In My Blood

Chapter 9

Addison Montgomery's Point of View

"We pushed her too hard, I should have never tried to force her to keep the baby."

"We're both to blame. We should have been there for her, tried harder."

"What if she doesn't wake up?"

"I don't know." Meredith admits.

"Why did I let her talk me into the surgery? It was too risky. She knew the risks. She was likely to have severe complications, and that she would possibly die. How could I have been so stupid?"

"Your baby was dying, and your wife was bleeding to death. You did what you had to do to give them both a chance. She wouldn't have agreed if there wasn't a chance."

I hear them talking around me. I hear the sound of the chair scooting across the floor and someone leaning their upper body on the bed. They take my hand in theirs. It's Mark. I try, but I can't speak as I slowly wake up, groggy in the ice-cold hospital room. My eyes are swimming from the sedation, but I can make out Mark's form on the chair next to my bed. He is slouched forward his head is now resting in his hands. Even without being able to see properly I can tell that he's crying. I try to reach my hand out, to let him know that I'm here, I'm fine, but I'm still too heavy, too tired.

"Addison?" He asks, looking from me to the machines my stats must have changed. I blink my eyes several times at him, but I am too exhausted, the medicine pulls me under again. When I open my eyes again the room is dark. He is still beside me, holding my hand. I can see him. His eyes are red and swollen. His face moist.

"Hey." I say. My voice a horse whisper from the breathing tube they had since removed. "What happened?" I ask, almost afraid to know the answer.

"You're okay." Mark says, his tone is careful, deliberate.

"But?" Mark doesn't say anything, and I persist. "What happened?" I push the button on the bed to sit it up. I look around at all of the various machines attached, trying to figure out what he's not telling me. Wires connected to a heart rate monitor, a pulse ox, antibiotics and fluids, a life support breathing machine. Wait. What? The risks were high, but the procedure should have been straight forward. I begin to panic which sets off the machines. I stupidly move my hand to my mouth, as if feeling for the tube. There is no tube. If the breathing tube was still in I wouldn't be able to talk. They must have extubated the tube before I came to.

"It's OK Addison." A quiet voice says. Meredith. I was so focused on Mark that I hadn't noticed her sitting on the couch by the window looking out. "Everything's OK just try to breathe." She comes over and moves the oxygen mask back down on my face. The fear and confusion I am feeling must show through because she continues:

"There were complications with the surgery. You started bleeding out faster than they could replace the blood, and you coded twice on the operating table. The first time was twenty-five minutes. The second time fifteen. Your body just wasn't strong enough to handle the operation." She looks tired. There are dark circles under her eyes. "You've been in a medically induced coma for five weeks. Neurologically everything checks out, but you're still going to need physical and possibly occupational therapy after being down for this long." There are tears forming in her eyes, she just looks so relieved.

"Is the baby, okay?" I demand, they look at each other, not me. I wouldn't have done this if I thought it would be this dangerous for Oakley. I was trying to save her after the havoc I caused. It all confuses in my head. I don't know why I feel so worried. I don't want a baby. I was considering aborting. I tried to end the pregnancy. I explored the other options first. I wouldn't have gone through with the abortion. If I really in my heart and soul wanted her dead, I would have just waited and delivered her on the bathroom floor. Instead, I did the right thing. I came to the hospital. I got help. A million thoughts begin to race through my head. A coma is a big deal, even if it is medically induced. Frustration begins to surge through me like red hot fire. There haven't been enough studies done on pregnant mothers in comas. How would the pregnancy affect the baby's development overall? How would being down for so long have affected her development even with the assistance of a ventilator and life saving measures? What about her brain development? I'm not thinking clearly. My mind is jumbled. The risks far outweigh the benefits. I am confused, trying to piece everything together. Mark must have insisted we both be saved. He wasn't able to choose.

"We don't know how the trauma your body has been through will affect her developmentally." Mark says, echoing my thoughts. He climbs on the bed next to me and places his hands on my tummy singing some little melody I've never heard before. Oakley begins to move, and I close my eyes. I try to ignore the sensation of fear raging through me. I place my hand near his and she pushes her little foot against it. "You made it to thirty weeks Red, this is a huge accomplishment. You're in the homestretch now."

I bite down on my lip, hard. The memories from the days before I got sick come flooding back to me. I'm not sure how I feel about this news. I want medical power of attorney back. I feel a surge of guilt. I can't help but feel used. Was I placed in a medically induced coma because it was the best thing for me, or because it was the best thing for the baby? I can almost imagine how things went down. I have seen it many times before. Joy would have told Mark there had been complications. Mark would have refused to choose and pleaded with her to do everything she can to save us both and now I'm here. I should be grateful to just be alive, but I can't. This is all too overwhelming.

"I just need to rest. "I say quietly. I need to rest and then I will be able to make believe and pretend like everything is okay again. How is it possible that I've spent five weeks, roughing eight hundred forty hours sleeping and am still so exhausted?

Meredith nods her head, asking if I want meds. I shake my head 'no'. I snuggle into Mark's warmth and close my eyes. Maybe if I ignore this hard enough it will all go away. I pretend we're somewhere else. The beach splashing in the waves and then Yankee stadium watching the game. Anywhere else is better than here. I will put a smile on my face and pretend I'm okay another day. Today I'm not okay, and I need some time to process. I will make it through today, whether I want to or not, and tomorrow, and the day after that. One day at a time because the choice is not mine.

Authors Note:

Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing!