As exhausted as she is, Santana has a rough time falling asleep. Before she can even attempt it, she makes certain with every nurse, with Roz, with Holly, with Shelby, and most importantly, with Brittany, that Max isn't taken away from them. Once she's sure of it, she falls into a fitful sleep, worried sick about Oliver, worried that something will happen to Max while she's out.
When Santana wakes up, it's morning, and she's an anxious wreck again. She worries about the babies, yes, but also, she feels a deep sense of panic about Liam. Her eldest son saw her go into the hospital, and he hasn't seen her since, and the idea of inflicting trauma on him gets her so beside herself that she pushes herself up from the bed and screams out in pain radiating from her caesarean incision.
"Santana." Brittany jumps from her seat, holding Max. "Are you okay?"
"Who has Liam? Where is he?"
"He's at home. My parents have him, your mom has been in the waiting room all night. I couldn't get her to go home."
"He's okay." Santana breathes, unable to even process her mom sleeping in a hospital waiting room, though she knows she's done it before when she knew her husband was having an affair. "Have you talked to him?"
"I did, after you fell asleep. He knows about Max and Oliver, and he told me he misses you and then a lot, and that he can't wait to hug them outside of your belly."
"God I can't wait for that too." Santana chokes on a sob. "I just want Oliver to be okay, so all of our boys can be together."
"He's doing really well. Holly said we can see him whenever you're awake, and if you're up for it, you can try to nurse him."
"I haven't even nursed Max yet this morning. I'm in so over my damn head right now."
"You nursed him half-asleep three times last night. He's okay right now, you're doing fine."
"Shit, I don't even remember that." Santana takes a breath. "Okay. Okay. I want to see Oliver. Can Max come?"
"Holly says he's stable enough that we can have Max in there with us. The surgery was primarily to check for other hemorrhaging and to put a shunt in, and that was the only bleed, so he seems like he's doing really well. She thinks he'll only be in the NICU for a few days, and then we'll go from there, and hopefully take him home."
"And Max?"
"You and Max should be able to come home tomorrow."
"And he won't be able to come back." Santana says out loud, though they both know the rules, and she knows Holly is probably bending them a lot by allowing Max to see his brother at all. "Fuck, I hate this."
"I know. I hate it just as much."
Santana doesn't say much else. She doesn't know why she feels so frustrated with her wife, she doesn't know why she feels so frustrated with Holly, who's doing everything she can and more. But she's tired and in pain and scared, and all of that amplifies her frustration a hundredfold. She refuses the wheelchair Brittany offers, but she lets Brittany carry Max as they walk down the hall and into the NICU, where her poor little boy lays with his head bandaged. The nurse is nice enough when she lifts him out and into Santana's arms, but Santana can't even be bothered to remember her name. She just doesn't care about anything right now, and until Oliver opens his eyes and looks up at her, she feels like she could hit someone.
"Hello there, Oliver." She whispers. "Mommy's here, Mama's here, Max is here. You're not alone anymore."
"They really look so much like you." Brittany murmurs.
"Their eyes are grey. I wonder if they'll stay that way." Santana strokes the bottom of Oliver's forehead, under the bandage. "You two are the most beautiful things I've ever done. I can't take credit for your brother Liam, but he's the most beautiful gift I was ever given."
For a long while, Santana just stares at him. He's alert and breathing on his own, and as a doctor, she knows those are the best signs. As a mother though, the bandage unsettles her, and she wishes she could remove it and kiss the crown of his head, like she's already done so many time to Max. Instead though, when he seems to be ready, she lowers her hospital gown, and she guides him so gently to her breast, letting him feel his way around until he latches on and begins to nurse.
"Good boy, such a good boy." Santana begins to cry again. "You've got it, just like that. Britt…can I have Max?"
"Of course." Brittany lowers Max down into Santana's other arm, and steps back. Santana feels her eyes on them the whole time, as Max and Oliver's legs tangle together as they were in one of the ultrasound photos they have, and Max nurses on Santana's other side. "This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Santana. You and our twins. They're okay. You're okay."
