The True Story of Atticus and Hazel Page 17

  “Yes, Hazel.”

  I took a deep breath. “I’m barren now, aren’t I?”

  He looked into my eyes. “Hazel,” he breathed.

  I bit my bottom lip and squeezed my eyes shut. Yet another hit. “Oh my God,” I whispered.

  “I’m so sorry,” he told me, and I could tell he meant it. No matter how he felt about me, I could tell he meant what he said.

  “What happened?” I asked, bracing myself.

  “There was too much blood loss, too severe a hemorrhage. They could only focus on keeping you and Juniper alive.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I can’t hear any more.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  I leaned as far back in the chair as possible to alleviate some of the pain in my belly. It helped but not by much.

  “You’ve gone pale,” he said, sitting up. His hand left Juniper’s back and she whimpered, breaking my heart a little. I cuddled her closer and she settled down. “You need pain meds,” he said, standing.

  “No, Atticus, please. They’ll make me go back. I can’t leave her. Please, Atticus,” I begged.

  He looked down at me with pity in his eyes. “I hate to see you in pain, though.”

  “There isn’t a pain worse than the idea of leaving her right now. Please. Sit.”

  He reluctantly sat. “Can I text Etta? See if the nurses there will bring you a pill or something?”

  “As long as they don’t make me go back. I won’t go back.”

  “Okay,” he said, picking up his phone and typing out a message.

  He laid the phone on the arm of my chair and looked around. There was a single stool with rolling wheels in a corner. He asked to borrow it and they gave him the okay. He slid it beside me and sat. His phone indicated a text and we both looked down.

  They’re bringing her something now, Etta texted.

  Already I felt relief. My personal nurse came through and gave a small plastic pill cup and water cup to a NICU nurse.

  “She said they can hook you back up to your morphine drip if you want to go back to your room?” the nurse asked.

  “No,” I rushed. “I’ll just take the pill, thank you. I’ll be okay.”

  She nodded and gave me an understanding smile. “Here you are,” she said, tipping the pill cup into my mouth then bringing the water cup to my lips. I drank and swallowed the pill.

  “Thank you,” I told her.

  “No problem, sweetheart.”

  Atticus let out a shaky breath. “I hope those kick in soon.”

  I felt overwhelmed with emotion for some reason. Tears started spilling out without notice. “You’re being so nice to me.”

  His brows furrowed again. “Hazel,” he soothed. “Don’t cry, Haze. Breathe for me. Focus on Juniper.”

  I took a deep breath through my nose and cuddled my daughter closer. I breathed deeply for at least a minute. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “You’re hormones are probably all over the place. You’re scared for our daughter; you’re recovering from a serious surgery. It’s too much for one person to take.”

  I met his eyes. “And I’m seeing you for the first time since that wretched day.” He nodded. I looked down at Juniper’s face. “She’s so small but so beautiful,” I told him.

  “I think being with you again has soothed her.”

  “I think being with her again has soothed me too.”

  “I read somewhere once that skin to skin was so important, but I hadn’t ever put much stock in it until this moment.”

  “It’s the only power I have right now,” I told him.

  He shook his head back and forth and stared at the ground, his hands on his knees. “You have no idea the power you have,” he spoke, his message purposely vague.

  His slender fingers threaded through his hair then down the back of his neck. His knuckles went white.

  “Tense?” I whispered.

  His hands dropped to his thighs. “This has been the craziest day of my life, Hazel.”

  “For me too, but I had the advantage of being passed out for most of it while you had to endure every second. I’m sorry for that.”

  He cocked his head to the side and stared at me. “I can’t imagine what you’ve suffered. Don’t downplay what you’ve been through.”

  “I would suffer a hundred, a thousand, an infinite amount more if it meant she could have had a little more time inside with me, though.”

  “Hazel, it happened. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “What if it was, though?” I asked in a whisper. “What if I did something?”

  “Short of drinking or drugs or something equally dangerous, there’s nothing that would have caused this except fate, and I know you wouldn’t have done those things. Fate is just a cruel bitch.”

