Bent not Broken (59 page)

I still couldn’t believe Melanie was here.

It was all I could do to keep myself from jumping over the table to get to her, to fall to my knees, to plead for forgiveness, to beg her to take me back. In her brief touch, I’d found everything I’d missed for the last nine years, and I knew then what my heart had known the whole time—she was mine. Even with her husband sitting between us, I knew she was mine.

I’d never told anyone about Eva. It was my loss and I couldn’t bear to have a stranger pity me when it was impossible for them to even begin to understand the way her death had destroyed me. But I knew it’d destroyed Melanie too, and there was no way I’d sit across from her and not acknowledge the child we’d created. Swallowing, I cleared my throat and tried to gain enough courage to verbalize it in front of these strangers. “I had a baby girl. But she passed away.”

March 2000

What was happening?

Everything was a blur. Voices murmured too low for me to hear or the pain drowned them out, I wasn’t sure which. I hurt everywhere and I felt as if I was suffocating. I gasped against the burn in my lungs as I fought to take in a breath. Suddenly everything shifted as my eyesight came into focus, as my surroundings became clear.

“Melanie!” I struggled to sit up, but I was strapped onto a stretcher. “Please, I have to get to her. Please!” My voice cracked with the sob that erupted from my chest as I begged them to free me. I had to find her.

“Sir, you need to calm down. We’re trying to help you.” A paramedic leaned over me, shining a light in my eyes.

“I have to help her. Where is she? Please.” My eyes darted around. Dense trees lining the road rushed past the windows of the speeding ambulance. I caught sight of my blood-soaked shirt.

Oh my God.

I thrashed against the restraints as fear gutted me. A scream rushed up my throat, but no sound came.

“Sir, you need to relax. She’s already on her way to the hospital in Denver.”

A needle was jabbed in my arm and warmth spread through my veins, but it wasn’t the warmth I desired. A fog trapped me in my mind, my heart screaming, but the rest of my body went numb as darkness raced in.

****

“Daniel.” The voice was soft and drew me in. “Sweetheart.” Tender fingers ran through my hair, caressing me, giving me strength.

“Mom?” I blinked.

She leaned over me, one hand holding mine while the other stroked my head. Her eyes filled with tears.

I tried to sit up, but the pain tearing through my chest forced me back down.

“Just relax.” She tried to soothe me, but her voice trembled and it had the opposite effect.

“Melanie?” I rasped. Sensing movement, I turned to find my dad standing on the other side. He cleared his throat, his face tormented. His mouth opened and closed, as if he couldn’t find it in himself to speak the words. Dread twisted itself deep inside me, in a place I didn’t know, and I braced myself for the news that would shatter my life.

“She’s going to be okay, Daniel.” He placed his hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eyes.

Relief flooded me, and I breathed in a painful breath, tears breaking free and running down my face.

“She’s still in surgery right now and she’s doing well.”

I choked, the relief I felt moments before gone. “Surgery?”

“She had some internal bleeding, but they have it under control.” He tried to reassure me, but that same dread burrowed deeper.

I felt my heart breaking as I forced myself to ask the next question. “The baby?” They were less than words and more like a strangled sound in the back of my throat, sticking to my tongue as they tried to pass.

Dad grimaced. “It’s not good, Daniel.” He closed his eyes, trying to get himself together to play the doctor, before he looked back up at me. “They took her by C-section, and she’s on a ventilator.” He paused and looked away from me, his voice cracking when he whispered, “It’s very early, son.”

Overwhelming grief shook me as I realized what I’d done. “It was my fault...oh my God...I wasn’t paying attention...I…” Guilt tumbled from my mouth as an incoherent, tangled confession.

“No, Daniel.” Mom clutched at my hand, releasing the words in a desperate whisper, “The other driver crossed into your lane. There was nothing you could have done.”

Mom could say anything she wanted, but I wouldn’t lie to myself. Even Melanie saw that car before I did.

I closed my eyes, allowed the guilt to come.

Dad’s hold tightened on my shoulder, his voice low and firm. “You don’t have time for this, Daniel. Melanie’s going to need you to be strong for her...and blaming yourself isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Can I see them?” The need to see Melanie was just as powerful as the guilt I bore. I had to feel her heart beat beneath my hands, to see for myself that she was okay.

And Eva.

The thought of my baby girl nearly made me crumble.

“You should be able to soon. I have to warn you, Daniel,” his voice softened, “Melanie’s going to be on a ventilator for a few days until the swelling goes down around her brain. You need to be prepared that she’s not going to look very good. She also has some other injuries...” he said, trailing off as his focus drifted to the floor.

“What? Dad...please?” After everything, I couldn’t handle him hiding anything from me. “You have to be honest with me.”

He sighed. “I know, Daniel, it’s just a lot for you to take in all at once, and you have to take care of yourself too. You have three cracked ribs and a pretty bad cut above your eye.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine.”

He pulled up a chair next to me and I did the best I could to prepare myself for what he would say. He ran the palm of his hand back and forth over his mouth, tension rolling from him as he began to speak.

My heart fell as he described Melanie’s injuries. She was going to be devastated. But we could get through that. I just had to be thankful she was going to be okay.

“Tell me more about the baby,” I asked, unable to keep my voice from shaking.

His head dropped into his hands, and when he looked back up, unshed tears clouded his eyes. His words were barely audible and I strained to hear. “She’s in bad shape, Daniel. She only weighs a little over a pound and a half and she can’t breathe on her own. All we can do is wait.”

It just didn’t seem real. But I knew what would make it real.

“I need to see her.” I sat up, struggling to right myself against the physical pain trying to hold me down. “Please, take me to her. I have to see her.”

