Pov Lauren As soon as we arrived at the hospital, I came across the difficult task of looking normal. I had promised to abide by Camila's request, repeated over and over again during all 15 minutes of travel (which, normally, should be done in half an hour). "Do not make a scandal." "Be normal." "Nervousness is one thing. Panic is another." - Good night. My wife went into labor and needs to be seen. I started, trying to swallow the cry to the three women at the front desk. As I imagined they would not take me seriously, I hastened to add: "The obstetrician told her to come as quickly as possible. One of the women, perhaps noticing the force I was doing not to explode (or perhaps noticing that Camilla was actually in labor) hurried to get a wheelchair in some corner near the reception. I helped her sit down carefully, and a new wave of contractions hit her. And every time her face contorted I wanted to punch someone by my side for doing nothing so that her pain would pass. "You have to fill out some form data ..." One of them began, clearly not understanding the situation. - I fill in whatever you want, but put my wife in a room first! "Are you Dr. Lewis's couple?" Another woman asked. - Are. "He's already waiting." I'll take you there. All we had to do was walk down a long corridor - Camila in the wheelchair, I (with a form in her hands) and the receptionist walking -, get in an elevator and get to a cloying baby green room. And even being all we had to do, the whole thing seemed to take longer than it had to be. Camila made no sound. She seemed to want to keep her pains silent, even though her contractions were steadier and seemingly stronger by the minute. Not knowing what to do to help her, and making sure that nothing I tried would work, I just stood by her all the time, repeating things like "everything will work out" and "we're coming." I was distressed. Anxious because she could not make her pain go away. And because my daughter wanted to get out of it by force. And it was clear that I knew this would happen someday, but seeing her squirming that way made it all a little more desperate. - Good night! "Dr. Lewis said as soon as we entered the preterm room. There were two other women inside, who seemed to be her birth attendants, who helped him with the task of raising Camila from her chair and setting her on a high bed. - Doctor, she's in a lot of pain! "I hastened to speak, not remembering to return the" good night "given - You can not give any medicine ... - Lauren, she is in labor. There is not much that can be done. The only thing that will make the pain go is the baby's birth. Her face twitched again, and again I writhed, too, instinctively. - Hey, have you filled out the form yet? I realized he was talking to me. - What? No ... - Great time to do that. Come back in about fifteen minutes, okay? - What? I exclaimed in surprise. I will not leave you alone ... - Lauren, we have to follow some procedures here. He turned to me, speaking to a doctor's authority and at the same time to his father. "I have to do a few tests on her, and you do not have to stick to your wife all the time. Do not worry, you will be present at the birth. But you do not have to be in the tricotomy. "But ..." "We're just going to change her clothes and check if everything's all right. You do not have to worry, okay? Go fill out your form, call someone who has to call and take a tranquilizer before I even inject one into you by force. I took a deep breath trying to control myself. I looked at Camilla again and noticed that she was in the brief period of respite between contractions. - Love ... - I started, approaching her and feeling a great desire to apologize: Even if it was not of my own free will, I had to leave.Before they could kick me out of there. - Go. She spoke in a low voice, and I knew that Camila was not being rude, but just avoiding talking too much and letting out a moan of pain. I approached her face and kissed her passionately, using enough intensity for her to understand that I would return and that I was hating to leave her at that moment. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes." I spoke against his face, staring into her eyes. "I'll come back." And when I come back, I will not leave your side. She nodded simply. Forcing me to turn around and walk out of the room, I left. And then it all began to crumble. *** After answering all those damn questions on the form and waiting patiently for the fifteen minutes stipulated by Dr. Lewis, I went back to the corridor I would give to the preterm room and, to my surprise, I was barred from proceeding to the door. - Miss Jauregui? The man said, standing in front of me, not wanting to move. - Yes? "Dr. Lewis asked to keep her for a while longer out here." I kept staring at the unknown man, trying to understand why. - Because? I asked dryly. "He has not finished his wife's exams yet." The boy looked like some sort of nurse or helper. And, perhaps coincidentally - though I thought it was purposeful - he was almost twice my size. Maybe Dr. Lewis already knew me well enough to know that I would try to enter that room if a closet was not stopping me. - He said "fifteen minutes." I spoke still coolly, beginning to walk towards the door. "But it's not over yet." The man repeated himself, placing himself in front of me as politely as he could. "Be normal." Camila's voice echoed through my head. "Be normal." I took a deep breath. And then another. And another one right away. "Why is not it over yet?" What is happening? "Sometimes the examinations take ..." "But he said" fifteen minutes "! "I knew that was no longer an argument, but I still clung to it. "You need to calm down." That was definitely not the right thing to say to someone who