Chapter Sixteen

Jaime slept through much of her 31st week, with very little pain, as her doctors felt it was safer to keep her medicated than to risk shock and bionic rejection if she should have another episode. Doctor Jeffries assured Steve that the babies would suffer less harm from the medicines than they would from a premature delivery or (God forbid) the death of their mother. Although he didn't like it, Steve reluctantly agreed. Jaime was awakened for meals and usually proved to be in good spirits...although it was getting harder and harder for her to eat.

Halfway through the 32nd week, Jaime stared down at her dinner tray...and burst into tears. "It looks so good," she told Steve, "and I love pot roast, but – I just can't. There is no room at the inn!"

"I'll get Rudy," Steve said, squeezing her hand.

"She's right," Rudy agreed after a brief exam. "There is little to no room left. The babies are pressing upward, compressing your internal organs, Honey. Are you having any trouble breathing?"

"No. I feel fine. Just...stuffed."

"I think it's time to talk again about delivering the twins," Rudy suggested gently.

"You said their chances were better, the longer we wait, right?" Jaime asked.

"Yes, but -"

"Well, I feel fine...so let's wait. I wanna give them as much of a good start as I possibly can!"

Steve had to step in. "Sweetheart, if your health is in jeopardy..."

"But it isn't – right, Rudy? Tell him!"

"It could reach that point very soon, Jaime. Your lungs could be compressed, with any number of...catastrophic results."

"We'll talk about it when – and if – that happens." Jaime insisted, her jaw set in that very stubborn way that told the men the discussion was over. For now.

---

Jaime held on – forcing herself to eat, sometimes only a bite or two at a time – and refusing any attempts by Steve or the doctors to broach the subject of delivering the twins. "It's not time yet," she told them firmly. Steve spent a lot of time massaging her stomach, which sometimes seemed to be growing bigger by the day, and doing whatever he could to keep her distracted and entertained when she was awake.

As she entered the 34th week, she was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and finding it hard to sleep, even when sedated. "I'm as big as a house!" she muttered. "I'll bet if there was a fire, I wouldn't even be able to get out the door!"

"Aw – we could try backing you out," Steve joked.

Jaime was not amused. "Rudy, are you sure there are only two...?" she asked, semi-pleading for a negative response.

"As far as we know, Honey."

Jaime looked at her husband. "Could you imagine," she began, bursting into helpless peals of laughter...which soon turned to alarm. Jaime couldn't catch her breath.

Rudy reached for the oxygen mask hanging above the bed and secured it over Jaime's face. "Go tell the nurse to page Jeffries," he said quietly to Steve. "It's time."

---

Steve was left to pace the floor outside the operating room for hours – and nothing Oscar could say or do would persuade him to sit down. "What if we waited too long?" Steve agonized.

"She's in excellent hands, Pal."

"She couldn't breathe! This is taking too long! Why haven't they told us anything – what's happening in there?"

"They're taking the best possible care of Jaime...and the babies," Oscar told him. "They'll talk to us as soon as they can."

"But she couldn't breathe!" Steve repeated. He couldn't get that last glimpse of Jaime out of his head – the awful gasping finally abated by the insertion of a tube in her throat....the death-like pallor of her skin as she was wheeled down the hall at a runner's pace, through the big double doors. He could only pray that it wouldn't be the last time he ever saw her...

- - - - -