Story: Phoenix
Chapter 14
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Previously: Ellie's teacher explained that he never harmed the five-year-old; Abbey remembered the face of her attacker when a school ID badge jogged her memory; Jed struggled to understand what was happening as Abbey went into preterm labor
Summary: Jed and Abbey deal with the immediate aftermath when their baby is born prematurely
Jed crept into the room carefully watching each step as it delicately touched the tile. His hand gripped the door latch to ease it up as it closed, the echo of a faint click drowned out by the deep breath he took to avoid the sob that threatened to burst at any moment. He swallowed back his raw emotions and regained as much composure as possible before he was able to turn from the door and face his wife.
Abbey was stretched out in her hospital bed, her sleeping form occasionally moving as if she was struggling to wake up. Her face was pale, the only flash of color visible in a bruise that marked her lip, a bruise that came when she hit the bed rails in an effort to escape the agony of labor. There were dark smudges under her eyes and he wasn't sure if it was her sweat or her tears that caused the smear of black tracks of mascara down her cheeks.
It all happened so fast, and yet, it took forever. With another wave of grief, he remembered the past five hours. He remembered Abbey's cries exactly the way they came out. He remembered every bloodcurdling scream that left her mouth. He'd never forget that sound. The haunting vibration had scarred his soul forever.
She fought so hard for their baby.
"Abbey, you have to let me do this!" Dr. Gibson kept insisting.
"NO!" she repeatedly shouted as she pushed away the nurses and resisted the probing examination. "I want this baby in me for as long as possible!"
She was in so much pain that she literally lost her breath half a dozen times. The doctor feared she might pass out as the endless contractions manipulated her body into a twisted lump of misery.
"We're going to take care of your baby, Abbey, but I need you to push."
She ignored the suggestion. Instead, Abbey summoned every bit of strength she had to prevent herself from pushing. As a burning fire raged inside her, she vowed to deal with the pain for as long as the baby could stay in her womb. It was an unrealistic pledge. She knew that. It was unreasonable to expect that she could ignore the overwhelming urge to push. But she had to try.
She fought to cling to the last possible glimmer of hope that, somehow, this wouldn't happen. In some way, she could stop the delivery. Her sweaty palms searched for something to hold on to, something that would give her the lift she needed to get out of bed.
"I just need a few more days! She's too weak!"
"We don't have a few more days," Dr. Gibson told her. "The baby is coming right now."
Abbey turned to Jed for comfort. Standing alone at the head of her bed, he tried to hold her arm when she wasn't flailing around. "DO SOMETHING!" she hollered as another contraction struck the inkling of optimism still lingering inside.
"I don't know what to do," he said, a stream of tears falling from his eyes and getting lost in the thick strands of her dark hair as his lowered head grazed the top of hers.
"I can't have the baby now. Tell them that!" She begged him with such desperation in her voice.
Only Dr. Gibson saw the turmoil brewing inside Jed. He was quiet and subdued, torn between his fatherly instincts and his wife's anguish. "Abbey, Jed can't do anything. Your water broke. Your baby is coming whether you like it or not. The sooner she gets here, the sooner we can get her to the NICU and take care of her. The longer you delay that from happening, the more harm you're doing to her. Every second is crucial. You have to cooperate with us here."
"Let me talk to her." Like a wake-up call, Dr. Gibson's words smacked Jed with a fresh dose of reality. "Abbey, look at me." More strongly than ever before, he forced her to lock her eyes into his. "You trust Dr. Gibson. We both do; that's why she's here. Lets believe her now, Honey. Lets believe her when she says she's going to do everything she can for the baby. Lets help her do what she has to do to save our baby's life."
"We haven't even agreed on a name," Abbey cried, her stubborn streak still strong as ever. It was almost as if she was in denial about the science of it all. She knew how babies were born. She had even delivered a few herself while completing her Obstetrics rotation in medical school. As a doctor, she realized that keeping the baby in the womb was impossible. But as a mother, she railed against the logical and battled for the life of her unborn child.
"We'll choose a name. That'll be your job. Any name you want, we'll pick. But that comes next. Lets just take it one step at a time, okay? Let's do this now." Jed took her hand and put an arm under her to raise her off her pillow. "We'll do it together."
He held onto her trembling body during the stressful delivery. He held her so tightly, it felt as if he was pushing alongside her. One push after another until eventually, it happened. The underdeveloped baby girl embarked on the passageway through the birth canal and slipped out from inside her mother weighing only 2 lbs, 4 oz.
She immediately curled into a little ball. Her weak lungs kept her quiet at first, but seconds later, she let out a few faint cries through the labored breaths that concerned everyone in the room.
"Can I hold her?" Abbey asked, her hands still shaky as they settled into Jed's palm.