needed to calm down. "I will not calm down until I see my wife and make sure everything is okay!" I spoke in a low, forced voice, trying everything in the world to comply with Camila's request and not to make any scandal. "You have to calm down if you do not want to make your wife nervous, too." She needs your calm, she needs your strength. "For the first time, what that man said was making sense. But that meant it was not all right. It was not all right. - What is going on? I repeated, now without making any mention of running for the door and sending her down. He sighed. "She does not have enough dilation." And contractions are getting more and more frequent. - And what does that mean? I asked in an already shrill voice. "That does not mean anything ..." He began, giving an odd emphasis on the word "that," but when I was going to ask him to disclose soon everything I knew he was hiding from me, I was interrupted by a familiar voice. - What is going on? My mother spoke from the other corner of the corridor, hurrying to meet me. My father was right behind her."She does not have enough dilation, whatever that means-" "I started, and my mother now stared at the nurse, or helper, or whatever it was. "Just wait until she does, does not she?" She asked, with the little experience she had on the subject. "What's the problem?" The man stared back at her, seeming to choose the right words. "There was a complication. Dr. Lewis is trying to see if it's possible to have a normal birth soon. The fetus is getting insufficient oxygen ... - WHAT? I said, now completely panic-stricken. At that very moment, the door I wanted to knock down a few minutes ago opened and a stretcher passed by, with four people around. Lying on her was my wife. - WHAT'S HAPPENING? I shouted at the doctor, already following him as he pushed the stretcher to another room down the hall. Camila was, for a change, with her expression of pain, and I ran to hold her hand or stand beside her somehow. But as soon as the gurney entered one of the doors, for the second time I was barred from accompanying her. This time, by Dr. Lewis, who stood in front of me before we could both get in. "There's something that we call Fetal Suffering. "He started without any preparation, quite serious and cold, and just hearing that expression felt my stomach sink." That does not mean that your daughter is suffering or in pain. The fact is that the umbilical cord is being pressed and the oxygen that is reaching the fetus is not enough. We're going to have to have a cesarean. Do you authorize the operation? I remained static, keeping myself standing only God knew how. He seemed in a hurry, and that made me not have time to even think about what I had just heard. - There's no other way...? I started out completely stunned, but I was interrupted by the doctor's deep voice again. "No, you do not. We have to do it soon so your daughter can survive. Survive. My daughter had not even been born yet, and we were already talking about her survival. "Obviously ... I authorize ... Do everything possible ..." My voice was muffled, almost too low to be heard. I was incredulous, unable to accept that it had turned into a nightmare of that magnitude. Everything was happening too fast, and my head, still working slowly, could not keep up. My chest began to ache, an abstract but very real pain. The fear of losing my daughter without even seeing her once was eating away at me, killing me. And, added to that, my impotence in the face of this situation was overwhelming. I could not do anything - absolutely nothing - to help. "Do you still want to come in?" Want to be present at the birth? The doctor's voice sounded again, pulling me out of my well of sadness and despair. - It's logical ... It's logical! "Then, from now on, recompose yourself." Your wife can not be more nervous. You need to be calm beside her, you need to reassure her. She does not know what's going on. I took a deep breath, wishing I had more time to prepare. I could not do anything to help with the problem, but if all I had left was to stand by her side and support her at that moment, even if she did not know everything that was happening, that's exactly what I would do . Not that I did not trust my self-control or my ability to deal with that nightmare myself. - You can do it? He asked me, already opening the door behind him again. Looking much more confident than I really was, I immediately replied, "Yes." "Okay.He punctuated, holding me firmly on my shoulder. "It'll be all right." I did not say anything, praying silently for those words to be a certainty, not just optimism. I realized for the first time in a long time that my parents were still there, behind me, and as much as I wanted to be comforted by them, I did not want to appear weak. Not in that moment. - We're staying here. "My father said," It'll be all right. I nodded firmly, ignoring the pain in my throat by the crying trapped and disguised. Without another word-because I knew that if I stayed to hear more of my mother's sweet words, I would fall apart-I went into the door where Dr. Lewis had passed. I realized then that what I thought was a room was actually another corridor. A less long and thinner corridor with only two doors to the right and one to the left. When I was ready to look like I was lost, the man who had prevented me from seeing Camila stepped out of one of the doors on the right and handed me green clothes, folded and clean. - Watch this. Swap in that room. When you are ready, enter the delivery room. He punctuated, not bothering to give me further explanations. In the next second, the man pulled the green cloth that covered his chin and covered the area of his mouth and nose, entering the room to the left immediately