  I stared deep into his eyes, could see the deeper meaning there, and my heart raced. “Sometimes she can be kind, though,” I countered.

  “Sure,” he conceded, but I could tell he didn’t actually believe it.

  “I’m giving her your last name,” I told him.

  His face turned into something resembling shock. “I didn’t think you would want that.”

  “I do want that. Of course I want that,” I told him.

  “Thank you.”

  He slid his hand beneath the blanket again but didn’t put his hand on Juniper’s back right away.

  “Want my hand to get warm first,” he made clear.

  “You can place it on my skin if you want,” I offered.

  He slid his hand to the broad of my back and let it sit there, getting warm. I fought the burn of tears the feel of his skin on mine brought forth. It felt right on mine, beautiful on mine, perfect on mine. I felt him extend his fingers, stretching the width of his hand as far as it would go. He slid his hand down to the small of my back, let it linger there for a moment, sending familiar chills through to my soul, then shifted around under the blanket to Juniper’s sweet little body.

  “I didn’t think it was possible,” he spoke low.

  “What?” I asked.

  “To love someone as violently as I love her,” he told me, his eyes on mine, looking straight through me it seemed.

  “Suddenly the world is so much smaller,” I said. “She’s become my new world.”

  He rolled his stool even closer, his legs straddled me. “An instantaneous enlightenment,” he stated. “Nothing could possibly compare.”

  “And yet I’ve never been more frightened in my life. Like that world teeters on a knife’s edge, ready to tip to either side with the slightest gust,” I whispered.

  “It’s brittle, breakable,” he agreed.

  “It’s not fair that someone you love could be so insubstantial, so fine, so vulnerable. I don’t want this test,” I said, terrified. “We’re too wide open, too susceptible.”

  “We don’t have a choice, though, do we?”

  “No,” I said.

  His free hand found the back of my neck. “Can you fight?” he asked.

  “Until my dying breath,” I confided.

  We sat still, quiet, absorbing our daughter and praying silently.

  The medicine kicked in and I felt like I could sit as I was for days if they would have let me, but a nurse asked if I wanted to try pumping to stimulate milk, so Atticus removed his shirt and took my place. The nurse covered them in the blanket and I felt my heart skip a beat once more.I stole his phone and took a picture of him with her.

  “Need something to blow up at her wedding,” I whispered to him.

  He audibly swallowed. “Thank you,” he said.

  The nurse took me to a pumping station they had all set up. It was painful and no milk came, but they promised it would in a few days and that the colostrum I was producing was good for her. She wasn’t yet strong enough to latch on, so I had a feeling I would be living at that pump station. They planned on feeding her intravenously.

  When I was done, I joined Atticus again. He sat with her,
his cheek at her head. He was talking to her.

  “What are you telling her?” I asked after a nurse brought me a more comfortable chair.

  He smiled at me. “Her name, how much I love her, that I need her to fight.” I smiled back at him but it turned into a quaking chin. His free hand found mine and squeezed. “We can do this, Haze. We’re going to pull through this. All three of us.”

  I took a deep breath and found solace in his confidence.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Much better,” I told him.

  The nurses came over and fed my colostrum through her IV. It felt good to watch her get what I was producing. Just one more thing I could do to help her.

  Atticus held my hand for several minutes before he asked, “Hazel, several weeks ago, I was looking at my phone, at our texts, and a text indicator popped up from you.” My heart sank. “It disappeared.”

  I knew exactly what he was talking about. “I had just been in the shower and reached for my shampoo bottle. When I did, I felt her move.” His eyes squeezed shut. “I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know how.”

  He let go of my hand and it killed me, but I understood.

  Loud, shrill beeping came from our station and I stood in a panic. The nurses ran over and without hesitation took Juniper off Atticus’s chest and placed her flat in her incubator. They worked so quickly I didn’t have a chance to understand what was going on. Hands went everywhere and Atticus stood, his hands on his head.

  “What’s happening?” I asked, my tone panicked.