"Britt." Santana looks at her face, tears welling up in deep blue eyes. "I'm sorry I—"
"I know." Brittany nods. "It's been a really hard week. We'll get past it."
Softly, Santana hums You Are My Sunshine to the babies, while Brittany just stands and watches them nurse. Finally, Santana offers up her seat to Brittany, struggling a little to maneuver both babies and Oliver's wires. Then, she sinks into another chair, further from Oliver's incubator, and she stares intently at her wife with their newborn twins.
"You know, Mr. Oliver, you were named for your Aunt Olivia, who was bigger than life. You'll be that way too. And you, Max, were named for the King of the Wild Things, from Mommy's favorite book. Your grandma used to read it to her five times every night, and that's something really special to her. We'll see if you'll be the King of the Wild Things too, although the way you were kicking when you were inside, I'd say you're right there. I'm so, so happy you're both here, and you look more like Mommy than I ever could have thought possible."
Something about seeing Brittany talk to them makes Santana's heart swell, and just for a moment, her anxiety melts away, and a sense of calm washes over her. Even with how small Max is, even with the bandaging on Oliver's head, for a moment in time, everything feels normal, everything feels like it's going to be just fine.
It's short lived though, and when Oliver starts to cry, the first time Santana's heard him, her heart aches. Realistically, Santana knows that you feel no pain in the brain, but as a mother, that cry sends a jolt through her system. It makes her shudder, even as Brittany soothes him, even as the nurse comes in to check his vitals, Santana doesn't calm down. She needs to do something, she needs to fix what she hurt, she needs to give their son whatever he needs, because she's the one who made this happen.
After both babies fall asleep together, it proves nearly impossible for Santana to watch Brittany put Oliver down. Rationally, she knows it has to happen, she's forced parents to do the same thing more times than she can count, but she sobs uncontrollably and nearly collapses to the floor when she has to make the choice between sitting at Oliver's bedside and returning to her room with Max to sleep. That's not even to mention how desperate she is to see her Liam, to kiss him and promise him she's okay, but her three boys are in three different directions, and no way she can go is the right way, and every way makes her ache in a way she never could have imagined possible.
She finally succumbs to her need for more sleep, but as a way to assuage her guilt for feeling like she's chosen one son, she asks Brittany to stay with Oliver, and she puts Max down in the bassinet at her bedside. Holding him while she sleeps feels like a betrayal, and she's not sure she'll ever move past this feeling of not being a good enough mother. She's not sure she'll ever go back to the way she felt a few days ago, when she was just Liam's Mommy Noodle, and she could see in her eyes that she was some kind of superhero to him.
When she wakes up again, her mother is at her bedside, and Max is in her arms. Santana's chest throbs with some feeling she's never felt before. Her mother has never been able to hold a newborn grandchild, never been able to kiss a tiny head, and learn a tiny face when they're just hours into their lives. The sight of Maribel with Max makes Santana smile, just for a moment, and she doesn't give away that she's awake, doesn't let herself stop pretending that her wife will walk into the room in an instant with Max, and trade babies with her mother, letting her meet and cradle his identical twin.
"Hi Ma." Santana swallows hard, watching how she looks quickly up from Max.
"Hi, honey. Brittany let me come in. She thought it might be good if someone were sitting with you and with Max."
"She's with Oliver?"
"She is. She told me she was going to come in and get you before Holly wanted to give his evening update."
"I was mad I missed the one after his surgery." Santana shrugs a little, curling in on herself. "Did you get to see him."
"I did, just for a few minutes."
"I guess they're only bending the rules that directly involve us. Grandparents get fifteen minutes."
"That's what Brittany said. Though I'm glad you have a little more freedom with him than you would if you weren't in your own hospital. Santana, sweetheart, they're both such beautiful boys."
"I made them in my body, Ma." Santana sucks in a breath, trying not to cry again. "And I tried so hard to keep them in long enough that they'd both be okay. My baby had brain surgery, he…he—"
"Oh, Santana." Maribel carefully settles Max on her shoulder, and wraps her other arm around Santana. "He's okay, I know it's terrifying, but he's doing so well. He'll be out in just a few days."
