The relief was profound. When I heard the baby might not be able to make it, my only thought through the shock and grief was that Angela had to be safe. I couldn't lose both of them. Again, I looked to God.
Remember when Angela got into that horrible car accident and I was waiting outside the emergency room? That was one exception. I never thought I would pray to God again, but I did. I prayed ten times harder.
I could feel Angela crushing my hand and the pain was excruciating. I gritted my teeth until I heard the nurse gasp and the baby was laid in Angela's arms. I did not know how much time passed, but a glance at the digital clock told me 3 hours had crawled by.
Then with a final push she was out. Our baby. She was wrapped up in a towel before being placed in Angela's arms. Angela was drenched in sweat and her eyes could barely open in exhaustion. Yet she whispered, "She's beautiful, Patrick."
Then her face changed. It turned into a mask of defeat, numb pain and yet determination knitted her eyebrows and she gasped in pain. My hands were slick with sweat again. What was happening? The doctor rushed to her and pressed her womb. Angela shrieked but her hands hung limply over the bed. Regardless, the doctor prodded her tummy and announced, "There's another baby coming my dear. Did you know you were having twins?" I gasped. Twins?!
Angela groaned. "No, no I didn't. I wasn't told there were two fetuses in my womb when we went for our check ups," she gasped as another wave of pain seized her. She had no strength left for this baby. My forehead creased with worry as I watched my wife struggle with our unborn baby.
She was, after all, human. She had no super strength nor help from us. It was either her die pushing the baby out or the baby die inside her and the doctors remove it through surgery. She was human, but she had determination. With an earsplitting howl she summoned her last ounce of energy and a tiny body slid out. The nurses automatically moved in to take the baby while the doctor examined Angela. She had passed out the moment the baby was delivered.
"Is she going to be alright?" I demanded, clutching our firstborn tightly in my arms. When the doctor didn't answer I set our baby down and moved closer to Angela. I held her limp hand. It was cold and wet. Her palms had bloody prints where her fingernails dug in when she clenched her fists during the pain of labor. "Angela, baby, I'm right here. I'm never going to leave. Please, can you hear me?" I whispered frantically as I swept damp strands of golden hair from her exhausted face.
"Mr. Jane, your wife needs rest. Please move aside while we transfer out of the delivery room, okay? She's going to be fine." The doctor told me in her professional emotionless voice as she herded me out. Letting my breath out in relief, I retreated out and sank down into the hard plastic chairs. I held my head in my hands and stared down at my lap, still covered with the green hospital gown. I ripped the disgusting clothing away from my body and thought of all the things that happened in a day.
My wife went into hard, painful labor for almost 4 hours. She is now unconscious. God knows when she'll wake up. I have two children. Our girl has a younger sibling. Our girl. Charlotte. The name formed in my mind, like a final jigsaw piece fitting perfectly to form a beautiful picture.