The First

Chapter 1

In the US, approximately 4 million live births occur annually. There are 31,556,736 seconds in a year. Babies don't come in fractions, so a convenient rounding off is about one birth every seven seconds.

At 8:27:03 PM, in the emergency room of Salem Hospital, Savannah Staten became—The First.

* * *

"Snap out of it!" The female E.R. doctor shook Michael by the shoulders. "Mr. Staten. When did your wife's contractions start?"

Her cold eyes sped his bounding heart.

Doctors are non-emotional by trade, aren't they? But her eyes, the tone of her voice . . . her stricken demeanor. They held more.

They held—fear.

Aren't doctors supposed to keep their cool no matter what? The thought passed as he realized she'd asked him a question. What about? Contractions. She asked about Stella's contractions.

"Mr. Staten focus." She grabbed him by the shoulders, brought him nose-to-nose and snapped her fingers in his left ear. "Please. You need to focus and tell me what I need to know."

Okay, focus. You can do this.

She let go of him. "When did your wife's contractions start?"

"I don't know a few hours ago!" What the hell did it matter when the damn things started? The blood freaked him out, not the contractions.

The crimson fluid had soaked the front of his dress shirt and splashed across his lap. He'd thrown his tie off in the back of the ambulance while the medics had worked on Stella. The baby was coming, no doubt about it. He'd nearly had to deliver her at the house, but never expected so much blood. The sight of it made him lightheaded. He'd kept his cool and did the best he could.

"We were gonna have the baby at home with the midwife, but Stella God she was in so much pain. Is she gonna die?"

"Calm down, Mr. Staten, we'll have her stabilized in a moment."

Sure, the medical team had everything under control. Yeah, right? He wiped beads of blood tainted sweat from his brow. "Why is she bleeding so much, is that normal?"

"It can be. But that's what we're going to find out. Try and calm down. Let us do our jobs."

Stella whimpered and writhed on the gurney. Her body bucked up and down. The orderlies, doctors, and nurses held her by the shoulders and legs.

The doctor ran to the gurney. "She's seizing. I need five milligrams of Valium."

A stocky black woman in blue scrubs bustled up to the group and handed a syringe to the doctor. The doctor swiped it from the woman's hand and stuck the needle into the I.V. taped to Stella's right arm. A few seconds later, the seizure stopped.

"She gonna be okay? Is the baby alive?" Michael wedged himself closer to Stella through the crowd of medical personnel.

"Mr. Staten." The nurse grabbed him by the shoulders. "Go sit in the waiting room. The doctor will talk to you after we have everything under control." She turned him toward the waiting area.

"Why won't you talk to me? Someone needs to tell me what the fuck is wrong with my wife."

The nurse shook her head. "Mr. Staten, the doctor needs to do her job. It would be best if you go to the waiting room."

"Fine!" He turned towards the waiting area, and yelled, "It's not like my wife and first child's lives are at stake!" He glanced back. The nurse had her hand up but didn't look back.

Nothing could tear them apart . . . nothing. Tears ran down his face as he fell into the fake leather chair.    

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