Holding On & Letting Go

Chapter 4


"Addison you had a severe hypoglycemic attack. You've responded well to treatment and are now back within normal levels, but I'm going to need you to take it easy for the next few months until the baby comes." Arizona says. I open my eyes slowly and realize I am in the isolation ward of the maternity section in Seattle Grace hospital. The baby's heartbeat is strong on the fetal monitor that they've attached to me. Pitter patter pitter patter. My eyes flutter closed as I get lost in the sounds of this little ones existence. "We took bloodwork to check your A1C, but the lab is backed up and so we're still waiting for those results. The acute hypoglycemia caused preterm contractions. Once your blood sugar was stabilized the contractions stopped on their own without additional medical intervention." I look up at Arizona, my everything hurts, and I just want to cry. Clara was sitting next to my hospital bed, looking like she was trying to battle her own demons. She's avoided the hospital like the plague since the hospital shooting. If I wasn't feeling so freaking miserable, I'd have realized how brave it is of her to be here right now.

"What happened." I ask weakly. I don't want to be here either. The rooms of the maternity wing are too similar to the rooms of the intensive care unit where we spent the last three days of Mark's life. They use the same cleaners here. The type that kill anything and everything it comes into contact with. The type that has warning labels that caution against contact with human skin due to the carcinogenic properties of the cleaner.

"You passed out." Clara interjects. "I couldn't wake you. I had to call an ambulance." She looks so pale, so spooked.

"What happened to never calling an ambulance?" I mumble.

"So, the alternative would have been to let you die?" She asks. "Your were going into hypoglycemic shock Addison. Your blood glucose was 34 when the EMS arrived. You both could have died or ended up with permanent brain damage."

"It's ok Clara, I'm fine. We're fine." I say. I hate the look on her face, she looks so terrified.

"You hit your head when you fell, you could have had a brain bleed or bruising causing your unresponsiveness. It wasn't automatically apparent as a low blood sugar crisis." She says her bottom lip trembling. I turn my head and see that they've wheeled in a pediatric bed. Benjamin is asleep on the bed, hooked up to an IV. I raised my eyebrows at Clara questioningly.

"Is Benjamin OK? How long was I passed out for?"

"You can't do this to yourself Addison. You can't do this to us." She says, more interested in lecturing me than in answering my question.

"I didn't do anything, and that's not what I asked."

"Yes, you did. You froze, you didn't eat, barley drank, didn't move for a week." She protests. "Why does everything have to be about YOU and what YOU want, or YOU say, or YOU ask?" She asks me harshly, her eyes flooding with tears. "You're being SELFISH. You're putting yourself at risk, and you're taking your unborn baby, your sweet little baby down with you. What did the baby do to deserve this?" I stay quiet, letting her vent, knowing it is her fear talking. When she is done, I take a deep breath and try again.

"He is MY child and he's hooked up to machines in a fucking hospital. I need to know if he's OK." I sit up slightly, looking around for Arizona. I hadn't realized she had left the room. She comes back into the room, as soon as the sentence leaves my mouth, and puts her hand on my shoulder.

"Benjie is fine Addison. Clara consented to treatment via consent forms you filed with the hospital on her behalf when Benjamin was born. He's fine, just a bout of influenza. You tested negative, but we put you both in the isolation room just to be on the safe side." She gives Clara a dirty look. "We need to keep her stress levels down. She's been through enough these last few weeks, and we have at least 6 preferably 10 more weeks before I deliver this baby."

She looks up at the monitors, ticking. Even such a brief argument had caused my stats go haywire, surely causing stress on the baby. Arizona puts a nasal cannula on me and starts oxygen, and then adjusts my meds. "We got a new group of interns today, and I have to round, I only interrupted rounds because I could hear the two of you arguing from outside down the hall, but if you need anything let me know, I'll be back to check on you both in a bit."

"Sorry." We both mummers, and she gives us a look like 'sure you are' before returning to her interns. I hear one of them commenting something about who's the hot patients wife? She's gorgeous. Unfortunately, Arizona hears them as well because we can hear her telling them off for their extreme unprofessionalism for several minutes before they make their way to their next patient.

We sit in silence for what feels like hours after she leaves, listening to the steady beep boop bop beep boop bop of the machines attached to me. I try not to look at Clara, everytime I look at her I just feel so fucking sad.

"Mark wouldn't want this." She says gently.

"Mark's dead." I remind her, coldly. She looks stung, but then shakes it off and climbs up on the bed next to me. I am uncomfortable. I just want to rip these monitors off of me. The baby hates being on the monitor and keeps moving and jabbing painfully. It kicks me in just a certain way that causes me to have to grab the kidney dish next to my bedside and vomit into it. I sit the basin on the table next to the bed, and then sit up, removing the monitors, and wiping the gel away.