"Why doesn't anyone understand?" She gasps through her sobs. "My job was to keep them safe. Not one of them, both of them. I'm a surgeon, and I save other peoples babies all the time, but when it came to my own son…he's not okay because of me. He's okay because of Holly. And Brittany is keeping everything together while I fucking fall apart over and over again. And I miss Liam, and I just want to take Max and Oliver home together like we planned. When will I ever grow out of fucking everything up?"
"You can't blame yourself for this, Santana. You followed Dr. Washington's orders, and you had permission to be at your shower the other day. I don't know why it happened, but that wasn't your fault."
"I feel like I'm torn in so many directions right now. All I want to do is sleep until everything is better, but I need to take care of Max, I need to sit with Oliver, I need to see Liam, and I can't even remember if I've kissed my wife since my damn c-section. How can I even begin to balance this? I didn't plan to get pregnant with twins, and I didn't plan for this. God, I'm a horrible fucking mother."
"You're not—"
"Ma, I'm sitting here because I don't know what the fuck to do for one single person in my family, I've been a bitch to my wife, and she's the one constantly holding everything together."
"Santana." Maribel's voice is firm. "I'm not privy to everything, or even many things in your relationship with your wife, but I've seen you hold her together when things are hard too. I saw you step up after Liam's surgery and help care for both of them when they needed you. You were never a fragile child, you dealt with things no child should, and you've dealt with things no adult should. But you are strong, and you'll be strong for Brittany and sons. You had major surgery with complications one day ago, it would be unnatural if you weren't having a tough time."
"Well maybe I'm sick of having a tough time, and everyone just excusing it on the grounds of my father emotionally abusing me. I want to be the one who can handle things on my own for once. I should be at Oliver's bedside, and I should be fighting for the best care for him, even though I'm sure he has it with the doctors I would have picked myself. I shouldn't be feeling like I want to hide under the sheets and come out only when it gets easier again. I don't even know if they've given me my anxiety medication, because I haven't even looked at my charts. It's too hard, and I don't want to do it."
"I love you, Santana, you're my baby girl, and I wish more than anything that I could tell you to do that. But you know as well as I do that as a mother, you don't get a choice but to do the hard things. I failed you in so many ways, but I won't fail you now by protecting you from them. Your family needs you to rest enough that you're well, and they need you to fight with them."
"I want to see Liam. No, I need to see Liam. I need him to hold Max, and I need to tell him myself that I'm okay, and that his brothers are okay. And before that, I need to go nurse my other baby. Please, Mama. Help me learn how to do this. I became a mother to such an easy little boy earlier this year, and now I need to learn how to be one when it's not easy."
"I may not be your best teacher, Santana."
"Well you're all I have. You're my mom. Help me be a good mom. Please, Ma, please don't let me fail them."
"I'll do all I can." Maribel nods. "Whatever you need from me, I'll do my best."
Trusting her mom with Max, Santana shuffles her way down the hall to the NICU. For a fleeting second, she wonders if this will make her a better doctor, she wonders if knowing that it feels like to be the mother of a NICU patient will make her less anxious to just do surgery, and to listen more to the other mothers, the other fathers. She feels like now she knows something new. She feels like this is something she could have never learned in medical school, and though she wishes she never had to learn it, she thinks maybe, somehow, it makes her a better human.
When she approaches where Oliver's incubator is, Santana pauses when she sees Brittany in the chair with him. There's always been something so natural about Brittany's motherhood, and she thinks back to the first time she saw he carrying a sleeping Liam down the hall of the hospital. She thinks of the time she insisted on Brittany helping her with the conjoined twins, and the way she hesitated before she left Liam with her. She thinks of the way she smooths his cream on so gently every night, she thinks of how she knows exactly how to dry his tears, and kiss his forehead. She's all of that with Oliver too, in that moment, and Santana sucks in a breath. She might have her medical license revoked for even thinking it, but she can feel that there's some sort of healing in Brittany's gentle strokes of Oliver's face, in the soft hum of her voice as she speaks to him.
"Is he awake?" Santana asks, her voice more shaky than she means it to be.
"He's not, but I wanted to hold him. Here, honey, come sit."
