Chapter Six

Laying in bed, the covers thrown off of her exceedingly warm body, a nine months pregnant Marissa listened to her husband's movements as he came home. It was mid-September and her due date was quickly approaching making her not only slightly uncomfortable and anxious but also irritable and exasperated, placing her in a paradox. She knew Ryan so well; she could tell exactly what he was doing. After opening the front door, he had immediately moved to the kitchen to put the frozen breakfast pastries away that she had been craving before retreating back to the foyer and taking the stairs two at a time to join her. While nothing made her more at peace than to be with him, she knew he would be faintly perturbed with her, because she wasn't ready. They were to attend a party that night celebrating his boss' 35th wedding anniversary, and nothing sounded less appealing to Marissa. Not only did she just want to stay in her pajamas all night cuddling in bed with her husband, but the idea of putting on a fake smile and pretending to have a good time while with people she either didn't know that well or didn't want to know was even less appealing than the shoes she was expected to wear. Breaking into her thoughts, Ryan came quickly through the door, talking rapidly.

"While I was out," he informed her, moving without looking to the empty bathroom, "I went ahead and gassed up your car for you so that, if you want to go out next week when I'm at work, you won't have to worry about it, and I also picked up a few more things at the store just in case your cravings change." Moving to brush his teeth, he spoke in between the movements of his toothbrush. "I don't think this thing should last that long tonight, so I thought maybe we could pick up a couple of movies on our way home. What do you think?" When she didn't respond and instead merely listened to his actions as he put his toothbrush away and turned off the water before coming back into their room, she knew his curiosity would be peaked, and he would come seek her out. She smiled sheepishly at him when his mouth fell open in shock and surprise at finding her still in bed, her hair and makeup finished while her dress sat tossed aside unceremoniously on the floor. "What are you doing," he asked, slightly concerned and coming to her side to take a seat on the edge of the bed. "Are you feeling okay?"

"In relative to the discomfort I'm supposed to feel when I'm carrying around an extra thirty pounds, then, yeah, I guess I'm fine." With a furrowed brow, he silently pressed her to continue. "I just….Ryan, I don't want to go tonight."

"But we already said we'd be there," he argued, dismissing her wishes. "We RSVP'd weeks ago. It would be rude to not show up."

"Yeah, and weeks ago I didn't feel like a blimp on stilts," she countered, struggling to stand up and only succeeding to when he helped her. "If I go tonight, I'm going to be miserable, uncomfortable, and probably bitchy, because I don't want to be there. I'll ruin your night and any one else's who comes within a five mile radius of me or glances at me like the circus freak I look like."

Holding his hands out helplessly, he asked her, "what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to go to this party without me, to give my regrets to your boss and his wife but explain to them that my current condition limits my activities, and to just let me stay home where I can be as comfortable as I can right now."

"But you know I don't like leaving you by yourself," he reasoned, standing up from the bed and moving to take her robe clad body into his arms. "What if something happens when I'm gone; what if you go into labor when I'm not here?"

"Then I'll call your cell, tell you it's time, and either wait for you or call an ambulance according to how close together my contractions are." Smiling at him dotingly, she teased, "it's not like we live out in the middle of nowhere with only the local midwife available to help me give birth. We live in a major city, and there is a reputable hospital not even ten minutes away. You don't have to worry about us," she told Ryan sweetly, pulling his hands tighter around her so that they rested on her swollen abdomen, "baby and I will be fine."

Before responding, he leaned down and lightly kissed her lips. Sighing in defeat, he started to relent. "I know, I know, I worry too much, but I just don't like the idea of leaving you alone."

However Marissa's temperament was not as forgiving. Backing away from him, she yelled out exasperatedly, "don't you get it, Ryan? I'd rather be home alone than at that stupid party with you!"

Immediately, he shut down, moving away from her towards their closet where he grabbed his tux jacket and slipped it on. Ready to leave, he picked up his keys and wallet off the counter in the bathroom and made his way towards the door of their bedroom to leave. "Well, if that's how you feel," he spoke in a low tone avoiding her, "then I won't bother you any longer."