and leaving me alone there. A little rushed-because there was no time to reason-I rushed to the door he had pointed out and shifted inside, in a very light and a little tight bathroom. Dressing the whole outfit, I realized that I was exactly like that man now: Green shirt and pants, a cap and a mask. She was dressed like some surgeon, in her own uniform to get into the delivery room. I left my clothes right there, unable to think. Everything seemed to happen very fast, and there was no feeling in me other than overwhelming fear. But no matter the size of my fear or how fragile I was, everything would have to be set aside to give way to a courage I did not possess. The courage and the certainty that Camila needed me, that everything would work out. There were six or seven people in the room when I entered. She was lying on a high bed, a very strong and large spotlight just above her belly. Around her, the obstetrician - who would be responsible for the cesarean section - a woman next to him, another near a tray full of small metal objects and sharp, a man who seemed to check his pressure and other people I did not give work to analyze. The room was clear and spacious, but the absence of casualness and carefree voices made me suffocate. "Hi, love ..." I spoke close to her face, turning her to face me. She smiled in response, letting out a slight breath of air, as if she were quieter to see me there. But he did not say anything. She seemed sleepy, and I imagined it had something to do with the anesthesia. - It's all right? "I heard Dr. Lewis's voice muffled under the mask, and as I stared at him, I noticed that the question had not been directed at me, but at one of the people nearby. - It's all right. The man on the other side of Camila's head answered. And then the people there began to communicate with each other, passing and passing on objects while carefully cutting the skin of her belly. I held one of her hands firmly, agonized for the impression that she felt pain. But she did not complain. All she did was remain silent and neutral, staring at the emptiness in the ceiling of the room. I did not want to watch what they did with the skin of her belly. Not because it would have gone wrong in any way, but because, honestly, all I wanted to see coming out was my daughter: Well, healthy and crying loudly. I was more focused on her completely neutral countenance, because even if it was normal, I could not convince myself that everything was fine. She seemed too calm. - It's all right? I spoke very low, close to his ear. She just smiled and blinked, very slowly, nodding vaguely. The doctors moved back and forth. The man next to her continued to monitor vital signs.Time did not seem to pass, perhaps because we were in a hurry to get my daughter out of her belly. - It's gonna be okay. It'll be over. I spoke at random, holding his hand tightly as he tried to use a casual note in his voice. She blinked twice more. "And we still have to choose a name for her, you know?" - You can choose. She answered quietly. - No, let's choose together. She smiled calmly, and only. Looking tired of keeping her eyes open, she closed them and stayed that way for a while. The grip on his hand loosened a little. - My parents are out there. "I came out suddenly, just to keep you distracted." "They came as soon as they heard-" "I have to cut it now. "I heard the doctor speak, looking more distant than he really was. The woman next to the tray with the objects moved a little in a hurry, and three other people began to stir there. I took a deep breath, trying not to show concern. The room was too hot for me. I took my free hand to Camila's forehead and played with a few strands that were there, clinging to her sweat too. I did not see anything that happened in the surgery, because there was a sheet strategically placed between us and the doctors who took care of the operation. It was a little agonizing to assume what was happening only by the reactions that were verbalized. "Let's go ..." I heard Dr. Lewis say again, and his voice was urgent. It was not a hurry, but something more, in a rather low tone. Maybe purposefully low. "It's bleeding a lot ..." I took another deep breath. My heart was not well. I was not well. He wanted that to end soon, but each second seemed to drag on for hours. Camila had opened her eyes again, but they blinked so slowly that at each blink they did not seem to have the strength to open again. The energy on the other side of the cloth began to rise. I did not know what was happening, but it did not seem to be all as it should be. Without thinking straight, I pulled the mask down and cleared my mouth so I could speak in a low tone at the foot of his ear. "Remember the day of your birthday?" That I took you there and we spent the whole afternoon there? "I started, not knowing exactly why I was talking and remembering that - I think it was one of the best days of my life. She smiled in slow motion, but in a real way. His fingers loosened a little more around mine. She did not answer anything, closing her eyes again and holding them closed for a long time until she opened them again, staring at me with sweetness, with love. Staring at me as if he wanted to look at me, nothing more. - Now! The doctor spoke loud enough for us to listen. But Camila remained sleepy, completely doped. I started talking again without thinking that perhaps it would be better to keep quiet. I wanted to say something, even if I did not pay attention to what was happening. If only to distract Camila from all that. And, unexpectedly, everything I said came to sound like confessions, like guarded truths that needed to be revealed at that moment. For some reason."And you remember when I congratulated you?" God knows