Undead

18; scared

Jermaine
There are a lot of things an expecting father doesn't want to hear: we can't find a heartbeat, your baby is breech, or she needs an emergency c-section.

My favorite was: placenta previa.

I remember the scream Melissa let out. I remember the time she awoke me with her cries of terror. 2:17am. She was in the bathroom, had gotten up to pee, and I didn't think anything of it because her bladder had her all fucked up lately. I simply turned over and drifted off back to sleep. But what started out as a simple bathroom break, ended up with her crying for me to call 911 - she thought she was going into labor early.

I was half asleep in the middle of a dope dream, but as soon as my name rolled off her tongue in the most desperate of tones, I knew something was wrong. I couldn't even dial fast enough. Thankfully I didn't even need to unlock my phone. I tapped the emergency button on my lock screen, dialed the three simple numbers that took everything out of me, and made the call. All while simultaneously stumbling into the bathroom to assess the situation.

Her eyes were bright red with sleep and her tears, her bottom lip trembling as she reached out for me. "911, what's your emergency?" I vaguely heard the voice on the phone ask, but I wasn't focused on that. "Hello, are you in need of any assistance?"

Blood. Her panties and pajama pants were covered in it as if she had miraculously started her period. But that was impossible since she was six months pregnant with our child. The more I looked at it, though, the more I seemed to calm down. It wasn't a lot of blood, but it was a fair amount - enough to cause concern.

"Melissa..." I didn't know what else to say besides call her name. Maybe it was reassurance for her, or maybe it was to show that this was actually happening. "Baby girl, what -"

"Sir, help is on the way to your location." It was then that I realized that I still had the phone pressed to my ear.

"Stay right there," I heard myself say, and I stumbled from the bathroom to pull on a shirt. I nearly slipped on the tiled flooring upon my entrance back into the bathroom, and that's when I slipped my hand into hers. "Baby, what -"

"It doesn't hurt," she stammered with a faint smile. "I'm not in any pain, Jermaine. I'm just scared."

I brought her palm to my lips. "Melissa, you're bleeding from your vagina. How does that not hurt?"

She fanned her face and panted. "I don't know, Jermaine."

I took my hand away and tugged at my hair in frustration and confusion. "Do you have an ETA about that ambulance?"

"We've tracked your location based on the gsp on your phone, and a team is on route right now. Approximately ten minutes. Is the patient okay?"

"I'm not even sure. She went to the bathroom and now she's...she's bleeding. My pregnant girlfriend ain't supposed to be bleeding!"

"I understand your concern, sir, but please remain calm." I really wasn't in the mood to listen to this over-rehearsed dialogue. "How far along is she?"

"Twenty one weeks or somethin' like that."

The man on the phone rambled on with useless information that I didn't care for, and I brought Melissa a fresh pair of clothes for the visit to the hospital. I gave her the phone so he could talk her through it while I tugged on some shoes and helped her into her own.

Just like the man said, the paramedics rang our doorbell and helped her onto the gurney; I followed behind them in my car. At the hospital, they took her back for an examination and urged me to stay in the waiting room. At first I protested, insisting that I needed to be with her if she was in fact going into labor. But their explanation was what I needed to hear: she wasn't going into labor, and her water hadn't broken.