“Mr. Gleb, it’s time.” The doctor walked in and said, while the nurses stood at alert.
Gleb nodded and kissed me on the lips one more time. “Everything will be okay.”
I nodded, trying to believe him. My strength was renewed by his words and presence. As I watched him leave the maternity ward, my heart grew sore. I can’t wait to have our baby!
I felt the cold sting of the needle in my lower back, and for a moment, everything went numb. The sterile blue drape blocked my view, but I could still hear the clattering of metal instruments, the nurses moving quickly around me, and my own ragged breath.
At first, I tried to focus on the procedure, to calm myself with Gleb’s words. But the noises, the rush of movement, the sudden increase in activity around me, it was too much. I couldn’t breathe. My heart raced faster, panic setting in as I realized something wasn’t right.
The room emptied almost immediately. My pulse thundered in my ears, and the silence that followed felt suffocating. I twisted in the bed, trying to get a glimpse of the baby, but the sterile drape blocked my view. “Where is she? Where is my baby?” I screamed, my voice raw with fear.
The nurses refused to answer, their eyes averted. The tension in the room thickened, and my stomach twisted with dread. “Please, just tell me my girl is fine.” I pleaded, my tears flowing freely as I clutched at my chest.
The tension in the room grew unbearable. I felt a knot in my stomach, my heart racing. A strange numbness crept through me, slow at first, then all at once.
The lights blurred. Voices faded.
And then, like a curtain falling over the world, the darkness pulled me under.
Chapter 28
GLEB
––––––––
I paced outside the hospital room, my fists clenched at my sides, my body thrumming with restless energy. Every second that passed without news felt like a lifetime. I just needed to hear her cry. Just one sound, proof that my daughter was alive. Or for someone to step out and place her in my arms.
I had never cared about having a child before. The idea of it had once felt like a chain, another vulnerability to exploit. But that changed the moment I let myself imagine a future with Anna and our baby. A family. A reason to fight. If I couldn’t protect my own daughter, then I had already failed as a father.
And as a husband.
I exhaled sharply, my patience wearing thin. The doctor had said the surgery would take between thirty and sixty minutes. It had been nearly an hour.
Then I saw it.
A cluster of nurses rushed into the room with more medical supplies. My chest tightened. Something was wrong.
Minutes crawled by. No news. No sounds. No crying.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I shoved the door open.
Anna lay unconscious on the bed, her face pale, her breathing shallow. her eyelids fluttering like she was trapped in some nightmare.
“What did you give her?” I barked.
The doctor hesitated. “A mild sedative, to calm...”
“Liar.” I grabbed the IV bag, scanning the label. The dosage was too high. And why sedate a mother who just lost her child? No. They wanted her unconscious.
Her stomach had been stitched up, but something was missing.
No cries. No baby.
I turned to the nearest nurse, my voice like a gunshot. “Where is my child?”
The woman flinched. “Your wife had a panic attack during the surgery. We had to administer a mild sedative to keep her stable.”
A panic attack? That wasn’t an answer.
