Bundle of Joy (27 page)

"And Caroline will be okay?"

"I'm positive."

Part of Charlie relaxed. "And the baby--he'll be okay, too?"

Dr. Burkheit waited a beat too long. His silence told Charlie everything he didn't want to hear. "I don't know, Charlie," said the doctor. "I simply don't know."

"I'll tell her," said Charlie, squaring his shoulders. "I should be the one to break the news."

"I don't mind being the one," said Burkheit, looking at him closely. "Sometimes it's best if an outsider does it."

"No." Charlie was adamant. "It's the least I can do for my wife."

Burkheit sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Come on," he said, leading Charlie toward the swinging doors. "Time's wasting."

#

Caroline knew the moment she saw Charlie's expression.

"The baby," she whispered as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Is the baby--?"

He shook his head but she noted the way his Adam's apple worked as he swallowed hard. "So far, so good." He took her hands in his, rubbing them to bring back the circulation. "In fact it looks like we'll be meeting him sooner than we planned."

"I'm not in la
bor," she said slowly then stopped. "I need a Cesarean?"

Charlie nodded. "Inducing labor's too dicey. Burkheit wants to make it as easy on you and the baby as he possibly can." He explained what he understood about placenta abruption.

"It's bad, isn't it?"

His voice was fiercely protective. "You're going to be fine."

"And the baby...?"

He hugged her as close as the I.V. woul
d allow. "Best Christmas present we'll ever get."

You don't believe it, do you, Charlie? You're as scared as I am.
She buried her face against his shoulder and thanked God that for the first time in her life she didn't have to brave the unknown by herself.

#

There was some talk about allowing Charlie to be in surgery for the delivery, but he hadn't completed the Lamaze classes and no one knew how he would handle it without adequate preparation. Besides, there was the very real danger to Caroline and their baby to consider and no one could argue with Dr. Burkheit when he opted for a closed O. R.

Charlie didn't know what to do with himself. They said that, barring complications, the procedure would be over in less than a half-hour and he would be reunited with Caroline and the newborn before he knew it.

Thirty minutes passed.

Then thirty more.

He paced the floor of the waiting room, his gut twisting with a growing sense of dread. With each quarter-hour that slid by, his hopes for a happy ending dimmed another degree.

Finally, a little before eight o'clock, Dr. Burkheit strode down the corridor toward him. Charlie stood perfectly still, as if someone had nailed him to the floor tiles. It was a good thing breathing was a reflex action because he doubted if he had the brain power at the moment to do it on his own.

Burkheit looked drained. Charlie tried not to notice the blood stains on his scrubs but the red blotches drew his eyes again and again. The doctor placed his arm on Charlie's shoulder.

"Your wif
e is fine. She's groggy from anesthesia, but she's fine."

Charlie felt like his knees were going out from under him and he willed himself to stay upright.
"And the baby?"

A faint smile broke through Burkheit's fatigue. "A beautiful baby girl, just
over five pounds. She's in respiratory distress, Charlie. We're doing everything we can."

An oceanic roar pounded in his ears. He vaguely heard Burkheit'
s talk of immature lungs and threat of pneumonia but nothing made sense. He struggled to zero in on exactly what the doctor was saying.

"...in an isolette. We have the best neo-natal care in the state right here. The next seven days will tell the story."

"Does Caroline know?"

Burkheit nodded.

"How did she take it?"

Burkheit considered the question. "You know your wife better than I. She's a strong woman."

#

At the moment Caroline was feeling anything but strong.
Pain from her incision tore through her middle but that was nothing compared to the pain slicing through her heart. A daughter. A baby girl.
Their child.
Somewhere in the bowels of the hospital her baby was all alone and frightened, taken from Caroline too early.

They promised she'd be able to see the baby very soon, but each instant was an eternity to Caroline. Her breasts ached for the child.

She struggled to sit upright in the hospital bed. If she could just see the baby, she would feel better. Grabbing onto the lowered railing for support, she swung her legs over the side. She was hooked up to an I.V., but she'd noticed other women wheeling the trolley behind them like a shopping cart. She could do that. She had to do it even if the world was spinning around her like a child's top.

"What the hell--?" came a familiar voice from the doorway.

"Charlie!" She swayed on her feet and he caught her before she had a chance to fall.

He cradled her in his arms, holding her tightly against his chest, careful not to dislodge the I.V. "It's alright," he murmured. "I'm here. It's
going to be alright."

"I'm sorry," she said, sobs tearing through her body. "Dear God, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault...it's not anybody's fault." He stroked her hair away from her face.

She cried until there were no more tears left. Her body ached from fear and sorrow. "I want to see her."

"You need your sleep, Caroline. You're still groggy from the anesthetic."

"I have to see her. You can't stop me! I have to see where she is...if she's crying....I have to, Charlie!"

Charlie tried to convince her to rest but Caroline was adamant. He went off in search of a nurse. They needed a stretcher or a wheelchair or something to transport Caroline to the nursery and truth was, he prayed the hospital would put its collective foot down and tell Caroline she had to get some sleep before she saw the baby.

There weren't many things in life that scared Charlie. Seeing his newborn baby daughter in an incubator, fighting for survival, was one of them.

The head nurse on the maternity ward was less-than-thrilled with his request, but after speaking with his unstoppable wife, she relented. "Five minutes," she warned. "No more than that. This patient needs some rest."

