Within You -part 4
It was October fifth, in the middle of the night. When my cell phone rang, I fell off the bed in my haste to answer. I had feared phone calls in the middle of the night ever since July, and my heart was beating so fast it was deafening when I answered.
It was Jane, one of the night nurses. I must have started panicking when she announced herself and babbled something because she told me, very calmly, that everything was alright. “We think Jensen might be in labor. You should come. I’ve already called Dr. Cortese and Omundson.”
In my haste to get ready as quickly as possible, I think I might have hung up without answering her. I woke up my mom. I was terrified. I don’t remember anything from there until the moment I found myself running through the Neurological wing. Dr. Cortese was already there, standing near the nurse's station. I almost bumped into her.
“How is he?”
“I just had him transferred to the obstetrical department, he is in the first stage of labor. Contractions are steady at ten minutes apart. He’s almost two centimeters dilated.”
“Okay what floor?”
“I was about to go. Come with me.”
The nurses who were present wished me luck. I felt like I had a fever, it seemed surreal to be at that point where Jensen was actually about to give birth. I was torn between the excitement of finally holding my baby daughter in my arms and the sorrow of Jensen being in the state he was. He’d waited for this baby for so long.
In the elevator, Genevieve rubbed my arm. “It’s going to be okay, Jared. Jensen was going to hit his thirty-seventh week tomorrow, the baby is considered full term. I checked her position and she’s still perfectly seated with her head toward the cervix.”
“Was he in pain when you saw him?”
“He seemed uncomfortable when he had a contraction, but nothing more. We’ll monitor him closely, don’t worry.”
“Yeah well, I can’t help it.”
“I know. I’ll be there with you guys every step of the way. Dr. Omundson is with Jensen as we speak.”
The obstetrics ward was quiet. The nurse who welcome us said Jensen was the only patient in active labor that night. We followed her to a large room that had a wall cutting through it. “The other side is used for the delivery,” Genevieve explained. “When your daughter is born the wall can be opened and everything needed to welcome her will be accessible.”
I barely heard her. I was walking toward Jensen who was partly hidden from me by Tim’s long silhouette. He was checking Jensen's pupillary reactions. A baby monitor had been installed over his belly, the vital signs displayed on a small screen. Jensen’s and the baby’s heartbeat could be heard dually. He was settled in a semi-sitting position. I finally saw his face. He was awake and frowning at Tim. He saw me and smiled. It didn’t happen often and it touched me every single time.
“We’re gonna have a baby, Jen", I told him, taking his hand.
“Yeah,” he said, and by then, I knew “yeah” could basically mean anything.
I saw that he didn’t have his nasal tube and that a new IV drip had been installed in the crook of his arm. Tim smiled at me. “He’s doing well, Jared.”
Jensen groaned suddenly. Genevieve got closer and showed me the paper that was coming out of the baby’s heart monitor. A steady line was drawn on it. “Look, Jared. That’s how we can measure the contractions and their strength. One is just starting now.”
I saw the line starting to rise on the paper. I turned to look back at Jensen. He grimaced, his hands closed into fists and opened again in a quick motion. He let out a small moan, looking at me with big, surprised eyes.
“The contraction is reaching its peak,” Dr. Cortese announced.
“It’s okay, Jen, you’re doing good," I told him, caressing his cheek.
I saw the moment he started relaxing. His cheeks were red. It had been so long since I'd seen any color on his face.
“…And it’s done,” Genevieve said. “You have to relax between the contractions, Jensen, it will be easier for you.”
It was one of the reasons I liked her so much. She always addressed Jensen normally, like a person, not a confused comatose patient.
“So, what do we do now?” I asked.
“The first phase of labor usually takes time. I don’t think he’s in that much pain, so I would wait before giving him any drugs, what do you think, Dr. Omundson?”
“I agree. For now, it’s better to let it happen naturally.”
“What I suggest is you stay with him and comfort him when a contraction comes,” Genevieve told me. “A nurse will come every half an hour to monitor the contractions, and I’ll check him in maybe two hours.”
