that I don’t see the person in front of me until I slam into the back of them. It literally whips the breath out of me. “Oh my God, I am so sorry!” I apologize profoundly, but when the person turns around, I am silenced to submission.
“Ava, are you okay?”
I make the huge mistake of looking into his emerald green eyes. I am suddenly engulfed within the warmth of them, and everything else begins to fade away.
“Um, yeah sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going…” I trail off, while my heart hammers away in my chest.
“Figures,” he smirks. He then glances down at my hand that is currently clenched into a tight fist around his sweatshirt. I didn’t even realize I had hold of him, so I pull away quickly, smiling up at him apologetically. That’s when I realize he isn’t in his usual hospital attire. He is in dark washed jeans, hung deliciously low at his hips, a regular white t-shirt and an unzipped dark navy Abercrombie and Fitch sweatshirt. He looks incredible. Damn.
“Are you only just leaving?” he interrupts, before my perverted thoughts go a step too far, but his smile tells me he caught me checking him out.
“Um yeah,” I say slightly flustered, feeling a little drunk with lust.
“Where
’s your friend?” he asks, looking out for Caleb.
“He had to leave earlier on.” My hormones must be in their element when I take a glance down at his chest and my mouth almost waters at how incredibly toned he looks.
“I’m actually just heading out myself, can I give you a ride?”
My head shoots up in alarm
. Did he just say what I think he said? “Excuse me?”
“I asked if you wanted a ride home?” he says through a chuckle, causing the heat against my cheeks to quadruple.
Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me? I clear my throat before I answer. “No, that’s okay, thank you, I was just going to call for a cab. Plus you’ve probably been working for like, fifteen hours straight, no doubt you just want to crash.” I make the attempt to move past him, but he stops me in my tracks by placing a hand gently against my right arm. I pretend his touch doesn’t affect me, but as the tingles shoot up my arm, it’s hard to ignore.
“Make that
twenty-one hours but my diet pretty much consists of nothing but caffeine, so I’m pretty wired. Plus it’s late, you shouldn’t be walking the streets or catching cabs on your own at this time of night. Come on I’ll give you a ride.” I know I shouldn’t accept a ride from him, but he’s right, it is late, and I am exhausted. I ignore my gut feeling and I follow him out of the sliding doors and out of the hospital.
“So, have you thought of any names yet?” he asks as we walk at the same pace through the courtyard.
“No. It’s hard. I don’t like any. They all suck.”
He laughs at this comment. “So Stir Mix-A-Lot is still a contender then? I hear it’s a really popular name.” I smirk at his response but don’t say anything further.
“Your boyfriend, has he thought of any names?” The thought of Sebastian makes me feel a little guilty for having a conversation with Doctor Bailey, let alone having him drive me home, and this makes me feel a little defensive. “Fiancé, actually,” I say a little sharply before continuing. He blinks at the sharpness of my tone but he doesn’t say anything. If anything he looks almost amused. “And no, it’s hard to make decisions without him being here,” I add more softly.
“He’s in Afghanistan, right?”
“Yeah, he is,” I say on a smile.
“My brother was in Afghanistan, he was a surgeon, doctors kind of run in the family.” He smiles pointing to himself. I’m i
ntrigued when he says the word ‘was’ as if he is talking in the past tense.
“Was?” I push, curiosity getting the best of me. He gulps heavily, taking a brief glance past me before returning his eyes back to mine.
“He died on duty.”
My heart plummets down to my feet at his words.
“I’m so sorry,” I say feeling like the world’s biggest jerk for bringing up something no doubt painful to him. I can understand that pain; it is actually my worst nightmare.
He smiles at me, a genuine sweet smile. “Thanks, he was an amazing brother.” He doesn’t elaborate any further, and I don
’t push. We arrive at the parking lot and finally we come to a stop. I glance at the parked car and notice a red mean looking Chevy.
“Nice car,” I compliment, lingering my fingers on the red shiny exterior.
“Thanks. She’s my baby.”
I smile softly as I walk over to the passenger side of his car. Honestly, boys and their toys. “Not to bruise your ego or anything but isn’t it a bit predictable, a typical guy
’s car?”
His eyes suddenly light up with excitement. “Predictable yes, typical no. It’s a top of the range 2012 Camaro Z1, with a 6.2L supercharged V8 engine, six speed manual transmission, alloy wheels, keyless entry.” He comes over to my side and opens the passenger
door without his key fob. “See?” He gives me a quirky smirk.
“Impressive,” I mock, through a chuckle. I climb in and sink into the leather interior as he shuts the door gently after me.
“Oh, and it has visual assist parking,” he says, as he finally enters the car, pointing to a screen when the engine rumbles to life on its own, the noise growling around the parking lot. Immediately the sound of Lauren Hill vibrates softly inside the car.
“You must really be bad at parking, huh?” I grin as I place the seatbelt around me, locking it in place with the buckle.
“Not a car girl, I see?”
