Broken Together (61 page)

“Her
parents are the only ones allowed inside the NICU right now,” Mom answered
regretfully.

The
bed rolled to a stop. My escort pushed the button for the elevator. He glanced
at my parents. “You can join us.” He backed the bed onto the elevator.

I
tried wrangling my thoughts while focusing on my mom. “Was she baptized?”

“Yes.
Father McHugh baptized her shortly after she was taken to the NICU. The NICU nurses
allowed Kadyn and Shae to join Rafael and the priest for the baptism.”

The
elevator doors slid open. The bed bounced when the wheels hit the gap between
the elevator and the floor. My pilot made a sharp right. He pushed a button for
another set of doors before pushing me down a long hallway.

My
teeth started chattering.

My
parents walked alongside me.

“Did
you get to see her?” I couldn’t recall if I’d asked that question. I felt
thoroughly disoriented between the Morphine, the cold hallway, and the
jostling.

“Just
briefly, when they wheeled her Isolette out of the operating room.” Mom reached
for my hand. “Honey, she’s so tiny.”

Tears
welled in my eyes. “Did Rafael name her?” Surely, a name was required for
baptism.

She
released my hand when the bed swung around another corner. “Rafael should be
the one to tell you.”

“Kristine!”
Rafael shouted hoarsely. The bed stopped abruptly when he flung his body over
the railing. He scooped me up into a gentle hug. “Kristine, I was so afraid I’d
lost you. I thought… I thought…” He scattered tear stained kisses all over my
face before shuddering. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“How’s
the baby?” My heart beat anxiously.

“She
was having some difficulty breathing, so they put her on a ventilator. Her
heartbeat is strong. Her kidneys and liver were impacted by the blood loss, so
the gastroenterologist and the nephrologist will be monitoring her labs over
the next few days.”

The
bed started rolling again. “How much does she weigh?”

“One
and a half pounds. She’s no bigger than my hand.” Rafael pulled out his phone
and showed me a picture. You could barely see the baby beneath all the patches,
wires, and the ventilator. The tiniest diaper imaginable was folded around her
bottom. A thin layer of hair darkened her head.

I
started crying again.

My
pilot slowed before backing into a room. A young nurse with chestnut hair followed
us. “Mrs. Garcia, my name is Jenny. I’ll be taking care of you this evening.
How are you feeling?”

“Sluggish,”
I replied accusingly.

She
eyed the monitor. “That’s the Morphine. Are you in any pain?”

“No.”
I shivered. “I’m just… cold.”

She
ran a temporal thermometer across my forehead, strapped a cuff around my arm,
and checked the swelling in my legs. “I’ll grab a couple of blankets from the
warmer. I’d like you to get some rest. Visiting hours are over, but I’ll give
you a half hour with your family. I understand you were just wheeled out of
recovery. Your husband can remain throughout the night. Everyone else is
welcome to return at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Rafael
warmed my hands between his. “I have to divide my time between Kristine and the
NICU. There are some security concerns, which I can explain. My wife has
bodyguards. They’re on their way back from the cafeteria now.”

“Her
bodyguards can stay.” She paused just inside the doorway. “I’ll be right back.
I’m going to get the blankets.”

Rafael
lowered the railing on the bed.

My
heart clenched. “You shouldn’t leave the baby for too long. I don’t want her to
feel alone.”

He
sat, carefully. “They kick everyone out during the nurse shift change. I can’t
return for another thirty minutes.” He grabbed a couple of tissues and gently
dabbed my cheeks.

Mom
chewed her bottom lip. “Have you eaten?”

Brady
and Jase strode into the room. Kadyn, Shae, Cenia, and Roger walked in behind
them. The nurse returned with the blankets.

Jase
handed Rafael a brown paper bag. “I brought sandwiches… ham, turkey, and roast
beef.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “How’s our little mama?”

“Tired.”
The blankets were so warm. Everything grew hazy. “Does our baby have a name?”

