Silver Dawn

  The decision to take the baby was made instantly. As I was being bustled out of the room, doctors were preparing to take my son from his mother, right there in the ward.

  “Not here,” I futilely demanded. “Please, not here.”

  I would never cope with that.

  A nurse moved me toward the door with a firm hand on my back. “There’s no time to move her,” she inadequately explained. “You can wait outside.”

  I stood in the corridor near the closed door, trying desperately hard not to think about what was happening on the other side. A hundred silent prayers were made over the next few minutes. I found myself making deals with God for the first time in my life. All I wanted was Gabrielle back. I would’ve given anything up for that.

  A draught of wind hit me as the door violently swung open. A nurse flew out and barrelled down the corridor. She was out of sight before the first word made it out of my mouth so I gave up trying to speak.

  The only thing stronger than the need for information was the urge to get away. I walked a few metres further down the hall, buying myself a little distance. It brought no relief. Nowhere was far enough away from that room.

  My legs locked at the knees, holding me upright against the wall. I don’t know how long I stood there. It may have been minutes, but it felt like hours.

  My mind seemed to shut down, and only jolted back into gear when the same nurse that rushed out of the room shot past me again.

  The crib she was pushing looked like a little plastic box on wheels.

  She said nothing as she passed, and I was too scared to ask her anything.

  It was just after seven-thirty in the morning. Everything had gone to hell in a few short hours.

  Hannah finally stepped out of the room. I desperately wanted her to smile and tell me everything was fine, but it didn’t happen. “I’m sorry, Alex,” she said quietly. “Sometimes things don’t go to plan.”

  That was an understatement. Gabrielle was the ultimate planner. I knew her birth plan by heart thanks to the hundreds of hours I’d spent listening to her going over it. Every last detail of how she wanted this day to go had been memorialised on paper.

  The universe obviously didn’t get the memo.

  “Don’t tell me sorry, Hannah,” I muttered. “Just tell me they’re okay. That’s all I need to hear right now.”

  She reached out and gave my arm a supportive squeeze. “We’re doing all we can.”

  I could feel tears welling as anger set in. “How long does it take to do all you can?” I didn’t realise I’d raised my voice until she shushed me. Even then, I didn’t care. “Why is this happening?”

  “Gabrielle went into cardiac arrest,” she gently explained.

  “She’s thirty-three,” I growled through gritted teeth. “Healthy thirty-three year-old women don’t suddenly go into cardiac arrest.”

  “She’s bleeding, Alex.” Her tone was still quiet and calm, but I was furiously shaking my head as if she’d said something foolish.

  “No she’s not.”

  “Sometimes it’s not always detected early enough,” she replied. “The abruption can be internal.”

  I felt my shoulders slump. I wasn’t going to be able to rant and rave my way out of the abysmal situation so for Hannah’s sake, I didn’t try. “And the baby?”

  She touched my arm again. “He was born a few minutes ago. He’s fine. You can see him shortly.”

  Utter relief surged through me at the news, but for some reason I couldn’t react.

  Hannah gave me a tiny smile but I didn’t even come close to smiling in return. I managed a small nod. “I just want to see Gabs.”

  Her mouth opened as if she was about to speak, but was interrupted when the door flew open again. Hannah grabbed my arm and pulled me aside to make way for the swarm of people hurrying past. The only reason I knew Gabi was on the gurney they were pushing was because I caught a glimpse of her hair.

  I stood watching as they disappeared around the corner, praying to God that that wouldn’t be my last memory of her.

  “They’re still trying to stabilise her,” explained Hannah. “They’re taking her to surgery.”

  I’m no doctor, but I’m not an idiot either. They weren’t winning the battle. She just didn’t want to tell me.

  I turned back to Hannah. “I want to see my son.”

  She nodded, motioning toward the door with an upward nod. “Come with me.”

