blazing, the ambulance comes to a screeching halt outside the emergency entrance to the hospital. The summer sun is warm on my face for a split second before I’m wheeled inside.
Thank you.
Thank you for waiting.
The fluorescent tubes above my head remind me of a meteor shower; we are moving so fast down corridors that they come and go like flashes, then are gone, only to be replaced by new streaks of white light. The pain is so intense now that it’s one long ache with the occasional break—not the other way around. I have the urge to push...
“You’re doing great, Beth,” Ayden calls, the air in his lungs in short supply as he jogs to keep up. “We’re here. You made it. We’re here.”
I feel myself being lifted onto a bed. The cannula the paramedic fitted is now being linked up to a drip.
“You did well holding on, Beth,” my midwife says, taking hold of my hand. “These babies are eager to see you.”
“We’re eager to see them.”
“We’re giving you a little something to take the edge off. Okay?”
I nod and turn to Ayden. His eyes are welling, overflowing with love and expectations. “I’m sorry I waited until the last minute. I didn’t know…”
“Hush. It doesn’t matter. We’re here now.” He kisses me softly. “Did I tell you that I love you?”
I shake my head. “No. Not for at least twenty-four...” I snatch at his hand and pull him to me. With him no more than an inch from my face I whisper, “Something’s wrong.”
He runs his hand along my cheek, strokes my hair, and prepares to dispel my fears. “Nothing’s wrong, Beth. You’re doing great.”
“No. The twins were settled in place, now they’re moving around. That’s not normal.” I grapple with his shirt, losing focus. “It’s the drug.” I look at the intravenous drip. “I must be allergic to it.”
He follows my line of sight, and watches the colourless liquid flowing into my veins. “Hold on.” He releases my hand and heads in the direction of the nurse. “What did you give her?”
“It’s the usual analgesic for her pain.” She pats his arms, gives him a sweet smile and goes about her business. “She should feel more comfortable…”
“Is there any chance she could be allergic to it?” he queries, forcing her to consider his question more seriously.
She gives him a reassuring smile. “No. It’s extremely rare…”
Feeling the most horrendous pain between my legs I scream out loud; it’s a piercing unnatural scream that I know will be the first of many. I tear at the sheets, feeling light-headed and disoriented—the room is spinning…
“Beth. Beth,” Ayden calls, his face pale and fearful. “What’s the matter? What’s going on?”
I can hear him, but his words keep fading—I keep tuning out. I’m blinking, trying to make sense of things, but…
The pain comes again. It’s excruciating. My body feels like it’s being torn apart.
The nurse folds back the sheets, and by the look on her face, baby number one is on its way out. She checks my vitals on the monitor. So do I—my blood pressure is falling, my heart rate is increasing…
“What the fuck’s happening?” Ayden yells, his hands in his hair. “Do something!”
“These babies need to come out right now!” She presses a red button at the side of my bed and it sends out an ear-splitting alarm.
Ayden is ashen. His eyes are flashing the colour of a stormy sky. He leans over me, panic-stricken, folding his hands around my face as I jerk and raise myself up off the mattress. “Look at me, Beth. We’ve come this far, baby. Hold on. Just hold on.”
Barely able to communicate, I manage to get a few garbled words out. “Stop the drip.”
He’s confused. “I don’t understand.”
With eyes full of terror, I try to speak but feel much too faint. I can’t form words…
The nurse places a mask over my mouth and my moans dissipate in the oxygen as I begin to lose consciousness.
Not stopping to consider his actions, Ayden reaches over to the cannula feeding the drug into my hand and slides it out. Still attached to the line, the needle falls to the floor, taking with it the fluid containing the drug. I feel the pressure of his thumb in my hand and his racing heartbeat vibrating through it … and close my eyes.
Around me medical professionals are gathering; there are muffled voices. The only one I can hear with any clarity is Ayden’s. “This can’t be happening!”
A doctor injects me with