  One of the nurses calmly answered, without glancing up, her hands still working. “She’s not breathing.”

  I started to lose my balance but Atticus’s hands caught me. We both stood there, unable to speak, as they worked on our daughter.

  One minute.

  Two minutes.

  Three minutes.

  Four minutes.

  Suddenly the nurses’ shoulders relaxed and one shut off the alarms. They turned, their faces reflecting none of the drama I’d just witnessed.

  “Oh my God.” I sighed, leaning into Atticus.

  “She’s fine now, babe,” the nurse said, patting my arm. “This happens a lot with the little ones like this.”

  “It does?” I asked, my heart still pounding in my chest, adrenaline surging through my body.

  Atticus and I leaned over her incubator. Her little chest rose and fell consistently. She was sleeping. I swayed on my feet and Atticus held me up.

  “You need sleep, Hazel.”

  “I can’t leave her,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Hazel, let me take you to the room. Get some rest. I’ll come right back. I’ll hold her the entire night until you’re ready to take back over. She’ll never be without one of us.”

  “I can’t,” I said.

  “Hazel, you can’t take care of her if you’re falling over with exhaustion. You’re recovering.”

  “Atticus,” I said, looking up at him.

  “Please, Hazel,” he begged. “I can’t worry about both of you. It’s killing me.”

  I swallowed, wanting to refuse, but eventually nodded and reached over, caressing her tiny hands and feet then kissed her head. Atticus pulled his shirt on and helped me back to my room. It was empty. I glanced up at the clock. It was close to four a.m. My own nurse saw Atticus coming down the hall with me and helped me sit at the edge of the bed. I bit my bottom lip to prevent shouting out in pain when I rolled back onto the mattress. Atticus reached his hand out toward my hair, hesitated, thought better of it, and let his hand drop. He looked like he wanted to say something but he stayed quiet. I nodded at him and he lifted his shoulders as if in defeat then left the room to return to Juniper.

  The nurse tucked me in. “You need anything?” she asked.

  “No, thank you,” I said, already drifting to sleep the exhaustion was so deep.

  Thank God for Atticus, I thought.

  Atticus

  Juniper laid against my bare chest. She felt warm, relaxed. That was my main focus. I couldn’t do anything else but hold her and pray, so that’s what I did. She was scary tiny. Too fragile. My gut ached for her.

  The hate that had taken up residence in my chest for Hazel was starting to dissipate. When I saw her covered in her own blood, her hands cradling her small belly even though she wasn’t conscious, it knifed me in the chest. All the disappointment in her, the bitter detest I’d built came seeping out. I had no time to worry about anything else but her and Juniper’s survival.

  I imagined the doctors coming out and telling me Hazel didn’t make it and, despite having only known her for twenty-three weeks, the idea stopped me cold, threatened to rip me to shreds. Keeping her alive was just as much about self-preservation because if she did die, I knew I would be altered permanently. While she was in surgery, it clawed at me from the inside out and I almost lost it. I broke down right there on the cold floor, an unholy sound erupted from my chest and my brothers had to hold me back from running after her and our daughter.

  I took a deep breath and kissed the top of Juniper’s head.

  The doctor came out. I remembered noting his face looked relaxed, relieved, and I held my breath as he explained they had both made it, that both were alive. I fell to my knees, my hands going to my head. Everyone around me started sobbing. I felt like I could finally breathe.

  He revealed what happened. How the placenta carrying our daughter had detached and caused severe bleeding, how if she had come in even a few minutes later neither would have survived. Hazel would never have children again, though, and my heart bled for her. He told me our daughter was hanging on for dear life. He didn’t sugarcoat it, didn’t give us any false hope, but he did promise they would do everything in their power to keep her here.

  My palm found Juniper’s small back and laid there.

  And here she was. My little Juniper with her sad eyes and tiny fingers. My little Juniper with her mother’s hair. My wee baby Juniper. One pound, four ounces, less than a foot long, Juniper. I cleared my throat of emotion when a nurse approached.

