The smile lit his eyes up. “Yeah. A week old now. I’ve been working on getting her days and nights in the right place.”
A week? She closed her eyes and tried to think of the last thing she remembered. “I remember the Presidential ball,” she said. “When was that?”
His eyes grew serious again. “Six weeks ago.”
“Six weeks?” She gasped, and the sudden inhalation of breath sent pain through her ribs, which made her gasp, and the cycle began.
“Daisy?” He surged to his feet and rushed out of the room. Seconds later, a nurse with jet black hair wearing light green scrubs came running in.
She put a hand on Daisy’s shoulder and read the monitors above her. “Okay, Mrs. Dixon. Is it hurting you to breathe?” Daisy nodded because she couldn’t speak. “I’m going to give you some more pain medicine. It’s about time for your dose anyway.”
A syringe and an alcohol pad swam out of her scrubs pocket. She shifted the blankets on Daisy’s bed, and seconds later, Daisy felt a sharp prick in the back of her hip. The warm rush of numbing medicine rushed up to her chest almost immediately, then over her shoulder and down her body. Everything started tingling but also turning numb at the same time. The pain subsided.
Carla deposited the syringe into the red box hanging on the wall and looked over her shoulder. “I’m going to call Doctor Mitchell and see if he wants to talk to you.”
Ken picked her hand back up. She asked, “What happened?”
“You had that natural birth you wanted. Right after Rosita was born, you had a heart attack. Then you started bleeding. They called it amniotic fluid embolism. You took thirty-two pints of blood, and they repaired an artery with some procedure.” He pressed the back of her hand against his cheek. His whiskers tickled her skin. “You had to have a hysterectomy. It was the only way they could stop the bleeding and save your life.”
Her mind swirled. “Hysterectomy?” She grew more and more dizzy and finally closed her eyes, feeling like the bed spun and wobbled like a top.
WhenDaisy opened her eyes again, sunlight from a window lit up her room. New room. They must have moved her out of the ICU. She should take that as a good sign, right? This room was bigger, with calmer colors and a television perched in the corner. Her arms felt lighter. Her head felt less encumbered. A gentle cooing sound came from her right. She rolled her head on the pillow and her gaze encountered Ken reclined back in a leather chair, a baby sleeping on his chest.
The image invoked such emotion that it twisted her heart almost painfully. Tears filled her eyes. Her baby was a week old? She thought back, desperately trying to break through the dark patch in her memory. The men having to go to that big meeting, Alex’s water breaking, Valerie’s contractions. Jeremy’s harrowing drive through Atlanta’s streets. Little by little, lights started breaking up the blackness.
“Hey,” she croaked softly.
Immediately, Ken opened his eyes. His face softened in a smile when he looked at her. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
She lifted a finger. “New digs.”
“Yeah. They let you out of ICU so I could bring the baby to you.”
Tears fell down her cheeks. He held Rosita close. He had tightly bundled her up in a blanket covered in pink foxes and put a little pink and green cap on her head. Long lashes rested on her cheeks as she slept. “Oh Ken,” she whispered, brushing her finger over her cheek, causing her lips to pucker and make sucking motions. “She’s incredible.”
He found the buttons for the bed and raised her upper body so he could rest Rosita on her chest. “Is that painful?” he asked. “You have broken ribs from the CPR.”
“No.” She closed her eyes and rested her nose against Rosita’s head, inhaling the smell of her with a slow, deep breath. Then she looked at Ken. “How are you doing with her?”
He lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “She was here for three days. I was able to sit with you and leave her in the nursery. I slept in the little room they had for fathers. When they released her, it was a relief to take her home. My mom and your mom have been taking turns watching her in the waiting room here or sitting with you. I didn’t want to be away from her all day long, so I’ve just kept her with me. We go home at night.”
“How is she eating?”
She and Ken had very long talks about their expectations and desires. Both of them agreed wholeheartedly on Daisy breastfeeding. It never became an issue. If she’d been here a week, was it even possible anymore? Did a milk supply even exist? Ken’s answer took her breath away. It occurred to her just how much he had taken care of the details.
“In the ICU, the nurses taught me how to pump your breast milk every few hours, to keep up some production. We couldn’t use it because of the medications they’ve had you on. Alex and Valerie and your cousin Maria have been able to donate for now.”
“Alex and Valerie? Are they okay?”
“Perfectly fine. They’re home with their babies. Brad and Jon are sailing over the moon with me. We’re all in love with our girls.”
She longed for this to be a distant memory. “When can I go home?”
He shook his head. “Doctor Mitchell has no good idea about that. It might be weeks.”
“Weeks?”
“You’re not out of the woods all the way. They have to monitor your liver and kidneys. And they have to make sure your blood clots properly with the medication they’re giving you.” He rubbed his face. “We don’t know what kind of neurological damage was done.”