how much I wanted to hold you at that hour, but I had to hold myself so I did not end ... I was interrupted by a cry. A low, high-pitched, squeaky cry. The sound I expected to hear. My daughter had been born, and now she was crying at the top of her lungs, exercising them with oxygen, loudly, frantically. And for a split second I felt light. For a split second I felt happy, complete. I felt that I had everything I needed in that split second: My wife and daughter there, with me. Everything was fine. But only for a fraction of a second. Because, after that, everything started happening too fast. - Fast! - Her pressure! - Go fast! - I'm not getting! I'm not getting! The crying was still loud and shrill. It sounded like normal crying. - I can not stop ... It's bleeding a lot! - Her pressure is dropping! "The man on the other side spoke, and then I realized that she was not talking about my daughter. It was Camila. - Now! Let's go now! I grabbed her hand by instinct, with all the strength I had, not caring if I was hurting her. His fingers did not close in mine as I had expected: There was no force there. She was going out. "Love," I said, now completely hopeless. I stared at her face and realized that, surprisingly, her eyes were open, staring at me as if they could do just that. She still had a faint smile on her lips, a smile almost erased, but genuine. Camila looked sleepy, but at the same time tired. Her breath was too fast ... "Lady, we need to do a procedure..." A hurried voice began at my side, and hands coming from where they started to push me carefully. "You have to go. Please ... I was not listening properly. My eyes were still on hers, begging for whatever was wrong to disappear. I squeezed his hand again, trying to get her to react, but it was useless. All he got from her was that complacent look and that simple, almost dead smile. "I love you," his lips managed to move in silence, as if making a sound of that confession was too difficult. The smile was still there, almost dead, but still there. She blinked once more, and I waited for her eyes to open again. But they remained closed. And suddenly, that "I love you" seemed to sound like a farewell. "Now, madam! I heard the voice beside me, but still so far away. My hands were rudely loosened from her hand, and after some time I could not know-because panic had already lifted the notion of reality-I suddenly found myself in the hallway outside the delivery room. Someone had gotten me out of there. What was happening? "What ... what ..." I stammered, trying to stop shaking as I regained my strength and thoughts. "Your daughter is well, ma'am." My eyes came into focus again, and I noticed that the man I was talking to was the same man who had not let me into the preterm room before. Unconsciously, I was already relating that damn nurse's face to something bad."My daughter is well ..." I repeated, trying to digest that truth. She was fine. But I had not even been able to see her because I'd been thrown out of the delivery room. "My wife-" "Your wife was bleeding a lot. We- "" What happened? " I asked, still completely bewildered. - She had a hemorrhage. Her pressure dropped. We had to act fast ... - Otherwise? I asked, wanting to know exactly what the size of the problem was. He sighed, and the damn sigh took so long that I was about to hold him by the collar and press him against a wall so he would spit out what I wanted to know. Her heart can stop. We have to control the bleeding before it's too late ... Her heart can stop. Her heart can stop ... I started to fall into an abyss. Silently. - Her heart ... Her heart ... - She lost a lot of blood. We have to try ... I was not listening. My ears were filled with a strange, uncomfortable hum. My mouth was incredibly dry, my hands shaking. My throat seemed to slowly close, as if the wave of panic that struck me did not show signs of a truce: It was that. A growing nervousness, walls closing around me and nothing that could be done to push them back. "I need to get back-" I managed to speak as I looked at nothing in particular. I unhooked myself from the man's hands and walked back to the door, completely lost, completely in shock, barely noticing that he himself was a rather difficult obstacle to be passed. The man was very strong, and he could deal easily with me in that state. "Lady ..." "I have to go back ..." I continued, ignoring the force against my steps. It was possible that I was not even moving, but my blind decision and my willingness to go were enough. "You can not go back." "Give me up ..." My voice began to take on a new tone. The tone of impatience, even covering my own despair. - I can not. I will not let go. You would disturb ... - I HAVE TO RETURN! I exploded, and the warm blood seemed to rush back into my veins, pulling me out of the almost lethargic state in which panic had placed me - I PROMISED HER THAT WOULD BE THERE! I PREDICATED HER! I have to be by her side! I SAID I WOULD BE! "You're only going to get in the way!" The man replied, not in the same tone, but forcing himself to speak louder and more authoritatively. "We must save her!" Let the doctors work! I tried to pull her hands away again, but as desperate as I was, it would not be enough to get past the man. "You do not understand! You do not understand!" I repeated, praying that he would suddenly understand without my having to explain. Without my having to say, and remember, I had once disappointed her.That I had missed my word before, and that not fulfilling the promise of being with her had made her suffer in the past. I needed to be by her side. Because I owed it to her much more than usual. And because I said I'd be there. And he was not. And that man did not understand the extent of my despair. Pov