“Two hours?”
“Unless he shows signs that he’s progressing quicker. Checking the dilatation of the cervix isn’t exactly comfortable, Jared, and the first centimeters always take a while. What I want now is for Jensen to rest as much as he can, because he will need all the energy he can gather to give birth.”
“She’s right, Jared,” Tim added. “I’ll come back to evaluate him as well. I’m not going home, neither is Dr. Cortese. If anything happens, the head nurse will be able to join us immediately. It’s better for Jensen to be in a quiet environment. Alone with you.”
I nodded. I was a nervous mess. When they left, Tim pat me on the shoulder, which brought me ridiculously close to tears.
During our conversation, Jensen had started to doze off. I lowered the bed rail and got my chair as close to him as I could, holding his hand. When the next contraction came, his eyes shot open in surprised and he tensed, just like he had before. I don’t know to what extend he was conscious of what was happening to him, but it must have been scary as hell anyway. I spoke to him as softly as I could, and his eyes never left mine. When the contraction was over, he whimpered. “You’re good, you’re okay, I love you Jensen.”
“Yeah,” he nodded.
“You can go back to sleep. Just close your eyes and rest. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”
There, in this room, with Jensen so close to me, I think I found some kind of peace. It took a long time for the dilatation to progress and the contractions to pick up pace. It was early in the morning when Genevieve Cortese checked him and saw that he was six centimeters dilated. By then, Jensen was fully awake and not in a good mood. He refused to look at me and moaned and groaned like a wounded animal during the contractions. I wanted so badly to believe that he knew he wasn’t suffering in vain but because he was about to give birth. The truth is I didn’t know.
“Time to help him with the pain,” Genevieve told me. “I’m going to start with a light dosage of morphine and see how he reacts. We don’t want to sedate him too much. If it’s not enough I’ll give him another shot. And we should maybe help him into another position. He’s been like this for a long time.”
A nurse came to help me turn Jensen onto his side right after he received his first morphine dosage. He fought with all the will he could gather, but once he was settled, he sighed deeply. I washed his face with a cold towel. He leaned into the touch, his eyes focused on me.
“Jared,” he said.
It was the first time he’d said my name. I tried not to give it much thought. He had heard it many times, and just a few seconds before, when Genevieve Cortese has been speaking to me. Still, it shocked me. In a good way.
“Yes, right here, not going anywhere,” I told him.
“Jensen you are doing great,” Dr. Cortese said. She was looking at the contraction monitor, waiting for the next one to see if the morphine was starting to work. They were now five minutes apart and lasted longer.
The contraction came, and Jensen’s face scrunched up, but he didn’t groan or let out any sound. He just breathed quicker.
“I think it’s working,” I told Genevieve.
“Jared,” Jensen repeated.
He stretched his hand so that I could take it. That wasn’t usual. That had never happened. Even though Jensen would occasionally act on simple comments, he had no initiative.
I exchanged a look with Genevieve. She tried to hide her surprise from me, but I could see it all over her face.
I took Jensen’s hand, mine was trembling. “Yeah, okay,” Jensen mumbled.
Genevieve left the room, then. I lowered the bedrail and sat next to Jensen, running my fingers through his damp hair. “We’re getting there, you’re so brave, Jensen.”
Jensen licked his lips. “Whu-water?” he asked.
I froze.
“You want water, Jensen?”
He nodded at me. I wasn’t really thinking by then. I took the sponge from the glass on the table and let it rest on his lower lip. Jensen sighed, closing his mouth on it.
Then sucked, then swallowed.
“Oh my god, Jensen, you just drank some water,” I whispered in awe. “Do you want more?”
Another nod.
Jensen drank, sucking the water from the sponge until there was barely anything left in the glass. Then he suddenly spit out the last mouthful, his eyes widening.
“Hurts, Jared,” he said, grimacing.
Another contraction. He was crushing my hand. I tried to grab the bell on the other side of the bed. I think I was laughing. It’s hard to put into words everything that went through my mind.