"Addison you can't, here let me help you."

"No one will know, and if she comes back, I'll just tell her I took it off to use the bathroom." The baby is already beginning to settle. I breathe a sigh of relief.

"It's really bothering you that bad?" She asks.

"I think I must be bruised. Everything hurts."

"What do you need me to do?" She asks. "Benjamin normally sleeps all day when he's sick, so it's not like I have him to look after." She says, looking over at the sleeping little boy before turning back to me. She takes my hands, careful of the IV's and places them on top of my tummy, her hands are so warm on top of mine. The baby moves towards my touch and pushes it's little foot out against my hands. "You wanted this baby. We wanted this baby. I'll do whatever you need m e to, to help get you there."

"I thought he would leave me. I didn't think he would die." I look away from her lost in my own thoughts. Mark had to come around to the idea of a second baby, he wasn't ok. I feel dirty. I didn't get pregnant intentionally, but it still felt like it happened because Clara and I wanted it to happen, not Mark and I.


*FLASHBACK*


Mark and I were in the attending locker room of the hospital, scrubbing out, getting ready to go home for the night. For the first time in at least a month we finished work at the same time.

"We need to talk." I say.

"Not now Addison." He pulls on his blue shirt, and runs a comb through his hair, like anyone cared what his blonde locks looked like at 10pm.

"It's important." I reach into my purse and hand him the pregnancy test, and the ultrasound picture I had done earlier that day, confirming the pregnancy. Showing a perfectly formed 12-week fetus.

"I thought you were on birth control."

"I am." I whisper. "I mean, well I was. They had to remove the IUD today to minimize the risk of infection to the fetus for the duration of the pregnancy ."

"Well clearly it didn't work." Mark says, looking down at the white stick in his hands.

"I'm so sorry. I know you didn't want this."

"It's not that I don't want it Addison, it's that' we can't handle this. We work 85-hour weeks. We barley see the kid we already have."

"How can I make this easier for you?" I ask.

"There's nothing you can do Addison. You've done enough, just forget about it, lets go home."


*END FLASHBACK*


"I think we should break up." I say, abruptly.

"What? Surely you don't mean that Addison!" She asks, shocked. She moves her hands away from me and stands up. She looks horrified.

"If you want to adopt the children, I will pay for it, and we can split custody. I'll be more than fair. I know how much you love them, or if that's not something you're interested in you can still have visitation with them whenever you want." I am breathing very fast now, rambling, trying not to cry.

"No." She says, shaking her head.

"Clara…." I start, but I can't find the words, it takes me a minute to phrase what I want to say. "I don't want us to end on bad terms. I'm broken. I love you so much, but you don't deserve to have to look after me. You deserve someone who can love you and be loved by you."

"What if that's not what I want?" She asks. "Listen to me. You don't get to quit on me, not when there's still a chance, and there IS still a chance we can work this out Addison."

"I'm not interested in a chance Clara. I just want my life back. I'm suffocating."

"Do you love me?" She asks vulnerably.

"Yes." I say, without hesitation.

"Do you love these children?" She presses?

"More than anything." I reply.

"I love you…" She starts, kissing me gently, I am very still, not moving. Not sure if I am ready for this sudden nosedive back into romantic gestures. "I love these children. I would do anything for any one of you. It seems to me like you're scared, and right now we need focus on getting through the hard parts before we make any permanent decisions."

"I am scared." I admit.

"Honey….You didn't make Mark get on that airplane. He made that decision himself. There's no way you could have stopped him, and no one knew the plane was going to crash."

"It's not that…"

"So, what is it?"

"What if I'm cursed? What if you end up dead too? Or the kids?" I move my hands protectively over the baby. For 10 more weeks it is safe, but what happens after it's born? What if something about my being puts them in danger?

"Addie-" She whispers so softly. "Falling in love is not a curse. It's not a crime. I am so sorry that you were raised to believe it is." The tears I had been trying to keep back fall. I can't stop these thoughts that everyone would be better off without me. Without the darkness I bring. "You're just sad, you're grieving still."

"No." I say simply, shaking my head. "I just…. I don't want you to be here when I die." I say, I'm not sure what makes me say it, an overwhelming sense of anxiety regarding the baby's due date arriving faster and faster knowing all of the things that could go wrong, knowing Mark will never be here to hold his new baby or to help welcome it into the world. Her face goes pale, and she stands up, moving back away from me, looking for the nurse page button.

"You're not dying Addison, you're talking nonsense. What drugs did they give you?" She asks. She presses the call button, but they don't respond right away. She checks my chart at the foot of the bed, and after satisfying herself that this couldn't possibly be a drug interaction gets up and checks my vitals. My heart is racing and it's registering on the monitor when she readjusts the sensor on my chest that had somehow come loose.