Lauren As soon as we arrived at the hospital, I came across the difficult task of looking normal. I had promised to abide by Camila's request, repeated over and over again during all 15 minutes of travel (which, normally, should be done in half an hour). "Do not make a scandal." "Be normal." "Nervousness is one thing. Panic is another." - Good night. My wife went into labor and needs to be seen. I started, trying to swallow the cry to the three women at the front desk. As I imagined they would not take me seriously, I hastened to add: "The obstetrician told her to come as quickly as possible. One of the women, perhaps noticing the force I was doing not to explode (or perhaps noticing that Camilla was actually in labor) hurried to get a wheelchair in some corner near the reception. I helped her sit down carefully, and a new wave of contractions hit her. And every time her face contorted I wanted to punch someone by my side for doing nothing so that her pain would pass. "You have to fill out some form data ..." One of them began, clearly not understanding the situation. - I fill in whatever you want, but put my wife in a room first! "Are you Dr. Lewis's couple?" Another woman asked. - Are. "He's already waiting." I'll take you there. All we had to do was walk down a long corridor - Camila in the wheelchair, I (with a form in her hands) and the receptionist walking -, get in an elevator and get to a cloying baby green room. And even being all we had to do, the whole thing seemed to take longer than it had to be. Camila made no sound. She seemed to want to keep her pains silent, even though her contractions were steadier and seemingly stronger by the minute. Not knowing what to do to help her, and making sure that nothing I tried would work, I just stood by her all the time, repeating things like "everything will work out" and "we're coming." I was distressed. Anxious because she could not make her pain go away. And because my daughter wanted to get out of it by force. And it was clear that I knew this would happen someday, but seeing her squirming that way made it all a little more desperate. - Good night! "Dr. Lewis said as soon as we entered the preterm room. There were two other women inside, who seemed to be her birth attendants, who helped him with the task of raising Camila from her chair and setting her on a high bed.- Doctor, she's in a lot of pain! "I hastened to speak, not remembering to return the" good night "given - You can not give any medicine ... - Lauren, she is in labor. There is not much that can be done. The only thing that will make the pain go is the baby's birth. Her face twitched again, and again I writhed, too, instinctively. - Hey, have you filled out the form yet? I realized he was talking to me. - What? No ... - Great time to do that. Come back in about fifteen minutes, okay? - What? I exclaimed in surprise. I will not leave you alone ... - Lauren, we have to follow some procedures here. He turned to me, speaking to a doctor's authority and at the same time to his father. "I have to do a few tests on her, and you do not have to stick to your wife all the time. Do not worry, you will be present at the birth. But you do not have to be in the tricotomy. "But ..." "We're just going to change her clothes and check if everything's all right. You do not have to worry, okay? Go fill out your form, call someone who has to call and take a tranquilizer before I even inject one into you by force. I took a deep breath trying to control myself. I looked at Camilla again and noticed that she was in the brief period of respite between contractions. - Love ... - I started, approaching her and feeling a great desire to apologize: Even if it was not of my own free will, I had to leave. Before they could kick me out of there. - Go. She spoke in a low voice, and I knew that Camila was not being rude, but just avoiding talking too much and letting out a moan of pain. I approached her face and kissed her passionately, using enough intensity for her to understand that I would return and that I was hating to leave her at that moment. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes." I spoke against his face, staring into her eyes. "I'll come back." And when I come back, I will not leave your side. She nodded simply. Forcing me to turn around and walk out of the room, I left. And then it all began to crumble. *** After answering all those damn questions on the form and waiting patiently for the fifteen minutes stipulated by Dr. Lewis, I went back to the corridor I would give to the preterm room and, to my surprise, I was barred from proceeding to the door. - Miss Jauregui? The man said, standing in front of me, not wanting to move. - Yes? "Dr. Lewis asked to keep her for a while longer out here." I kept staring at the unknown man, trying to understand why. - Because? I asked dryly. "He has not finished his wife's exams yet." The boy looked like some sort of nurse or helper. And, perhaps coincidentally - though I thought it was purposeful - he was almost twice my size. Maybe Dr. Lewis already knew me well enough to know that I would try to enter that room if a closet was not stopping me. - He said "fifteen minutes." I spoke still coolly, beginning to walk towards the door. "But it's not over yet." The man repeated himself, placing himself in front of me as politely as he could. "Be normal." Camila's voice echoed through my head. "Be normal." I took a deep breath. And then another. And another one right away. "Why is not it over yet?" What is happening? "Sometimes the examinations take ..." "But he said" fifteen minutes "! "I knew that was no longer an argument, but I still clung to it."You need to calm down." That was definitely not the right thing to say to someone who