I didn’t grab the bell. Before I could succeed, Tim Omundson walked into the room, followed by our androcologist.
“Something is happening, I think he’s waking up.”
“Jaaared,” Jensen moaned. “Huuuurts.”
“I know, baby, I know, it’s the contractions, you’re in labor.”
Everything was very confused for the following minutes. Tim got me out of the way and started asking Jensen questions. Genevieve was short of breath, she was smiling.
“What’s happening? Is he…?”
Tim turned his head toward me, his long grey hair hiding half of his face. He was smiling too. “He’s awake, Jared.”
“What?”
“It’s something that has been seen before in comatose pregnant patients. Sometimes the body going through a trauma will shut itself down, basically, it puts itself into a coma to protect the fetus... or it remains in a comatose state, until it figures it is strong enough and the baby is safe. The human is a wonderful machine, don't you think? Jensen's brain has shut the machine down to a minimum so that the baby could develop normally, giving it all the resources available.
"What?" I repeated.
"Healing from a stroke, waking up from a coma, it takes a lot of energy. Jensen's brain waited until the baby was ready to be born before shifting into high gear."
"It's... " I wasn't sure I understood. I didn't have the concentration capacity. "But he's awake."
Tim smiled and patted me on the back. "He is. It’s still early to assess your husband's state more specifically and I don’t want to do a full exam now. We’ll wait until after the birth. But don't worry, he's awake.”
“Jared,” Jensen called again.
I walked past Tim and bent over my husband. I couldn’t know what was going through his head, and yes, I was scared, but also in awe. I was crying.
“I’m here, Jensen.”
“Jared,” he repeated. “The b-bhu-baby is coming.”
“I know.”
“Hurts, I don’t… Whu-what’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing. You’ve been very sick. But you’re doing better.”
He was. He was confused, and terrified, but he was entirely there, with me. I could feel it, see it in his eyes.
"It hurts," Jensen repeated, trying to move on his own to find a more comfortable position. "I chu-can't... move..."
"Let us help," Genevieve said in a soothing voice. "All of this must be so scary for you, Jensen, but you're doing great. Concentrate on your baby. She's coming. And soon."
Now that Jensen was awake, there was no place for intimacy anymore. Two nurses were there with us, along with Tim and Genevieve. I felt dizzy, seeing how Jensen was lost in the middle of us, trying to figure out what had happened to him, what was now going on, why he was in such pain.
"The nursery," he murmured, grabbing my arm with both hands. "It's not f-f-fhu-finished."
"Yes, it is. Don't worry baby."
"I don't understand!" He yelled suddenly.
"It's too much for him," I told Genevieve.
One nurse readjusted the fetal monitor. The other one took Jensen's blood pressure. Tim looked at the charts, scribbling something while standing at the foot of the bed.
"Okay," Genevieve said. "Everybody, out of the room."
Tim caught on immediately. He directed the two nurses out of the room, following behind them. Another contraction hit, a bad one, and Jensen tried to pull off the elastic belt that held the baby monitor in place.
"He's uncomfortable," Genevieve said. She lifted Jensen's hospital gown and unstrapped the monitor. Immediately, the machine started beeping loudly. She shut it off. Jensen, his face covered in sweat, twisted on the bed, groaning.
"Jared, try to get him to listen to you. He needs to calm down," the doctor told me. "I really need to check him soon and I don't want to scare him even more."
I realized I had been paralyzed near my husband's bed, for how many minutes I did not know. It was the shock, I suppose. Anyway, I switched back into action. The contraction was coming to an end, and Jensen was still twisting on himself, like he wanted to get out of his own skin. I bent toward him and took his face between my hands, asking him to look at me. It took a few tries, but finally, his bloodshot eyes locked onto mine. They seemed huge.
"Jared," he whimpered.
"I know. Listen to me. I know. You've been asleep for a long time, you can't control your body, everything hurts. I'm so sorry, Jensen. Trust me, I was there every step of the way. Now, what's important is that our little girl wants out, and you can do this. We'll help you. You're gonna have a baby, the baby you've dreamed of since you were fourteen. And I'm here, I'm here and I'm not letting go of you."
