“Is the baby . . . Is he okay? I mean, what happens if she doesn’t wake up? Are you sure he’s fine?”
“I’m sure. I’m watching his vitals, and I performed an ultrasound as soon as they were brought in. I think you should speak to her physician about her condition.”
“I’m the father.” I point to the letter that I set on the end of her bed. “That’s what the letter says, that I’m the baby’s father.”
“How about I do another ultrasound? That way, you can see your baby, see for yourself that he’s okay,” Dr. Ellis suggests.
That lump is back. “Please,” I croak out. “I would also like to speak to her doctor and you, if possible. I just . . . need to know what to expect.”
“I can page him while you’re performing the ultrasound,” Alice offers.
“Thank you, Alice,” Dr. Ellis says.
I watch as she leaves the room and comes right back in, pushing a machine. She sets it next to the bed, gives me a soft smile, and scurries back out the door.
I watch with rapt attention as Dr. Ellis carefully pulls back the blanket covering Melissa’s body and lifts up her gown.
“Wait, what are you doing?” I ask.
“I need to have her belly bare. I place this gel on her abdomen and then this—” he holds up a small piece of equipment that appears to be hooked to a screen “—will let us see your baby.”
I’ve see this done on TV, so I get the concept. But she’s just lying there, unable to speak for herself. I need to protect her—that’s my job, right? As her emergency contact, it’s my job to look out for her, and as the . . . father. I swallow hard.
I’m going to be a father.
Dr. Ellis continues, placing the gel on her swollen belly and the small handle. “Watch the screen,” he tells me.
Stepping as close to the bed as I can get, my eyes lock onto the little black screen. I’m just about to ask what I’m looking for when the screen turns to black and white. And there, in a tight little ball, is my son.
I have a son.
“Ten fingers.” The doctor points to the screen. “Ten toes.” He points again. “This is his heartbeat, steady and strong. He’s a fighter.”
I grip the side of the bed to keep from falling over. It’s all too much to take in. There he is—a part of me, on that tiny, little black and white screen. I have so many emotions running through me I can’t even identify them all.
Without thinking, I lean down and whisper in her ear. “Hey, Melissa. You need to stay strong, fight. He needs you.”
Dr. Ellis, takes some measurements and points out different things. The baby starts to suck on his thumb, so he zooms in on that. I’m enthralled with watching him. All too soon, the screen goes black and Dr. Ellis is wiping off her belly.
“Here.” He hands me a CD. “I recorded it for you. I also have these.” Reaching beneath the machine, he tears off a long, thin strip of paper.
Pictures.
Of my son.
“Thank you,” I rasp.
He leaves the room, taking the machine with him, just as my phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, I see ‘Dad’ flash across the screen. I don’t know if I can even have my phone on in here; will it mess with all these machines? I let the call go to voicemail and step out of the room.
“I need to make a call. Am I allowed to use this here?” I ask Alice once I reach the nurses’ station.
“Yeah, we just ask that you leave it on vibrate, and of course end any calls when the physician is in the room,” she tells me.
“Thank you. Can I stay?” I point over my shoulder.
“Yeah, she’s stable for now. But if anyone asks, I told you no.” She winks at me.
I nod since smiling back would take too much effort at this point. I walk back to her room and take the chair next to the bed, swiping the screen to call my dad back.
“Ridge, how was the gala?” He chuckles. Dad knows that’s not my thing.
“I didn’t make it. Tonight has been . . . one for the books,” I confess.
“What’s going on, son?”
My parents’ are awesome, always there for Reagan and me growing up, and even now as adults. I know I can go to them with anything. Looking at my watch, I see that it’s after ten at night. “It’s a long story. I’m not hurt, but I’m still at the hospital.”
“Hospital?”
I can hear the worry in his voice. “Yeah, would you be able to . . . ?”
“I’m on my way. Your mother?”
I love that he gets me. He wants to know if he should bring Mom or if this is a ‘guys’ conversation. At this point, I need all the support I can get. “Yeah, if she’s not already asleep. Just ask the nurse at the reception desk to get me. I’ll let them know I’m waiting for you.”
“We’re leaving now.”
Just like that, no questions asked. I should probably call Reagan and the guys, but I just can’t find the strength to do it. I will also have to deal with Stephanie at some point. She’s obviously pissed, hence the reason I haven’t heard from her since I told her I wasn’t going to make it to the gala.
There are more important things in life.
When Alice comes in to check Melissa’s vitals, I inform her that I’m waiting on my family.
“I’ll let the receptionist know where to find you.”
“Thank you.” I spend the next fifteen minutes studying the pictures of my son. I’m glad that I have them; it makes this more real. It will be easier to explain with proof.
A little while later, Alice peeks her head in the door. “Your family just arrived. I had Kate put them in the private room you were in before.”
“Thanks.” I stand and grab the letter and with one last parting look at Melissa, I leave the room to fill my family in on the events of the evening.
Chapter 5
“Knock, knock.” Dr. Ellis peeks his head into the private waiting room.
I just finished giving my parents’ and Reagan, who they picked up on the way here, the condensed version of my day. Telling them that I was going to be a father was the hardest part. By the time I was finished, there were lots of tears for Melissa, the baby, and just the entire situation.
“Ridge, this is Dr. Robbins. He’s treating Melissa,” he introduces us.
“So, how is she? How’s the baby? What’s next?” I rush through questions that have been bouncing around in my head since I first found out.
“Baby is good, vitals are strong,” Dr. Ellis states, looking at a tablet in his hands. “His vitals are good, now we just wait for her body to decide to wake up. Medicine is not an exact science. We have to let her body heal and decide when it’s time; it’s a waiting game.”
“Mom is stable for now. Her body is protecting her from her injuries. It’s now just a waiting game to see if and when she wakes up,” Dr. Robbins tells me.
“If?”
He nods slowly. “If. As Dr. Ellis said, medicine is not an exact science, and it’s hard to know how the body is going to react to trauma. We are hopeful, but she’s been out for a long time.”