Chapter Twenty-Six
~Christian~
Two months later
"Are you sure that you're all right, Mrs. Grey?" I hear Sawyer asking Anastasia as they walk out of the elevator by my office.
I stand and open door. Ana's wearing a blue maternity dress and slide on sandals. She's also holding her hand over her left eye and is squinting as though she's in pain. She's pale, and is grasping onto Sawyer's forearm tightly. Is it my imagination or did she just stumble?
Nothing about this looks normal. Even Andrea stands up looking alarmed.
I rush to Anastasia and pull her away from Sawyer. "What the hell's going on?" I ask in a raised voice.
"Nothing, Christian. It's just a headache," she answers for him. Her voice is weak.
I glare at Sawyer. "I asked what the hell is going on?" I gently lead her into my office and help her sit down on the L-shaped couch.
"While on the drive here, Mrs. Grey complained of a headache behind her left eye. She also said that she felt dizzy," he answers, giving her a concerned look.
I try, I really try, not to explode. "Well, why in the fuck is she not at the hospital, for fuck's sake? The left side of her head? You know what that could mean." I want to choke him, but he's too good at his job.
"I wouldn't let him, Christian. It's just a headache," Ana tells me, like this will keep me from knocking Sawyer on his ass.
"Headache, my ass. Sawyer, get Taylor. We're going to the god damn hospital. Andrea!" I yell at her.
My PA walks in cautiously, as Sawyer walks out of my office. She looks at Ana. The entire floor had to have heard me. "Yes, sir." she says.
"Call Dr. Berman's office and tell her we're taking Mrs. Grey to the emergency room. I expect her to be there waiting for us."
"Oh, my God, Christian. You can't call a doctor's office and order them around. It's not like I'm her only patient. She's also not on your payroll," Ana murmurs.
She sounds weaker than she did just a few minutes ago. I sit down and place her in my lap. I begin to talk to her in a low voice and she pulls her head away.
"Please, stop. I can't take the noise," she whispers. She moves her hand away from her left eye and it's bloodshot and her eyelid is drooping. "Where am… I?" She can barely speak.
"Oh, fuck this. Let's go now," I growl at everyone that's now congregated in my office. I stand, and Taylor, with Sawyer leading Ryan and Reynolds, cross the threshold of my door when Ana's body stiffens and then begins to convulse in my arms. She's lost consciousness and drool is running out of her mouth the harder her body jerks. One of her sandals falls to the floor.
"Sir! Place her on the couch," Taylor yells at me.
I'm frozen and in shock as I watch my very pregnant wife's body betray itself.
Taylor finally takes a still convulsing Ana out of my arms and places her on the sofa; he's laid her on her left side with her head down.
"She can't fucking breathe!" I scream.
"Mr. Grey, she can breathe better if she's facing down and her airway is open.
"Call 911!" I continue to scream at anyone who can hear me.
"Already done, sir," Ryan tells me.
I almost lose my mind when blood from Ana's mouth pools on the white sofa. "Christ, she's bleeding. What the fuck is happening?"
"Sir, she's probably bitten her tongue," Sawyer tells me. I notice both Reynolds and Taylor check their watches.
Anastasia continues to convulse. I'm kneeling beside her, and as I begin to stroke her hair, she vomits.
"Is she dying?" I cry out.
I look at Taylor and Sawyer who are also kneeling beside her.
"It appears that she's having a grand mal seizure. Sawyer, did Mrs. Grey complain of anything other than the headache?" Taylor asks.
Sawyer shakes his head and looks to Ryan and Reynolds. They do the same.
Ana finally stops convulsing, but her lips have a bluish shade to them. She's trying to spit the blood out of her mouth, but the left side of her mouth isn't working. I'm losing my shit as the paramedics finally arrive and push all of us out of the way. Ana's eyes are open, but she appears dazed and tries to talk, but can't.
"What's your wife's name?" One of the EMT's ask, and I want to ask him if he lives under a fucking rock.
"Anastasia Grey. She's thirty-two weeks pregnant," Sawyer answers for me.
I'm holding onto Ana's left hand and squeezing it. It's limp.
"Is she epileptic?" The same EMT asks.
