She nods, biting deep into her lip and squeezing my hand.
“Contraction?” I ask as we step onto the elevator.
“Yes! Oh god!” She releases me and grips the railing, holding on tight as whatever pain she’s in rolls through her. I pull out my phone and text Keegan to tell her we’ll be there in a minute and that she needs the team ready and possibly the OR and NICU teams. Then I text my charge nurse tonight and let her know what’s happening and that she’ll have to cover me because I’m not leaving Katy.
I just fucking won’t.
The elevator doors open and clearly Keegan got the message because she’s here.
“What happened?” she asks, her red hair on top of her head and her green eyes fire and nothing short of intense. I relay a quick version of what happened upstairs, though Katy hasn’t moved from the railing.
“Katy?” I question.
“My underwear and scrubs are wet. I can’t look down. I can’t do it. Red or clear?”
Keegan looks like she’s about to lose her shit right here. “Red.”
Katy sobs, but that’s it. That’s the only sound. “Get me to the OR and get my baby out safely. I don’t care about the cost. I think I might also need some dextrose because I’m shaking and I can’t tell if it’s low blood sugar or adrenaline. Or blood loss, for that matter.”
“We’ll check you. Can you get to the wheelchair?” I question, placing my hand on her back.
Katy nods and takes a step back, her eyes pinched shut as if she can’t stand to look down. I help her into the wheelchair, and then we’re off, heading down to the OR while Keegan rapid-fires questions.
“When was the last time you ate? When did you feel the baby move last? Are you feeling him move now? Where is Bennett and what do you want me to do about him?”
Katy answers every question, but the moment we get into the OR, I’m told to gown and glove up while they get Katy onto a gurney and do a stat ultrasound.
Keegan talks to Katy as she scans her. “Baby looks good and his heart rate is strong, but you’re absolutely in labor, and your placenta is tearing from the uterine wall. I know it’s early, but I’m going to do a C-section to get him out because while he’s okay now, if we don’t act, he won’t stay that way for long. The tear is too great to heal on its own. I’m going to scrub in and get your little man out. We have everything we need for both of you. Get that epidural in now,” she barks at the person standing off to the side.
Anesthesia places an epidural in Katy, the room uncomfortably silent as everyone works.
Katy bites her lip as tears streak down her face while the nurses put a mesh cap over her head, and I place one over mine. I sit on a stool by her head because I’m absolutely no help here. I’ve seen C-sections, but I’ve never assisted, and this isn’t my place. My place is here with her.
“Bennett has to do the surgery,” Katy tells me, her eyes beseeching. “But I need him here.”
I press my forehead to the side of hers. “I know. What do you want me to tell him?”
“Nothing yet. It’ll distract him.”
Katy’s arms are winged out beside her, and I grip the one closest to me as Keegan returns, is gowned up, does a quick time out, and says, “Ten blade. Baby out in ninety seconds, and the NICU team along with pediatrics are standing by. What’s mom’s blood sugar?”
“Ninety-three,” one of the nurses calls out.
“Good. You hear that, Katy? Your blood sugar is fine, and you will be too.”
That’s it. Then Keegan is all work and a giant blue drape isthe only thing separating us from Katy delivering her baby. Katy is crying and I’m crying along with her.
Me: Give me updates on where you are with the surgery.
Bennett: Jessica texting for Dr. Lawson. Patient has a grade three liver laceration and a small bowel perf and continues to dance in and out of V-tach with evidence of an MI. We have cardiac and general surgery on the way. Dr. Lawson is asking for an update on the other Dr. Lawson.
“Bennett wants an update,” I whisper to Katy. “He’s operating right now, and reinforcements are on the way, but he’s still lead.”
She sniffles. “I don’t know what to say. The trauma surgeon in me wants you to tell him I’m fine so he can focus on the patient. But the mother and wife in me wants him here.”
“Baby is out,” Keegan declares, though we don’t hear a cry. “Time of delivery seventeen thirty-three.”
“Keegan!” Katy cries.