Sequel to Sometimes Love Isn't Enough.
Panic! At The Disco have just released their latest album VLV and are about to embark on another world tour. We rejoin Brendon, Carlyn and their kids after the Covid Pademic. After everything that happened duri...
I wake up slowly, the haze of anaesthesia still clouding my mind. The first thing I register is the soft beep of machines and the familiar scent of a hospital room. As my eyes flutter open, I see Brendon sitting by my side, his hand clasped tightly around mine. His eyes, usually so bright and full of life, look weary and concerned. But there's also an underlying joy in his gaze, and a hint of a smile plays at the corners of his mouth.
"Hey, you're finally awake," he says softly, his thumb gently stroking the back of my hand. "You had us all worried there for a while." I try to speak, but my throat feels parched and scratchy. Brendon anticipates my needs and gently raises the bed so I can sit up a little. A nurse offers me a cup of water with a straw, and I sip slowly, the cool liquid soothing my dry mouth. "What happened?" I ask, my voice raspy and weak. "The last thing I remember is..." I trail off, the memory of searing pain and panic flooding back to me.Brendon's face softens, and he leans forward, his eyes filled with tenderness and worry. "You don't remember? You went into labour, but there were complications. You started bleeding heavily, and we had to rush to the hospital."
I close my eyes as the fragments of memories return. The agonizing contractions. The hot rush of blood. The fear in Brendon's eyes as he gripped my hand, his knuckles white. "Taylor..." I whisper, my heart suddenly pounding. "Is he okay?"
A radiant smile breaks across Brendon's face, illuminating the worry lines that had creased his features. "Our son is perfect," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "He's doing well, and he's so beautiful, Carlyn. You were incredible, bringing him into this world." Relief washes over me, and I feel hot tears sting my eyes. "Can I see him?" I ask, my voice laced with desperation. "Can I hold him?"
Brendon's smile falters slightly, and a shadow passes over his eyes. "Not just yet," he says gently. "He's in the neonatal unit, being monitored and looked after by the wonderful nurses. He's a little lighter than he should be, but he's a fighter, just like his mom." My heart sinks a little, but I understand the importance of our son being cared for and observed by the experts. "I want to see him," I insist, my voice weak but adamant. With a gentle nod, Brendon reaches for his phone and shows me a series of photos. Our newborn son, swaddled in a soft blanket, his tiny face scrunched up in sleep. I drink in the sight of him, my heart swelling with love.
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"He's so tiny," I whisper, my thumb hovering over the screen as I trace the outline of his delicate features. "He's a fighter, just like you. He's already had some of his tubes and oxygen removed." Brendon says, his voice catching slightly. "You both fought so hard to be here, and I'm so proud of you both."
I look up at Brendon, my eyes searching his. "What about me? Am I okay? Why can't I remember much?"
Brendon's gaze drops to our hands, and his thumb continues its gentle rhythm. "You lost a lot of blood, and the doctors had to act quickly. They had to perform an emergency hysterectomy to stop the bleeding."