"No," I final manage to say. "But she did suffer a traumatic brain injury nearly a year ago."
The three EMTs two women, and one man, are starting IVs on Ana and placing her on oxygen and I feel like I'm about to die. They've placed her on the gurney halfway on her left side and are wheeling her to the elevator. Every employee on the executive floor has come out of their offices and are staring at us. I nearly kill the the EMTs when they tell me there isn't enough room in the elevator for me.
I jump into the other with Taylor, and the four fucking idiots who didn't take Ana straight to the hospital. By the time this one has stopped and started half a fucking million times, Ana is already being loaded up in the ambulance. I jump in the back with her. Fuck them if they think they're keeping me away from her.
Ana's eyes are barely open and her left eye, along with the left side of her face is drooping and she isn't able to talk. Her lips are no longer blue and the EMTs have cleaned the blood off of her lips and chin. Her body is completely limp and I'm scared shitless as to what that means for the baby "Why isn't she responding?" I ask.
"It's typical for a person who's had a grand mal seizure, sir. What kind of brain injury did she have?" the female EMT asked.
"Blunt force trauma to the left side of her head. She was attacked and her skull was fractured."
I don't miss the look that passes between the EMT who asked and the one that's on the other side of Anastasia. They check her blood pressure and the machine it's connected to makes a loud beeping nose. I look at the number; I even know her blood pressure is too high.
"Do you know how the baby is?" I desperately ask. Tears threaten.
They shake their head. "They're awaiting our arrival at the ER, Mr. Grey." Is all one of them says.
I lay my head near Ana's and place a hand over our unborn child. I beg a god that I don't believe in to save the two people that I love more than anything in this world. If anything happens to them, lock me into my penthouse and light the mother fucker on fire. Let me burn inside it. I can't live without my sun and moon. I won't survive if half of my soul blows away with the wind.
Once we're at Harborview, I'm pushed out of the way as doctors and nurses surround my wife. I stagger, and Taylor informs me that he called my mother. I can't form words, so I just nod at him lean against a wall.
Right before I begin to tear the building down, Mom runs into the ER. I do my best to tell her what happened, while Sawyer and Taylor tell her the rest. I can barely tell anyone my name right now. Mom slips into the room with Ana, only to turn around and back up. Several people are pushing Ana's gurney into the hallway and head down the hall. I don't have to tell security to run them down. I grab Mom's elbow. The worry on her face only causes my panic to intensify.
"Mom, what's wrong? Tell me," I beg her. She rubs my arm. "I don't know for sure. They're taking her for an MRI. The baby's heartbeat was normal. Right now, the main concern is neurological."
"An MRI? Why? She's always had a CT scan."
"There's still questions about the radiology of a CT scan and a pregnant woman. An MRI can still show what's going on. Christian, you need to call her parents," Mom says to me like I'm a small child.
"Christ, is it that bad?" I stutter.
"Son, this is serious. Call her parents."
I helplessly look at Taylor and am about to ask him to call them, but Mom stops me. "No. You need to do it," she says.
The GEH Gulfstream is in the air to pick up Carla. Ray's about fifteen minutes out of Montesano. Kate, Ethan, and my entire family are sitting in a waiting room near the emergency department. It isn't lost on me that we sat in this very room not quite a year ago after Hyde attacked Ana. The same fucking sofa is in the corner and the worn Bible is on the table. At least the disgusting air freshener is gone and hasn't been replaced.
We haven't even been here for an hour, but it it seems like a lifetime. I'm about to lose my fucking mind. Kate asks Mom what could have possibly caused Ana to have a seizure, but my mother won't give her a definitive answer. Hell, she won't give me a definitive answer.
And that's when Dr. Marshall, Dr. Greene, and two other physician's walk in. Greene and Marshall sit, while the two that I've never seen stand by the door. I do notice that Dr. Berman didn't show up. The grim looks on all of their faces nearly bring me to my knees. No one even bother's to shake hands or make inane pleasantries. Dr. Marshall pulls her chair closer to mine and leans in to me. She stares straight into my eyes. I've never been so scared in my life.
