The moment they hooked me up to the monitors in the delivery room, the alarms started screaming.
The nurses flooded the room. Dr. Sutton appeared at the foot of the bed, her face grim.
“Baby A’s heart rate is dropping dangerously low,” Dr. Sutton commanded, snapping on her surgical gloves. “We can’t wait. We have to do an emergency C-section. Now.”
They wheeled my bed down the stark, blindingly bright hallway. The doors to the operating room banged open.
As they transferred me to the surgical table and the anesthesiologist brought the mask to my face, I heard a commotion outside the doors.
“I am the father! Let me in! You can’t keep me out of there!” David’s voice echoed through the sterile hall, raw and desperate.
I looked up at Dr. Sutton as the medication began to pull me under.
“Keep him out,” I whispered, fighting the heavy pull of sleep. “Only me. Just me and them.”
Dr. Sutton nodded. “You’re safe, Lauren. I’ve got you.”
The world went dark.
When I finally woke, the heavy fog of anesthesia clinging to my brain, the hospital room was completely silent.
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