A/N: Probably shouldn't be starting this when I have other stories that are unfinished to tend to and whilst I'm in school, buuut the ideas flow and I gotta put them down, man. Enjoy.
Prologue
~ Sam ~
I couldn't hear my own thoughts over the heavy buzzing of non-stop medical personnel around me. The beeping and chirping noises of the many machines around me filled the air like sleigh bells during Christmastime, and I wasn't feeling very jolly about it. My husband stood beside me, his blue eyes giving me the same look he'd always given me when I seemed to have been giving up一a look that is to mean that is meant to show me sympathy and support. My eyes welled up, tears threatening to protrude furiously from my sockets and sprint down my cheeks faster than runners at a one-hundred meter dash. I hated to admit it, but I was scared. I was more scared than I ever thought I'd be.
"I'm really scared," I whispered to him softly, gripping his hand tighter.
"I know… I know," he responded, brushing my hair off of my sweaty forehead and gesturing for me to take a deep breath. I listened. "Do you feel okay?"
"Yeah, I can't feel anything anymore," I muttered. "Just a lot of pressure and nervousness."
"There's nothing to be nervous about, Sammie. You are the strongest woman I know, and you can do this."
I was checked ten minutes previously and was at nine centimeters; it wasn't long at all now. Enjoying the last bit of down time I had left, I took my styrofoam cup full of water and sucked some up through the straw. I'd made sure to stay as hydrated as possible in preparation for this, but I still felt like I couldn't get enough. That was my fifth glass, and it was almost finished.
I quickly swallowed, turning back to my husband. "What if I fuck this up?"
"You're not. Do you think any mom knows what they're doing when it's their first?"
Pressure. Immense pressure.
Pushing-through-the-numbing-agent-of-epidural pressure.
I winced, dropping my styrofoam cup to the floor. I gritted my teeth, clenching my body and letting the tension fill my shoulders. I lost all sense of the outside world as I tried to focus on calming myself, but I could hear the EKG machine picking up speed.
It wasn't my heartbeat.
It sounded like one of the babies'.
Danny stood upright, placing a hand on my back to brace my body. "Sam!?"
"Doctor, we need you in here!" The blonde-haired hazel-eyed nurse called, and moments later a man in a medical coat stepped into the room. The nurse pulled him aside and briefly mumbled a few words to him before he turned to look at Danny and I. The nurse stood beside him as he circled to my bedside.
"Okay, Samantha, I'm gonna feel around you for a second to check the baby's positioning. We think there might be an obstruction; one of the baby's heartbeats is picking up at an alarming rate, so we just want to make sure there's nothing wrong."
"Obstruction?" My voice quivered.
"Now, it's nothing to be too concerned about. If there is then we gotta get to working on motivating them to come out so we can detach them from you."
Before I could process what was being said, Dr. Bernard's hands were pressed firmly against my abdomen and he pushed gently, feeling around to see where the baby was. I grimaced, turning my body slightly as I vice-gripped Danny's hand for comfort. He returned the gesture, shushing me soothingly with his breath migrating the fibers of the hairs on my scalp. "Everything's okay," he spoke just above a whisper, and I could feel my body sink as his voice washed over me like an ocean wave. Danny always knew just what to say and how to say it to make me feel at liberty.
Dr. Bernard stopped abruptly, pulling his hands back slowly as he eyed the EKG monitor and the feed of chart paper spitting out of the printer with each electronic spike of the fetal heartbeats and contractions. His eyes dared to widen; his skin almost lost color.
"Okay… Sam, I need you to work with me, alright? You are ten centimeters dilated now; the epidural is in full effect. We need to get things going now."
"Is everything okay?" I asked, my voice rising along with my levels of stress. "Are the babies okay?"
"One of them might be constricted. I need them out here so as to not take any chances."
Soon after this the blonde-haired nurse and two other nurses came into the room, shuffling things around. She brought the bassinet a little closer to the side of my bed and then proceeded to work with Dr. Bernard at placing the foot pedals down and bracing my feet on each one. As I watched the nurses and Dr. Bernard suit up in masks and PPE gear, my hands drifted to my abdomen. I pressed against it, as if trying to figure out which baby was having a hard time. I hadn't the faintest idea, but I knew that I couldn't take the chance of either one of them dying.
