Wildflowers from Winter (36 page)

Where in the world was Bethany?

After her phone call, he’d hopped out of bed, thrown on a pair of jeans, a wrinkled T-shirt, and a pair of sandals, then rushed to the hospital. When he reached Robin’s room, he’d expected to see Bethany sitting by her side, not a nurse. The sight of Robin, grimacing against whatever invisible pain gripped her womb, caused sweat to bead against his collar. He’d never felt Micah’s absence more than he did at that moment.

Evan strode down the hallway, bucket in hand, determined to fill up some of the empty space in that room. Just as he passed the elevators, the door leading to the stairwell swung open. He held up his hand to stop it from slamming in his face and fumbled with the ice just as Bethany emerged from the other side.

“Where have you been?”

“Evan.” The relief and gratitude surrounding his name sent warmth throbbing to his fingertips. It clashed against the coolness of the bucket. She pressed her bangs against her forehead with a shaky hand. “I’m so glad you’re here. How’s she doing? How’s the baby?”

“Dr. Hannigan said it’s happening fast. Last time they checked, she was dilated to seven. She’s really scared.” Who was he kidding? “
I’m
really scared.”

Bethany’s fingers tightened around the strap of her purse. He recognized the determined set of her jaw, only this time she looked nothing like the cold, granite statue he’d compared her to when they first met on Dan’s front porch. Admiration swelled inside him. Seven months ago, he’d wanted Bethany to go back to Chicago. To leave Robin and Dan alone. Now, he couldn’t imagine supporting Micah’s wife without Bethany by his side.

This time, when he reached Robin’s room, there was another person inside—an older woman in scrubs. She attended to something at the other side of the room while the young nurse murmured encouraging words to his sister-in-law, who lay curled on her side, a low, pathetic moan escaping from the back of her throat. He strode to her bedside and took solace in the quick-paced tapping of the baby’s heart issuing from the machine.

Robin’s teeth chattered in tune with her trembling limbs. He set the bucket on the nightstand. “Why is she so cold?”

The nurse readjusted the monitor attached to Robin’s belly. “The hormones are making her shake.”

At the sound of his voice, Robin uncurled from her ball and searched the room with frantic eyes. “Where’s Bethany?”

Bethany stepped around Evan, but before she reached the bed, Robin’s mouth screwed up in a painful smile and she buried her face in the pillow. The nurse placed a gentle hand on the curve of Robin’s back. “You’re doing great. You’re doing such a good job. Just keep breathing.” But the young nurse’s face was pinched, worried.

The sight made Evan’s heart sputter.

“I’m going to get the doctor. I’ll be right back,” she said.

Robin’s face relaxed, but the shaking did not ease. She turned her face deeper into the pillow and muffled a weak sob. “I can’t do this.”

Bethany pressed her fingers against Robin’s brow and stroked away the tendrils of hair sticking to her forehead. “You get to meet your baby today, Robin. That heartbeat we’ve been hearing, that tiny person we’ve seen on the screen? Today you get to hold that little one in your arms.”

A lump wedged in Evan’s throat.

Robin resurfaced from the pillow, her eyes an imprint of pain he’d never seen before. “I can’t do this alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Bethany said. “You have us.”

Us
. He loved the way that sounded.

“And you have God.”

Evan brought his chin back. Had those words really just come from Bethany? Robin drew in a ragged breath. “But God can’t hold my hand. He can’t hold my baby either.”

The lump in Evan’s throat doubled in size. What Robin said was true. God couldn’t hold the baby. At least not in the way Micah could have if he were alive.

“You’re right,” Bethany said.

Evan shot her a look. Now was not the time to say what she was thinking.

“But He brought people into your life who can.” Bethany intertwined her fingers with Robin’s and squeezed. “We’ll hold your hand, Robin. And we’ll hold your baby too.”

The truth of it crushed his chest.
She’s right, God. She’s absolutely right
.

But how could Evan hold Robin’s hand—or her baby—if he lived in Missouri?

Robin shut her eyes. Quick puffs of air, one after another, squeezed
from her lips. Dr. Hannigan rushed into the room, followed by the nurse. Both were frowning.

