The Color of Joy

The Color of Joy

A Color of Heaven Novel

by

Julianne MacLean

The Color of Joy

Copyright © 2015 Julianne MacLean
ISBN-13: 978-1-927675-23-6

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or a portion thereof, in any form. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others.

This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design: The Killion Group, Inc.

Formatting: Author E.M.S.

Riley James

It pains me to admit this, but there was a time in my life when I believed happiness was an illusion, or at the very least, a concept spitefully invented to make us all feel inadequate when we failed to achieve it.

In my youth, I was the quintessential angry young man. I was wild and brooding, and the harder my father tried to whip me into shape and create a future leader out of me, the deeper I fell into the dark and dangerous world of rebellion.

Although “fell” isn’t quite the right word. What I did was cannonball off the high diving board to create as big a splash as possible. I wanted to drown my father in the tidal wave of my anger and resentment. Become the exact opposite of what he wanted me to be. Show him that his strict disciplinarian tactics had failed. I did an excellent job of it, too.

They say youth is wasted on the young. I’m not sure if that’s true, but I do know that I did not experience joy until much later in life, after I hit rock bottom in my late teens and early twenties. This terrible fall from grace included two brief prison incarcerations and substance abuse problems that are thankfully behind me now.

I’m proud to say I’m a new man. Perhaps not quite the man my father wanted me to be. I’m not a brain surgeon, a lawyer or a politician, but at least I know what love is. Love and respect for myself and others, and that is where I believe true joy is found.

I wish we could always be in control of our destinies in this quest for joy in life, but sometimes the earth collapses under our feet and a sinkhole opens up. What can we do but drop and hope for the best? Or at least hope for an eventual understanding of why this terrible thing happened.

Perhaps the lesson is this: Without knowledge of misery, there can be no true knowledge of joy.

Riley

November 12

Sure. Life is full of ups and downs, but we all know that some downs are worse than others. There are those from which we simply cannot recover. Or at least it might seem that way when we’re in the depths of the worst possible scenario.

“I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” Lois said, breathing through another contraction. “What’s she waiting for?”

“The perfect moment, I guess.” After twenty-two hours of labor, it was a dedicated attempt to lighten the tension and diminish my fears.

It all began at home the previous day when we sat down at the kitchen table for dinner. Lois’s mother Carol, who’d arrived a week earlier to help out with our two young children, had cooked a giant pot of Chicken Fiesta Soup. At first I thought it was too spicy for Lois because as soon as she tasted it, she dropped her spoon on the floor.

“You don’t like it?” Carol asked.

“It’s not that.” Lois rose heavily from her chair and looked down at the floor. “I think my water just broke.”

The kids looked down as well. “Did you pee your pants, Mummy?”

Carol ran around the table to assess the situation.

An hour later, Lois and I were checked into the obstetrics unit at the hospital.

*

“I feel more relaxed this time,” she said, rubbing a hand over her swollen belly as she climbed onto the bed.

“They say third time’s a charm,” I replied. “Though the first two were pretty great.”

Both our children had been born on their exact due dates after only a few hours of labor. Danny was now six years old and Trudy was four. They were smart as whips and got along well with each other.

“I just wish we could decide on the name,” Lois said. “I like both of them.”

We already knew we were having a girl and we’d narrowed it down to two names: Jordan or Morgan.

“We’ll know as soon as we see her,” I suggested, sitting forward in my chair to rest my elbows on my knees. “We don’t need to decide until then.”

Lois nodded and focused on her toes. “There’s another contraction coming. How long has it been?”

I checked my watch. “About eight minutes since the last one.”

She panted in a staccato rhythm until it was over, then sat back and relaxed again. “I can’t wait to see her,” she said with a smile. “It’s going to be so great to get her home. Trudy will be so excited.”

I squeezed Lois’s hand.

*

Twenty-one hours later, we were still waiting for Lois’s cervix to fully dilate. It was now 5:00 p.m. the following day and neither of us had slept a wink through the steady labor pains happening every five minutes. We were both exhausted and growing increasingly discouraged because we knew it couldn’t go on much longer. The doctor had explained that she’d have to perform a C-section if the baby wasn’t delivered within twenty-four hours after Lois’s water broke. Lois was still keen to deliver the baby the old-fashioned way, so she was holding out.

Another labor pain began and Lois breathed through it with a tight jaw and a face drenched in perspiration. As soon as it was over, she lay back and stared up at the ceiling. “Can you get the nurse?” she asked. “I want her to check me again to see if I’m dilated more, because if I’m not, I’m ready to give in. I’m so tired, Riley. I don’t think I can push this baby out anyway.”

I stood quickly and went out into the hall where I found Brenda, the obstetrical nurse who had come on duty a few hours earlier. She was talking to the young medical student who had been observing our case all day.

“Hey,” I said, “Lois is at the end of her rope. Can you check her again?”

“Of course.” Brenda followed me back to our room with the student, pulled on a pair of gloves and examined my wife. “Still only six centimeters,” she said with a note of apology. “This little one just doesn’t want to come out.”

