He's An Arrangement

Baby

Emma and Liam waited in the main entrance of the hospital as I ran down the hallway, ready to meet my baby. They said she survived. That they immediately cut her out of Milah, and she's alive. She's alive. She's in NICU right now, but the chances are on her making it. Milah was wrong on how far along she was, it was ranging closer to seven months, not six. She's got a chance. My baby girl has a chance to live.

As I entered the NICU, a few lines of babies set lined next to one another. I stood in the doorway, wondering which one's mine. I wonder if she's a little miracle baby. What am I going to name her? Milah didn't say anything about what she wanted to name her. We never got the chance to talk about baby names.

"Can I help you, sir?" A woman in a nursing outfit came up to me with a smile on her face. She had bags under her eyes and coffee in her hand. Right, early in the morning. I looked down at myself. I have my same outfit from yesterday, and I'm certain my hair is a disaster. I can't believe she hasn't kicked me out of here yet.

I snapped out of it and nodded my head, "Yes... I think so. My baby was brought in here, I believe?" Maybe she's not even in here yet. Where else would she be? I don't see doctors rushing around. It's all quite calm.
"Last name?" She walked over to her computer, dropping her coffee on the counter and punching some keys on the keyboard. I followed her, standing in front of her desk.

She must be under Jones, right? They wouldn't put it under Milah's maiden name, "Jones. I think."

I shouldn't of said "I think". It's my baby. I should know.

The door flew open again and a man wheeled in a woman. They waved at the woman at her desk and continued along until they stopped at a plastic crib. Another nurse went over, assisting them and opening a small flap. What I assume is the mother placed a hand on top of her baby. Her husband massaged her shoulders, peering over to look at their baby. The chart said it was a baby boy. I grinned lightly, wishing that could be me. If only I had stayed with Milah. That could've been us.

"The Jones baby!" She frowned even through her cheery mood, as she stood up she tried to change her attitude, "Yes... yes, we've been waiting for you. I'm so deeply sorry, sir."

They feel sorry for me. I should feel sorry for others. I've never been the one people feel sorry for. I'm the aspiring musician with a kind wife and happy life. How did this happen? I'm the one that donates a dollar to help save premature babies, I'm not the one that has a premature baby. I'm the one that goes to funerals, sheds some tears and hug the husbands that loss their wives. I'm not the one that lost mine.

"Thank you," I cleared my throat. What am I supposed to say in return? Should I be crying more? I've been crying.

"Follow me, sir."

"Killian... Killian Jones. That's my name," I corrected her, as if that's all I must worry about. I shoved my hands into my pockets and did as she said. We passed the happy couple until we were at the very end of the cribs.

"Here she is," the nurse whispered, looking down at a baby no larger than a plate. Tubes and wires strapped to every part of her little body. She had a small amount of black hair on her head that seemed to be larger than the rest of her, like a little bobble head. Tears began to form in my eyes as I saw her. It was like a moment you'd see in the movies. Ever since I met Emma... I've been living in a movie.

"She's gorgeous," I exhaled, looking down at her. Every part of me melted just at the sight of this baby. Hope flooded every part of me. I bent down to get to her level. She was sleeping soundly, as if nothing had happened. As if she was normal.

I looked back up at the nurse. She was smiled as well, "I was shocked she was still alive when she was brought in. For a premature baby to live on it's own is amazing, but for her mother to die as well is even more amazing."