Charlie grunted his assent as he helped Caroline into the wheelchair. Her beautiful face was set in lines of pain. Each time he rolled the chair over a small bump in the tiled floor, her sharp intake of breath tore at his gut. That was nothing, however, compared with the emptiness in his heart as he thought of the baby. "You won't be able to see much," warned the nurse in charge of preemies. "She's in the isolette on the left, near the back."

He nodded. He didn't want to see much. Hell, he didn't want to see her at all. He didn't want to get to know his daughter only to lose her.

Caroline pressed her face against the glass, cooing soft, unintelligible words of love. Charlie looked at the ceiling, the light fixtures, the clock on the wall, but not once did he look at his little girl.

#

Sam, of course, was the first person they told abou
t the baby's premature arrival and she showed up right after Midnight Mass. "How serious is it?" she asked Charlie while Caroline was being examined by Dr. Burkheit.

Charlie glanced back toward Caroline's room, as if to make certain she wasn't standing in the doorway, listening. "Pretty serious, Sam."

"Her lungs?"

He nodded.

Sam's eyes closed for an instant.

He coughed to clear his throat. "Listen, I--it doesn't seem right that her family doesn't know about the baby. I mean, things might be over--what I'm trying to say is, I think we should tell her parents." He'd tried phoning his mother in London but her housekeeper said Jean was on the continent. He wondered what she'd think when she got the message.

"Do you want me to call them?" Sam asked.

"I guess that's the best way. They probably don't even know about me."

Sam patted his arm. "Don't take it personally, Charlie. It's a complicated situation."

"I figured that," he said.

She embraced him warmly. "Don't give up. Miracles happen every day."

"Yeah," he said. "So I've heard."

iv

Christmas morning dawned and with it came swarms of visitors, all of them eager to show their support and love for Caroline and Charlie and their newborn daughter. One of the nurses told Caroline that it had been standing room only in the small hospital chapel.

"We have good friends," Caroline said over the lump of emotion in her throat.

With all of those prayers, how could there be anything but a happy ending to their story?

The day passed slowly
. Caroline napped between visitors. Charlie grabbed forty winks in the chair at the foot of the bed. They lived for updates on the baby's progress but no matter how the nurses tried to put a good face on the news, the truth was in their eyes.

"Not the way I thought we'd spend Christmas," Charlie said as they visited their daughter in NICU.

"She's here," she said fiercely, "and she's going to be okay. That's all that matters."

He nodded and turned away, but not before she saw his eyes fill with tears.

#

Caroline gained
strength over the next two days; the baby, however, continued to struggle. "She's a fighter," said Dr. Burkheit. "That counts more than you know." They had a scare Christmas night when the baby stopped breathing in her sleep, setting off alarms at the nurses' station. Dr. Burkheit brought in a specialist from Philadelphia and was in phone contact with another from New York City. There was talk about a new treatment, a surfactant to lubricate the baby's lungs, that could be the answer to their prayers, but they had to track down the physician in Los Angeles who'd pioneered its development.

And all through it,
Caroline believed. In her whole life she had never believed in anything as wholeheartedly as she believed that their baby daughter would live. From somewhere deep inside her soul she discovered a wellspring of strength and hope that startled her with its intensity. All things are possible, a small voice whispered. Even being happy.

Charlie was at the hospital more often than not, but
he was there in body only. There was an empty look in his eyes, a hollowness that made her feel cold and lonely. She longed to hold him in her arms and tell him that everything would be fine, that their little girl would grow up to be healthy and strong, but she knew she hadn't the right. The baby's birth had signaled the close of their relationship and she was acutely aware that the end was in sight. And she couldn't fault him. Not really. He had been there for her during her pregnancy. He'd been beside her during this crisis. It wasn't anyone's fault if reality was rearing its ugly head, reminding them that they were two separate people, who had been brought together only to give life to this very special child. There would be no happy endings for them as a couple. Only as parents.

One miracle seemed all that was in the works for them.

She spent all of her time gazing through the window of the nursery, praying for a sign that the worst was over. Charlie spent his time in the hallway, drinking coffee and playing hands of solitaire. He was keeping an emotional distance that made her ache with loneliness for those sweet months they'd shared as they prepared for the baby. Her optimism began to give way to a dark sense of foreboding that clouded her vision like a heavy fog.

Talk to me, Charlie
, she thought as she watched him pace the hallway.
I can help you...we can help each other.
But Charlie maintained his distance and Caroline maintained her silence.

Sam popped up at the hospital a couple times a day
, bringing as much holiday cheer as she could fit in the room. A beautifully decorated little tree. A bright red Christmas stocking just the right size for a baby. A handwritten gift certificate for free baby-sitting any time the new parents needed a break.

"She's going to make it," Sam said, her tone fiercely maternal. "I promise you that."

And Caroline believed.

Murphy and Scotty and Bill O'Rourke all showed up one night, three painfully self-conscious males without the slightest idea what to say.
You're not alone,
thought Caroline.
I don't know what to say either.
She did her best to keep conversation light and breezy, dancing as far away from the topic of her baby as possible. Sam looked hurt; Scotty, confused. Bill O'Rourke tried to bumble his way through with well-meant advice that his son Murphy quickly cut off at the pass.