She can't tell me that Ana has died. She can't tell me that our child has died. She also doesn't give me time to ask what's happened to my wife.
"Mr. Grey, Ana has a brain aneurysm, "she begins, without hello, how are you, or fuck you. Nothing.
I hear everyone around me draw in a deep breath. I can't fucking think. I feel like I'm in a category five hurricane. What the fuck did she just say? "What?" I ask her to clarify what I don't believe.
"Ana has a brain aneurysm. Do you know what that is?" she asks.
I look at Mom. Her face mirrors my shock. "A stroke?" I mutter.
"It will be if it ruptures. Luckily, it hasn't, although it's leaking. That's what led to her symptoms. I'm surprised that Ana hasn't been having any prior to today," Dr. Marshall tells me.
"When can I see her?" I ask.
All of the doctors look at each other. My stomach drops and my mother grabs my hand. "You can't. Ana coded after having the MRI. She's unconscious and intubated, and is currently in a surgical suite," Dr. Marshall replies.
"Not again," Kate groans from somewhere nearby and begins to sob.
I stand and pull at my hair. My suit jacket and tie are long since lost. I tear my white shirt out of my pants. I can't fucking breathe. "What has to be done? How the hell are you going to fix this?" I demand. One of the doctor's that I've never met introduces himself, like I give a fuck, and tells me he's part of the 'team' that's taking care of Anastasia. Mom knows him.
"Dr. Godwin, you've come together to make a plan of care?" she inquires softly. She's subdued and sad, but doesn't sound confused, and I pick up on that.
The man nods. "Yes...you know with a pregnancy as far along as this, one has to be made," he replies.
"What are you two talking about?" I point between Mom and this doctor fuck.
"Mr. Grey," This doctor starts. "The aneurysm-"
But I change my mind, shake my head and point at Marshall. "No, you tell me. You tell me."
Dr. Marshall pinches the bridge of her nose and stands up. She steps into my personal space. "The aneurysm is directly under the part of her skull that was fractured. It's never been on a previous CT, but here we are, it's there, and it's leaking. We're going to have operate on Ana to keep it from rupturing. Because, Mr. Grey, it's going to rupture."
"You're serious?" Kate turns to us and stands. She's pale as bone.
Then the Dr. Godwin that Mom knows opens his mouth. "Anastasia is pregnant with a viable fetus, and critically ill. We've come together because this is an ethical decision. A choice might -"
We're all too stunned to speak. Our world has stopped turning.
He continues as to why he's speaking with us, but that's when it really dawns on me why Dr. Greene is here. I knew she was here. I just didn't understand why. It hits me. How can they do brain surgery on my wife, who's thirty-two weeks pregnant? You can't operate on a pregnant woman, can you? Is that why Dr. Greene is here? To operate on Anastasia?
That's the only reason why she would be.
The choice.
That Godwin fucker said something about a choice.
I have both of my hands on the top of my head and exhale slowly. Elliot is behind me with both of his hands on my shoulders and is his resting his forehead on the back of my head. I've never needed my brother like I do right now.
"Dr. Greene," I say slowly. "Why are you here?"
We all look at her and wait for her answer; we all know why she's here and what her answer will be.
The other doctor said "choice."
The word the other doctor used has torn through this waiting room like a tornado tearing bark off of a tree.
Dr. Greene looks and speaks to me like she never has before. There's trepidation and sadness in her eyes. It's not for me; it's for Ana and our baby. "Mr. Grey, Ana's life depends on having this aneurysm fixed. If it ruptures, it could kill her and the baby in an instant. But you could decide to-''
"Oh, my God, Christian. You're going to have to choose which one to save," Kate exclaims and physically collapses into Ray Steele's arms. He looks utterly devastated and hasn't uttered a sound, and Katherine is beyond devastated. It's like watching a person being cut in half without anesthesia.
I nearly collapse, but my brother holds me up. Elliot it keeping my face from meeting the floor.
"No, no. No. No. No. I can't do that. Don't you tell me that I've got to do that," I cry out, tears in my eyes.
My brother's arms are around me. I feel his tears on the back of my neck.