  ***

  The room was deathly quiet, which added to the unbearable oppressiveness. I glanced over at the bed as I followed Hannah into the room, noticing it had been completely stripped - almost as if Gabrielle had never been there. It made me feel so ill that I came close to throwing up.

  “This way, Alex,” she coaxed, leading me toward the small plastic crib.

  For the briefest of moments, the universe cut me some slack and allowed me to marvel at the wonder of new life. My tiny son looked perfectly peaceful, despite his traumatic entrance into the world. A little fearful of touching him, I gripped the edge of the crib with both hands as I gazed down at him. He was much bigger than I remembered Charli being. His chubby little cheeks were evidence of his mother’s custard addiction.

  He had a shock of dark hair too, which surprised me. I reached out and gently ran my hand across the top of his head, smoothing down his hair – to absolutely no avail. It stuck straight up again, making me laugh.

  Laughing felt odd. It sounded odd too as it combined with a stricken sob. I could feel the strength leaving my body as I struggled to keep it together. This just wasn’t fair. Nothing was how it was supposed to be.

  Hannah grabbed a chair, set it down beside the crib and ordered me to sit down. “Do you want to hold him?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Not yet.”

  She nodded and I was relieved that she didn’t push me. “I’ll leave you two alone for a while,” she offered. “If you need anything – ”

  I cut her off with a question that came out sounding more like a rude demand. “You’ll tell me when you know how Gabi is?”

  “Of course,” she said quietly.

  It wasn’t enough, but it was all she could give me so I let her leave. Once she was gone, I pulled my chair closer to the little plastic box and turned my attention back to my boy. “So,” I whispered quietly. “Fancy seeing you here.”

  ***

  The wait for news was excruciating, but it finally came.

  A doctor I’d never met before walked into the room, closing the door behind him. Closing the door wasn’t a good sign. Closing the door meant he wasn’t going to tell me Gabi was awake and waiting to see me.

  He introduced himself but I forgot him name in an instant. “Congratulations,” he said, peering into the crib. “He’s a handsome boy.”

  “Thank you,” I replied listlessly. “How is Gabrielle?”

  The doctor clutched his clipboard tight against his chest and hesitated before speaking. That wasn’t a good sign either.

  “She lost a lot of blood,” he explained. “The onset of anaemia and a rapid drop in blood pressure likely induced cardiac arrest.”

  “But she’s fine now, right?”

  I no longer cared why it had happened, or even what had happened. I just needed to hear that she was okay.

  “She’s out of surgery and we’ve stabilised her,” he said mechanically. “She’s been moved to ICU.”

  All of my breath left my body in one loud huff. She was alive. I could deal with everything else because she was still with us. “Thank you,” I muttered, dropping my head.

  “She’s still gravely ill but –”

  “But she’s still here,” I interrupted, letting my emotions get the better of me. “She wouldn’t leave us. I knew she wouldn’t leave us.”

  It was a declaration that meant nothing to the doctor. His expression barely wavered. I suspect he’d dealt with this level of heartbreak before, which probably explained his stony expression. “Spend some time getti
ng to know your son,” he urged. “Someone will be in to take you up to ICU shortly.”

  I looked down at my baby. “Thank you.”

  The doctor left without another word, plunging the room back into total silence.

  “I’m sorry she’s not here yet,” I said to the tiny boy in the plastic box. I put my hand on the top of his head, futilely smoothing down his hair again. “I can’t wait for you to meet her….” I cleared my throat as my voice trailed off. “She’s been waiting for you for a long time.”

  That realisation made the days events seem even crueller. I’d spent years drumming it into Charli that the universe doesn’t make mistakes – promising her that on any given day, things were exactly how they were supposed to be. I couldn’t accept that as true any more. Nothing was how it was supposed to be.

  11. HELPLESS

  I don’t know if Hannah volunteered for the job of escorting me upstairs to ICU or if she drew the short straw. Either way, I was glad she got the job.

  She spent the short elevator ride giving me the rundown on what to expect, and urging me not to be alarmed by what I was about to see.

