“Typically, when there isn’t an emergency, we allow one person in with the patient during a C-section,” one of the women explained. “But she will be under, not awake, for this. We have to get the baby out as quickly as possible.”
I held on to Cali and stared the nurse down. They would have to kill me before I left her willingly. “I’m going with her. She’s scared, and I won’t leave her. Now, do I need to change, or am I okay like this?”
A pair of scrubs were given to me, along with a hairnet thing. I started taking off my clothes even as they began pushing Cali out of the room, changing as I ran down the hall with them. Some guy was coming out of another room and saw me in just scrub pants and my bra, but Guzman shoved him back into his room when he started to leer at me.
“Tell my mother what’s going on,” I called out to Guzman when we got to the elevators. “Watch over her for me.”
Guzman gave me a grim nod, his eyes going to Cali and lingering. “Be strong, little one,” he encouraged. “See you soon.”
“Bye, Guzman,” she sobbed, but she tried to give him a brave smile. “T-take care of everyone for me.”
Things moved so fast, it was like I blinked and then Cali was on an operating table. I was advised to sit at her head. Even though she was already sound asleep, I stroked her face, talking softly to her. It was more to distract myself from what the medical team was doing, but I still caught parts of what they said.
“Too much blood… Alert the NICU… So much trauma. How has she carried this baby this long?” I kissed my friend’s forehead, promising her that I would take care of both her and Justice. They were mine to love and protect, and I wouldn’t let either of them down.
Then the room filled with a weak, pitiful cry that brought tears to my eyes. Justice was handed off to the neonatologist who had come running into the OR only a minute before. He hurried across the room with her and immediately began to work on her. Clearing her airways, putting in an IV, giving her oxygen. Cali had been given meds in case of something like this happening so that Justice’s lungs would develop faster, but she was still only twenty-four weeks’ gestation.
“One pound, four ounces,” one of the nurses called out for someone else to chart the baby’s weight. Other things were mentioned as well, but all I was stuck on was the extremely low number that was my niece’s weight.
Before I could even get a good look at her, they were placing her in an incubator and rushing from the operating room to get her to the NICU. I gazed down at Cali. She was so small and fragile, just like her newborn daughter. Would she want me to stay with her or go with Justice?
Muttering a curse, I kissed her forehead and then ran after the neonatologist and nurse. I caught up before the elevator door closed on them. The nurse gave me a small but warm smile and started asking me questions about the baby’s familial history. I knew a little of Cali’s medical history, but it was considerably easier to answer about the paternal side of Justice’s family.
The NICU was a terrifying place to be. All the sounds of machines attached to tiny, defenseless bodies. The sadness mixed with hope that hit you as soon as you walked into the special care unit was like a gut punch. It was almost too much, and I nearly made a run for it. But I wouldn’t let either my friend or my niece down.
Tubes were placed in Justice while I stood back and watched. Tests were done, and the doctor was encouraging, yet grim, as if afraid to hope or give me hope as well.
When she’d been pinched and poked, with tubes and wires coming from everywhere on her teeny tiny body, they finally allowed me to touch her. I stuck my hand through the incubator hole and caressed a fingertip over her palm. Her hand fisted around my digit, her grip so strong it pulled a sob from deep inside me.
“That’s my strong, brave baby,” I cooed softly. “You’re a fighter, Justice. You come from a long line of amazing women, and we won’t let you down, sweetheart.”
They didn’t allow me to stay long before I was told I had to leave, but they said I could come back soon, once they had Justice more comfortable. It was agony leaving her there, but I knew I needed to check on Cali.
Back downstairs, I found Mom pacing in Cali’s room. Guzman was standing quietly in a corner, his hands balled into fists at his sides, his head lowered and his mouth moving silently in prayer.
The moment I opened the door, they both surrounded me. “How are they?” Mom demanded.
“What happened to Cali?” Guzman growled.
I lifted my hands. “Calm down. Give me a moment to breathe, okay?”
“Sorry,” Mom murmured and gave me a quick hug. “I’ve been so worried, Nova.”
“Me too,” I told her with a tired sigh. “They did an emergency C-section. Cali was under for it, but I was able to stay with her. Justice was born in no time. She weighs one pound, four ounces. And I think they said she was exactly twelve inches long. The nurse said she was on the longer side for twenty-four weeks’ gestation. I went with her to the NICU.” I blinked against the sting of tears. “She’s tiny, but fiercely strong. There are so many wires and tubes, Mom.”
“Ah, honey, I know. It was like that when you were born. You weren’t quite that tiny, but it was still terrifying to see how small you were.” Mom gave me a quivery smile. “She’s going to be okay. You’ll see. Our girl is a fighter.”
I nodded, needing her to be right, and turned to Guzman. “Cali was fine when I left. I-I didn’t know what I should do, stay with her or go with the baby. But I figured she would be pissed if I didn’t go with Justice.”
“She would have been,” he agreed. “You did the right thing. But we should find out what is going on. It’s been over an hour since you left with her.”
“I’ll go speak to the nurses at the desk,” I promised and turned to do just that, but before I could reach the door, it swung open and the doctor stood there. Sweat was soaked into his clothes, and his face was pinched.
My heart contracted at the graveness on his face. “Tell me she’s alive,” I commanded.
He was quick to nod. “She’s in recovery now. Once she starts to come out from the anesthesia, she will be brought back to her room.” He pulled off his surgical cap and combed his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. “That young woman is a miracle,” he said. “How she carried that baby this long without bleeding out, I honestly can’t explain. There was so much trauma, so much scarring, and still, there were bruises. Dr. Ortega told me about her history, the auto accident and the beatings. As I said, it was a miracle she didn’t miscarry.”
“She was determined,” Mom murmured with pride.
“We ran into some complications,” the doctor said, his face tightening even more. “We couldn’t contain the bleeding, and with all the scar tissue and unhealed trauma, we had no other choice but to perform a full hysterectomy.”
“But she’s so young,” Mom whispered in a pained voice.
“Mom, Dr. Ortega warned us this might happen,” I reminded her. “Cali knew it was a big possibility.”
“I know, but…”
“I’d rather she was barren than dead,” Guzman cut her off, and Mom’s shoulders slumped.