The new parents were given mere seconds to look at their daughter. Jed did his best to maintain a calm demeanor while Abbey wept at the sight of the little girl who had so much growing left to do. Her emotions finally burst into pure hysteria after the infant was whisked out of the room.
When Liz and Ellie were born, they entered the world so strong and healthy that their cries penetrated the walls of the delivery room. This baby was different. Only a few hours old, she wasn't being cradled in her mother's arms. She was isolated on another floor where a team of doctors poked and prodded at her tiny body, where the only voices she recognized - those of her loving parents - were the only voices she couldn't hear as she was forced to undergo a battery of tests, alone.
Upstairs, her father sat beside her mother's bed in an uncomfortable, straight-back chair and wondered if the emotional torment he witnessed earlier had faded even slightly.
Part of Jed wanted Abbey to sleep, in hopes that every minute of slumber would be another minute without the destructive mental torture she would inflict on herself. The other part wanted to wake her, if only to tell her how much he loved her. The latter part won.
Jed leaned forward to press his lips to her cheek. She moaned as she stirred, her emerald green eyes opening into two narrow slits. "Jed?"
"Hi, Love."
With a few rapid blinks, Abbey wiped her eyes against the back of her hand. "Where is she? Where's our baby?"
"She's in the NICU." Jed had heard that term many times, but he never really imagined what a hospital NICU was like - until now.
"I want to see her." She threw the blanket off her legs as she sat straight up.
"No, Abbey. Not now."
"Why?"
"You just put yourself through hell. I think you need to rest." She shot him a glare of disbelief. There was nothing that could keep her from seeing her baby. "Let me ask the doctor."
"No! They'll just put me to sleep again. You have to help me to the NICU." As Jed's gaze fell to the floor, Abbey grew suspicious. "What are you keeping from me? Please don't lie to me!"
"I'm not lying. She's alive. I just got back from seeing her. But..." He covered his mouth when he thought about his first visit to the NICU, recalling just how small and vulnerable their baby girl was. "I want you to be prepared, Abbey."
"I am." Abbey relinquished her hand to his, lacing her fingers through as their palms joined. "I just want to see her. Please?"
Jed silently agreed with a nod as he helped her out of the bed and into a waiting wheelchair. He ran his hands over her tangled hair and pulled back the flaps of her hospital gown to cover her up completely before they began their journey to the dismal place known as the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.
Any parent's trip to the NICU can be traumatic, but for Abbey, it was particularly devastating. She had been through these halls many, many times, both at this hospital and another one in Boston. While in medical school and then, during residency, she had offered support to the parade of families who had been touched by a premature birth.
She witnessed the marathon crying sessions, the heated arguments between husband and wife, parents, who blamed each other for whatever it was that went wrong during pregnancy. She saw the helplessness that defined their lives, the constant disagreements with the neonatologists who strictly adhered to the infant's schedule for visitors.
At the time, she could only imagine their grief. But soon, she would understand it from an entirely different perspective. Her spirit ravaged by the fear of what she was about see, she clutched the arms of her wheelchair and closed her eyes.
The ride to the NICU seemed to be a long one. Every jolt she felt as Jed wheeled her over the subtle bumps in the linoleum, jarred the overwhelming sorrow etched in her heart, her soft whimpers barely audible as she tried to hide them. She blamed herself for this. Her baby was fighting for her life because Abbey didn't gain the weight she needed to gain. Abbey didn't immediately call her doctor when she felt pain during intercourse. Abbey disregarded the ache in her belly the night before and shrugged off Jed's concerns about showing up for a confrontation with Ellie's teacher.
Every regret traveled down an accusatory path to herself. At the opposite end of that path, was her daughter, lying in a heated bed in this special care nursery surrounded by machines and lights. She wasn't even strong enough to be placed in a closed incubator. This open bed provided doctor's ample access to every inch of her delicate anatomy.
Abbey had seen quite a few boys and girls grow into healthy babies with the help of doctors and NICU nurses. But she had also seen the ones who didn't make it through the most stringent care, the ones who succumbed to a bleak prognosis and passed away.
"Oh my God." The machines were bigger than she remembered. The lights were brighter. "There she is." She stood up from her chair to lean against the glass.
The infant was naked under a mangled mess of wires and tubes. Her head was red and her skin was nearly colorless with just a hint of translucent pink. Below the plexiglassed bottom of the bed was a white glossy sign with a couple of hot pink balloons and the words "Baby Girl Bartlet" identifying her to the world.
Jed reached for the phone on the wall outside the main door. They were soon escorted to the scrub station where they were both ordered to scrub in with a harsh betadine soap and covered with a blue gown tied around the neck and waist.