  Her pep talk didn’t help. Absolutely nothing could prepare me for that room. The first thing that hit me was the noise. The constant beeping of the machines bounced around in my skull as I ventured further into the sterile, unwelcoming room.

  Then I saw her.

  My beautiful coppery haired Gabs lay motionless on the bed. She barely looked real. Her porcelain skin was always pale, but the pink flush in her cheeks was gone. Seeing her so lifeless made me wonder if she was really with us at all.

  There were leads stuck to her chest, a blood pressure cuff on her arm and probe attached to her finger.

  “When will she wake up?” I croaked.

  “Any time now,” Hannah replied quietly.

  “Can I touch her?”

  “Of course.”

  I reached for her hand and gave it a tiny squeeze. I got nothing back, but I was grateful for her warm touch. “We need you, Gabs,” I whispered. “Please come back.”

  “Keep talking to her, Alex,” urged Hannah. “She’ll wake soon.”

  I nodded but didn’t reply.

  “I’m going home now,” she added. “Is there anything you need me to do?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “Can you call Floss? Ask her to call Charli and tell her what’s happened. I need her to know.”

  “Of course.”

  Politeness and courtesy seem to go out the window in a crisis. So many people had gone up and above for us that day, and I hadn’t thanked any of them. Gabi would’ve been appalled by my bad manners, and truthfully I was too.

  I just couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t even think straight. I was consumed by a dreadful combination of helplessness and guilt.

  There was nothing I could do to help Gabrielle and I was guilt ridden because I’d left our son in the care of strangers in the nursery. In the four hours since he’d been born, I hadn’t even held him – and I hated myself for it.

  To make matters worse fatigue was setting in. I slumped forward in my chair, rested my cheek against Gabi’s hand, and closed my eyes.

  12. DISCONNECTED

  “I dreamed about you last night.”

  I sat bolt upright at the sound of Gabrielle’s croaky voice and rushed out her name.

  A slow smile crept across her face and she turned her hand palm up, motioning for mine.

  I took her hand and brought it to my mouth, kissing her fingers over and over to compensate for the fact that I couldn’t find words.

  “I dreamt you were in the ocean,” she hoarsely mumbled. “Looking for me.”

  “I’ve been looking for you for a while, Gabs,” I whispered. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  I let go as she slowly pulled away and moved her hand to her stomach. Wonderment turned to confusion and I moved quickly to fill in the blanks. “We have a little boy,” I told her.

  “He’s alright?”

  I leaned forward and kissed her upper arm. “He’s perfect.”

  Understandably, she wanted to see him. I turned my head, searching for someone to accommodate her. In my mind it was simple. All they had to do was wheel the baby and his plastic box into the elevator and bring him to his mother.

  The nurse who approached us didn’t pay much attention to my request. She was more concerned with Gabrielle. “Once you’re well enough to leave ICU, you’ll join your baby back on the ward,” she said, fussing with the bits and pieces that attached Gabi to the machines.

  Whether Gabrielle accepted it or not, the massive trauma had slowed her down. There was no angry protest from her. She barely had strength to speak.

  Tears rolled from her eyes, saturating her auburn hair. I wanted nothing more than to take her in my arms, but couldn’t possibly do it without displacing the equipment she was hooked up to.

  “If you need anything, just ask,” instructed the nurse.

  “I just need my baby,” she whispered.

  If the nurse heard her, she ignored her. I was grateful when she walked away. The next words out of my mouth probably weren’t going to be kind.

  I turned my attention back to Gabrielle. “Please don’t cry,” I begged. “I’ll tell you about him.”

  “You have to,” she replied. “I know nothing.”

  “He’s big, Gabs.” I smiled at her. “He’s going to be a footy player. And he has so much hair,” I marvelled. “It sticks straight up on his little head.”

  Her expression remained blank as she stared up at the ceiling. “You should be with him, Alex.”

  “They’re taking good care of him in the nursery,” I assured. “I need to be here with you.”