Dr. Bernard gloved up and sat at the opening of my lower half, his eyes peering up at mine through the horizon line of his face mask. I panted strenuously, attempting to no avail to regulate my breathing. I had gone into my delivery with the intention of the entire ordeal running smoothly and, should there have been any complications, they would be of the least casualties compared to someone birthing twins would likely experience.
Things had drastically taken a turn, and I wasn't sure what condition myself or my babies would end up in by the end of the night.
I felt nauseous. I felt scared. I didn't want to lose them.
Please… I prayed so loudly I felt as if my thoughts would expand outside of my skull, take me if you want, but please let my babies be okay…
Danny rubbed my left cheek with the back of his hand and I let my head fall to the right to eye the contraction chart printing out of the machine right beside me. Not being able to feel anything was both a blessing and a curse; I had no idea when to push but I tried to use my surroundings to give me the clues I needed to spot my cue. If there was anything that proved the most difficult, it was being able to focus in the chaos of the delivery room.
I secured my feet in the sternups and focused intently on the feed of paper, watching as the needle picked up the spike in my contractions. As it raised, I felt a dulling pressure building up in my abdomen. I figured that was my cue to push.
So I did, with so much effort that I resorted to grunting to avoid any strain.
As the contraction fell, I did my best to prepare for another one. Danny grabbed a hold of the styrofoam cup filled with water and held the straw to my mouth. I took a few sips, breathing shallowly as he used his other hand to wad up the routine hand cloth and wipe the sweat from my forehead.
"You're doing amazing, Sammie," he cooed.
"I hate you so much," I whispered shakily. "I'm in this because of you."
"I know, honey, and I wish I could take this pain and effort away from you, but all I can promise is to be right here when our babies are finally here. Well, that and pass as a bench boy."
"You are doing very well at that, I can't lie."
He set the cup and the cloth down, rubbing the center of my back in a clockwise fashion.
"You've got this, Sammie… you've got this."
Yeah… I do. I can do this.
"Sam, you're at the homestretch but we gotta work in a timely fashion. The sooner these babies are out, the better."
I watched the clock intently as the minutes ticked on and on, washing the feeling of anxiety from my body completely as the pressure came in waves. I didn't understand the concept of time as it moved past me; I didn't understand the medical jargon as I saw utensils being swapped back and forth between nurses and the OB-GYN. I couldn't register the look on Danny's face as the presence of blood shielded his eyesight, and his change in stature when he couldn't compose himself. My vision tunneled; my mind took me elsewhere. I found a happy place and focused on my breathing, waiting for the time to pass. I relied only on the words of my doctor telling me when it was appropriate to push, and I did for several more minutes.
The details remain hazy, but I do remember distinctly hearing the doctor state that our little one was stuck at the head. Feeding off of the energy present in the room, my body remained tranquil as the medical staff worked swiftly but gracefully to detour the obstacle. I felt an obstruction, but nothing that was affiliated with a significant amount of pressure. It took almost ten minutes, but the medical staff finally angled and worked them out enough to initiate a smooth entrance, completely relieving pressure off of the birth canal.
Pretty soon, I heard crying ringing in my ears and I knew one perfectly healthy baby had entered this world. I gazed at the clock: 9:37 pm. "Baby boy," I heard Dr. Bernard cry out excitedly.
Now I just had to focus on one more.
The nurse cleaned him off, wiping away the fluid and allowing Danny to cut the cord. She passed him-him, our baby boy-off to him. Danny fell madly in love, absolutely mesmerized at the miniature version of him right before him. I wanted more than anything to hold him too, but I knew I wasn't out of the woods. I had one more mystery baby to greet.
Danny handed him over to the nurse, who passed him over to another nurse-this one with dark brown hair and different colored scrubs-to get him weighed on the scale. He then promptly returned to my side, holding my hand again.
More focusing. More drifting. More steady breathing that Danny and I learned from our Lamaze classes.
"You're almost there. How are you holding up, Sammie?"
"I'm okay… I'm okay," I breathed gradually, letting my body slowly relax.
Doing just that proved difficult. How was anyone supposed to remain relaxed during something like this? I was absolutely exhausted but getting any amount of sleep during active labor regardless of the implementation of drugs was futile. The epidural helped tremendously early on before active labor initiated, but now that it was time to do the heavy lifting, I was feeling more than shaken. My chest felt anchored; my forehead broke out in cold sweat.