Crushed and upset for she had never wanted to hurt him, Marissa picked up her previously discarded dress and slipped it on before sliding her feet in her shoes and running after her husband as quickly as her expecting body would allow her. She had hoped that being obstinate and demanding to stay home would make him realize he didn't want to go either so they could remain there together. Instead, her plan had backfired, and, not only was he still going to the party, but he had misinterpreted her words and thought that she didn't want to be with him. Desperate to do whatever it took to make him believe otherwise, she ignored her own feelings and wishes and chased after him ready to stay by his side the entire night if she had to.

"Wait," she called out at Ryan's figure as he went to walk out their front door, her feet hurrying down the stairs. "Wait, I'm coming. I've changed my mind."

Turning around, he ran to her. "Slow down," he ordered, taking her arm in his as soon as he reached her. "We do not need you falling down the stairs." When she looked at him with apologetic tears in her eyes, he continued in a teasing tone. "It would be too cliché of you. At least do something original like slipping on the kitchen floor after your water breaks or tripping in the driveway on your own shoelaces because you couldn't bend down far enough to tie them." Although she laughed, the mirth made her tears fall and the humor she felt was quickly replaced with an expression of her regret and despondency. "Hey," he playfully chastised her, "that was supposed to make you happy again not sad."

"I know," Marissa hiccupped, "but I'm just so sorry. I didn't mean what I said…at least not the way it sounded." They had reached the bottom of the stairs and stood in each others arms, her hands caressing his smooth face as she stared convincingly into his eyes to prove the honestly of her words. "You, I always want to be with you. It's just that I could take or leave everyone else."

"Oh, honey," Ryan hugged her tightly, "it's okay. I know that you didn't mean to hurt me. You just don't feel well, do you?" To answer him, she shook her head no while he wiped her tears away. "I shouldn't have insisted that we go to this party in the first place, and if you'd really rather stay at home, then I'll carry you upstairs myself this instant."

"No," she reassured him, "you're right. We do need to go. Besides, if you carried me upstairs, you'd probably fall and break your back, and then we'd both be screwed."

"Or rather not screwed for a really long time," he corrected her, making her finally smile. Leaning his forehead against her own, he whispered, "I sorry, too, for overreacting. Chalk it up to my sympathetic pregnancy hormones." That produced the light, infectious giggle he had wanted to hear from her, and he grinned in response. "Come on," Ryan suggested, pulling her gently towards their front door, "the sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave, come home, and eat those toaster strudels you wanted so much."

"On second thought," Marissa began trying to get away from him to run to the kitchen, "maybe I should have one before we leave."

"Nope, I don't think so," Ryan disagreed with her, maneuvering them outside and locking the door behind them. "I know you. One will turn into two which will turn into the whole box, you'll end up accidentally getting something on your dress, and then it'll take us another hour for you to pick out another one."

"Ryan, I'm not that bad!"

"You're right," he agreed with her as he shut her door for her after she had sat down in the car, "you're worse." Safely out of her reach on the outside of the glass, he continued. "It would take you two hours."

Watching him round the car to get to the driver's side, her muted arguments making him laugh, she knew it was definitely not going to be a dull evening.

-+-

Ryan's boss' wife was a very complicated, vain, and in Marissa's opinion, pretentious woman, and she demanded no less than every person being lucky enough to get an invite to her anniversary party to stand up on a specially designed stage and give an admiring speech to her…and, if they felt so inclined, her husband as well. She had a party coordinator organize prearranged groups to periodically stand up from their seats and make their way to the stage where they had to wait until it was their turn to address her. Although she had been lucky enough to be excluded because of her condition, Ryan hadn't, and, as dinner flowed slowly to a conclusion and dessert was passed out, he was the last in line of his set, waiting while fidgeting for his turn.