needed to calm down. "I will not calm down until I see my wife and make sure everything is okay!" I spoke in a low, forced voice, trying everything in the world to comply with Camila's request and not to make any scandal. "You have to calm down if you do not want to make your wife nervous, too." She needs your calm, she needs your strength. "For the first time, what that man said was making sense. But that meant it was not all right. It was not all right. - What is going on? I repeated, now without making any mention of running for the door and sending her down. He sighed. "She does not have enough dilation." And contractions are getting more and more frequent. - And what does that mean? I asked in an already shrill voice. "That does not mean anything ..." He began, giving an odd emphasis on the word "that," but when I was going to ask him to disclose soon everything I knew he was hiding from me, I was interrupted by a familiar voice. - What is going on? My mother spoke from the other corner of the corridor, hurrying to meet me. My father was right behind her. "She does not have enough dilation, whatever that means-" "I started, and my mother now stared at the nurse, or helper, or whatever it was. "Just wait until she does, does not she?" She asked, with the little experience she had on the subject. "What's the problem?" The man stared back at her, seeming to choose the right words. "There was a complication. Dr. Lewis is trying to see if it's possible to have a normal birth soon. The fetus is getting insufficient oxygen ... - WHAT? I said, now completely panic-stricken. At that very moment, the door I wanted to knock down a few minutes ago opened and a stretcher passed by, with four people around. Lying on her was my wife. - WHAT'S HAPPENING? I shouted at the doctor, already following him as he pushed the stretcher to another room down the hall. Camila was, for a change, with her expression of pain, and I ran to hold her hand or stand beside her somehow. But as soon as the gurney entered one of the doors, for the second time I was barred from accompanying her. This time, by Dr. Lewis, who stood in front of me before we could both get in. "There's something that we call Fetal Suffering. "He started without any preparation, quite serious and cold, and just hearing that expression felt my stomach sink." That does not mean that your daughter is suffering or in pain. The fact is that the umbilical cord is being pressed and the oxygen that is reaching the fetus is not enough. We're going to have to have a cesarean. Do you authorize the operation? I remained static, keeping myself standing only God knew how. He seemed in a hurry, and that made me not have time to even think about what I had just heard. - There's no other way...? I started out completely stunned, but I was interrupted by the doctor's deep voice again. "No, you do not. We have to do it soon so your daughter can survive. Survive. My daughter had not even been born yet, and we were already talking about her survival. "Obviously ... I authorize ... Do everything possible ..." My voice was muffled, almost too low to be heard. I was incredulous, unable to accept that it had turned into a nightmare of that magnitude. Everything was happening too fast, and my head, still working slowly, could not keep up. My chest began to ache, an abstract but very real pain. The fear of losing my daughter without even seeing her once was eating away at me, killing me. And, added to that, my impotence in the face of this situation was overwhelming. I could not do anything - absolutely nothing - to help."Do you still want to come in?" Want to be present at the birth? The doctor's voice sounded again, pulling me out of my well of sadness and despair. - It's logical ... It's logical! "Then, from now on, recompose yourself." Your wife can not be more nervous. You need to be calm beside her, you need to reassure her. She does not know what's going on. I took a deep breath, wishing I had more time to prepare. I could not do anything to help with the problem, but if all I had left was to stand by her side and support her at that moment, even if she did not know everything that was happening, that's exactly what I would do . Not that I did not trust my self-control or my ability to deal with that nightmare myself. - You can do it? He asked me, already opening the door behind him again. Looking much more confident than I really was, I immediately replied, "Yes." "Okay." He punctuated, gripping my shoulder firmly. "It'll be all right. I did not say anything, praying silently for those words to be a certainty, not just optimism. I realized for the first time in a long time that my parents were still there, behind me, and as much as I wanted to be comforted by them, I did not want to appear weak. Not in that moment. - We're staying here. "My father said," It'll be all right. I nodded firmly, ignoring the pain in my throat by the crying trapped and disguised. Without another word-because I knew that if I stayed to hear more of my mother's sweet words, I would fall apart-I went into the door where Dr. Lewis had passed. I realized then that what I thought was a room was actually another corridor. A less long and thinner corridor with only two doors to the right and one to the left. When I was ready to look like I was lost, the man who had prevented me from seeing Camila stepped out of one of the doors on the right and handed me green clothes, folded and clean. - Watch this. Swap in that room. When you are ready, enter the delivery room. He punctuated, not bothering to give me further explanations. In the next second, the man pulled the green cloth that covered his chin and covered the area of his mouth and nose, entering the room to the left immediately and