"Mr. Grey!" Dr. Marshall snaps at me. "Listen, that scenario doesn't have to happen. What can happen is a C-section, and then we'll go straight away to repairing this aneurysm before it ruptures. If we don't," she stops, and bores her eyes into mine. "We will lose them both. We're wasting time right now, and I'm talking about minutes."
"But we can't take the baby. Ana's only thirty-two weeks pregnant. It's too soon. You can't," I ramble, weeping as Elliot holds me upright.
"Mr. Grey...do you want us to perform the C-section and then fix the aneurysm? Mr. Grey? We need your permission." Marshall is insistent as she should be.
My head rolls back on Elliot's shoulder. "Will the baby die?" I ask through shuddering breaths.
"I can't guarantee that. I can, however, guarantee that your wife has an aneurysm that's ready to rupture and will more than likely kill her. Now, do you give us permission to do the C-section and then surgery to fix the aneurysm?" she asks, forcefully.
I inhale deeply. "Yes. Yes. Do it," I croak. I'm defeated. I also trust her. She saved Ana once.
I feel Elliot relax and I'm able to stumble away from him. I look across the room at Ray. He's still consoling Kate. His eyes are instructing me to take care of his daughter.
Dr. Greene tries to introduce me to the NICU doctor who will take care of the baby once it's delivered. Words are swirling around my head that at thirty-two weeks our baby has more than a ninety-five percent survival rate. It's in the midst of all that word vomit that all four of the doctors stand and look at me.
"Mr. Grey, if you want to be in the room when your child is delivered, you'd better come with us now," Dr. Greene says.
It's so quiet you'd think our family's tongues have been cut out. It's Elliot who gently prods me to move forward, "You have to go, bro. Ana would want you to," he whispers. He's choked up.
I fall in step with the doctors. We enter a back elevator at that shoots us up three floors at maximum velocity. They talk among themselves. Dr. Marshall keeps looking at her watch. I'm wondering how Ana went from being fine to near death in the hour it took me to leave the penthouse and arrive at GEH this morning. How did this happen?
The doors open and we're on the back end of a hall. Not far in front of me, is a red line that reads "Sterile." The doctors have disappeared in a room to the left, and a woman, who I assume is a nurse, leads me to one across from it. She hands me a pair of scrubs and shoe covers.
"Mr. Grey, you'll need to get these," she tells me. Her words, like all those that have been spoken are kind, but they're hurried and no nonsense. "Quickly."
Every word that I've heard has been terrifying.
The nurse waits for me to change and leads me across that red line that reads "Sterile" and the first thing I notice is how cold it is and then the antiseptic odor strikes me. Suddenly, the nurse has me moving – very quickly. She swipes her badge and we enter a room through gray swinging doors that's labeled "Suite 102."
And then I see my entire universe that's carrying my world.
She looks so small and fragile. Her eyes are taped down and a breathing tube in down her throat like it was for so many months last year. The ventilator violently pushes air into her lungs. A large blue curtain covers her chest and her arms out to her side – strapped down – and they tell me not to hold her hand. Bags of IV fluids hang around her so reminiscent of last year.
An incubator awaits baby Grey's arrival. The NICU doctor and two nurses are standing beside it. The thoughts of our child not surviving don't seem possible. This entire fucking nightmare doesn't seem possible. Why is this happening?
Now I notice several other people in scrubs waiting nearby. Dr. Marshall is one of them. Her arms are crossed and she's looking intently at who I suspect is Dr. Greene. I can only see the top of people's heads over the screen covering Ana's chest.
Oh, fuck. Dr. Marshall told us they had to treat the aneurysm once the baby was delivered. What she meant was that they were going to do it immediately. Once the baby is out, Dr. Marshall's hands are going to be back inside of Ana's skull. Would this be a repeat of her initial skull fracture? Her initial skull fracture, only added with a premature baby that she missed being born?
As I hear Dr. Greene and other voices saying they're making the incision, all I can now think about is how this is another huge milestone in Ana's life that she isn't going to remember. This is another moment she's being robbed of. The thought feels like a stab wound to my aorta and tears run down my cheeks. She's so young and life has already been so terribly unfair to her.
