band-aids don't fix bullet holes

{24} denial

TW: mentions of ED

Taylor's POV:

"Mom." I mumble as I recognize her and she sits down next to me.

"I'm here, sweetie. It's okay." My mother tries to calm me down and reaches for my hand, squeezing it tightly. "How are you feeling?"

"I-I don't know. Everything hurts." I confess while shifting around in the uncomfortable bed. "My baby..." I repeat. "Where is she?"
The panic arises once again.

"You gave birth to her. She's in the NICU. The doctors are working on her."

"Is she okay?" I want to know, not really holding back my tears. Mom doesn't respond, so I ask a second time. "Mom, is she okay?"

"Honey...I don't know. The doctors said it's a long shot. Her lungs aren't fully developed and there seem to be some issues with her heart. However, the doctors are trying their best...to keep her alive." The woman explains quietly but her words feel like my heart is being ripped out my chest and the air is stuck in my lungs, keeping me from taking any kind of deep breath.

"It's all my fault!" I finally manage to get out."I should've taken better care of myself and of her! Goddamn it!"

"It's not your fault, don't
you dare say that." My mom exclaims as she pushes her chair even closer to me.
"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?"

"I didn't want to disappoint you. Raising a child was not really what I had planned for myself. Apart from that I didn't want to be a bother to you." I admit, wiping the tears off my cheeks.

"Just shut up with that crap already. You know I'll support you in anything. What about Joe? It's his baby, right?"

Once again I tense up at the mentioning of his name.

"He's not in the picture anymore but let's not talk about that now." I reply, my eyes being fixated on the white wall in front of me. Despite the fact that I've been crying for the duration of the whole conversation, I now feel empty, emptier than ever. I feel like I've just lost the one good thing in my life, even if she's still very much alive. Being positive is not one of my strengths these days and with everything that has happened, I wouldn't be surprised if any second a doctor enters this room, telling me that she in fact didn't pull through.

"I didn't even get to hold her." I mumble to no one specifically.

"You will." My mother tries to comfort me. "She's a fighter, just like you. Let's not lose hope."

Hours pass in which now and then a random nurse comes in to check on me but no one has any information about my child. While it's driving me insane, no one here seems to really care. It's way after 10pm when finally a doctor enters the room, his expression blank, absolutely unreadable. My Mom and I straighten our positions, impatiently waiting for the elderly doctor to speak up.

"You really gave birth to a little fighter. We managed to stabilize her, but you need to be aware that there's a long road ahead. The next three months are gonna be rough, complications can pop up any second. Considering her heart condition she may need surgery in the next couple of weeks. We are monitoring her closely, day and night. She's far from going home but I have a good feeling." The man reveals.

I finally release the breath I didn't realize I was holding. A feeling of relief rushes over me and a flame of hope ignites within my body. Those are words I didn't know I needed to hear and a little smile tugs on my lips, although I don't really dare to get my hopes up. Too much has happened.

"Let's hope for the best." The doctor adds confidentiality.

"Can I see her?" My quiet voice echoes through the room.