Jensen burst out crying. I hugged him as tight as I could. "Let your body work. It knows what to do. Let us help," I whispered in his ear. He nodded, his head brushing against my cheek.
He was calm enough to be checked. He didn't even acknowledge Genevieve as she worked between his legs. He gripped my hand, his other one resting on his stomach. He repeated "baby", over and over again, and I don't know if it was to convince himself it was really happening or if he was speaking to our little girl.
He was eight centimeters dilated. Genevieve gave him another shot of morphine. I could see in her eyes that she was overwhelmed by the turn of events, that it had shaken her.
"This will help you with the pain, Jensen," she said in a shaky voice after giving the injection. "I'm sorry this is so hard on you."
"S-shu-so tired," Jensen murmured.
"I know, honey, I..." She stopped herself, blushing. "Oh god, sorry, that wasn't really professional."
"Don't apologize."
Jensen moaned again, trying to grab my shirt. I bent over him and talked him through the pain. That's how the next hour went by.
It was early morning by then. The sun peeked through the drawn curtains. Jensen was fully dilated and even with the pain and the labor reaching the delivery phase, he was dosing on and off. It worried me.
"It's normal," Genevieve told me. "Can you image how exhausted his brain is right now, let alone his body? The morphine is also having an effect on him, but don't worry. He's doing extremely well, considering."
I tried to believe her. The contractions were two minutes apart and they must have been the most painful ones, but Jensen only had enough energy to moan and whimper. When it was time to push and he was settled in an androcological position, he had trouble keeping his eyes open. Tim came back in the room, as well as two new nurses who opened the faux wall and prepared all the equipment needed to welcome the baby.
Jensen pushed. He hadn't been told to do so, he didn't even seemed aware of it. His body was doing its job. It was scary. Tim must have seen the distress on my face because he took me aside, promising it would only take one minute.
"Jared," He said firmly. "Jensen isn't falling back into a coma. That's not how it works. He's awake. He's awake, do you understand me?"
I nodded. I think I was crying. I think the neurologist had just pointed out the fear I couldn't even admit to myself.
"Waking up from a coma is like running a marathon," he went on. "And there are so many things to take in, so many things Jensen doesn't understand right now, it's too much for him. He's exhausted, he's having trouble keeping up with everything. So he falls asleep, because he just can't do otherwise, his brain won't let him. No coma. Sleep. Exhaustion. The effects of the morphine. I need you to believe me."
And I did believe him. I don't know if it was because he'd been so convincing, or just that I couldn't bring myself to think it could happen. I stayed near my husband while his body pushed our little girl out. It didn't take long. Suddenly, a feeble cry filled the room and Genevieve held a tiny, bloody body wiggling between her hands. Jensen murmured inaudible words, shaking his head softly from left to right, but when the nurse lifted up his gown and settled the baby on his skin, he managed to open his eyes.
The nurse asked me to help hold the baby who was crying softly, so little and warm, her wet, bald head turning from left to right, rubbing against Jensen's skin.
"She's here," I said. "You did it. We have a daughter."
"My... my baby," Jensen murmured.
Then he succumbed to exhaustion.
_____
They were all in the waiting room: my mother, Felicia, Gil and Ty. When I walked in, they all stood up in a perfect ensemble.
"It's a girl, she weights six pounds two ounces and she's perfect," I told them.
There were smiles, but sad ones. They all started to walk toward me for the traditional hugs and congratulations. I stopped them. I didn't know how to announce the other wonderful news. I felt like I was holding a delicate butterfly in my hands, that the faintest movement would tear it's wings apart.
I was scared. Scared that saying the words out loud would break the spell, and then I would go back in the room and Jensen would have this absent look, saying "yeah" to everything that was asked of him.
"Jensen is..." I started, and the few tears I had left wet my cheeks.
"Oh my god, no," Felicia paled so fast it seemed unreal, like she had become a cartoon character.
