Her Wish, His Promise (Rewrite)

Epilouge

THREE DAYS LATER
MINA

I can hardly sleep with the beeping of the heart monitors and other machines that work round the clock inside my room. That coupled with the nurses that check on me at the top of every hour are more than enough to drive me crazy and keep true sleep far away.  I’ve spent the last three days in fear and anxiety of what will happen to my daughter.

With what little sleep I get is flustered and fraught with nightmares of things going horribly awry. The only thing keeping my sanity is when Cheyenne and Ricky visit me with new clothes for her and comforting items from my apartment. They’re the ones that make it better, but it does little to counteract the stress of having a premature baby.

At almost 29 weeks old, that makes her incredibly premature, but every day that she remains inside me is another day for her to develop and survive outside my womb. I’ve never been particularly religious but I’ve prayed to god every day to keep her safe and alive.

With the progesterone and bed rest to keep the labour from intensifying and a steroid injection to get my little girl’s lungs to develop faster I have some hope. 

…

I wake up with a violent bout of nausea and a wet spot on my bed. I check my phone and see that it’s nearly 3 in the morning. I press the button beside my bed for a nurse, absolutely mortified that I’ve wet myself. She arrives quickly and when the lights flicker on I see that it’s not pee on my bed and between my legs but pinkish blood.

I can’t find the words as I stare at the blood, my stomach turning over in terror. She quickly calls for the doctor as I begin to tear up, the unease filling me. I’ve made it to this point, through and back with no promise of return, and I could lose my daughter, the one thing that would make it all worth it.

“Mina, I need you to breathe and try to relax.” she places her hand on my shoulder and takes my hand. “Your water broke while you were sleeping and you’ve had some bleeding along with it. Now that means that you are now in active labour and that the baby is coming, alright?”

I nod shakily, running my fingers through my hair. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“We’re going to do our absolute best to make sure she is.” She explains. “Is there anyone you want us to call for you or anything you need?”

“Can I just have a minute alone, please?” The sound of my voice is weak and beaten down, I know I am on the verge of tears as my throat burns.

“Yes, but I’m going to have Ana help you get changed and fix the bed before that. I’ll be back in ten minutes because we need to act fast.” My doctor explains before giving my hand a squeeze and leaving the room.

With help from Ana I climb out of the hospital bed with the IV pole in tow and make my way to the restroom. I change out of the wet and bloodied gown and use the toilet. When I return to the room the sheets have been changed and she helps me back into bed. 

After she leaves the room is silent and the weight of the world crashes down upon me. My chest is tight and my throat burns with the promise of tears I can’t seem to escape. I glance down at my stomach and caress it softly, receiving a gentle kick from my little one.

Between the tears and the plunging of my heart into despair I manage to plead, “Please, whoever is out there, make sure my baby girl is safe and lives. I cannot bear a world without her in it, all I want is for her to live a happy, healthy life, untouched by the Hell I’ve gone through. She deserves nothing but the light in this world, I beg of you.”

…

Cheyenne and Ricky sit to the right of me, listening diligently to whatever the doctor is saying as I tune in and out, though it doesn’t matter much, there’s nothing more that can be done. We are out of time and it all comes down to this. My contractions are nothing more than intense pressure at this point thanks to the epidural but I can feel the intensity. She’s coming and she’s coming now.