Once they were approved to enter, Abbey eagerly approached her daughter. Jed followed a step behind. The fragile little girl was on her side, her knees tucked under her and her elbow just barely peeking out, so slender and frail that it was a shock to Abbey's system. No matter how many times Abbey had been here before with other parents, she was still so unprepared.
"She's going to be okay," Jed whispered into her hair as he kissed the back of her head.
"Yeah."
He detected the obvious hesitation in her voice. "Abbey, you have to believe that she's going to be okay."
She finally surrendered to the doubts in her mind. No one could know the fate of their baby. Not her. Not the doctors. Not Jed. No one could guarantee them a good prognosis. His face still inches from her dark auburn tresses, he leaned back as she emphatically shook her head. "We don't know that."
"God's looking out for her."
Abbey turned towards him, a sudden spark of anger shadowing her expression. "God?" Her voice was soft, but her indignation clear. "Why the hell should I believe that God is looking out for her? For us? Why should I believe that he'll take care of her when he hasn't offered her a day's peace since the moment she was conceived?"
It was true, he had to admit. The night after this innocent baby was created, her mother was the victim of a brutal assault that continued to plague her even now. But Jed couldn't debate the merits of God's plan. He had tried to cast aside his beliefs when he felt he had lost Abbey in the aftermath of the attack, but his desire to reject the spiritual guidance that carried him through life only caused him to fall deeper into a tunnel of despair. He wouldn't allow that to happen again.
"Have you heard of Marcus Borg?" he asked.
"No and if you're about to tell me a story about God, I'd really rather you skip it right now."
He nodded, but continued anyway. "Marcus Borg is a Christian scholar. He wrote this book in which he recounts a story told to him by the parents of a three-year-old girl."
"Jed..."
"Just listen, Abbey." He silenced her with an index finger pressed gently against her lips. "This little girl's mother was pregnant and the toddler couldn't wait for a brother or sister."
Abbey's eyes drifted back to their daughter. "Just like Lizzie couldn't wait for Ellie."
"Yeah, exactly." Thrilled that he had provoked a response, he put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed them up the back of her neck. "So when the mother gave birth, the girl was ecstatic. When the parents brought the baby boy home from the hospital, she pleaded with them to leave her alone with him."
"Why?"
"That's what the parents asked. They couldn't imagine why she insisted on being alone with the baby. But, they eventually agreed and stepped right outside the room. They leaned against the door so they could hear what was going on. At first, they didn't hear much of anything. But then they recognized the pitter-patter of little feet as the young girl walked across the room and sat beside her brother."
Abbey turned in her husband's arms with genuine interest. "What did she do?"
"She asked him for a favor."
"A favor?"
"She said to this newborn baby boy, 'tell me about God...I've almost forgotten.'" Jed paused for a moment as Abbey looked away. "Children come from God, Abbey. He looks after them. He takes care of them. He nurtures them. And when He's ready, He sends them to their parents."
"And what if they're not ready?" she replied in a near whisper.
"What?"
"What if those babies aren't ready to be sent to their parents? Then what? Does He just snatch them back like it's some cruel game, survival of the fittest?" Her fury was even more powerful thanks to the undercurrent of tears.
"It's not a game. Every life is precious to Him. I truly believe that He wants all of us to live a life beyond mere existence, a life sometimes marred by problems, but decorated with the greatest gifts he could bestow upon us. And He's always there. His presence transcends the limits of time, beyond the beginnings and endings of traditional life and death. He watches over us for eternity. No matter what."
"So what? Are you suggesting that even if our baby dies, we should be grateful that..."
"No! I'm not saying that at all. I'm saying that we have to trust Him to guard the life He created. I'm saying that babies come from God, Abbey. We all come from God and although, as we mature, we may forget...he doesn't. He doesn't take life away. He celebrates the life he gives."
"Right." Abbey turned sharply, but Jed pulled her back around.
"Don't dismiss it. Please don't dismiss it. Once you and I lose faith that she'll survive, I'm afraid we'll lose her." His eyes were swimming in a flood of tears as he grappled with his own damning thoughts. "If it was up to God, he'd give her eternal life. That's what He wants for all of us - Zoe aionios."
His voice suddenly broke and his body jerked as she caught a glimpse of his frustration. She wrapped her arms around him. "Is that Greek?"
"What?"
"Zoe aionios. Is it Greek?"
Jed pulled out of the embrace, his emotions a little more controlled. "Yeah."
"And that's what it means? Eternal life?"
"Yes."
"Zoe aionios." It wasn't a question this time. Abbey simply repeated it to get used to the sound.
"That's right."
She ran her hand over the letters of the sign. 'Baby Girl Bartlet' needed something more. "Then that's what we have to name her." She looked up at Jed to gauge his reaction. "Zoey. It's gotta be Zoey."
TBC