Page 94 of Bound Hearts

I rush to her and lean over her from the side of the bed, kissing the top of her head. She feels warm as I stroke her hair to help calm her. “Shh, it’s okay.”

Her body trembles as her cry begins to hiccup. “I’m scared. This isn’t supposed to happen yet. It’s too early. What if something is wrong?”

Even though I’m petrified, I’m about to attempt to ease her worries, but she begins to groan and grapple with pain. It’s obvious another contraction is coming.

The machines beep, and one nurse reads the monitor, while the other touches Sutton’s arm. “That’s good, honey. Breathe calmly.”

Despite being panicked, she breathes through the contraction, and I say soothing words that I’m not even sure she can hear as she is distracted by the pain. It reduces, and she manages to catch a breath.

“Sixty-five seconds,” the nurse reading the monitor calls out.

The other nurse has a consoling smile. “Can you tell me how often it’s been happening?”

“I don’t know. Maybe every three minutes,” Sutton answers.

“It’s three minutes. It started at five when we got in the car, it was a twenty-minute drive,” I added.

The door swooshes open, and the doctor enters. He’s in his forties, and that same damn smile that every medical professional in this hospital seems to be trained in is plastered on his face.

“Alright, I understand baby wants to come early.” He sheaths on gloves and rolls a stool to the end of the bed. “I’m Dr. Wolf, and I’m going to have a look.”

The nurse updates him, and his facial expression turns resigned. “I’m going to do a quick check, Sutton.”

She nods. “It’s too early. Why is this happening?”

He doesn’t answer until he finishes checking. “Okay, you’re already seven centimeters, which tells me that your labor seems to be progressing quite quickly.”

“What does that mean?” I rub Sutton’s shoulders with my arms protectively around her.

The doctor focuses on the monitor. “Don’t panic. He’s early, but late pre-term. Many healthy babies are born at thirty-six weeks. We’re going to keep an extra close eye on it, however, as a precaution. But from your vitals, everything seems in order. There has been nothing unusual during your pregnancy, and sometimes babies just want to come early.”

Unusual on his list strikes me like a bolt.

Everything about Sutton and me has been anything but ordinary. Her strain level reaches beyond a scale. It all started because of me. My momentary lapse of judgment that led to a whole flurry of emotions over the intention of the pregnancy.

“Can stress or anxiety cause this?” I have to ask because everything from the past few weeks is replaying in my head, and guilt weighs me down.

“Sure can.” My stomach sinks. “But nothing tells me that mom or baby is in distress right now.” I’m responsible, and it could be the reason that our son is arriving early.

Sutton begins to tense, and another contraction hits her in a wave. It’s a distraction from my own thoughts.

A nurse goes to the wall where a plastic bassinette resides and another contraption that she turns on.

We all coax Sutton through until her contraction subsides.

“You’re doing well there. Listen, this is the plan,” he begins, his tone as calm as a breeze. “Everything is fine.” He double-checks the monitor. “As a precaution, we’ll have someone on pediatrics on standby and a NICU nurse. Baby wants to get out, so you’ll be having him soon. The nurses will see to you and let me know when it’s time, and I’ll be back.”

“You’re leaving!” I nearly screech.

Sutton touches my arm. “Foster, I’m going to lose it,” she snaps, irritated.

The doctor calmly smiles at me, probably used to crazed parents. “I’ll be back soon to check on her, no matter if it’s time or not. Don’t worry.”

A nurse leaves with him, leaving us with one who is busy in the corner preparing things.

“Why is this happening?” Sutton cries.

Because of me and my choices that caused you stress.