Chapter 6 - The Emergency
The stress of the past five days finally caught up with my body at two o'clock on Friday morning.
I woke up to a sharp, wrapping pain that started deep in my lower back and radiated relentlessly across my lower abdomen. Unlike the irregular Braxton Hicks contractions I had experienced earlier in the week, this pain didn't fade when I shifted positions or took a sip of water.
It gripped my core, holding tight for nearly sixty agonizing seconds before slowly releasing its hold.
I sat up in the dark bedroom, clutching my stomach, breathing through my nose just as my childbirth class instructor had taught us. I reached for my phone on the nightstand and started the contraction timer app.
Seven minutes later, another contraction struck. Then another, precisely seven minutes after that.
They were regular. They were escalating.
I was thirty-five weeks pregnant.
Staying remarkably calm, I called the 24-hour labor and delivery triage line at the hospital.
“Tessa,” the triage nurse said after listening to my description and timing records. “Because you’re thirty-five weeks and have a history of early labor signs this week, I want you to come in immediately. Do you have someone to drive you?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “My sister is on her way.”
I didn't call Colin. I didn't send him a frantic text pleading for him to meet me at the hospital. He had made his choice when he drained our savings account and checked into a hotel with his mother. He had forfeited his right to be my support system.
I called Clara. Five minutes later, her car pulled into my driveway.
Mark stayed behind at my house to watch the security system and ensure no one attempted to drop by unannounced, while Clara drove me smoothly toward the regional medical center.
By three-thirty in the morning, I was settled into a quiet assessment room in the Labor and Delivery unit, hooked up to fetal monitors that tracked my baby's heartbeat and the steady, rhythmic wave of my contractions.
The door opened, and Dr. Yates walked in, wearing scrubs and a tired but reassuring warm smile.
“Alright, Tessa,” Dr. Yates said, examining the paper strip printing from the monitor. “Your contractions are definitely real, and your cervix is starting to dilate slightly. You’re at thirty-five weeks today.”
“Is the baby okay?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly for the first time all night.
“Baby’s heartbeat is fantastic—strong, steady, and resilient,” Dr. Yates reassured me, patting my leg gently. “At thirty-five weeks, her lungs are well-developed, but we’d still prefer to stall this labor for another week or two if we can. I’m starting you on a hydration IV and a mild medication to relax your uterine muscles. We’re going to keep you here overnight for monitoring.”
I let out a long, shuddering breath of relief. “Thank you, Doctor.”
Clara sat in the armchair beside my bed, holding my hand tightly as the nurse hooked up the IV line.
“Did you tell Colin?” Clara asked softly once the medical staff stepped out of the room.
“No,” I said quietly, looking at the glowing monitor screen tracking my daughter's steady heartbeat. “If I tell Colin, Janice will show up at this hospital within twenty minutes, demanding entry to the delivery room, making a scene, and driving my stress levels through the roof. I cannot protect my daughter while trying to manage his family's drama.”
Clara nodded solemnly. “I already gave your legal team’s paperwork to the head floor nurse. You are listed as a strict 'No Information, No Visitors' patient. Nobody gets past the locked security doors unless their name is on your approved list.”
“Who is on the list?” I asked.
“Me and Mark,” Clara smiled softly. “That’s it.”
As the soothing IV medication began to take effect, the sharp intensity of the contractions slowly started to subside. The room was quiet, lit only by the soft green glow of the heart monitor and the gentle hum of the air unit.
I laid my hand over my bump, feeling the tiny, miraculous kicks of my daughter against my palm.
May you like
For months, I had worried about whether I would be strong enough to raise a child, whether I had what it took to be a good mother. But lying in that hospital room, having successfully protected us both from an army of toxic relatives and an unreliable husband, I realized something fundamental.
I was already protecting her. And I was never going to stop.