"No," I protested quickly. "He's awake. He's not in a coma or a fucking minimal conscious state. He woke up while he was in labor."
Felicia was the first to run toward me. She jumped in my arms. I remember her smell, I remember the way she held me, so tight. I remember I had to steady myself not to collapse under her.
Jensen slept most of the day. We had a room in the OB ward with a small plastic crib for the baby, but she never touched it. She slept in my arms with this cute pout on her lips that reminded me so much of Jensen. After everyone came in to see her, two by two, they went back home. Tim had told us that Jensen would go through a very rough time, realizing what had happened to him for the past three months, that he might still be confused, and that too many people around him would only add to his stress.
Around three in the afternoon, Jensen woke up. It wasn't the first time -he had gone through a couple of exams, had ask for some water, had even taken a look at our baby, but tiredness had pulled him back to sleep almost immediately each time.
Now, he looked at me, his eyes wide open.
"I had a baby," he rasped.
"You did, Jen. Want me to bring her closer."
He shook his head. A tear slid down his cheek. "I can't. I... I don't... understand, I can't really move mhu-my arms, and everything is... Am I dreaming?"
"No, you aren't. Not anymore."
Jensen took a shuddering intake of breath and burst out crying again. "I don't know whu-what's happening, I don't understand, Jay, h-huh-help me please, I'm so scared..."
I put our daughter in her crib and lowered the bed rails while taking off my shoes. I climbed in beside him the best I could, taking him into my arms. I wanted him close, as close as he could be. He wrapped a shaking arm around me and shoved his head against my chest, letting out loud, desperate sobs.
"It's hard, I know," I told him. "But we're in this together. You and me and our baby. Everything is going to be alright."
I felt a confidence in my voice that had been absent for so long it hurt to realize how desperate I had become. Not anymore.
We named our daughter Hope. Cliché, I know, but no other name could have fit her better.
_____
Holy shit.
I don’t know if it was ever your intent for me to read this, Jared. It was resting on your desk, this huge pile of paper, and the first page caught my attention. Then, I couldn’t stop.
Way to make me melt into a puddle of tears btw. God, I’m trying to be funny, only for my benefit.
Here’s what I want to say to you. I never realized how hard it was for you when I was out. I thought about it. I thought about my family, and you, trying to imagine how you coped. It wasn’t immediately after I woke up. The days following Hope’s birth are foggy and vague in my mind. I had to put myself together again, and you know it wasn’t easy for either of us.
Later though, I thought about those months. And even if I knew, on a cerebral level, that it must have been hard, no one ever told me how it was. Fel let out some comments, about how great you were through everything, but that was about it. I think it is something she doesn’t like to think about, neither does Gil, or Ty. You. You told me so many things, you keep telling me how strong I was, how difficult it was for me. And I told you, over and over, that you were the perfect husband, that I was so lucky to have you by my side. But… I never knew, not like this, you know what I mean?
Seeing myself through your eyes, your words, was an overwhelming experience. I want our daughter to read this one day-without the NC-17 passages, which were very few ;-) Can you believe it’s been four years? I wonder, since you obviously felt the need to write this down, how much it still affects you. I’m here for you, Jay, you don’t have to be strong all the time.
I know you’re worried, I know you’re scared, but it’s going to be okay. My last IRM showed no signs of the aneurysm coming back. It’s fixed. You were with me at every appointment I've had. Just because I’m pregnant again doesn't mean that a new aneurysm will appear out of nowhere.
It sounds like I’m trying to convince myself. :D To tell you the truth, I might be scared and worried too. I’m still living with what it did to me, I will always live with it. We can’t live in fear, Jay, we have to go on. I can’t wait to feel the baby moving. I can’t wait to experience everything I missed while I was pregnant with Hope. And when I think of her, how amazing she is, I’m not scared any more. Can’t wait for her to meet her little sister -or brother.
It’s like you left the story unfinished. I have no idea if your intention is to add another part, but I feel like I could tell the rest. You can decide what to do with it. I’m not as good of a writer as you are.