Too bad the epidural only worked from the waist down.
My head rolled off to the right to see my beautiful baby boy being lifted carefully off the pediatric scale and I watched as the digital numbers dialed up. One pound jumped to two, which then jumped to three until finally it landed on seven. The preceding number stopped at eight.
Seven pounds and eight ounces. A perfectly healthy weight.
The brunette nurse took out tailor's tape, keeping it wrapped around her fingers while she marked the paper at the head and feet. She then carefully hoisted the baby up, swaddling him firmly in the hospital blanket and setting him the bassinet marked with a blue label. I smiled weakly, watching his tiny feet move to the left and right in perfect rhythm beneath the blanket. I'd do anything to hold him.
Each time I felt pressure, I pushed; each effort came with the production of beaded sweat upon my forehead and Danny gently wiped them away, offering soothing words and gentle massages.
An eternity passed.
And then… It happened.
Another cry filled the room-this one lighter than that of my son's. The clock read 9:46 p.m. Almost ten minutes apart.
Dr. Bernard gave me a radiant look, his eyes brightening. Danny and I froze in anticipation.
He slowly lifted the baby up, showing her lightly flailing arms and scrunched up face.
Danny's breath hitched, his eyes welling up as he spoke to her aloud-never breaking eye contact with their new life.
"You did it, Sam," he cried in exasperation. "You did it!"
"A girl," Dr. Bernard smiled brightly beneath the medical mask, rising to his feet before passing the newborn off to blondie. She took her, slowly carrying her over to the scale and setting her down.
My eyes welled up in tears, seemingly in bliss of the sight before me. I turned to Danny, who was so shell-shocked that he'd barely moved.
"A little girl… I've got a little girl."
"Yes, your dream. How do you feel?" I giggled softly.
Danny didn't respond. His eyes wouldn't leave the two beautiful twins before him. He rounded the bed over to them, his hands braced over the side of our son's bassinet. I chuckled softly, watching as the nurses weighed and measured our baby girl before setting her in the pink-labeled bassinet. He moved to the head of the two, using both index fingers to gently graze the baby's cheeks. They no longer cried, but remained steady and smooth. Their son's eyes remained close, bidding the world of sleep to greet him; their daughter, on the other hand, was alert. Her eyes restlessly looked left and right, likely examining the blurs of light from the fluorescent bulbs above. Danny leaned forward and came face-to-face with her, almost as if he were looking into her soul. She cooed lightly, her hands opening up to separate her fingers. He stuck his finger out, brushing the palm of her hand and letting her close it around his finger. Watching Danny's composure slouch, I knew immediately that she had melted him.
"Danny, don't bombard her," I cautioned him. "Let me hold my son."
He was too far gone to register a word I was saying, so blondie carefully hoisted my swaddled son in her arms and passed her off to me. I took him slowly, bringing his face closer to mine. He looked so peaceful and still, like one of those realistic baby dolls that could pass as human. His faint, steady breathing let me know that he was still alive.
My eyes become glassy, practically creating hints of reflective light on his soft, pale skin. In all my years with all I've seen, I've never been so deeply in love with someone-with somebody-like I was with him and his sister. My eyes scanned the newborns' faces back and forth, almost to detect a hint of proof of fabrication. I felt like I was dreaming; maybe I was in a bad headspace and disassociated to a land-to a life-not yet granted or seen.
I found nothing.
"Lucas," I whispered. "Lucas James."
Danny took our little girl into his arms and held her snugly, carrying her to my bedside. He maneuvered his neck to fit comfortably on my shoulder, sitting on a rolling chair at my bedside. I took a deep breath as I turned to look at Danny, and he made eye contact with me before returning his eyesight back to our daughter.
"Lillith. Lilith Jessem."
"Jessem?"
"Hey, it's a cool name," he shrugged casually.
"They'll have the same initials…" I muttered, smiling down at Lillith before looking at Lucas.
"Congratulations you two," Dr. Bernard de-gloved and tossed the latex materials into a biohazard bin before sanitizing. "I'll leave you guys to revel in this, and if you need anything please flag down one of our nurses, okay?"
"Wait," I stated, stopping him abruptly, "you're leaving?"
