Infinity. (Infinity Series) (14 page)

Mary informs me she’s just over six pounds and seventeen inches long. She’s tiny, but very healthy. I ask Mary what time she was born at, and am shocked to find out that it’s after midnight. She smiles knowingly at me and says, “Caroline you’ve been in labor at this hospital for more than twelve hours.”

I had no idea. I shake my head in confusion. “How long has Colin been here with me?”

She checks her watch. “I’d say for about five hours.”

In my mind, everything happened so fast that I would have thought he just made it for the delivery.
Where was he all that time that I was in labor?

****

After our daughter has taken both breasts, Mary asks, “Caroline, there’s a waiting room full of people. What would you like for me to do?” She cuts her eyes toward Colin.

Reading her message loud and clear, I say, “Can you take the baby to the nursery and let them view her through the glass? Tell them that we’re doing great, just really tired, and are going to bed. If they want to visit tomorrow, ask them to please text us before coming up here.” I make the decision on behalf of Colin. I know that there’s no way he can deal with family right now.

Mary smiles at me, and pats my hand as she looks towards Colin sympathetically.

I nod my head, and give her a knowing wink. “I’ll take care of it.”

Colin hasn’t moved from his fixed pose since he assumed it. I don’t know what to do with him at this point, so I decide to take advantage of the “complimentary” toiletries that the hospital is probably billing my insurance company hundreds of dollars for.

I gingerly roll to my side and swing my legs off the edge of the bed. I know without trying that my abs are way too sore for me to use them to stand up. I grip the bed for support while I try out my sea legs. I’m a little wobbly, but I can shuffle.

And that’s what I do. I shuffle into the bathroom, using the restroom for the first time since the baby stopped sitting on my bladder. It feels glorious. Then I step into the warm shower, and exhale as the hot water washes over me. A shower has never felt this good. My body feels battered and bruised, but strangely enough, I feel like I could conquer the world right now. I just did the impossible. I gave life to a human being. I’d like to see Batman, with all of his gadgets, do that.

I take my time, lathering my hair using my fingernails to work the soap into my scalp, and then rinsing out the soap. The conditioner has a hint of mint, and I work it through my hair using my fingers as a comb. As I wash my body, I note that I can see my feet over my five-month pregnant-sized stomach. Thank goodness Janis had warned me that it takes a while for your abdomen to appear normal again. If not, I probably would have panicked at this point.

Once I’m gloriously clean, I realize with much despair that I don’t have anything to put on. I wrap myself in a too-small white threadbare towel, and walk back into the hospital room, feeling much better but terribly sad that I don’t have my pretty PJs to comfort me. The thought of putting a hospital gown back on makes me frown.

Then, I spot my hospital overnight bag resting at the foot of the bed. On top is a note from Brad:
Can’t have a baby without your hospital bag. XXXOOO, Guncle Brad
. Best. Assistant. Ever.

I unzip my brightly-colored floral-print tote and spot the PJs that I purchased a couple of weeks ago. I carry them, along with other necessities, back into the bathroom to dress. Once the door is closed, I drop my towel and slide on a pair of my favorite pregnancy panties, and slip the light pink, silk pants on my legs, and button the top across my straining breast. I make quick work of throwing my wet hair in a clip that I found in my travel bag and slip back in the hospital bed, pulling the sheets over me.

Colin still hasn’t moved, or spoken, or hell, at this point, he may not have breathed. I’ve left him alone, to just
be
, long enough. This baby doesn’t have a name. She doesn’t even have a place to sleep. We were going to take care of all of that this week. I get it. A lot has happened in the last seventy-two hours. Now, it’s time for him to be my partner, and this baby’s daddy.

“Colin,” I coax. “Come crawl in bed and snuggle with me before they bring Elizabeth back for another feeding.”

He picks his head up and looks at me with haunting, empty, eyes. “Charlie,” he warns. “I don’t have it in me yet to discuss names.”

I smile sweetly. “All the more reason that I should go ahead and fill out the birth certificate.” I’ve chosen Elizabeth because it’s Liza’s full name, and she helped me remove my wet clothes. Plus, it’s a really great name.