As time passed on and Marissa was forced to sit in the company of the woman she so astutely held in disdain, her incessant giggling and fawning frustrating her beyond previous experience, while her husband was away from her side, she felt her irritation turn to contempt and her contempt turn to distress and soreness. Dismissing it as a symptom of her pregnancy and assuming she had eaten too much, she just wished for the speeches to end, for Ryan to return to her, and for them to leave, but she should have known better than to hope on an evening where nothing had gone well. Her discomfort only increased as the night wore on, and she was too stubborn and decorous to interrupt and call out for her husband. So, it was in that fashion that the party continued for Marissa, and it did not occur to her that she was in labor until her water broke, a scream of slight fright and disbelief escaping her tightly clenched lips. At the sound of her cry, everyone turned to glance at her with varying degrees of curiosity on their countenances, while Ryan literally ran to her side, jumping off the stage and shoving anyone in his immediate path to his wife out of his way.

"Hey, what's wrong," Ryan inquired, kneeling down beside her chair. "Is it the baby?"

"I'm in labor," she answered joyously. "My water just broke." While tears of pain streamed down her face, a smile of pure excitement and exhilaration lit up her face. However, Ryan just gazed up at her in confusion.

"But….that's impossible," he stumbled over his words. It was as if his mind could not wrap itself around the idea. They had been waiting for the moment to arrive for so long, much longer than her nine month pregnancy, that the fact that it had arrived, that they were going to meet their daughter in mere hours was not only terrifying and thrilling at the same time but also unbelievable. "You're not due for another week. It must be something else," he reasoned. Neither Ryan nor Marissa heard the soft sounds of laughter around them as the other guests looked on in amusement at the young, expecting couple.

"Ryan," Marissa instructed him, pulling his hand to her lap, "feel my dress."

"It's wet," he said incredulously, his shock written plainly across his face. She rolled her eyes and then continued to try and convince him of the truth of her being in labor.

"And my stomach," she pressed his hand to it, smiling when a look of wonder and recognition came across his face.

"It's really hard." Looking up at her, he whispered, "oh my god, you really are in labor." Searching around the room for help, he yelled, "can someone go and get our car for us. Here," he tossed his keys randomly to someone standing behind him. "Thanks." Turning his attention back to his wife, he asked, "what do you need me to do?"

Teasing him, "she replied, "I need you to calm down."

"Wait," he realized, becoming unsure again, "why aren't you screaming in pain, cursing me for getting you pregnant, and breaking my hand?"

"Don't worry," Marissa reassured him with a chuckle, "that'll come later. Right now the contractions aren't that bad."

"Right, contractions," Ryan repeated, shaking his head in understanding. "I'm supposed to ask you a question when you start having those, all the books said so, but I can't remember what it is."

"They're still quite far apart," she answered without him ever realizing the question. "I'd say they're probably twelve minutes apart, so we have plenty of time."

Regaining some of his composure, he asked, "when did you start having them?"

"Well, I'm not sure," she revealed, reaching for his hand as she felt another wave of pain coursing through her body. Breathing through it, she waited for it to pass before replying. "I didn't realize they were contractions until my water broke, but I haven't been feeling well all evening."

"But we've been here for almost four hours already," Ryan screeched in a panic once again. "You've been in labor that long?" Searching around the room again, he began to yell. "Where is my car? What's taking the person who's getting it so damn long?"

"Ryan, what did I tell you," Marissa coached him evenly. "You have to calm down, remember? There will be plenty of time later for you to overreact and lose control, but right now I need you to reassure me, keep me together."

"I can do that."

"Good," she laughed at his response and the fact he was still nodding his head in a positive manner as if to silently reassure himself. As word came that their car was ready, Ryan picked her up and carried her outside, ignoring her reassurances that she could walk with his help and her qualms that she would ruin his good tux. Settling into the passenger seat, Marissa realized that she had been right. Their evening had not been dull, and the day afterwards was going to be even more eventful. She couldn't wait.

-+-

"This cannot be happening," Marissa complained in a huff of annoyance, collapsing back onto her hospital bed after a particularly painful contraction. "I thought the whole point of finding out the sex of the baby was to make sure we were ready for her. How can it be so hard to pick a name?"