I look over the screen. My heart stops. My heart starts beating. I can see my child's head and the umbilical cord being unwrapped around it's neck.
"Suction!" Dr. Greene orders loudly. "Wonderful."
She lifts my baby out of Ana's body and turns the most precious being that I've ever seen in my direction.
A boy. I have a son. Ana has a son. We created a son.
"Congratulations, Mr. Grey, you have a boy. Would you like to cut the cord?" Dr. Greene is speaking rapidly and I understand why.
I quickly make work of it and a soft piercing cry hits my ears and fills the room. And then he's taken away as quickly as Dr. Greene lifted him out of Ana's body.
"Mr. Grey, go with your son," Dr. Marshall's words are an order.
Dr. Greene and her team are busy closing Ana's abdomen up, while Dr. Marshall's team descends on Ana.
I'm frozen, until a nurse calls my name and tries to touch my arm. I jump back, and realize that I have to leave Anastasia in the hands of people who wouldn't be destroyed if she died.
"Mr. Grey, come. Let's go see about your son," the nurse tells me. She leads me to the elevator and straight down into the NICU waiting room. Dad, Ray, and Elliot are pacing. Mom is comforting an inconsolable Kate. Ethan is holding a crying Mia. It doesn't appear that Carla's made it to Seattle yet.
The chairs they're all sitting in are a dusky blue that are shade darker than the carpet. This wing of the hospital has many large windows, perhaps to show the comings and goings of Seattle in order to remind the families of babies in the NICU that there's a life outside of this fucking hell.
Taylor and Garrett are discretely sitting closely to the door of the unit and neither are hiding the fact that they're concerned. I know that Sawyer and the rest of the guys are upstairs with Ana.
I'm rushed once my family spots me. They said the neuro staff told them to come to the NICU, and once Anastasia was out of surgery they would come down here and tell us how she was doing. Mom told me that she believed that Dr. Marshall wasn't going to open Ana's skull back open to clip the aneurysm. She was going to go through an artery in Ana's groin and implant wires in the aneurysm that would coil and eventually cause the blood to clot. I told her that Dr. Marshall didn't tell me anything.
They all want the details of the baby, but all I can tell them is that I have a son and he was whisked away before I could hold him. The waiting room is by a large glass window where the babies are. I'm sure that's where my child is being cared for, and I'm worried sick. Mom keeps reiterating that a thirty-two week preemie has a higher rate of survival and not as many developmental problems as babies born earlier.
I don't believe her.
Time passes slowly. We've heard nothing about Anastasia; Mom's tried to get information several times without any luck. Nearly two hours pass before the doctor that I recognize being introduced as the baby's NICU doctor approaches us. He's an older man with a large mustache and a English accent. He must remember me because he walks to me and shakes my hand.
"Mr. Grey, I'm Dr. Carter, I'll be taking care of your son. Shall we sit?"
We all fall back into the chairs we were just sitting in.
"How is he?" I barely get the words out of my dry mouth.
Dr. Carter pulls out a small notebook from a pocket of his white doctor's coat and flips through it. Jesus, how many babies is he taking care of?
"Mr. Grey, your son is relatively well. There are a few issues that we're treating. He was a big boy for thirty-two weeks. He weighed in at four pounds, which is on the heavier side for a preemie his age. He's also nineteen inches long. Many full term babies are that long."
"Is he going to live," I ask him point blank.
"Let me tell you all about his condition and how we're treating him." He ignores my near hysterical question. "He doesn't have the fat a full term baby does, so he can't warm himself, and that's why he's in a heated incubator. You'll notice a blue light. That's to ward off the pesky jaundice all babies tend to get. And, preemies his age still have trouble sucking, so he does have a feeding tube down his nose-"
I drop my head into my hands. "Oh, my God. This can't be happening." I mutter despondently. Ana would be heartbroken if she knew her baby had a fucking tube down his little nose.
Mom wraps her arms around my shoulders. "Darling, I know this sounds scary, but it seems baby Grey is doing well. Don't be upset. Let's just listen to Dr. Carter. Calm down, my dear," she says in my ear.
Dr. Carter gives me a minute to compose myself. I wipe my eyes and tell him to continue.