He stands and walks toward the bed, doing his best impression of a little old man. His shoulders are slumped, and his head is hung.  I use my hands and arms to move my sore body all the way to the edge, making enough room for him to lie on his side.

He’s still shirtless, and I notice that there are traces of dark brown blood on his blue jeans. I’m not sure whose blood it is, and I don’t dare ask. Colin is not mentally ready to acknowledge the blood yet. That I do know.

He lies down on his side on top of the sheets, and he gingerly rolls me so that my back is to his front. He drapes his left arm over my body, resting his massive hand on my deflating abdomen.

I know that I’m going to have to be the one that does the talking. He’s still not ready to verbalize what he just witnessed. “So, you got a daddy’s girl, huh?”

His light chuckle presses his chest tighter against my back. “After the amount of Whoppers, fries, and shakes that you ate, I was expecting a twelve-pound offensive lineman.”

“Disappointed?” I ask keeping my voice neutral, but hoping that he’s not.

“Are you kidding me? Daughters love their daddies forever. No. I deserve her after the horrible thoughts I’ve had about your father, and the way that I treated my ex-wife. God’s laughing,” he whispers with a hint of sourness in his voice.

I hate that he mentioned his ex-wife. It’s not that I’m jealous or bitter that he was married before. Colin feels a tremendous amount of guilt when it comes to her. I’ve agreed with him that some of it is merited, but he’s got to let it go. The birth of our daughter should mark the time when he forgives himself for hurting her.

Just as I’m about to tell him all this, he continues, “She’s going to be dating some douchebag like Aiden or me, and he’s going to make her cry, and I’m going to behave just like Jack Collins, except I’ll probably kill the fucker.”

We lie there in complete silence, and it’s the most peace that I’ve felt since Colin and the boys started their playoff run. The lights are off in the hospital room except for a nightlight that’s casting odd shadows on the ceiling from some of the medical equipment left in the room. The blinds are closed and curtains drawn, so we don’t even have moonlight.

As my eyes drift closed, in a choked voice Colin says, “That’s the most intense thing that I’ve ever experienced.” He pauses and swallows deeply, and keeps going. “All the blood… and your yelling… and I couldn’t make it better for you… I couldn’t help you.”

He pulls me tighter against him. He whispers so quietly that I’m not certain that I’m actually hearing him. “I asked God that if I could only have one of you, that you’d be okay.”

He buries his face in my wet hair that’s slipped out of the clip holding it at bay. “I can’t watch that again, Caroline. You can’t put yourself in a situation that made me witness my greatest fear.”

He swallows deeply again, and then chokes out, “I thought you were going to die.”

“Honey,” I try to reassure him. “You just witnessed childbirth without drugs. Doctor Starr would never have let anything happen to me or the baby.”

“Don’t. Fucking. Care,” he spits out.

When I open my mouth to say something else on the subject, he cuts me off. “Stop,” he yells making me jump. “I can’t discuss it anymore. It’s over,” he says in a normal talking tone. “You’re fine. You’re here with me. But, so help me God, Caroline, you need to give me some time to cope with the birth of our daughter. If that makes me a little more neurotic with you then get the fuck over it.”

Well, I guess I just got put in my place. I lie there silently, feeling his heartbeat race against my back. My mind is turning over ways that I can help him, to reassure him that I’m okay, but I keep coming up blank. I pray that just me lying next to him is enough.

“Yesterday was the worst day of my life.” He drops a statement like that and doesn’t follow it up with an explanation, but the tightness of his body betrays how truly upset he is. I can almost feel him vibrating with tension.

I wait a couple of beats and then ask, “Do you want to tell me why?”

The room is silent for what feels like an eternity. “You made a choice for me, and by making that choice, Caroline, you made my recurring nightmare come true. I had to stand there and face the blackness that enters into my dreams while I was surrounded by a million-plus people watching me.” He says the last part so quietly that I can barely hear him.

Then, I realize what I’ve thought was his need to “be” is actually Colin extremely upset. Panic grips my heart, and I try to roll over to look in his eyes. His eyes are where I can read Colin’s truths. As if he knows what I’m doing, he prevents me from turning over, gripping me tighter while holding me in my same position. “I’m… I’m…sorry…” I stammer.