"Honey, I'm an OB not a pediatrician. With the exception of checking in with you to make sure you're healing properly after delivery, you won't be seeing me around much anymore. Evelyn," he gestured to the blonde nurse, "will be coming in to check your vitals every hour. I'm referring to a pediatrician-her name is Dr. Keener-who will be doing check-ups on the little ones starting tomorrow morning. Get some rest, you two. You'll need it."
Dr. Bernard gave me a smile, Danny a wink, and started out the door to the delivery room. Evelyn gave my shoulder a squeeze, a reassuring look flooding her face.
"If you need the extra rest, we can take the babies to the ward. Let's kick it off with feeding first, though. Are you planning on strictly breastfeeding or formula? Either is fine!"
"Whatever nourishes them the quickest," I replied slyly.
…
In the days that followed Danny returned to work while I rested at home with the babies. My parents stopped in to meet them and help get us situated, dropped off some food and burned several dozens of minutes of cuddle time. They offered to stay until Danny got home, but I told them that once the babies were down that I'd be okay. Once they bid me farewell, they left the house in silence, leaving nothing to me but the light whirring of the appliances in the kitchen and the air conditioning assisting the house in maintaining a stable and comfortable temperature. I dwindled downstairs for a brief time period that felt more tedious than it naturally would have otherwise. Being able to sleep was becoming progressively more difficult after the twins' births. The doctor warned that this was likely to occur, considering it was totally normal for parents-specifically mothers-to become very light sleepers and, in some cases, insomniacs.
No biggie, I thought. I'll just take some sleeping meds and wait for some time to pass. Danny should be home within the next hour or so.
So that's exactly what I did. I made sure the doors to the house were locked up before turning off the downstairs light and using the upstairs hallway light to guide my feet up the stairs. I passed the twins' nursery, peeking my eye into the room to see them sleeping peacefully. I double-checked to make sure movement was occurring where both of their exposed chests were before stepping back and making my way to the master bedroom. Stepping in and immediately rounding the corner to the adjoined bathroom, I thought of the repercussions that came with taking sleeping meds. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I pondered the idea carefully.
I'm totally exhausted. I sighed, washing my face with warm water. I just want to be able to sleep… but if the babies cry, I want to hear them.
I stared at myself, bringing my hand up to my cheek and touching it gracefully. At the time, I didn't recognize the Sam staring back at me. Baggy-eyed, pale-skinned Sam whose lack of sleep was, much to her dismay, her alternative identifier that has proudly taken the place of "That Goth Chick". I shook my head, drying my face with the hanging tile on the rod before me. After spending the next couple of minutes flossing and brushing my teeth, I turned off the bathroom light and shimmied beneath the comforter of my bed.
My breathing began to slow within minutes and I could feel myself being pulled into the deep depths of dream-land. The feeling of being submerged didn't surpass a sufficient enough time frame before a loud crash was heard along with the sound of broken glass hitting the hardwood floor. My eyes opened wide; my body lunged upward with enough gust of wind to move the curtains eight feet away. Before I could even control it, my hand gripped the sheets atop my body and hoisted them to the right before catapulting my legs out of bed. I booked it to the nursery, hoping against everything that the noise was a figment of my imagination.
When I opened the door I was greeted with a stomach-lurching sight.
A ghost I didn't recognize held Lucas close to his chest as he cried and wailed aloud. His dark cloak was covering most of his body and his green hair flew vibrantly around his head. He wore a mask that covered everything but his eyes, which were a deep, blood red. Lilith remained in her crib, following suit with her brother-left touched and consoled only by the blanket still swaddled snugly around her body.
My eyes glossed over, a fleet of adrenaline rushing over my body-the same feeling you get right when you drop from the peak of a roller coaster track. My blood ran cold.
"Oh, my God!" I cried, lunging forward as quickly as I could. I felt my feet lift off of the ground. Before I could get even remotely close to getting ahold of Lucas or the unknown apparition, he disappeared in a flash of red, and I crashed to the ground in a fraction of a second short of it. The amplified volume of breathless crying had been cut in half, leaving just one newborn to fill the void. I froze, my chest heaving and beads of sweat dripping from my face. I felt hot… weighed down.
I felt numb.
Judging by how hard I hit the ground, I was even fairly certain that I'd injured myself but the adrenaline was keeping me from feeling a thing.
The adrenaline and the grief.
I slowly rose to my feet, my chest felt constricted and my eyes fogged with tears.
My son. My son was kidnapped.