"The baby is also receiving help to breathe. Don't get too alarmed, he is breathing on his own, but is needing a bit more oxygen. He's not on a mechanical ventilator, just a nasal cannula. He stops. "You'll probably be puzzled by all of the stickers you'll see on his body. They monitor his heart rate, his breathing, and oxygen levels. Now, Mr. Grey, the most disturbing thing I'll believe you'll see is that he has an umbilical catheter."
I stop and look at him. "What?
"It looks worse than it is, but it's proven to be a God send. It keeps the baby from being stuck so many times for IVs and blood draws. Right now, he's receiving an IV of nutrients through it." He stops and looks at my mother. He lets her fill me in on the positive aspects of something that sounds horrible and is going to probably look worse.
Then he finishes telling me about my son. "His eyes are covered because of the lights. He will easily become overstimulated and will let you know when he is. His movements become jerky and he'll cry. He'll also fist his hands and will wave his arms. When that happens, you'll know to leave him alone."
"He can focus on things up close, Mr. Grey. So when you're able to go back to see him, be sure to get close and speak to him. I'm sure that he'll recognize your voice," Dr. Carter says. "Mr. Grey, did you and Mrs. Grey name the little man yet?"
I recall the conversation I had with Anastasia weeks ago about naming him Theodore if he was a boy. I wonder if she'd changed her mind since then? It hadn't been brought up after that night. I close my eyes and lick my lips as I feel my heart thump. "Theodore. Theodore Raymond."
Dr. Carter stands and looks down on me. "Come on, young man. Let's go introduce you to Theodore Raymond Grey."
I stand on shaky legs and look back at Dad and Ray, the only two men that I know who are both decent men and fathers, and hope I'm allowed to be one to the tiny being I'm about to meet. I'm so afraid. I'm afraid that he'll want to meet his mommy first and be disappointed that it's me.
I follow Dr. Carter through a dimly lit room that's far larger than I expected. There are many incubators and I see babies that look big enough to be discharged, and some that are so premature that I believe they'll need a miracle to live through the night. This unit is uplifting on one hand and gut wrenching on the other. It must take a human being full of both love and steel to work here and offer themselves up for hours to care for not only these babies, but their families as well.
Before I know it, Dr. Carter has stopped at an incubator. He introduces me to the nurse who's taking care of Theodore. The nurse is telling me about when I'll probably be able to do skin to skin with him and rock him. Their voices are white noise. I'm not listening to them.
I've squatted down with my face mere inches from the incubator and I'm staring at my son. His body is pink. He looks like the pictures of full term babies that I've seen - only smaller. He looks more delicate. He has a small dusting of hair on his arms and a bit of dark hair on his head. Theodore doesn't look scary or as premature as I'd feared. Yes, this isn't ideal, and I'm not enjoying looking at several things going in and coming out of my son's body, but this isn't what I feared. He's beautiful.
I'd give anything to touch him right now, but he's sound asleep inside his incubator with the faint blue light covering him. Tomorrow will be different they tell me. I'll be able to touch my son. And while I'm so excited that I'll be able to, I'm so sad that Ana won't be the first one to touch him. A mother's hands should be the first to touch her child's. She's carried and protected them. She's earned the right to receive the first kiss on their skin.
But because of fate, because of the universe, because of whatever the fucking reason, I will be the parent who will receive that first kiss on Theodore's skin. He will feel my large, calloused fingers and know their promise; they will always protect him. He may learn calloused fingers first, but soon, he will learn about soft and loving fingers.
The fingers of a mother.
Fingers far more fierce than mine.
Dear readers: this probably has a lot of mistakes in it. I have pink eye and can hardly see what I wrote much less if it formatted or was edited correctly.
Here's where I give my "this is just a fairy tale story I'm making up disclaimer"
I how an injury to one side of the brain will effect the opposite side of the body. I was an RN for 26 years. I've chosen to keep every issue with this made up Ana to be on her left side because it's easier.
About anything NICU::I gave birth to a daughter at 29 weeks. She lived for 3 weeks. I know about NICU.
I also have a ? I didn't write an epilogue when I re wrote this story. Y'all are gonna want one, aren't you?