*FLASHBACK*


"You have to get an abortion." Mark says, coming into the kitchen where I am drinking my hot peppermint tea, trying to soothe the all-day sickness that has come since finding out about the pregnancy.

"Excuse me?" I ask. Nearly choking. Benjamin was sitting at the table next to me, working on his alphabet puzzle, getting annoyed as the letter doesn't fit in perfectly, slamming it, and then turning it. I had taken the day off of work due to the sickness and was enjoying getting to spend a little bit of extra time with our son while Clara ran errands.

"What's an abortion?" He asks looking at his daddy with wide eyes.

"Yes, please do explain to our 4-year-old what an abortion is and why you think this conversation is appropriate to have on a day when you know I have him with me." I demand continuing to sip my tea. Mark looks deservingly uncomfortable.

"Shouldn't he be in school?" Mark asks, turning on me.

"It's teacher in-service today. It's been on the calendar all month." I say, gesturing to the large magnetic calendar on the fridge. Mark sighs, annoyed, and turns back to Benjamin.

"I really need to talk to your mommy now Buddy." Mark explains. "Only it's grown-up talk and it's really important. I didn't know you'd be home today. Could you go play in the playroom for a little while?"

"I would have gone to work sick, but I took off so I could be with him on his day off." I protest. I want to spend time with my son. I don't want to talk about our options for this pregnancy with Mark. Just the thought makes my heart ache. "He works so hard in school."

"It was on the calendar." Benjamin echoes annoyed. "This is my Day with Mommy."

"He's in Pre-K" Mark says, rolling his eyes at me, and then to Benjamin "I know buddy, but even grownups make mistakes sometimes."

"Fine." Benjamin says, getting down from the chair and looking up at Mark. "But you owe me!"

"Deal." Mark says, and they shake on it, before Benjamin runs off to the play room, and we can hear him running his toy cars down the racetrack.

"Did you really have to do that?" I ask him.

"I thought you wanted him out of here?"

"Because the conversation you're wanting to have is inappropriate to have in front of a four-year-old." I say, reminding him, once again of our sons age.

"Why are you so desperate to ruin our lives?" Mark asks. I take his hands, and put them where the baby is, even though it's way too soon to feel any movement.

"We made this and having a second baby won't ruin our lives. Benjamin has been the most amazing thing that could have ever happened to us, we kept him, knowing how much we work, knowing things wouldn't always be perfect."

"Well, that's a choice we can't take back." He says, and I freeze. Is he implying that he would, if he could have, aborted Benjamin? No. He loves Benjamin. He is a wonderful father. It's just stress from work or… I don't know. "I'm sorry Addison, I just can't do this again." He says, not even waiting for me to respond before leaving as quickly as he came.


*END FLASHBACK*


"No….not now I'm not, later." I say. I don't know how to explain what I'm feeling.

"You have to take a deep breath. Breathe slowly…" She says, looking hopelessly at Arizona, who is walking towards me, carrying a tray of medication.

"What's going on Addison?" She asks.

"I don't know…. I just...I don't…."

"I think it's an anxiety attack." Clara says. "She's was fine…... just a minute ago she was fine."

"Addison you have to breathe…. slowly." Arizona says, coming over to me, checking my vital signs again.

"I - I can't." Clara comes back to the bed and takes my hands.

"You're talking. If you're talking, you're breathing." She says slowly. "Shhh…. Look at Benjamin and breathe." Clara instructs me, under Arizona's watchful eye. I look over at Benjamin, sleeping peacefully, not a care in the world, trying to pull my focus back in, but it doesn't help, and the tears come harder and faster.

"This isn't working it has to be something else." Arizona grabs my charts, and looks over my lab results, muttering 'normal', 'normal', 'normal'. "I'm going to push Diazepam just in case. Her stats don't indicate this is anything emergent."

"No…" I say weakly. "I don't want medicine. I'm fine." I say, Diazepam has been used for decades to treat pregnancy related anxiety and hypertension, but this classification of drug has never been tested directly on pregnant and breastfeeding mothers to determine effects on the fetus and infant. Although Diazepam is considered the safest form to take during pregnancy it is still a class D drug. When given in acute doses in the third trimester babies can be born with withdraws and given everything, I've been through it's just not something I want to risk. Arizona comes over to the bed and puts the fetal monitor back on me, strapping it back in place with its pink and blue straps. The baby's heartbeat fills the room again, and the baby "spazzes" in protest to the monitors.

"It's anxiety, It's panic. We've been here before." Clara assures her.

