Chapter 3 - Six Minutes From Death
I remember pieces of the hospital.
Bright lights.
Running feet.
Someone cutting away my clothes.
A doctor shouting for blood.
Another voice asking about fetal heart rate.
Then a woman appeared above me.
“Natalie.”
“I’m Dr. Collins.”
“Your second twin is in distress.”
“We need an emergency C-section.”
“Do whatever you have to do.”
I whispered.
“Save my babies.”
“We’re going to take care of all three of you.”
A mask lowered over my face.
The last thing I heard was a nurse asking whether my husband had been notified.
Nobody answered.
Then everything disappeared.
When I opened my eyes again, the room was dim.
My mouth felt like sandpaper.
My abdomen burned beneath thick dressings.
For several seconds, I couldn't remember where I was.
Then I remembered everything.
“Babies.”
I tried sitting up.
Pain slammed me backward.
A nurse hurried toward me.
“Easy.”
“My babies.”
“They’re alive.”
I stared at her.
“Both?”
“Yes.”
I started crying before she finished.
“Your daughter is stable.”
“She’s in the neonatal unit for observation because of the circumstances of her delivery.”
“And my son?”
The nurse hesitated.
That hesitation nearly destroyed me.
“He needed respiratory support after the emergency C-section.”
“But he’s responding.”
“Can I see him?”
“Soon.”
A doctor entered.
Dr. Collins.
She pulled a chair close to my bed.
Her expression told me the conversation was serious.
“You lost a dangerous amount of blood.”
She said.
“The placenta had partially separated.”
“If you had arrived even twenty or thirty minutes later, we might be having a very different conversation.”
I stared at her.
“How different?”
She paused.
“You and your son might not have survived.”
The words settled over me like ice.
Twenty minutes.
Travis had planned to be gone for hours.
Dr. Collins continued carefully.
“Your son experienced oxygen deprivation.”
“We need to monitor him closely.”
“Will he be okay?”
“We don’t know yet.”
My chest tightened.
Before I could ask another question, the door opened.
A uniformed police officer stepped inside.
Beside him stood a woman in plain clothes.
She introduced herself as Detective Lena Ortiz.
“Mrs. Brooks?”
I nodded.
“We need to ask you a few questions about what happened at your home.”
My throat tightened.
“Did something happen there after I left?”
Detective Ortiz exchanged a glance with the officer.
“Your neighbors told responding personnel that your husband knowingly left you alone while you were in active labor.”
I closed my eyes.
“He did.”
“Did you ask him for help?”
“Yes.”
“Did he understand that you believed you needed immediate medical care?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone else hear the conversation?”
“His mother.”
“His father.”
“His sister.”
Detective Ortiz wrote something down.
Then she asked one more question.
“Did your husband physically prevent you from leaving?”
I remembered the deadbolt.
The sound of it turning.
“He locked the door from the outside.”
Detective Ortiz stopped writing.
Her eyes lifted.
“He did what?”
Before I could answer, a nurse rushed into the room.
“Natalie.”
“Your husband is downstairs.”
My entire body stiffened.
The nurse continued.
“He’s demanding to see you.”
Detective Ortiz calmly closed her notebook.
“Good.”
She stood.
May you like
“Because we’ve been waiting for him.”
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