"I'm okay standing." She shakes her head. "It hurts, but we both know it'll be better for me if I try to move some more today. I'll stand until it's time to nurse him, or pump, or whatever. My boobs are really full."
"I bet if you sit down with him, he'll smell you and wake up. Come here." Brittany stands, holding Oliver's wires in one hand, and him in the other. "He missed you."
"I'm sorry." Santana isn't sure if it's a snap, or just completely defeated. "I had to sleep."
"I know that, and so does he. I was just…" Brittany shakes her head and trails off. "Go see Mommy, my sweet baby boy, it's time to wake up and eat now."
"Why are you like this, Britt?" Santana accepts Oliver in her arms, and is grateful for the fact that she managed to put on her maternity pajamas, and can nurse easier with buttons than the hospital gown. "You're just so…so much better at knowing how to do this then I am."
"You're doing fine, Santana. Look, he's nudging you a little. He smells you, and he senses you."
"I don't mean the nursing. I mean…I keep getting mad at you for being calm. I know it's really…not right of me, but I can't be calm, and I think I'm angry with you because I'm jealous of it. I want to scream and yell and throw myself on the floor like Liam when he's tired, because I feel like I hurt our son." A sob escapes from Santana's chest, and she watches Oliver latch on to her nipple without opening his eyes. "He had a severe IVH, and he has a shunt in his brain. He could have cerebral palsy, or a learning disability, or behavioral problems, and I can't fix it for him."
"He's not broken. He doesn't need to be fixed."
"You know what I mean Brittany."
"I feel like sometimes we talk in circles, Santana." Brittany exhales sharply, and Santana can feel her frustration. "We had this conversation last year about you."
"It's not the same conversation. My fucked up tits are not the same as our son who had brain surgery."
"It's not about your breasts or his brain. It's about the fact that you think everything that comes out of you is some kind of awful poison. As someone who loves you so much, it's incredibly frustrating for me."
"Well imagine living it, if you're so frustrated with me."
"I'm not trying to start a fight." Brittany sighs. "But if I gave birth to Max and Oliver, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"What's that's supposed to mean?"
"You're being combative with me, when I'm trying to talk to you rationally. If I gave birth to them, you wouldn't be blaming me for hurting them, or thinking I was poisonous."
"Well maybe you should have."
"Santana." Brittany gasps. "I can't do this right now. I'm not going to argue with you in the neonatal intensive care unit while you're nursing our son."
"Maybe it's time we had a fight, Brittany. Maybe you should tell me what you really think of me."
"What I really think of you." Brittany lowers her voice to barely above a whisper. "Is that I love you, and I love these two beautiful gifts you gave me, but that it's really hard to watch you hate yourself so often. You think Liam is perfect—"
"He is. He's the most perfect thing in the entire world."
"And so are our other two boys. You forget that I watched Liam hooked up to machines, and looking like he might not make it. I've done this before, but yet you're completely failing to recognize that this is hard for me too. I know you're in physical and emotional pain, and you're scared. But I'm scared too."
"Brittany—"
"I'm sorry, Santana, but let me finish. I refuse to be those parents. I was never that parent with Liam, and neither were you. And I know you're not going to be that way with Oliver, and you're just beating yourself up because you're you, and your goddamn father filled your head with garbage, so the wind blows backward and you think you did it. But I need you to relax, take a look at this baby boy you brought into this world, and remember that you created two very perfect things. They're brand new, and they're beautiful, just like you."
"Okay." Santana breathes deeply, stunned by Brittany.
She closes her eyes, then opens them again, looking at the tiny boy in her arms. At such slight weights, she can feel that he's lighter than his brother, but there's a certain sense of enormity in his presence, something she couldn't feel the first time she held him. He's her third son, the third one who changed her world. Liam, when he invited her to her birthday party, and who taught her to be a mother. Max, when he laid in her arms for the first time, and showed her what body was capable of. And Oliver, right in this moment, as he blinks up at her, his white bandage crown and suckling lips, reminding her that she can do this, reminding her the depth of a mother's love.
"We're going to get you well, my sweet boy. Mama's been taking care of everything with the doctors, but I'm here now too. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."