“I couldn’t get to you.” His hot breath all but burns my scalp. “There were fans pulling at me, and reporters yelling for a statement. I was surrounded by people blocking me from getting to you.” His hand on my stomach grips the material of my pajama top. “Why didn’t you tell me? Let me make the choice. Let me be a partner in this.” His angst-ridden voice is slicing me open and gutting my insides.

“I thought…” I start, but have to swallow the lump in my throat. “I thought I was making the best choice for us. I knew that I had some time before the baby arrived. I wanted you to have your victory moment. To enjoy the success that you’ve worked so hard for,” I plead with him to understand where I was coming from when I made the decision.

“Goddammit, Caroline!” he bellows making me cringe. “Do you think that moment will ever be happy for me? Do you think that I will ever look back on the victory parade and my address to the fans as positive? I couldn’t get to you.” He takes a deep breath, and then continues. “I finally yelled, ‘My wife is having our baby. Move the fuck out of my way.’ Do you think that that’s how I wanted to tell the world our joyous news?”

Oh, God! I feel so awful. I can picture in my mind my big, strong, tough husband losing his cool in front of the cameras, and I begin to cry. In my mind it was so perfect. I was letting Colin have it all.

“Then, they wouldn’t let me talk to you until I cooled down… There were so many people keeping me from you. I rode here in a fucking police car,” he finishes speaking and crawls out from behind me, leaving my back frigidly cold. “A fucking police car.”

I roll backwards, pulling the covers up around my chin, watching him pace back and forth in front of my hospital bed and run his hands through his hair.

He’s shirtless and his jeans slip to his hips, revealing the top of his perfect V. His boots
clomp, clomp, clomp,
as he paces. And in this state, I can’t appreciate the beauty of his body. He obviously has more to say. I’m just not sure that I want to hear what it is.

He opens his mouth and closes it again. Just when I’m to the point that I want to beg him to forgive me and reassure him that I’ll make this better, he stops pacing, and places both of his arms on the bottom of my hospital bed, bracing the upper part of his body. He looks menacing. This is the “I’m furious” football expression.

“You know what’s the worst? The absolute fucking worst part.”

I hang on every word, waiting to find out what could possibly be the worst thing I’ve done in this whole mess because for the life of me, I can’t figure out what it is.

“Brad is who was with you when you went into labor. Brad is who brought you to the hospital. Brad is who got you settled in, and helped you through your first hours of contractions. Brad is who held your hand. Brad. Did he wipe the sweat from your brow, Caroline?” He pauses and stands to his full height staring down at me as I lie in bed feeling minuscule and obsolete. I’m inwardly beating myself up for my choice.

“Last time that I checked, Brad is not our baby’s father. Brad didn’t pick you up crap food every night. Brad didn’t massage your swollen feet, or help you shave your legs. Brad certainly wasn’t there when we created our daughter. So fuck Brad. I earned the right to be a part of the day that my daughter entered this world. I earned every blessed second of it, but it was taken away from me.”

He turns away from me, and walks toward the bathroom. Before he enters, his shoulders tense as he says without turning around, “And I’ll never have the time back.”

He slams the door behind him.

Sobs consume my body. This is not what I thought the birth of our baby would be like. I thought it would be a fantastic day, filled with love and joy, and family and hope. I thought Colin and I would hold our child and marvel at whose eyes she has, and does she have a half-smile like her daddy’s? It never occurred to me that the birth of our baby would bring sorrow and angst to our family.

When he exits the bathroom, his hands are no longer balled into fists, and his posture is a bit more relaxed. “I had no idea, baby,” I plead sitting up as best as I can. “I promise. I just thought I was doing what was best for you. You can’t be this upset with me.” I pause and swallow my sob. “I’m scared to death, Colin. Our baby is coming back in this room any moment, and we have to figure out how to take care of her. I need you right now. Please be on my side. Please help me.” The sob escapes my lips as I beg again, “I need you.”

He doesn’t respond, and walks back over to the couch, sitting down with a thud. He drops his head back against the top of the cushion and shuts his eyes. I lower the back of the bed into a flat position and lie there, staring through the ceiling.

The air is thick with tension, hurt, and unspoken anger. I decide that the best thing that I can do is just give him time.