“I’ll go out and check. Your doctor was already having your paperwork drawn up to have you discharged.”

It seemed like the next hour dragged on forever as I waited to be released. We received word that Melanie was out of surgery and in recovery, and they’d let us see her in about three hours. They said I could see the baby anytime. I almost got up and left, but Dad wanted to make sure I was cleared before I started walking around. I couldn’t bring myself to care about my injuries. All I cared about was seeing my girls.

“Daniel, sweetheart,” Mom cooed to me as if I were five again, but somehow I didn’t mind. Instinctively, I knew she needed to take care of me as much as I felt the need to take care of my own child. “It’s going to be okay.” Worry lines were set deep on her face. I couldn’t imagine the fear my parents must have felt when they got the call.

“Mom, does Steve know?” I couldn’t even imagine how angry Steve was going to be. He didn’t even know Melanie was pregnant, and now he was a grandfather.

“Your dad just called a few minutes ago after Melanie got out of surgery. But, Daniel...” She hesitated before she continued. “He doesn’t know about the baby. We thought it would be best if you told him face-to-face.” I was certain that would be the most difficult conversation I’d ever had.

Dad poked his head through the door. “You’re all cleared. Are you ready to go?”

I nodded pensively, both eager and terrified to meet my daughter.

Cautiously, I stood, the ache searing through my chest.

Mom wrapped a supportive arm around my waist as we followed Dad to the elevator. The gesture wasn’t enough to keep my anxiety from boiling over.

It was hard to breathe as the elevator door opened to the floor below. I reached out to the wall for support as the window came into view, the one displaying the perfect, healthy babies. Families stood with smiles on their faces, excited to catch their first glimpse.

Dad stopped me at the sign directing us to the neonatal intensive care unit. “Daniel, do you need a few minutes?”

I shook my head. I needed to see her now, no matter how scared I was.

We walked farther down the hall to a window with a woman behind a counter. In a very low voice, Dad said, “Baby Montgomery.”

“ID’s please.” She began to go through a list of the rules, but Dad cut in. “I’m a consulting physician on the case. I’ll go over the details with them.” He took out his ID and the woman verified it.

Even though infants were not his specialty, I took comfort in knowing my father would watch over her care.

Once the nurse buzzed us through double doors, we scrubbed our hands at a sink. I washed beside Dad, my gut twisted in knots, unable to grasp what I was preparing to face. Finally, we entered through a second pair of double doors, the light dim and the room quiet. It was as if I had entered another world. Little incubators sat between curtained walls, nurses quickly and silently moving around the room. Couples sat in rocking chairs next to some of the incubators, a few of them with babies in their arms.

Fear traveled up my spine and settled in my neck as it all became real. A lump formed in my throat. Swallowing over it, I followed Dad across the room.

My knees became weak when I first saw her, and Dad reached out to steady me. Placing all my weight upon him, I tried to rid myself of the apprehension I felt so I could focus on my daughter.

Wires were everywhere—in her legs, in her arms, running through her nose and mouth. I couldn’t hold back the sob when I saw just how small she really was. Her legs and arms were not much thicker than one of my fingers, and her whole body was not much longer than my hand. Her skin was almost transparent, as if I could see every vein in her body. Her eyes were taped closed, and her little chest rose and fell with the machine that kept her alive.

It was simultaneously the most horrifying and beautiful thing I had ever seen.

She was so broken and yet so perfect.

My daughter.

My heart swelled with love for her and broke all at the same time. “Eva,” I whispered to her, hoping she could hear me.

“What did you say?” Mom asked, a small smile on her face and her cheeks wet with tears.

“Her name is Eva. We decided last night.” How long ago that perfect moment seemed now.

“It’s beautiful.” Mom reached a tender hand out to me, once again, giving me comfort.

“Can I hold her?”

Could I? I was terrified, but I’d never wanted anything more.

“Give me a minute and I’ll check” Dad walked to one of the nurses, talked to her lower than I could hear. She followed him back and pointed to the single chair that was in the enclosure.

“If you’ll sit there, I’ll bring her to you.”

Obviously she was adept at her job as she shuffled wires around and wrapped Eva in a blanket at the same moment she lifted her. Carefully, she transferred my daughter to my arms. I cautiously held my little girl, her chest resting against mine.

Precious.

I closed my eyes against the fear and the pain and just loved her.

It was the only thing I could give her.

Breathing her in, I committed her unique scent to memory. She smelled almost sweet, like her mom, but something altogether her own. I smiled against her head and cradled her to me, rocking her, murmuring my adoration to her.

“Please, baby girl, you have to be strong.”

In silence, my parents stood by my side, each with a hand on one of my shoulders, their support complete and unending.

I flinched with the flash of light as Mom snapped a picture of us. “Sorry,” she mumbled. I shook my head. I didn’t mind.

I’d only held her for a few minutes when the nurse said it was time to return her to her incubator. I watched as the nurse settled her back and checked her monitors. As much as I hated the thought of leaving her, it was time to go to Melanie.

When I reached in to touch her little hand, Eva wrapped it around my finger. I smiled as I felt her against me. I whispered, “I love you,” as I caressed the back of her hand. Longing filled my chest when I turned to walk away.

The second we were in the hall, Mom pulled me into a hug. “I’m so proud of you, Daniel. You’ve grown into the man I’ve always prayed you’d become.” Swollen and red, her eyes shimmered in the light as she looked at me.

I hugged her back, needing her support now more than I ever had. “Thank you, Mom.” My voice was strained with the fatigue that quickly set in, the unrelenting pain in my chest absolutely killing me as I sagged against my mother.

Dad joined in our embrace, drawing us close as the three of us grieved together. He pulled back first. “I think Melanie should be in her room by now.”