“Robin, honey,” the nurse said, “I’m going to check to see if you’re ready to push.”

Robin moaned.

Evan felt as if he’d swallowed a hive full of angry bees. What was wrong? What was making the doctor frown? His eyes met Bethany’s. She had noticed too.

“Okay, Robin.” The nurse looked up from her splayed legs. “You’re at a ten. Dr. Hannigan and I are going to need you to push every time you have a contraction.”

Robin’s head lolled on top of her neck, her limbs trembling against the cotton sheets.

“Robin,” Dr. Hannigan said, “your baby’s heart rate is lower than we’d like it to be right now. We need to get this little one out quickly.”

“The baby’s heart?”

Dr. Hannigan didn’t hear Robin’s faint question. He turned to the older woman in scrubs. “If we don’t get the baby out in several pushes, we’re going to do an emergency C-section.”

But Bethany must have. Because she bent low and tightened her grip on Robin’s hand. “Look at me, Robin. Your baby is going to be fine. Just focus on pushing. That’s all you need to do right now.”

The nurse grabbed hold of Robin’s right leg and motioned for Evan to do the same with her left. “Hold on tight. Let her press against your palm while she pushes.”

Blood
whoosh
ed past his ears, his throat filled with a dry heat that did not match the temperature in the room. He copied the nurse. And a contraction came. It gripped Robin’s body. It wrenched her face. She doubled over in the bed and did exactly what Bethany yelled for her to do.

She pushed.

Robin released Bethany’s hand from its vise and fell back onto the bed. Bethany gaped at the monitor. If she could, she would have rent her heart from her chest and shared it with the frantic pulsing of the baby fighting inside Robin’s womb.

Dr. Hannigan studied the monitor, tiny frowns etched across every line on his forehead. Bethany’s heart stuttered over each one. She wanted to wipe them away. She wanted to reach her hands inside Robin and pull the tiny bundle out to safety. Demand the baby’s heart rate to behave. But since she couldn’t do that, she found herself pleading, bargaining, and begging a God she’d either ignored or disdained for the majority of her life.

Robin panted in the bed while Bethany held back a scream. Did they just have to sit and wait until another contraction came? Why couldn’t she keep pushing?

Robin jerked, then sat up and bent over her legs. Okay. So the wait wasn’t long. Pink blotches bloomed on Robin’s cheeks and spread to her forehead, until a violent shade of red painted her face and neck. She squeezed Bethany’s hand, grinding her knuckles into dust. Bethany ignored the pain and urged Robin to squeeze harder. Push harder.

Dr. Hannigan looked at the monitor. “Keep pushing, Robin. Push hard. I can see the top of the head. Keep going. That’s it.”

Bethany’s muscles coiled. The air in her chest billowed like flames. Any second now, the doctor would pull out a squalling child. She held her breath. Captured the hot air inside her lungs. Denied it release until she could know for sure the baby was out and alive.

Robin gulped in a loud breath. She let go of Bethany’s hand and sunk onto the bed, the redness of her face ebbing away. “I can’t do this. I can’t …”

Lacy kept one hand on Robin’s leg and used the other to squeeze
Robin’s shoulder. “You’re doing it, honey. A couple more good pushes and you’ll get to meet your baby.”

Bethany looked at the screen. Ever since the doctor said the baby’s heart rate was lower than normal, she’d kept her eyes glued to the monitor. And she didn’t like what she saw. Why was this happening? Why the decline? She opened her mouth. The pent-up air
swoosh
ed out in a heated question directed at the doctor. “Is it supposed to be doing that?” she whispered, jerking her head toward the machine.

Dr. Hannigan turned somber eyes in her direction, the answer written on his face.
No. No, of course it wasn’t supposed to be doing that
.

Robin’s posture stiffened. She reached for Bethany’s hand. Bethany sacrificed it eagerly.

“Okay, Robin,” the doctor said. “I need you to push. Push as hard and as long as you can.”

Robin bent over, pushing against Lacy and Evan, her entire body tense and trembling.

“The baby’s head is crowning, I need you to keep pushing, Robin. Keep pushing for your baby!”