Hope was born at ten minutes after seven early on the morning of October sixth. After that, I underwent a whole bunch of tests. Like I’ve said, I don’t remember a lot from that period. I remember you, and your mom, and my family, staying with me at the hospital. I was so confused, because I still had memories of that in-between time, only flashes, the sound of your voice, the feeling of being asleep and unable to wake up. Hope went home with you five days after her birth. I had to stay another month at the hospital.
It was hard for the both of us. I know I was angry, and frustrated, not being able to take care of my daughter, to do what I used to do. Learning how to feed myself, trying to walk, to speak properly, dealing with the damn stuttering and the migraines and the weakness that affected my left side, throwing temper tantrums like a kid. You were so patient. Everyone was. You brought me Hope as often as possible. It must have been hell for you. I couldn’t worry about that, then. I was too caught up in my own issues, but the money, and the work, and taking care of me and Hope... I know I’ve thanked you for everything you did, more than once, but I don’t think it will ever be enough.
My first week home is also my first true happy memory. I was coming back to myself, I had my baby with me, and you, and I was able to take stock, for the first time, to think about everything that had happened to us.
You say it changed me. I know. I don’t hate the changes. I used to think so very little of myself, not that I’d admit it, but that’s how it was. I used to think I needed to enjoy everything as quickly as possible before it was taken away from me. Making a baby, it was my way to ground myself. A baby that would be mine, that no one could ever take away from me. I was always scared, you know, that one day, you would tell me that it was over, that you didn’t love me anymore. It’s stupid, even with the relationship we had -I had all the proof I needed to reassure myself- but it didn’t matter when I woke up in the middle of the night having trouble breathing and wondering when you would abandon me.
Yeah… Written down, it seems so pathetic.
I don’t think like that anymore. How could I, after all you’ve done for me? And I know I was always stronger than I dared to imagine. I don’t want to sound egocentric, but I’m proud of myself, of the way I was able to build myself back, to take care of Hope, to get my life back on track. It’s been a long road, right? But we made it.
I know you love John Irving, and I’m going to write an epilogue like he would appreciate.
Where are we now? You are still working at the same bank, and Danneel is one of our best friends. You’ve had a hard time forgetting how your brother treated you, and both of you are still trying to rebuild your relationship, but you’re getting there. I’m proud of you.
Hope looks like you, except for the freckles. She’s a healthy four year old, she’s active, she loves animals and Disney Movies and the color green. She was disappointed when we told her I was pregnant because she would have preferred a puppy. ☺
I’m 16 weeks along, the baby’s due for Christmas. I know everything will be okay.
Gil got married last year. He sells cars and he loves it, which is still a complete mystery to me. His wife, Briana, is as exuberant as he isn’t. We love her.
Felicia is pregnant too, she’s six month along, she’s enormous, and she’s having a girl. She’s not married, but she and Fred love each other. It’s enough. She still lives here in Manchester. Ty helped her start her own practice. Fred is a mechanic. He fixes our cars on a regular basis.
Ty retired two years ago, but not really. He breeds snow dogs and his reputation is growing. He had something going on for a while with a woman, but it didn’t work out. He tells me no one will ever replace Hannah, his deceased wife, and that he doesn’t want anyone to. I know was very hard for him when I got sick. I see it in his eyes everyday. I wish I could take his worry away.
Your parents are doing good. Meggie is in college, she’s studying medicine and she wants to specialize in neurology. You keep saying it’s because of me. Your parents are so proud of her.
I’m still a physical therapist. I’m a better physical therapist because, now, I understand what some of my patients have been through. I still suffer from the consequences of my aneurysm rupture. I have concentration problems, migraines, and I stutter whenever I’m tired. I have regained ninety percent of my strength in the left part of my body. Tim is impressed. I’m just glad I’m alive, there for you, and our daughter, about to bring another kid into the world.
I’m going to stop now because I’m crying like a little girl and I miss you. Stupid accountant convention. I want you to be here with me, I want to hold you tight and tell you I’m not going anywhere and then do very NC-17 things with you.
I love you, babe.
Jensen.
___