THE TWENTY-FOURTH

The darkness is all-encompassing and warm, like one of those floatation tanks you get in posh spas. My mind scrambles for where I am and what happened but every time I feel like I am about to remember something important, it’s like the memory I’m reaching for moves further and further away, like a cotton reel unwinding itself.

I try to take stock of my body; there is a dull ache in my shoulder that I’m sure shouldn’t be there and a pain in my belly like fire. It burns and burns and then I realise something is missing, something paramount, something I know I should remember but I just can’t quite put my finger on it.

Suddenly an image of a baby pops into my head and I begin to scream as the memories assault my senses. I relive the moment I was shot and my shoulder burns intensely once again, sending a feeling of nausea rising up inside of me. It’s only then that I realise the emptiness means my baby is not there. I scream and scream, trying to break out of the darkness until all I can do is surrender to it.

~*~

Beep…beep…beep. Damn, I wish Taylor would turn his frickin’ alarm off! The darkness is less intense but my body hurts all over. I move my fingers experimentally and am relieved when I can feel soft cotton under my fingertips. A significant sense of déjà vu washes over me when I realise I recognise that sound. It’s not Taylor’s alarm but, in fact, a heart monitor which can only mean that I’m in the hospital.

I am still too terrified to open my eyes so I slide one hand over my belly. A bump is still there but not one big enough for Bean and I instinctively know that she is no longer inside of me. I stifle a sob as I try to come to terms with the fact that I’ve lost my baby and knowing ultimately that it’s useless.

Cracking my eyes open it takes a moment for them to adjust to the pale light seeping through the curtains. For a moment I swear I’m seeing things. In a large armchair in the corner, Taylor is fast asleep with a soft pink bundle nestled in his arms. I shake my head trying to dispel this image that is clearly fantasy. I blink and blink again until it finally sinks in; this is real. Bean is okay.

I try to move a little but am suddenly assaulted by a fierce pain that washes over me. A groan escapes my mouth and suddenly Taylor is wide awake and on his feet, clutching the little pink bundle to his chest. Our eyes meet and I see the relief flood his features. He is pale and there are dark circles under his eyes; I’m betting that he has probably slept very little since I was shot, whenever that was.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” I say, my attempt at a joke feeble at best.

“Fuck, Abs,” Taylor says scrubbing his hand over his face. “You scared the shit out of me. Don’t you ever do that again!” I flinch at the harshness of his tone. “Sorry, Abs,” Taylor says, the timbre of his voice softer this time as he takes in my distress. “I…I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you.”

“Well I’m here, so let’s not worry about that. Can I see…?” I ask motioning my head towards the baby I have not had a chance to even hold yet. A spark of irrational jealousy courses through me at the thought that Taylor was the first person to hold her.

“Of course,” Taylor says bringing her around my right-hand side. “Be careful of your shoulder, Abs. The doctor said the bullet didn’t hit any bone on its way through but it did do a lot of damage. You lost a lot of blood and he said the wound will take a while to heal.”

Very slowly, Taylor raises the bed so that I’m in a half-sitting position and then lays our sleeping baby next to my head. As I stare into her face, the tears begin to course down mine. “I thought I lost her,” I explain with a sniff. “I remember being in the darkness and somehow knowing she wasn’t inside of me anymore and I thought she was gone. I was too scared to open my eyes because I thought she hadn’t survived and I had no idea how I was going to deal with that.”

Reaching up with my good arm I trail my fingers over her head savouring the feel of her baby-soft skin and the unique scent that only babies have. “God, she’s so beautiful,” I cry softly as the emotions overwhelm me. It feels like a volcano bubbling over as I sob, letting out all my fears and grief. The movement causes intense pain in my shoulder and my belly and I find myself groaning with the discomfort.

“Hang on, Abs. Let me call the nurse for some pain relief,” Taylor says reaching over and squeezing my hand.

“Okay,” I whisper as Taylor strokes my face gently, wiping away my tears.

“I love you so much, Abs,” he remarks quietly. I am just returning the sentiment when a nurse comes bustling in and greets me. She has a lovely smile and tells me how gorgeous Bean is. Checking my notes, Nurse Ciara introduces herself before adjusting my drip and telling me that the doctor will be in shortly.

“We really need to give her a name,” Taylor and I say at the same time.

I stare at Bean for a moment and wrinkle my nose. “Well, she’s definitely not an Emily or a Rose,” I say of the two possible names we had picked out.

“Yeah, I know. That’s the first thing I thought when they handed her to me.” Bean’s eyes flutter open and she purses her lips, smacking them together in a cute little sound. “Uh, oh. Our little madam is hungry,” Taylor remarks.

“Oh?” I respond suddenly feeling really crap that I don’t yet know all her little movements.

Taylor quickly moves across to the corner of the room which I can see has been set up like a little nursery. There is a tiny cot along with a counter lined with bottles, a warmer and cartons of formula all ready to go. I watch as Taylor pours the formula into a bottle with practised ease and then pops it into the warmer.

Bean squirms next to me, anxious for her feed but before she can get too fractious Taylor is back with her warmed bottle. He picks her up and moves across to the armchair, flinging a soft muslin square over his shoulder before popping the bottle into her mouth. I watch as she guzzles down the milk greedily, her body looking so tiny in Taylor’s arms.

“How much did she weigh?” I say as the need for the pertinent facts and figures fills me.

“She was seven pounds and four ounces, which is not too tiny apparently,” Taylor replies with a grin. “Though the first time they gave her to me, I was terrified I would break her.”

“C-section?” I ask with morbid curiosity though I’m not entirely sure that I really want to know the details.

“Yeah, you lost quite a bit of blood and that triggered Bean. Once they got you into theatre, she went into distress so they stabilised the bleeding in your shoulder, got Bean out and then went back and fixed your shoulder up,” Taylor’s eyes remain fixed on Bean as she feeds and I let out a sigh. I can’t imagine how terrified I would have been had the roles been reversed.

Suddenly a thought strikes me. “I have an idea for a name but say if you don’t like it, okay?” Taylor gives me a nod to let me know he is listening. “Well, you know that quote by William Shakespeare? ‘Though she be but little, she is fierce.’ That kind of sums Bean up in so many ways. So how about ‘Millie’?”

Taylor says the name softly, looking down at our daughter and smiling before looking over at me. “Millie. It’s perfect.”

“Millie,” I say again.

“How about Millie Bean?” Taylor suggests with a grin.

“Jeez, Taylor you might as well just call her Kidney or Jelly and be done with it!” I say sarcastically. “Millie Bean Hudson,” I mutter under my breath. “The kid would never survive school.”

Taylor chuckles, “I can see where you are coming from. How about Lila then? You know after your Nonna?”

“I think that would be perfect,” I remark. My head is getting fuzzy as the painkillers kick in. I am struggling to keep my eyes open so when Taylor says, “Sleep, Abs. I’m right here. We aren’t going anywhere,” I do just that.