leaving me alone there. A little rushed-because there was no time to reason-I rushed to the door he had pointed out and shifted inside, in a very light and a little tight bathroom. Dressing the whole outfit, I realized that I was exactly like that man now: Green shirt and pants, a cap and a mask. She was dressed like some surgeon, in her own uniform to get into the delivery room. I left my clothes right there, unable to think. Everything seemed to happen very fast, and there was no feeling in me other than overwhelming fear. But no matter the size of my fear or how fragile I was, everything would have to be set aside to give way to a courage I did not possess. The courage and the certainty that Camila needed me, that everything would work out. There were six or seven people in the room when I entered. She was lying on a high bed, a very strong and large spotlight just above her belly. Around her, the obstetrician - who would be responsible for the cesarean section - a woman next to him, another near a tray full of small metal objects and sharp, a man who seemed to check his pressure and other people I did not give work to analyze. The room was clear and spacious, but the absence of casualness and carefree voices made me suffocate. "Hi, love ..." I spoke close to her face, turning her to face me. She smiled in response, letting out a slight breath of air, as if she were quieter to see me there. But he did not say anything. She seemed sleepy, and I imagined it had something to do with the anesthesia. - It's all right? "I heard Dr. Lewis's voice muffled under the mask, and as I stared at him, I noticed that the question had not been directed at me, but at one of the people nearby. - It's all right. The man on the other side of Camila's head answered.And then the people there began to communicate with each other, passing and passing on objects while carefully cutting the skin of her belly. I held one of her hands firmly, agonized for the impression that she felt pain. But she did not complain. All she did was remain silent and neutral, staring at the emptiness in the ceiling of the room. I did not want to watch what they did with the skin of her belly. Not because it would have gone wrong in any way, but because, honestly, all I wanted to see coming out was my daughter: Well, healthy and crying loudly. I was more focused on her completely neutral countenance, because even if it was normal, I could not convince myself that everything was fine. She seemed too calm. - It's all right? I spoke very low, close to his ear. She just smiled and blinked, very slowly, nodding vaguely. The doctors moved back and forth. The man beside her continued to monitor the vital signs. Time did not seem to pass, perhaps because we were in a hurry to get my daughter out of her belly. - It's gonna be okay. It'll be over. I spoke at random, holding his hand tightly as he tried to use a casual note in his voice. She blinked twice more. "And we still have to choose a name for her, you know?" - You can choose. She answered quietly. - No, let's choose together. She smiled calmly, and only. Looking tired of keeping her eyes open, she closed them and stayed that way for a while. The grip on his hand loosened a little. - My parents are out there. "I came out suddenly, just to keep you distracted." "They came as soon as they heard-" "I have to cut it now. "I heard the doctor speak, looking more distant than he really was. The woman next to the tray with the objects moved a little in a hurry, and three other people began to stir there. I took a deep breath, trying not to show concern. The room was too hot for me. I took my free hand to Camila's forehead and played with a few strands that were there, clinging to her sweat too. I did not see anything that happened in the surgery, because there was a sheet strategically placed between us and the doctors who took care of the operation. It was a little agonizing to assume what was happening only by the reactions that were verbalized. "Let's go ..." I heard Dr. Lewis say again, and his voice was urgent. It was not a hurry, but something more, in a rather low tone. Maybe purposefully low. "It's bleeding a lot ..." I took another deep breath. My heart was not well. I was not well. He wanted that to end soon, but each second seemed to drag on for hours. Camila had opened her eyes again, but they blinked so slowly that at each blink they did not seem to have the strength to open again. The energy on the other side of the cloth began to rise. I did not know what was happening, but it did not seem to be all as it should be. Without thinking straight, I pulled the mask down and cleared my mouth so I could speak in a low tone at the foot of his ear. "Remember the day of your birthday?" That I took you there and we spent the whole afternoon there? "I started, not knowing exactly why I was talking and remembering that - I think it was one of the best days of my life. She smiled in slow motion, but in a real way. His fingers loosened a little more around mine. She did not answer anything, closing her eyes again and holding them closed for a long time until she opened them again, staring at me with sweetness, with love. Staring at me as if he wanted to look at me, nothing more.