The Guard To My Sanctuary

Chapter 23

Marco

I raced down the interstate, barely within the speed limit, to avoid getting pulled over. I ignored the honking horns and offensive gestures of other drivers as I weaved through traffic, my only goal being to get to Elm's side as quickly as possible. It seemed like traffic was intentionally slow, and my feet felt like they couldn't move fast enough, no matter how much I willed them to. When I finally reached his hospital room, I saw his dad, John, standing outside, looking both panicked and exhausted.

"John, what's going on?" I urged, searching his face for any sign of bad news.

"The doctor hasn't come by yet, but they said he was severely dehydrated and showing signs of malnutrition," John replied. I looked past him to see Elm, eyes closed, asleep in the bed, surrounded by wires and monitors. Seeing him so vulnerable made me break down. I collapsed into John's arms, and he let me cry on his shoulder.

"I did this to him. If I had been more careful, he wouldn't have been hooked up to a monitor and knocked out. I'm so sorry," I sobbed. John pulled me off him and made me look into his eyes.

"Calm down. Elm's going to be okay. You need to pull yourself together. Could this have been avoided? Who knows? But now is not the time for regrets. Elm needs you by his side to provide support. He's going to wake up and want to see you first. Now get in there and be there for my boy," John said, patting my back with a firm but reassuring touch. I took a deep breath, wiped my face, and focused on my one true love lying in the bed.

I walked into the cool room filled with the repetitive beeps of the monitor. I leaned over and kissed his forehead softly before taking the seat next to him. I gently held his hand, feeling his skin warm up against mine. I watched him sleep, noticing the small dark brown dots on his skin, almost like freckles. An IV dripped glucose into his veins. Hours seemed to pass as I sat there, content to watch him sleep and monitor his heart rate. John brought me a cup of coffee, and I sipped it gratefully. I heard him talking to Elm's brothers, telling them not to come and crowd Elm, and updating Kunaal about the situation.

Elm's dry and groggy voice finally broke the silence. I quickly grabbed a pitcher of water, poured a cup, and helped him drink. He emptied the cup like a fish and coughed to clear his throat.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"You passed out. The doctors said you were dehydrated and malnourished," I explained. He looked at me, confused.

"I swear I've been eating and drinking almost all the time, taking the vitamins, and drinking the Pedialyte," he began, but I silenced him with a kiss.

"I believe you, Honey. Don't stress yourself out. Your doctor should be here any moment. I don't know where he is; it's been three hours. Do you know how hard it was to get you on my insurance since you're pregnant? All the paperwork to get him as our physician," I rambled until Elm's raised eyebrows and tucked lips indicated I should shut up.

"He's right behind me, isn't he?" I asked. Elm nodded. I turned to see Dr. Nussbaum smiling at me.

"Sorry, I was in Fresno," he said, grabbing Elm's chart.

"I'm sorry. I'm just a little tense," I apologized, feeling dumb.

"It's fine. I'm used to it. You grow a thick skin in this job," Dr. Nussbaum replied with a genuine smile.

"It looks like your test results came back positive for gestational diabetes," Dr. Nussbaum said, jumping into the issue.

"What's that?" John asked.

"It's when a pregnant person who's never had a history of diabetes has high blood glucose or sugar levels during pregnancy. We don't know exactly what causes it yet, but it's more common in later terms. As we know, nothing about this pregnancy is normal. We're essentially helping write the book on this process, so there will be trial and error. Treatments include testing your blood sugar levels daily, a healthy diet, exercising, and monitoring the baby more closely. If this doesn't work after a week, we'll move to medications. Today, I will perform an ultrasound to check on the development. I didn't do it earlier because the other cases didn't find any signs of an embryo this early, but we'll do what we must. So, get ready to see your embryo today," he said, walking out.

"I have diabetes?" Elm said, still in disbelief.

"It's fine, darling. We'll manage it. It's not the end of the world," John reassured him.

Dr. Nussbaum returned with the ultrasound machine. "Alright, let's remove these covers and lift up your shirt," he instructed. Elm complied, and the doctor squeezed some jelly onto Elm's stomach, making him shiver. The doctor moved the transducer around, searching for the right angle.

"Is there something wrong?" Elm asked, on the verge of tears.

"One second. Let me try this. Remember, I have a lot of things to bypass. I'm trying to get the angle just right," Dr. Nussbaum explained, moving the instrument to Elm's side. Finally, he found what he was looking for. "Here we go, just like I expected."

"See this?" he said, pointing to the screen. I wasn't trained enough to know what I was supposed to be looking at.

"What's that, Doc?" John asked, as confused as I was.

"One embryo, two, and three. Congratulations, you're having triplets. You might have multiples since one of the other fruitfuls had twins. It has to do with the extra testosterone in your body causing multiples. Plus, the rates for multiples increase if you're of African American descent." I looked at the screen, stunned. We might be welcoming three babies into the world instead of one.

"I'm way too fertile."

"Oh my god," John said, taking a seat. He looked like the wind was knocked out of him, so I knew I had to look even more shocked.

"You've got to be kidding me. Three kids? This is some sort of sick joke, isn't it?" Elm exclaimed. I had never heard him curse so much in one sitting. John started laughing, failing to hold it in. Elm glared at him and then up at me.

"That's the usual response. Not many women are happy to know they must divide everything four ways. This is likely why you're experiencing gestational diabetes this early," Dr. Nussbaum explained.

"What are the risks? There have to be risks, right? I mean, one baby was dangerous, but three?" I asked, looking down at Elm, worried.

"I'm not going to have a panic attack. I'm annoyed, not scared," Elm said.

Dr. Nussbaum chuckled. "There are risks, including early labor, abnormalities, and defects in one or more of the babies. One of the babies may be absorbed by the others. If your diet isn't nutritious enough, your symptoms will intensify. You're already a high-risk pregnancy, but now it's even higher," he explained with a half-frown.

"So, what do I do now?" Elm asked. The doctor went into a lot of information that John noted on his phone while I listened and ensured Elm was alright. After answering our questions, the doctor printed off a few ultrasound pictures. I grabbed one to marvel at, quickly taking a photo and sending it to Corey, who immediately texted back, congratulating me. I looked up at Elm, who was staring at the little dots. John got up and walked out, saying he would tell everyone the news.

"Honey, I know you're annoyed right now that my magic dick put three kids in you, but I'm excited as hell," I admitted, allowing a smile to spread across my face.

"I was annoyed. I'm... I don't know yet, but I'll get over it. Baby, three kids is a lot. How are we going to—" he started to ramble.

"I'm leaving the Air Force, and I am going to see what offers are still on the table," I said immediately. I wouldn't have said it that easily a few months ago, but now that I had four people to care for, the choice was simple.

"We'll figure this out together. Right now, you need to worry about getting better, okay?"

"Okay," he said, still looking at the picture. I kissed his lips and pulled away, laying my head near his shoulder.

"I need to man the fuck up, or none of this is going to work out," I thought to myself.