Michael.

nine

Thirty weeks along. She still had several weeks until full-term, yet something went wrong. What could have happened that made the babies be born so earlier? We had barely gotten the nursery finished, yet alone ready for the two of them. I wasn't with her when the contractions started, but I didn't waste any time getting there. I met her family at the hospital as they took Jackie back.
"Where is she?" I asked, seeing both her parents in the waiting room, tear-stained eyes and blotchy faces.
"Listen, they were looking for heart beats and can't find the heartbeat of one of the babies," her father said.
"Why? What happened to them?" I asked.
"Nothing happened," her mom said, "Jackie woke up because her back was bothering her and later on, we realized it was contractions."
"But the heartbeat? Why can't they find it?" I asked again.
"It may just be the position," her father said, "or they might have died in the womb." These words were like a punch. I slumped into one of the chairs. Jackie would be devastated. We had double of everything: two cribs, two blankets, two bottles. What would we do with all the clothes for the opposite gender?
"Don't stress over it," her mother said, "Jackie doesn't know yet, but it may not be a big deal." I didn't respond, nodding slightly.
"Can I go see her?" I asked.
"Sure, Jenny's in there now," her father said. I stood, going into the next room. I saw Jackie on the hospital bed, cords and wires hooked up to her while Jenny sat near her. Jackie looked pitiful. I had to admit, all the wires and IVs and stuff freaked me out, but I realized I had to stay strong for Jackie.
"Hey," I said with a smile, going over and kissing the top of her head, "you ready to have some babies?" Jenny laughed.
"No," Jackie responded with a smile.
"The twins think otherwise," I retorted with a grin, "look at all this stuff. Are you uncomfortable?"
"I'm fine, Michael," she responded, looking up towards me, taking my hand.
"Sorry you had to get up so early in the morning. What is it? Two? Three?" Jackie asked.
"You're sorry I had to get up early? You're having twins, don't apologize for anything ever again," I said, and they laughed. The three of us must have talked for what felt like hours, but was probably only thirty minutes or so when the nurse came in.
"Let's check how far you are! Is your Family excited?" The nurse said with a smile.
"We are ecstatic," Jackie's mother responded with a happy smile. The nurse laughed.
"She is ready to go into the delivery room," the nurse observed, "only two people can go back with her."
"I'll take Michael and my mom, if you want," Jackie said.
"Of course," her mother said, and I nodded in agreement.
Thirty minutes later, Jackie was positioned on a bed in the delivery room with her mother on one side and me on the other. I held her hand, my hands probably shaking more than hers. I was scared to death. The doctors still couldn't pick up a heart beat, and the thought of losing one of the babies tore me apart. I knew her mother had the same thing on her mind as she forced a smile through her teary eyes. Suddenly, the doctor came in with two nurses as another contraction hit Jackie. She groaned, sitting up slightly, squeezing our hands harshly. I felt terrible. I wished I could take the pain away from her, but I couldn't. I prayed that it wasn't a long labor.
"She is about ready to push," the doctor said, sitting at the foot of her bed as nurses prepared, "on the count of ten, Jackie, I need you to push. These babies need to come out."
It was only ten pushes until the sound of screams filled the air. Jackie fell limp in the bed, out of breath and her face red.
"You did great, Jackie," I said reassuringly, craning my neck to get just one glance of the baby.
"It's the girl!" The doctor announced, holding her up for Jackie to see.
"Little Ellen Monroe," Jackie's mom said, joy in her eyes. Jackie smiled, looking towards the baby, yet she was still out of breath.
"Clean her off, we need to get the boy," the doctor said, gently handing Ellen Monroe to a nurse.
"Jackie, let's push again," the doctor said.
It took much longer for Elliot to be born. I begged God for Elliot to be okay, so that both babies are healthy and safe. I didn't want Jackie to have the pain of a stillborn twin as all of Elliot's clothes, cribs, bottles, and toys sat in his nursery.
Nearly twenty minutes later, Elliot was born, yet the room was silent. A tense air filled the otherwise joyful room, and I craned over to see what was happening. Elliot was limp, struggling to breath. The doctor stood, quickly handing him to a nurse who began gently compressing his chest.
"Come on, honey," the nurse said as she compressed his tiny chest. Another nurse got a breathing machine, hooking it into his nostril. Finally, a weak cry joined the room. I let out a breath of relief as Jackie's mom hugged her daughter.
Later on that evening, Jackie was taken to a normal hospital room. Her family and my family joined her, sitting around when a nurse came in.
"Do you want to see the babies?" The nurse asked.
"Of course," Jackie said.
"I can only bring four people back to the NICU," the nurse explained. Jackie, me, and both our mothers decided to come.
"Here are two chairs for whoever wants to hold the babies," the nurse said. Jackie and I sat down, when two nurses wheeled two incubators into the small room. The opened the both of them, gently picking up Ellen who was swaddled with a pink cap. First, the nurse handed the little girl to Jackie. Jackie smiled, her eyes filling with tears, while I gently looked over.
"She's so tiny," I said, and Jackie nodded, letting out a tiny laugh.
"Now, we have them both on breathing tubes and we are watching the boy closely. We believe he has apnea and they both may have asthma problems as they get older," the nurse explained.
"It's typical for one twin to be more developed than the other. Ellen was obviously more developed than her brother," another nurse said as she opened the incubator to reveal Elliot. He was so tiny and had so many cords and wires hooked up to him. He looked helpless.
"Now, do you want to hold him first?" The nurse asked me, and I nodded. She picked him up, gently handing the swaddled baby to me. I smiled, looking down at Elliot and my girlfriend and daughter.
"They're so cute," I said, my heart full. I thought I had loved Jackie. I thought I had never loved anyone as much as I loved her, until I saw these twins. After months of patiently waiting with Jackie, here we were: holding Ellen and Elliot.
Another nurse came in with two slips of paper.
"We need someone to fill out the birth certificates," she explained, "girl first."
"Ellen Monroe East," Jackie said.
"And the boy?"
"Elliot Michael East," Jackie said, and I glanced over to her. We hadn't talked about a middle name for Elliot yet, but I was overjoyed that he was named after I. I glanced down to my son and just imagined our future in ten years or so. Jackie and I might have gotten married and had more kids. I could have taught the twins how to ride bikes and fish. We could go on camping trips and picnics. Thirty years from now: Jackie and I would be doing the same thing with our grandchildren. I had always wanted a family, and though it didn't turn out exactly how I expected, I wouldn't change a thing.