It was now seven in the morning, and seeing as how they had left the party at nine the night before, that meant Marissa had been in labor for fourteen hours already, and, as she was only dilated six centimeters, her tiring agony was not even close to being over. After all, she still had the most painful portion to go through: natural childbirth. Ryan was tired, she was mentally and physically exhausted, and the chipper morning nurses who had just switched shifts only served to increase their irritation. In fact, at the very moment, there was a young, twenty-something nurse attending to Marissa, checking her vitals, actually deigning to hum softly to herself while her patient struggled with labor. The thought of taking her clipboard and hitting her with it repeatedly was the only thing giving Marissa any comfort or pleasure at all. Breaking her from her torturous fantasies, Ryan answered her question.

"We can't just pick any name," he argued. He was slightly more capable of thinking rationally at that point than his wife. "What if we choose something that will become popular and our daughter will be forced to attend school with ten other little girls with her name? Plus, we don't want to pick something that we'll end up hating five years down the road. Once we pick a name and announce it, that's it, everything is final, and we have to live with our decision. I don't know about you, but, for me, that's not something I can decide on lightly."

"Ryan, we've had months to think about this though, not to mention the fact that it's the only thing we've talked about since I got situated in this room," Marissa pointed out quickly before another contraction overcame her body. Waiting and screaming through it, she only continued when her breathing began to level out. "Let's just pick one already!"

"Fine," he relented, "what are we narrowed down to?" As their conversation started, neither of them noticed the nurse slip out of the room.

"Well, there's Carmen," Marissa started only to have Ryan interrupt her.

"No," he immediately refuted the name. "I refuse to name my daughter after a famous prostitute."

"How YOU ever became familiar with an opera, I'll never know," Marissa bit out sarcastically, annoyed with her husband. "Fine though, we won't name her Carmen. The next name we have is Holden, but I don't like it."

"Of course you don't, because it's one of the names I like."

"Yeah, and it' also a guy's name," Marissa argued with her husband. "You're familiar with foreign operas, but domestic soap operas are utterly alien to you. We're not naming our daughter after Lily's on again off again husband. Do you have any idea how much I despise her character?"

"What are you talking about, Marissa?"

"As the World Turns," she answered him as if he should already know her response. "Ugh, you are so pop culture deficient." She watched him roll his eyes at her sarcastic remark before she continued. "What about McKenna?"

Quickly, he replied, "it sounds like something you would name a dog."

"It does not!"

"Moving on," Ryan dismissed, urging her to name the fourth name on their list. "What else do you have?"

"Esme," Marissa suggested, smiling at the name, while Ryan merely thought about it for a moment while helping her through another contraction. When she was finished, he spoke.

"It sounds French."

"That's because it is, genius," she jeered, suddenly knowing he would have a reason to dislike it as well.

"But we're not French," her husband pointed out, "so why should our daughter have a French name. People will probably just mispronounce it all the time anyway. Plus, wouldn't it need an accent? Have fun teaching that to a four year old when they have to learn how to write their name."

"Ryan, this is pointless. We're never going to agree."

"What's the last one," he asked, ignoring her exclamation.

"Keaton."

Musing thoughtfully, he responded, "like as in Diane Keaton, the woman you always get annoyed with because she wears suits with gloves to all the award shows?"

"Yes, as in Diane Keaton," she yelled, her eyes flashing with annoyance, "but, no, we wouldn't be naming our daughter after her, because I don't care about her clothes and I don't care about her. I just like the damn name!"

"Let's think of another five names," Ryan suggested only to have her groan in complaint.

"It doesn't matter how many names we come up with and discuss, we're never going to agree," Marissa realized, flopping back down in frustration. "Listen," she ordered him, "I'm feeling another contraction coming on, so can we just agree on disagreeing. We can name her 'The Girl Whose Parents Could Not Choose a Name in a Timely Manner." It'll be unique, and I guarantee you no other kid in her school will have it."

While she screamed and cursed through another contraction, Ryan chuckled at her comment, only inciting her frustration to grow to an even higher level. Finished with the labor pain, she turned to him, a pleading look in her eye. "Just pick something, please. I don't care what it is. I just want to know that before I go into that delivery room, we have a name ready for our daughter. Can you do that for me?"