“She’ll be a handful,” Lois said, looking up at me with a pained expression. “Strong-willed. Digging her heels in.”

Wishing I was better at hiding my unease, I simply nodded.

Lois let out a deep breath. “I guess I’m just going to have to surrender to the idea of a C-section. It’s not the end of the world. It’ll just take longer to recover. I’m sure Mom will be happy to stay an extra week if we need her to.”

Just then, Lois winced and sat up. “Ow! Something hurts!” She clutched her right side.

Brenda removed her gloves, dropped them into the garbage pail and moved around the bed to check the monitor. “Does it feel like a contraction?” she asked.

Lois shook her head. “No, it’s different, like something is ripping me apart. Oh, God, here comes another contraction.”

She breathed through it until it passed, then flopped back onto the pillows, grimaced and shut her eyes.

Brenda pressed a button on the monitor to print out a tape.

“There were a few early decelerations after the last couple of contractions,” she said as she looked at it, “but otherwise the tracing looks pretty good. The baby’s heart rate is normal in between.”

Brenda invited the medical student closer to watch the next contraction on the monitor, but when it began, it wouldn’t stop. Lois breathed through it as long as she could, then she cried out in agony. “What’s happening? Why won’t the pain go away?”

Brenda felt Lois’s belly for a brief moment, then spoke quietly to the medical student. “Go get Dr. Orlean. Tell her there’s no deceleration in the contractions and we might be looking at an abruption or a possible uterine rupture.”

I didn’t know what any of that meant, but the word rupture didn’t sound good. A burning heat filled my stomach.

Lois was writhing in pain on the bed. I tried to hold her hand but she slapped me away and clutched her stomach.

“Turn over onto your left side,” Brenda ordered in a firm voice as she scrambled to put Lois on oxygen.

Dr. Orlean ran into the room. I was never so glad to see a doctor in my entire life.

“Something’s wrong,” I said to her. “She’s in really bad pain.”

“Please step back.”

Helpless and panicked, I moved to the far wall while the doctor checked the tape from the monitor.

“Get an ultrasound in here,” she said. “
Stat!
”

Brenda ran out while the medical student watched with wide eyes—as if she had no more idea than I did what would happen next.

“Can you tell me exactly where the pain is?” Dr. Orlean asked Lois.

She pointed to her side and ground out words through clenched teeth. “It’s right here, and it hurts like hell.”

Brenda ran back into the room pushing a portable ultrasound machine on wheels. The doctor raised Lois’s gown, quickly squirted gel on her belly, and ran the probe over the area.

“There’s no rupture,” she said as she focused on the screen image, “but oh…look here…”

I strode forward. “What is it?”

The medical student came closer as well.

“There’s a separation of the placenta.” Dr. Orlean continued to slide the probe over Lois’s belly, searching for something. “And there’s the clot.”

“Heart rate’s still eighty,” Brenda said.

“It’s definitely an abruption.” Dr. Orlean set down the probe and leaned over Lois. “Mrs. James, we’re going to take you to the OR and do a section right away.” She exchanged a look with Brenda, who called for more help to get Lois moved onto a stretcher.

“What’s an abruption?” I asked the med student.

“It’s where part of the placenta separates from the uterus wall prematurely. It causes bleeding. That’s the reason for the clot the doctor was talking about. She has to deal with it quickly to make sure the baby’s blood supply doesn’t get cut off.”

“So this is really dangerous?” I replied, barely able to believe any of this was happening as I watched the nurses and orderlies quickly transfer Lois to the stretcher.

The student nodded. “Yes.”

I followed them out, running alongside the stretcher as they wheeled Lois down the corridor. “Everything’s going to be fine,” I said to her, though I had no idea if that were true or not. “I’ll be right here with you. I won’t leave your side.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. James,” Brenda said. “There’s no time. You’ll have to wait outside.”

“
Please!
” Lois cried. She grabbed hold of my hand and squeezed it, then writhed in agony.

Brenda spoke to the medical student running behind me. “Can you take care of him? Get him prepped and bring him in?”

“I will,” she replied.

I was then forced to let go of Lois’s hand as they pushed through a set of double doors and turned left down another corridor. The doors swung shut in front of my face.

My stomach careened.
My wife… My beautiful wife
…
Please, God, let her be okay.

I remembered suddenly that we hadn’t given a name to the baby yet. I wished now that we had, but everything had spun out of control so quickly. I’d barely had a chance to register it.

The med student touched my shoulder and I turned to her in a numb haze of disbelief. Her words seemed almost garbled as they reached my ears.

“Let’s get you in there,” she said. “Follow me.” She led me into a change room and handed me OR greens, booties and a cap. I felt stunned and baffled.

“Put these on and I’ll meet you right outside that door.”

“Thank you.” I moved to get changed.

By the time we made it to the OR, Lois had just been put under general anesthetic because there was no time for a spinal. The obstetrician was about to cut into her belly.