“Gabriella
Michaela Garcia,” Rafael answered.

I
smiled. Rafael had chosen the feminine versions of Gabriel and Michael, two of
the four names we’d been considering for our son. “So that’s why Michael
referred to her as
our
girl.”

*
* * * *

The
bed dipped. A well-muscled arm slid cautiously between my abdomen and chest.
Rafael tucked my back against his chest. “Another nurse shift change,” he
explained tiredly.

“How’s
Gabriella?” I whispered. Jase was sleeping on the fold out chair next to us.

“She’s
still on the ventilator. They drew blood a few minutes ago, so we’ll know more
about how her liver and kidneys are faring when those lab results are in.” He
pulled me a little closer.

 I
fought the urge to cry. I argued with my physicians and nurses over the
magnesium sulfate when they rounded this morning. They refused to discontinue
the medication so I could go to the NICU. Rafael’s regular updates and pictures
were the only things keeping me sane. “What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty.
The NICU nurse asked whether you plan to pump. They’ll store the milk for us.
We have to feed Gabriella through a feeding tube for a few weeks at least.”

The
thought that I’d be feeding my child through industrial pumps and tubes rather
than nursing and holding her in my arms made my heart ache even more. “The
lactation nurse is supposed to stop by today. I’ll see if I can rent a pump.”

He
stifled a yawn. “She looks so fragile, I’m afraid to touch her.”

“I
wish we could hold her.” My body felt like an empty husk.

Rafael
smoothed the hair from my face. “How do you feel?”

“Tired
and sore,” I answered honestly. “Every time I fall asleep the nurse comes in
and wakes me up. The lab technician was here an hour ago, drawing blood. The
doctors rounded shortly after that.”

He
slid the phone from his pocket. “I’ll text a quick update and ask everyone to
hold off on visiting until noon so you can get some sleep.”

Jase’s
hand carved a trail through his closely cropped hair. He rose from the chair. “You
both need sleep. I’m going to head downstairs for a bite to eat. I’ll ask the
nurses to give you a couple of hours. I’ll stand guard outside the door if I
have to.” He tugged his boots on and strode from the room.

“Sleep,”
Rafael repeated wistfully. He finished the text, sank onto the pillow, and
linked his hand with mine.

“I
can’t believe we have a little girl,” I whispered.

“Dr.
Barriera must have mistaken the umbilical cord for something else.” He
chuckled. “Do you think our daughter will be as stubborn as you?”

A
smile tugged at my lips. “I hope so.”

He
pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Me too, love. Me too.”

*
* * * *

The
nurse bolted from the room.

Mom
froze just inside the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

I
wiped the tears from my cheeks. “Jase nearly strangled my nurse.”

Dad
eyed him warily. “Why?”

“Your
daughter was in excruciating pain. The nurse was pushing on her incision,
trying to force blood from her uterus. She didn’t offer any pain medication
before the procedure, which is completely unacceptable.” Jase folded his arms
across his chest.

Dad
cracked a smile. “Sounds like you set her straight.”

Jase
nodded. Once.

Brady
walked in and gave me a kiss. “Hey, pretty lady. What’s the latest on our
baby?” He set a cheerful display of yellow and orange roses on the nightstand
next to the bed.

 “She’s
off the ventilator. She’s on a CPAP now.” I showed him the picture Rafael
texted from the NICU. “Her liver and kidney function are declining. The
neonatologist said those organs could still recover. It just takes time.” I was
trying my best to remain optimistic and to focus on the positive.

Dad
sank onto the bench beneath the window. “When do you get to see her?”

Pain
ripped through my lower abdomen when I tried sitting up. Moisture dotted my
forehead while I gritted my response. “Tomorrow morning, as long as my blood
pressure continues to improve.”

Mom
adjusted my pillows. “Any idea when the rest of us can see her?”