"Addison…." Arizona says, pulling the paper from the fetal monitor off and bring me the most recent piece. "You have to breathe. Look what hyperventilating is doing to baby, hold this and focus." She says, showing me the paper, but at this point she could have been speaking a different language for the amount of attention span I had to give. I feel like I'm suffocating from all the emotional weight that's pressing down on me. I put the pillow over my face, thinking that maybe breathing into the pillow would help me slow my breathing down. At the very least it would quiet things down. Clara shakes her head though. "You'll restrict oxygen flow more." She puts the bed in a sitting position, and then when I am sitting sits behind me.

"Clara what are you doing?" Arizona asks.

"Trust me. You want her to calm down right?" Clara counters. "It's a deep pressure therapy it helps calm the Autonomic Nervous System (ANS)." She takes my arms and crosses them over my chest, and then hugs me as tightly as she can, putting as much weight as she can from her own body against mine. After a short while I begin to feel the anxiety fading away, replaced only with silent tears. Arizona stands, just watching us. "How's the baby?" Clara asks? Arizona quickly busies herself checking the monitor.

"Much better, no signs of stress."

"See?" Clara asks me. "You're not dying." I look up at her gratefully. I'm so exhausted now that the panic has passed. She continues holding me tightly. I lean back against her, closing my eyes. Almost falling asleep.

"No. I told you, not now, later." I say, but I am too exhausted, to try and explain more now that I am calm and allow her to hold me while I sleep.


*The Next Morning*


"You're still here too?" Benjamin asks. I wake up and stretch, realizing that Clara had fallen asleep next to me on the tiny bed, not remembering laying down.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yes much, Dr. Robbins took out my IV while you were sleeping. It didn't even hurt!" He says, proudly showing me his hand, which is wrapped in blue sports wrap with red smiley faces.

"That's wonderful."

"Are you going to die like Daddy did?" He asks me bluntly.

"No baby…" I say, but he looks so confused. "What's wrong?" I ask him.

"I don't know." He says, miserably. "I had a bad dream last night but it's confusing. I don't think it's about the now time."

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask, remembering my own horrible time last night. "Maybe we can work it out together."

"Clara is better at these things." Benjamin points out.

"Clara had a hard night too, lets let her sleep." I suggests. He looks at me doubtfully but agrees. I realize my IV has stopped, I unhook the cannula port from the tubes and pull on my sweater I was wearing when I was admitted for extra warmth. I check the fetal monitor, and when satisfied that the baby is still doing fine, I remove the bands. I stand up shakily and then sit on the rocking chair next to the bed. He reluctantly climbs up on my lap, and we rock for a few minutes before he speaks again.

"Is the baby going to be ok?"

"Yes, and you are going to be an amazing big brother."

"You fell. An ambulance had to come and take you on a boogie board out of our house." I hug him to me. I can't help but smile when he calls it a 'boogie board' and not a 'stretcher'. I wonder briefly if he has ever actually seen a boogie board.

"I know. I'm sorry I scared you. Sometimes when babies are growing inside of their moms things can get a little scary, but we're ok, and that's what's important."

"How come I'm not important?"

"Benjamin you are, you're my everything. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you're not."

"I never see you, and now there's a stupid baby, and I'll see you even lesser."

"I'm sorry, sweetie, even grown ups make mistakes. Daddy and I thought we were doing what was best for you, to give you a good life." I say, repeating the narrative we've told him his entire life. 'we work so you can have a good life.' He has no idea the value of money, or what we have in our checking/savings/investment accounts. We didn't want him growing up thinking he was 'better than' another child because of wealth or any other reason. "But things are going to change now. I realize now that good can mean different things."

"They can't change… you always promise but they never change."

"Benjie…I'm going to be home more now. With you, and the baby when it comes, you deserve to know that your Mommy loves, and cherishes you."

"I'll believe it when I see it." He says, defeated, resting his head on my shoulder. "We have to stop the nightmare coming true first though."

"What was the nightmare?" I ask again, cautiously.

"I drawed it. Arizona brought me crayons."

"Oh? Can I see?" I ask. We lock eyes for a moment, before he nods, gets down and goes over to the trash bin. He takes out a piece of crumpled paper, completely covered over in coloring, and hands it to me. He doesn't climb back up on my lap and keeps his distance as I carefully unwrinkled the paper, and smooth it out.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, tears streaming down his cheeks as I look down at the paper. A five-year old's depiction of a hospital room, a pregnant stick figure with red hair, wearing a hospital gown, laying on a hospital bed. X's for eyes. Blonde haired and black-haired stick figures in something that resembles the blue scrubs we wear screaming. And a sea of red covering the picture. I study the image for a long moment before responding.

"Come here."

"I said I'm sorry."

"You're not in trouble Benjamin." I say gently, and he comes to me, climbs on my lap again and dissolves into tears. "That must have been such a scary dream." I say, holding him, and rocking him as we both cry, too sad for words.