"I can," he reassured her, bending down to place a gentle kiss on her sweaty brow. "While I think though, why don't you rest, okay? No more talking while I think." Exhausted, Marissa merely shook her head in agreement.

Obediently, her eyes closed, and she sighed during a short moment's contentment, her body free of a contraction and her mind at peace. Despite everything she said and did, she found Ryan's failure to agree to a name endearing and even comical; she just couldn't show it after more than fourteen hours of labor with still no end in sight. After only a minute or so, she suddenly sat up agitatedly, calling out for her husband.

"Ryan," she shrieked. Her voice was panic stricken as she reached with both hands for him.

"Marissa, come on," he complained good naturedly, "you've got to give me more time than that to pick a name. I'm not ready yet."

"No, you don't understand," she started crying, unable to control her emotions. "I need you to get me a nurse."

"A nurse," he replied dumbly, "but you don't like them."

"But I need them," she begged, even going so far as to attempt to get out of bed herself. When he pushed her back down to lie still, she looked up at him with desperate eyes. "Something's wrong; something's wrong with the baby. I can't feel her."

"I'm sure she's just resting. It's been a very hectic night for her."

She shook her head negatively. "It's not that. We've been so wrapped up in arguing about a name, that I haven't been paying attention, but it's been minutes since I felt her move."

"But that's normal," he dismissed her concerns, smiling at her comfortingly. "She's probably napping, needing her beauty sleep just like her Mom."

"No, Ryan! Something's wrong, I know it!"

She was hysterical, on the verge of completely losing control as Ryan realized she wasn't merely overreacting. Suddenly terrified himself, he left her side to run to the entrance of the room, throwing the door open to yell desperately down the hallway. "We need someone in here," he demanded, not caring about the other patients, "a nurse or, even better, a doctor. Something's wrong with our baby!"

Immediately, several staff members came racing towards the room, and he went back to Marissa's side. As she laid there sobbing to herself, she heard Ryan frantically direct them, telling them that she hadn't felt the baby move in quite a while, that she knew something was wrong. Just as he had tried to do for her, they attempted to reassure him that everything was alright, but he lost control, kicking them all out of the room, and ordering the doctor be sent. The doctor was there within seconds after Ryan's outburst, her presence exuding confident and reassurance.

"Marissa," she tried to comfort the expecting mother as she entered the hospital room, "I promise you that your daughter is perfectly healthy, but," she continued when Ryan went to interrupt her, "if it will make you feel better, why don't we do a quick ultrasound to check on her, and, while I'm here, I'll go ahead and see how you're progressing as well."

"Yes, thank you," Ryan agreed with her idea, going to Marissa's side, once again, and taking her hands in his. He needed to feel her close to him and knew she felt the same way; they needed each other in that moment.

After repositioning her in the bed so the doctor could pull up her gown to expose her stomach, the gel was applied and the sonogram machine turned on. "Now, first," the doctor instructed, "I'm going to find the heartbeat for you and then we'll look at your little girl to see how she's positioned." So they waited and waited and waited, several minutes, but still no heart beat could be detected. "It's just taking me a little longer than normal to find it," the doctor reassured them, "but that's because she's in an awkward position. I'm sure it'll be just a little bit longer…."

Her voice trailed off; her face turned pale. Without a word to Ryan or Marissa, she turned the machine off and pressed the on-call button, immediately moving the sonogram equipment out of her way.

"What….what's going on," Marissa questioned, panicking again. "What's wrong with my baby?"

As several nurses ran into the room, the doctor turned to them and ordered, "get Mrs. Atwood prepped for an emergency cesarean," ignoring her patient's questions. "I can't find a heartbeat, and the cord is wrapped around the baby's neck several times. We need to move immediately."

