and the baby. It can cause liver failure as well as a lot of other shitty side effects, which are what you’ve been experiencing for the past few hours.”
“I-it can happen that fast?”
“Yeah. It can happen that fast.” His hands are shaking as a nurse comes into the room with an IV bag and other supplies.
“Excuse me, Dr. Bennett––”
“Give it to me,” he orders.
Flinching at his brash demand, she hands it over to him. He rips open a package, and before I realize what’s happening, he’s inserting a needle into my arm. I cringe when it pierces my skin.
“Sorry, babe. You’re about to get a crash course in needles.”
My expression sours. “Lovely.”
“This is magnesium sulfate. I’m not going to sugarcoat it, babe. It’s going to make you feel miserable––”
“What kind of miserable?”
“Like you’re burning up. Even your tears will feel hot.”
“That sounds promising,” I quip sarcastically.
With a ghost of a smile, he presses his lips to my forehead and murmurs, “I love you, Marce. Just…stay strong, okay?”
I nod while squeezing my eyes shut as that same annoying dizziness rises to the surface. “Yup. Piece of cake.”
This doesn’t feel like a piece of cake.
29
Ben
“She’s going to be fine,” Tracey tells me. Janet, the nurse who’s been assigned to help Marcy, called her as soon as I lost my shit with the IV. Tracey drove here as fast as she could and has been given the shitty task of helping me keep my head on straight.
Good luck with that, Trace.
“Preeclampsia sucks, but you can handle this, Ben. She’s not the first patient you’ve dealt with that’s developed it, and they’ve all been fine as soon as they delivered. You know what you’re doing.”
“None of them were Marcy,” I admit with my head in my hands outside of Marcy’s hospital room.
I know I’m supposed to be strong for her. I know that I look like a green doctor who’s facing a patient with a terminal illness when it’s definitely a treatable diagnosis. But I can’t help it.
I can’t lose her too.
Not after the shitstorm I’ve been through since Kate died.
I can’t.
“Marcy’s strong. She’s going to be fine. And as soon as the anesthesiologist finishes with this epidural, we’ll get her in for an emergency c-section, and she’ll be able to start recovering. It’s going to be okay.”
“What if it isn’t? You know how quickly this can turn bad. How many complications we might face in that surgery. I’m not sure I’ll be able to think clearly in there. That I’ll be able to make the right decisions to save her.”
“You’re the best OB/GYN in the state, and Dr. Delancy will be assisting. This isn’t about your skills or your instincts. This is about your past and your fear of losing someone you love. But you’re her best shot, so you need to face this head-on and get your head straight. Understand?”
I force myself to nod as Tracey’s gaze catches on something behind me.
“Good. Because the anesthesiologist is walking toward us right now. It’s showtime.”
30
Marcy
Pressure. And tugging. Honestly, it’s a weird combination to know your stomach is being sliced open, yet you can’t feel a thing.
Just more pressure.
And more tugging.
A heart rate monitor continues to beat in a steady rhythm, and I try to focus on the sound instead of the wet slurping that makes me want to cringe.
There’s a light blue screen preventing me from seeing what Ben is doing to me right now, but every once in a while, I hear his deep voice rumble, “Hey, Marce? Are you doing okay?”
I swallow. “Yeah. I’m okay. Is everything good over there?”
“So far, so good.”
“Okay.”
The lights are bright, and I close my eyes to block it out as the minutes tick by.
“You ready, Marcy?” Ben calls, though I have no idea how much time has passed.
“Uh…yes?” A nervous laugh slips out of me as I stare at the blue screen, wishing I could see what’s happening on the other side.
Or maybe I don’t want to know.
More pressure.
More tugging.
And then a baby’s cry echoes through the room. A new energy consumes the space as nurses rush around me to take care of Anthony and Sway’s baby, who wasn’t supposed to arrive for at least another two weeks.
“Is she okay?” My voice cracks as my desperation takes over.
“She’s going to be fine,” Tracey tells me, peeking around the screen. “We were mainly worried about her lungs––if they’ve had enough time to develop––but that cry tells us everything we need to know. The NICU nurses are going