Copyright © 2006 by Patricia Davids

“Is she okay? Why isn’t she crying?” Caitlin tightened her grip on Mick’s hand. So many people crowded around the baby that she couldn’t see her. She tried to sit up, but a nurse held her back.

“Your baby’s being taken care of.”

“Just tell me she’s okay. Please, someone tell me she’s okay.” Frantic now, Caitlin struggled to push the nurse aside, but a sudden, sharp pain in her chest halted her.

She tried to draw a breath but couldn’t get any air. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. She collapsed back onto the bed as the crushing pain overwhelmed her.

Long minutes later, they wheeled the baby’s bed up beside her. Caitlin turned her head and focused on her daughter’s small face. For an instant, all her pain faded away.

Her baby was so beautiful--so tiny--so perfect. But she wasn’t moving. Someone spoke, but Caitlin couldn’t hear them over the roaring in her ears. Then they pushed her baby’s bed out the door. Their faces were all so grim.

“Is she dead, Mick?” Caitlin whispered, terrified to hear the answer.

“No,” he answered quickly. “They’re taking her to the NICU. It’s a special intensive care just for babies. They’ll take good care of her there. She’s going to be fine.”

“Why isn’t--she crying?” The pain in her chest made it hard to talk.

“It’s because she’s so premature,” Mick answered. “She has a tube going into her airway to help her breathe, and she can’t make any sound with that in.”

Caitlin’s own breathing had become short, labored panting. A frowning nurse slipped a plastic mask over Caitlin’s face and spoke to the doctor. He frowned, too.

Caitlin looked from face to face. She didn’t know any of these people. Who would look after her baby?

She gripped Mick’s arm, pulling him closer. “Go with her.”

He glanced at the ER staff, then back to her. “I think I should stay with you.”

“I’m fine,” she lied. She forced a smile to her trembling lips. A strange cold was seeping into her bones. “Stay with--Beth. Watch over her for me.”

He patted her hand. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.”

Nodding, she whispered, “Thank you,” and watched him hurry out the door.

The nurse beside her claimed her attention. “I need you to tell me your name.”

“Caitlin--Williams,” she wheezed.

“Are you allergic to any medication? Are you using any street drugs?” Caitlin shook her head at each question the nurse fired at her. The room grew dark around the edges.

So this was what it was like to die. She wanted to cry because she knew what would happen to her daughter now--the same things that had happened to her. It wasn’t fair.

“Who is your next of kin?” The nurse continued to insist on answers. Caitlin only wanted to close her eyes and rest, but more people crowded around her, taking her blood pressure, listening to her heart, poking needles in her arm, sticking wires on her chest. They were all frowning.

“Is the man who came in with you the baby’s father?” the nurse asked.

“What?” Caitlin tried to focus on the woman’s face.

“I said, is that man the baby’s father?”

Would Mick see that her daughter was taken care of? She could say he was the father, then he’d have the right to look after her. Would he understand? It didn’t matter, she was out of time. She nodded as she whispered, “Yes.”

“What is his name?”

“Mick...O’Callaghan.” Don’t let her be alone, Mick. Please, take care of her.

Darkness swooped in and began to pull Caitlin away. She struggled against it. She needed to stay for her baby.

“We’re losing her,” someone shouted.

Copyright © Patricia Davids
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