Millie
The drive to the hospital is the most torturous experience of my life. Even through the adrenaline, I can feel whiplash in my neck from the crash as well as multiple bruises and scrapes all over my body. I hold my belly instinctually as if my attention will prevent the baby from feeling my stress, fear, and worry.
Nikolai drives while Viktor sits in the passenger seat, holding my hand. Even though I have to put myself out of my own head to keep calm, I still appreciate his effort to soothe me as best he can on our way to the hospital. I’ve never been to a hospital here, and I’m terrified of doctors, so he’ll have to be extremely present with me throughout this entire process.
As Nikolai drives, I wonder to myself if perhaps I’ve actually died and am in some kind of purgatory, like this drive will last for eternity until my sins have been weighed by the powers that be.
I think about Stepan’s body, the way his face was caved in and mangled into an unrecognizable, inhuman mess from the shots Viktor fired. Even though he was an insane, selfish, evil person, I can’t help but shed a few tears for Katya. No matter who he really was, she lost her father today, and she doesn’t even know it.
When we pull up to the hospital, Nikolai nearly sprints through the sliding glass doors of the Emergency Department. Within minutes, a team of medical personnel exit the building with a stretcher.
Suddenly, I’m being lambasted with questions.
What is your name?
Do you know where you are?
Do you know how far along you are?
Have you taken any medications in the past twelve hours?
When was the last time you ate or drank anything?
I’m hardly given any time to answer as I’m moved from the backseat onto the gurney.
Viktor was right; I was only standing by the grace of adrenaline that is now fleeing my bloodstream. With every wrong move, every grasp that is slightly too rough on my arms, I find a new kind of pain that rivals the last. I feel like I’ve been broken into a hundred pieces, held together only by my skin, also broken and weeping from my pores.
The nurses and doctors buzz around my head, placing me in a c-collar for precautionary purposes. I can still feel my toes, to my relief. Any relief I can find right now is sent from God.
Viktor is told multiple times not to try to help, not to interfere, but I crave the warmth of his hand in mine as I’m wheeled into the Emergency Department. He follows closely behind, but I’ve never felt more alone and afraid in my life.
The fluorescent lights fly above me as we race down the hall, and the medical team takes turns spitting information, measurements, and numbers that I couldn’t begin to understand the meaning of.
What I do know is that they seem worried.
I begin to fade in and out of consciousness as we enter an exam room, awakened only by the incessant poking and prodding of the nurses and the shouting of the attending as they all work to keep me from going into shock.
“We need to make sure the baby is okay,” I hear Viktor say to nobody in particular. His voice sounds like an echo, and I snap myself awake again as I realize that I’m fading.
“Once we have her stabilized, we can have her lab work sent, and she’ll be brought to ultrasound. For now, you need to take a step back and let us work,” says a firm but kind nurse as she inserts an IV into the top of my hand.
I can’t be given narcotics for the pain, which is another symptom of pregnancy that I never thought I would be impacted by.
I never knew how much I would need to bargain with God for the sweet release from pain that can be bought with opioids. The acetaminophen drip they’ve given me hasn’t touched my pain by a longshot. I don’t know how long I could live like this before I went crazy.
After my vitals have finally started to calm down, I’ve been given permission to drift off to sleep so long as I’m being closely monitored by the floor nurse. Viktor pulls a chair right up to my bed, delicately holding the hand without the IV in it as I fade in and out of sleep.
Just as I’m about to fall into a deep state of rest, I’m jolted awake by a nurse tapping my arm. “Hi sweetie, I know you’re resting, but it’s time for me to take you down to ultrasound, okay?” she says, her voice just a bit too sugary for me to trust her fully.
I groan a little bit, attempting to lift myself into an upright position and failing.
“Um, husband, can you help her sit up?” the nurse asks Viktor, who is pleasantly taken off guard by being referred to as my husband. Even in as much pain as I’m in, his reaction makes my heart feel effervescent.
Viktor carefully steadies me as I attempt to sit up again, and as soon as he has to let go of me, I want to beg him to come back. I need him to follow me to the ultrasound, to be with me every step of the way. I can’t do this alone.
“I’ll be right here when you get back,” he says, kissing my hand before I’m wheeled out of the room down the hallway.
The chaos of the Emergency Room can be heard from all directions. From one end of the hallway, I can hear screaming from a man who is begging God to get the hallucinated spiders off him.
The next door down is a woman who shouts at a doctor as he informs her that he isn’t sure what’s causing her daughter’s abdominal pain.
I feel so exposed being rolled down the hallway in the hospital gown I’ve been forced to wear. I pull my blankets over my feet, feeling my partial nakedness even more strongly as we continue onward. The nurse is kind enough, but she exudes this false maternal energy that makes me feel like she’s even less trustworthy than a nurse who is standoffish but efficient.
When we enter the ultrasound room, a young girl by the name of Alaina greets me warmly, explaining the procedure piece by piece to put me at ease.
The ultrasound experience is certainly not what I would have hoped or expected for my first child, but I’m more than grateful to have the chance to see my baby at all. When Alaina moves the probe in just the right place, I can hear my baby’s heartbeat for the first time, and through all my pain and anxiety, I’m finally able to cry tears of joy.
“Do you want me to give you a printed photo to take home?” Alaina asks, and I nod as much as I can, with my neck still in as much pain as it is.
I cling to the photo, hardly able to take my eyes off it as I’m brought back to my room. Before I’m even fully through the door, I tell Viktor to come to me to see the picture of the child we made together.
Of course, the photo just looks like an amorphous blob compared to a fully formed human baby, but Viktor can’t stop smiling as he takes in what few details there are. I wonder to myself who our baby will look like more, what features they’ll gain from me and what they’ll take from him. I know for a fact they’ll be beautiful no matter what, and I’m dying to meet them.