  “If I can’t be with him, you should be.” Her voice was barely stronger than a whisper, but I could still tell she was cross with me. “He needs one of us.”

  I swept my hand through her hair. It wasn’t soft and shiny like it usually was. It was as dull and lank as the rest of her body. “Hurry up and get well and he’ll have both of us.”

  In what looked like a move that took great effort, Gabrielle reached for my hand. I didn’t let go until she drifted off to sleep again.

  Following Gabi’s orders, I ventured downstairs to the nursery while she was sleeping. Pathetically, I didn’t even go in. I stood at the big window and watched my little boy from a distance. There were four other babies in the room with him, all settled quietly in their little plastic boxes. I was glad he had company. He’d already spent too much time alone.

  “You can go in if you want to.” I spun around to see a cheery young nurse smiling at me. “He’s nearly due for a feed,” she added.

  “No, it’s fine.” I shook my head. “Thank you.”

  Her frown was slight but noticeable. Clearly she thought I was a jerk too. “If you’re nervous about feeding him –”

  “I’m not nervous,” I cut in. “I’m just exhausted.”

  She nodded as if she understood, but I knew she didn’t. My attitude was unfathomable, even to me. Something deep inside me had snapped under the pressure. I’d gone from feeling hopeful and excited to completely dead inside in the space of a few hours. I didn’t connect with him. I felt nothing. And I had no idea what to do about it.

  ***

  After a troubled night’s sleep on the chair beside Gabi’s bed, I woke with a sore neck and a pounding headache. I slipped out and grabbed a terrible cup of coffee to wake myself up.

  Gabrielle was awake when I returned, mercifully looking much more like herself. She was still hooked up to the dreadful monitors but the back of her bed had been raised so she was almost sitting up. The brightest part of her demeanour was her smile.

  I leaned across and carefully kissed her, avoiding the wires and lines that were stuck to her chest. “Good morning, beautiful girl,” I whispered quietly.

  “Hello.” Her voice still wasn’t right, and nor was her body. She felt very warm to me. I could feel the heat radiating o
ff her.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Very sore,” she replied, grimacing.

  “It’ll take time, Gabs,” I reasoned.

  She might have been sore but she was talkative, which was a good sign. “They let me use a phone. I called my parents.”

  It was probably a call I should’ve made myself the day before, but I’d been in no fit state to speak to anyone. Even Charli got the news second hand. I’d noticed three missed calls from her on my phone that morning, and still hadn’t called her back.

  “The timing was good,” she continued. “They’re leaving for vacation tonight.”

  I sat down beside her. “What did you tell them?”

  “Not very much.” She screwed up her pretty face. “They don’t need details. I wouldn’t want them to worry. I just told them all is well and baby is here,” she explained. “And that he has a lot of hair.”

  “He does.” I smiled. “You’ll see him soon.”

  “The doctor said they’ll move me down to the ward tomorrow,” she replied. “I cannot wait to meet him, Alex. Have you visited him this morning?”

  I wanted to lie and tell her I had, but knew she’d see through me. “Not yet.”

  “You must,” she insisted. “Please Alex. You could take pictures so I can see him.”

  I truly was useless. I hadn’t even thought to take pictures for her. “I’ll take pictures, Gabs. I promise.”

  13. ROCK STAR HAIR

  Gabi intermittently slept all morning, but never looked comfortable. I imagine trying to sleep while hooked up to machines would be a hard task for anyone. I just didn’t want her to be in any pain and it was hard to watch her knowing she probably was.

  By early afternoon, I needed fresh air and a break from the constant beeping machines. I headed downstairs and took an aimless ten minute walk around the car park.

  The weather was bitterly cold and the air was crisp and fresh. I needed it. I needed it even more when I noticed Wade Davis’s souped up red minivan peel into the car park. It screeched to a halt outside the emergency exit and Wade piled out of the driver’s side. I almost smiled when Jasmine threw open the passenger door and tumbled out.