“I’m probably into cars as much as you’re into Glee.”
He nods as he reverses out of the spot, much to my surprise not using his ridiculous parking sensors. “Yes, point taken,” he says through a chuckle. “So where are we headed?”
I tell him my address and he types it into his GPS as we slowly make our way out of the parking lot. He
’s quiet for a moment as we exit the hospital grounds. I don’t know if it’s the confinement of his car or the sexy beat from the vibrating sound system, but the tension seems noticeably thicker than it did before we entered. I use the silence to take a calming breath, urging my heart rate to slow the hell down.
“How are you doing, with everything?”
I turn to answer him, and in that moment I wish I hadn’t. He looks like something from a Fast and Furious movie, lean, sexy and cool as shit. His left hand is clasped around the top of the steering wheel, and his right hand casually holds onto the stick shift; it has to be the sexiest thing I have ever seen in my goddamn life. I have to pry my eyes away from his masculine hand to answer his question. “Um, yeah I’m doing okay. I’m still trying to adjust, but I actually got my first hold of her today,” I say with a smile.
He briefly turns in my direction with a sincere smile before turning his eyes back to the road.
“I know, I was the doctor that authorized it. How was it?” My eyes widen at this information, feeling a little fuzzy knowing it was him that let me hold my daughter. But then I feel ridiculous because of course it would be him, he is her doctor after all.
Laughing nervously I reply,
“Scary because she is so tiny but incredible. So, thank you.”
“
You’re welcome. There is nothing I like to see more than a parent holding their baby for the first time.” His smile almost turns dreamlike and I wonder if he’s a father. “Have you got any children of your own?” Jesus, I am not usually this nosy. Blushing, I immediately say, “Sorry, that isn’t any of my business.”
I can see a distinct smirk etched against his mouth through the darkness of the car.
“No, it’s fine, Ava. And to answer your question, no I don’t have children. I’m single.” I can’t help the joyous feeling that shoots through my body at this new information, but it’s a ridiculous emotion to feel, considering I am engaged.
After a moment of silence, he points towards his stereo system.
“You can change the song over if you want.” I look down at the state-of-the-art navigation with confusion. I wouldn’t even know where to start. Chuckling lightly I say, “That’s okay, I wouldn’t want to break anything in your top of the range 2012 Camaro Z1, with alloy wheels, keyless entry and ridiculous visual assist parking.”
My words cause a fit of laughter to echo around his car.
“And you said you weren’t a car girl.” Once his laughter has died down, he briefly turns to look at me again before returning his attention back to the road. “Okay, so it seems I know approximately two things about you. One, you’re a new mom and two, you never leave your daughter’s side. So tell me something about yourself, what do you for a living?”
“I’m a book editor.”
“What kind of books do you edit?” He seems genuinely interested, and I continue.
“Fiction mostly, romance, new adult-”
“Adult?” This seems to spike his interest to another level and he shakes his head, a half smile rising from his mouth. “Wow, you have a job most guys would dream about, it’s practically porn!”
I can’t help the belly-roaring laugh that escapes from me. “It isn’t porn,” I say through my laughter.
“Hey, a friend of mine let me borrow that book, you know the one they’re doing a film about? And I can tell you now, that was straight cut porn.”
I roll my eyes at the typical guy response to adult themed books. “Well that’s because it’s classed as Erotica. What I edit isn’t, it’s not…you know…well you know...” I find it practically impossible to say the word
‘hardcore’ or anything else that is remotely sexual because if I did my mind would go to that perverted place in my brain, especially when he turns and looks at me, a glimmer of a heated gaze.
He clears his throat.
“I’m sorry that was really inappropriate,” he says with regret.
I pivot my body into his direction.
“No, don’t apologize, you actually made me laugh. I haven’t been a barrel of laughs lately, so thank you.”
He turns and gives me a brief heart-stopping smile.
“Well in that case, you’re welcome, again.”
“Anyway, you’re a doctor, aren’t you supposed to read stuff that is more sophisticated?”
He raises his eyebrow as he takes a left turn. “What, like The New York Observer? That kind of shit?” He shakes his head. “No thanks, I would rather stick pins in my eyes. I’m a guys guy, you know football, beer.”
“Cars,” I add teasingly, which is responded to with a laugh. “Ok
ay, my turn. What made you choose to work in neonatology?” I ask with the purpose of changing the subject, and to stop the crazy thoughts trailing through my mind. Plus, I am intrigued.
“
I always wanted to work with children. I felt more passionate about helping sick children and babies, than I did about helping sick adults, so after Med school I did my pediatric residency at Seattle Children’s Hospital where I worked closely with the NICU and immediately I fell in love with it. After my residency, I went on to do my neonatology fellowship and well here I am, my first year of being a fully fledged neonatologist.” He smiles as he continues to face forward, concentrating on the road. I didn’t think it was even possible for him to get any sexier but talking like that, about working with sick children, it makes my heart flutter.