  “You all right?” she asked. “Can I get you some water? I can order up a breakfast tray? You’ve been sitting there for four hours now.”

  “I’m fine,” I told her, rocking Juniper. “Thank you.”

  She smiled kindly. “Nice to see a daddy so dedicated,” she said.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing, though,” I told her.

  She pulled back the blanket a little to see Juniper’s face then peered back at her monitors. “If it brings you any comfort,” she spoke softly, “I’ve seen hundreds of dads come through here and you seem to be as capable as any of the seasoned fathers.” She smiled.

  “Thank you,” I said, actually feeling a little bit more reassured. “I’ve got a few nieces and nephews. Maybe that helped.”

  She smiled. “A bit of baby training then,” she teased, then walked toward the next incubator and checked on the baby there.

  My phone rang. It was River. I had left a message earlier but had yet to speak with him. I needed to pee really badly anyway so I thought I’d put Juniper down for a second while I relieved myself and called River back. One of the nurses came over to help me put her in the incubator.

  “Just going to the restroom. Check on Hazel,” I said, putting my shirt back on. “Be right back.”

  “No problem,” she said, tucking Juniper in.

  I stared at her for at least half a minute as she slept before I could conjure up the courage to leave. I hauled ass to the restroom, peed, washed my hands, and picked up my cell to call River as I walked toward Hazel’s room.

  “Yo, dude, what’s up?” River asked. “How are you?”

  “Fine. I’m fine.”

  “How is— how is Hazel?”

  “She’ll recover. Juniper is, well, she’s the wild card. River, she is the smallest baby I have ever seen in my fucking life and I’m scared shitless but she can fight like a punk, I just know it.�
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  “Good, man. That’s great. Well, we’re all pulling for you. I let the label know what happened. They should be contacting you soon.”

  “Cool, thanks. Yeah, I won’t be making it back to LA next week.

  “They understand, dude.”

  “Thanks, River.”

  “Yeah, let me know if anything changes.”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  “Talk to you later,” he said.

  “Bye.”

  I hung up as I approached Hazel’s door and knocked once.

  “Come in,” Hazel’s tired voice called out.

  When I came through, tucked back the door’s privacy curtain, and stepped into the room, she was just beginning to sit up with the help of a nurse.

  “Good morning,” her scratchy voice told me. “How is Juniper?” she asked.

  “She’s perfect,” I said. “Didn’t have any problems at all. She just slept on my chest all night.”

  Hazel sighed. “I’m getting ready to see her,” she said. “They took out all my yucky tubes and stuff and said I can shower. I didn’t want to hold her without washing up.” I nodded, wishing I could do the same. “Your mom dropped off a bag of your stuff about five this morning while I was pumping for Juniper,” she informed me, like she could read my mind.

  “That’s great. That way I don’t have to leave.”

  “You wanna go first?” she asked.

  My brows furrowed, hating how nice she was being. I didn’t want her to be nice.

  “No, thank you, Hazel.”

  “I had the nurse bring in towels and bedding for you.” She pointed at the built-in sofa in the corner of the room. “That converts to a bed. I even had her bring an extra pillow.”

  I swallowed. “Thank you.”

  I watched as she struggled to get to the restroom, and it made my gut ache for her too. She was obviously in tremendous pain but she was trying to hide it, trudging through for Juniper, and possibly me. She broke my heart. In so many different ways.

  Hazel

  Showering felt wonderful. The simple acts of cleaning my hair and brushing my teeth really lifted my spirits, and I was starting to get a little bit of movement back, though I was still experiencing a great deal of pain. The nurses were impressed with my recovery, remarking that I must have had great genes. I think it was Juniper. I needed to recover as quickly as possible for her. I needed to be useful to Atticus too. He looked to be in pain himself. The bags beneath his eyes were purple and swollen. When I emerged, dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt Grams had bought and left in the room for me, along with a long note telling me she loved me, while I was with Juniper and Atticus, I sat on the edge of the bed to blow-dry my hair so I didn’t get Juniper wet.