“Tomorrow.
Possibly. Only two people are allowed inside the NICU at one time. Every
visitor must be accompanied by a parent so Rafael will have to take you back
one at a time.”

Jase
refilled my water.

“I
can stay with Kristine tonight if you’d like to go back to the house to get
some rest,” Brady offered.

“I’m
not leaving,” Jase growled.

I
reached for his hand. “I want you to get some rest. You’re one of the few
things keeping me sane, Jase.”

His
eyes softened. “I’m not leaving you.”

I
squeezed his hand. “Why don’t you take a few hours to shower, change, and rest
while everyone is here? You can come back and spend the night if you’d like.”

“I’ll
stay here until you return,” Brady confirmed.

Jase
conceded with an abrupt nod. “Text me if you need anything.” He kissed my tear
stained cheek.

Cenia
and Roger greeted Jase when he strode from the room. Roger handed me a gigantic
teddy bear. “This is for you, not the baby.”

“Thanks.”
I gave each of them a hug.

“How’s
Gabri?” Cenia asked.

A
smile tugged at my lips. “Looks like Jase won the bet.”

“What
bet?” Roger joined my father on the bench.

I
sent Jase a quick text. “He bet you’d shorten Gabriella’s name in less than a
day. I gave you guys a week.”

Cenia
laughed. “What did you bet?”

“ZPizza.”
I glanced at the response from Jase. “Looks like I’m buying dinner tonight.”

Kadyn
and Shae stepped into the room. “Mind if we join you?”

*
* * * *

Rafael
eased the wheelchair onto the elevator. “Are you excited to meet your daughter?”

“Yes.”
My heart fluttered anxiously.

He
pressed the button for the second floor. The doors slid closed. “You shouldn’t
stay for too long. We don’t know how your blood pressure will respond now that
you’re off the magnesium sulfate.”

“Yes,
Mom.” I rolled my eyes at him.

He
planted his hands on the arm rests. “I’m going to ask the NICU nurse to take
your blood pressure thirty minutes in. If your blood pressure is too high, I’m
wheeling you right back to your room.”

“Fine.”
I pouted. The shower had proven downright exhausting. My stitches hurt so bad I
couldn’t step into my panties or sweats. Thank God my mother had arrived in
time to help me dress. I was annoyed by all the limitations. I belonged with
Gabriella, but my body wasn’t cooperating.

We
scrubbed up and checked into the NICU. The doors clicked open. Rafael stopped
at a tall metal shelf. He tugged a gown over my arms before donning one
himself. He pushed the wheelchair past the first room.

My
eyes widened when I saw all of the Isolettes. “How many babies are there?”

“Eighty-nine,
but they’re spread across four rooms. Gabriella is in NICU room two.” He
stopped in front of the nurse’s station.

My
jaw fell slack. The fact that I didn’t know which infant was mine completely shredded
my heart.

A
young but confident looking woman looked up from her clipboard. “Good morning,
Mrs. Garcia. I’m Faddwa, Gabriella’s nurse. Would you like to help me change
her diaper?”

My
eyes teared. “I’d love to.”

Rafael
eased the wheel chair next to Gabriella’s Isolette. “Our little miracle.”

I
choked down a sob. “She’s so small.” I couldn’t believe this tiny baby was the
same child who’d been kicking and rolling inside of me for the past few months.
She felt so much bigger than she looked.

Faddwa
opened the other side of the Isolette. She repositioned Gabriella so she was
lying on her back. “No more CPAP. Your daughter’s breathing so well, she just
needs the nasal cannula.”

Rafael
opened the two circular doors on our side of the Isolette. “She’s determined
and strong, just like her mommy.” Gently, he cupped the top of her head.

Faddwa
covered Gabriella’s eyes with a foam eye mask before handing me the baby wipes
and a diaper that was smaller than the palm of my hand. She pointed to one of
many tangled wires surrounding our child. “This is the arterial line, the only
line you really need to avoid.”