She heard a broken sob escape from her husband's otherwise silent countenance before she slipped into a state of semi-consciousness where everything around her was seen but nothing made sense. Marissa watched as the doctor prepared for surgery, as she insisted that they didn't have time to move her into an OR, as Ryan stood by her side holding her hand tightly the entire time, attempting to whisper words of encouragement and support into her ear while his own world was falling apart around him, as the medical team encircled her body, as the scalpel cut into her abdomen, as the world moved past at an unconventionally hasty speed when all she wanted to do was rewind it to a time where it was perfect in its chaos and confusion. Now, everything made too much sense when all she craved was blind ignorance. Not a sound invaded her sanity, not the doctor's instructions, the nurses' questions, or Ryan's promises. Instead, she kept her mind silent as she waited for the only sound which could make her whole again: the sound a newborn baby's wails, a sound she was never to hear.

Instead she saw a perfect, whole, precious baby pulled from her womb, the only thing wrong with the little girl was the fact that her soft skin was blue and not a creamy white. Her eyes were open, eyes so much like her Daddy's, while a petite nose, plump lips, chubby cheeks, and wisps of blonde hair on the top of her small, petite head completed her beautiful face. She had two plump legs with two small feet, five little toes gracing each one, and two plump arms with two diminutive hands, her ten thin, tiny fingers clenched into desperate fists. Their little girl had struggled, fought, begged for her life; she had wanted to meet them as much as they had wanted to meet her.

She knew the doctor was apologizing to them, offering her condolences while the nurses wrapped the dead little girl in a pink blanket, but Marissa couldn't hear her. She knew that rivers of tears were flowing down her pale, lifeless cheeks as they were urged to name their daughter despite the fact that they would never be able to call her to them with that name, but she didn't feel the wetness. She knew that Ryan had collapsed down onto the floor beside her as the staff silently exited the room, the doctor the first to leave, as the nurses sewed up her incision and cleaned her body, but she didn't miss his presence holding her hand. The only thing she could see, touch, feel, smell, or taste was her grief and pain.

Before she knew what was happening, she saw a nurse move to take their baby from the room, and, suddenly, Marissa could not silently remain drowning in her heartache. "No," she screamed out resolutely. "You can't take her; you can't take my daughter from me yet." When the nurse went to argue with her, she continued. "She needs to feel her Mommy and Daddy holding her. She needs to feel how much we wanted her, how much we loved her, how much we needed her, too. Please," she begged, her outstretched arms shaking with desperation, "let me embrace my baby girl just once, please?"

Relenting, the nurse, crying softly herself after listening to her patient's inconsolable, grief-stricken words, brought their deceased daughter over to Marissa's side. Taking her baby into her arms, a hopeless sob of misery escaped her tightly clenched, trembling lips. "Take as much time as you need," the nurse spoke softly. "If you need anything, anything at all, just press the call button, and I'll be here as quickly as I can." With that, she hurried out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

"Ryan," Marissa called out frantically, her free hand seeking him blindly as she couldn't tear her eyes from their daughter. She didn't have to ask for him twice. Standing up, he moved to lay down in her bed beside her as she carefully shifted positions to share the small space with him. As his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his body to hold her as closely as possible, his face leaning against hers as they both distraughtly searched for some form of comfort from each other, she felt the salt from his tears mix with her own. Bringing their daughter against their chests tightly, Marissa cradled her as protectively as she could, bending her head down to kiss the lips of the child, their child, that they would never know.

"Mommy and Daddy love you," she whispered brokenly to the little girl in her arms. "We love you so much."

It was all she could say. Dissolving into inconsolable sobs of pain, she collapsed back into Ryan's arms still holding their baby closely. As the world went on around them, life continuing as if nothing had changed, the three of them, their family, Ryan, Marissa, and their deceased daughter, were stuck in a moment, 7:24 to be exact, the moment when their girl had been born and the same moment where she had been pronounced dead. From that moment on, nothing for either Ryan or Marissa would ever be the same.

A/N: I know that everyone hates me right now, but, please, be patient. Always remember that I have a grand scheme for every story. Granted, this is unfair, something Ryan and Marissa after everything they've been through do not deserve, but just trust in me. We're only have way through the story. There is so much more that will happen. Thanks!

Charlynn