- Now! The doctor spoke loud enough for us to listen. But Camila remained sleepy, completely doped. I started talking again without thinking that perhaps it would be better to keep quiet. I wanted to say something, even if I did not pay attention to what was happening. If only to distract Camila from all that. And, unexpectedly, everything I said came to sound like confessions, like guarded truths that needed to be revealed at that moment. For some reason. "And you remember when I congratulated you?" God knows how much I wanted to hold you at that hour, but I had to hold myself so I did not end ... I was interrupted by a cry. A low, high-pitched, squeaky cry. The sound I expected to hear. My daughter had been born, and now she was crying at the top of her lungs, exercising them with oxygen, loudly, frantically. And for a split second I felt light. For a split second I felt happy, complete. I felt that I had everything I needed in that split second: My wife and daughter there, with me. Everything was fine. But only for a fraction of a second. Because, after that, everything started happening too fast. - Fast! - Her pressure! - Go fast! - I'm not getting! I'm not getting! The crying was still loud and shrill. It sounded like normal crying. - I can not stop ... It's bleeding a lot! - Her pressure is dropping! "The man on the other side spoke, and then I realized that she was not talking about my daughter. It was Camila. - Now! Let's go now! I grabbed her hand by instinct, with all the strength I had, not caring if I was hurting her. His fingers did not close in mine as I had expected: There was no force there. She was going out. "Love," I said, now completely hopeless. I stared at her face and realized that, surprisingly, her eyes were open, staring at me as if they could do just that. She still had a faint smile on her lips, a smile almost erased, but genuine. Camila looked sleepy, but at the same time tired. Her breath was too fast ... "Lady, we need to do a procedure..." A hurried voice began at my side, and hands coming from where they started to push me carefully. "You have to go. Please ... I was not listening properly. My eyes were still on hers, begging for whatever was wrong to disappear. I squeezed his hand again, trying to get her to react, but it was useless. All he got from her was that complacent look and that simple, almost dead smile. "I love you," his lips managed to move in silence, as if making a sound of that confession was too difficult. The smile was still there, almost dead, but still there. She blinked once more, and I waited for her eyes to open again. But they remained closed. And suddenly, that "I love you" seemed to sound like a farewell."Now, madam! I heard the voice beside me, but still so far away. My hands were rudely loosened from her hand, and after some time I could not know-because panic had already lifted the notion of reality-I suddenly found myself in the hallway outside the delivery room. Someone had gotten me out of there. What was happening? "What ... what ..." I stammered, trying to stop shaking as I regained my strength and thoughts. "Your daughter is well, ma'am." My eyes came into focus again, and I noticed that the man I was talking to was the same man who had not let me into the preterm room before. Unconsciously, I was already relating that damn nurse's face to something bad. "My daughter is well ..." I repeated, trying to digest that truth. She was fine. But I had not even been able to see her because I'd been thrown out of the delivery room. "My wife-" "Your wife was bleeding a lot. We- "" What happened? " I asked, still completely bewildered. - She had a hemorrhage. Her pressure dropped. We had to act fast ... - Otherwise? I asked, wanting to know exactly what the size of the problem was. He sighed, and the damn sigh took so long that I was about to hold him by the collar and press him against a wall so he would spit out what I wanted to know. Her heart can stop. We have to control the bleeding before it's too late ... Her heart can stop. Her heart can stop ... I started to fall into an abyss. Silently. - Her heart ... Her heart ... - She lost a lot of blood. We have to try ... I was not listening. My ears were filled with a strange, uncomfortable hum. My mouth was incredibly dry, my hands shaking. My throat seemed to slowly close, as if the wave of panic that struck me did not show signs of a truce: It was that. A growing nervousness, walls closing around me and nothing that could be done to push them back. "I need to get back-" I managed to speak as I looked at nothing in particular. I unhooked myself from the man's hands and walked back to the door, completely lost, completely in shock, barely noticing that he himself was a rather difficult obstacle to be passed. The man was very strong, and he could deal easily with me in that state. "Lady ..." "I have to go back ..." I continued, ignoring the force against my steps. It was possible that I was not even moving, but my blind decision and my willingness to go were enough. "You can not go back." "Give me up ..." My voice began to take on a new tone. The tone of impatience, even covering my own despair. - I can not. I will not let go. You would disturb ... - I HAVE TO RETURN! I exploded, and the warm blood seemed to rush back into my veins, pulling me out of the almost lethargic state in which panic had placed me - I PROMISED HER THAT WOULD BE THERE! I PREDICATED HER! I have to be by her side! I SAID I WOULD BE! "You're only going to get in the way!" The man replied, not in the same tone, but forcing himself to speak louder and more authoritatively. "We must save her!" Let the doctors work! I tried to pull her hands away again, but as desperate as I was, it would not be enough to get past the man."You do not understand! You do not understand!" I repeated, praying that he would suddenly understand without my having to explain. Without my having to say, and remember, I had once disappointed her. That I had missed my word before, and that not fulfilling the promise of being with her had made her suffer in the past. I needed to be by her side. Because I owed it to her much more than usual. And because I said I'd be there. And he was not. And that man did not understand the extent of my despair.