Bethany could not look away from the monitor. Stop! Stop dropping! Get the baby out! Her insides screamed.
Enough, God! No more!
She imagined falling to the ground and pounding her fists against the floor, a twenty-eight-year-old’s temper tantrum. She watched Robin’s face turn from pink, to red, to purple. Then from purple, to red, to pink.

No! Keep pushing!

Dr. Hannigan must have noticed the change in her posture. He shifted, almost like a jerk, and moved closer. “The head is almost all the way out. Push just a little bit more, Robin. Just a little. We need to get your baby out.”

“I can’t … I can’t do this …” Robin’s voice came out weak and breathless, her partially closed eyelids sliding farther down her eyes. “Bethy, I can’t do this.”

This time Bethany squeezed her hand. “Give it one last push. You have it in you, I know you do.” She squeezed harder, shaking strength into Robin’s fingers. “Come on, now. Push!”

Robin screwed up her face one last time. Her body doubled over completely … and she pushed. She pushed until nothing remained of Bethany’s hand but a limp rag, squeezed of all its nerves and blood. And just when Bethany thought her hand might sever from its wrist, the pushing stopped. Robin released Bethany’s hand and fell back onto the bed.

A momentary silence encapsulated the room. A fraction of nothing but empty space. Bethany’s heart stopped. Her lungs stopped. Everything stopped as she strained her ears, reaching out to a sound she knew should be coming. Only nothing came.

Robin lay limp in the bed. The doctor no longer told her to push. The doctor didn’t pay any attention to Robin at all. Instead, he and the nurses flocked around a baby Bethany couldn’t see. A baby that wasn’t crying.

Bethany’s heart careened into a fit, palpitating out of control, until a quick movement from the nurse burst through her panic and a sharp cry pierced the air.

A wonderful, glorious, amazing wail.

Bethany’s chest collapsed against the sound.

“You have a baby boy. A healthy baby boy.”

Dr. Hannigan’s words washed over Bethany. Her eyes burned until they pooled and spilled with tears. She turned to Evan, his eyes wide as he watched Lacy work on the crying baby. He ran his hand through messy hair. “Micah’s son. Robin, it’s Micah’s son.”

Robin’s face crumpled. She covered it with her hands.

Lacy came back with the swaddled infant, wrapped snug and warm inside a blanket with a cap over his head. Tears slid down Robin’s cheeks and dripped off her chin, falling onto the precious piece of Micah resting in her arms.

Bethany stood by her side, her body flooding with awe. She devoured every wrinkle, every dimple, every feature on that baby’s body, from his scrunched nose to his tiny fingers to the precious point of his chin. She marveled at his design, unable to deny a Creator. A master Craftsman sharing His masterpiece six weeks early, only to reveal something complete and whole and breathtakingly beautiful. Like a field of wildflowers after the long, harsh months of winter. A gift that symbolized new life. New hope. And new beginnings.

THIRTY-SEVEN

T
hey let Robin hold Caleb Micah Price for two minutes before taking him to the NICU. Although he was breathing on his own and weighed a healthy five pounds, three ounces, they needed to follow procedure.

Bethany sat in the hallway, giving Robin time alone to rest, giving Evan time with his family who had gathered in the waiting room, giving herself time to process her scattered thoughts. She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes, an aimless sense of gratitude lifting her spirit.

Watching Robin give birth to Caleb, hearing him scream in all his perfection and innocence, had stroked a piece of her heart she’d only begun to acknowledge. She’d witnessed something profound. Something filled with so much more meaning than the success and recognition she’d chased over the past ten years. The birth of Caleb accomplished in minutes what she thought would take weeks, maybe months, possibly years to achieve. Seeing Caleb’s tiny body emerge from her broken friend had blown away her carefully constructed facade. Bethany stood behind the crumbling structure, exposed and naked.

And with the exposure came a deep ache for something larger than herself. Something powerful enough to hold the broken pieces of her past and the uncertainty of her future. Something that brought forth a healthy baby, despite his plummeting heart rate, despite being six weeks premature.
Could Bethany embrace this something—this God of strength and tenderness, this God without boundaries—as her own?