I get Ben’s feeding tube in place and turn on the drip. Dr. Hagan is finished examining the baby boy, and Becky wipes his foot clean of blood from the tests she just administered. Dr. Hagan leaves the room and sinks into a chair in the outer office. She looks exhausted.
Finally, the monitors have silenced, and Cassie, Becky and I all return to our standard routines.
“Where’s Olivia?” I ask, looking at the empty chair next to Ben’s incubator.
Cassie is pale and seems really off now. “I’m not sure. Her mother came to get her about ten minutes ago. There are some other people here to see her.” Cassie walks over to Mikey and turns on the lights above him. He’s here because he has severe jaundice and the lights help lower his bilirubin counts. Mikey’s large belly spills over his infant diaper. He’s huge. Well, huge for a baby in the NICU. Weighing in at almost eleven pounds, he’s the largest baby I’ve ever seen in this hospital. He’s perfect and fat and already has thighs that any mother would brag about. But since he has jaundice, he needs our help. He sleeps peacefully, full, content and looking so out of place here in the NICU. He’s been doing well, and if that continues, he should be going home by tomorrow. She adjusts the light above him and looks over at Ben.
“The bleed on the left side remains a grade three. Not good,” Cassie mumbles and sits on the stool in front of her computer.
“No, not good at all,” I say quietly, looking away from Mikey. It’s amazing how this room can go from frantic to quiet in a matter of minutes. “Cassie, are you okay?” I ask, concerned as to why she’s so off today.
“Yeah, it’s just…”
She stops talking as we hear a woman scream from the hallway, “No! No! No!”
Cassie and I turn our heads and see Olivia outside the NICU window, throwing herself into a large man, punching his chest. My heart grabs in my chest when I see another man next to him wearing similar clothes. Military.
“Oh no,” Cassie exhales and stands up.
Olivia’s wails turn to sobs, and her mother pulls her off of the Marine. She holds her daughter tight against her chest as the two Marines stand quiet and respectful.
“That can’t be good,” Cassie says. “When my cousin was visited by two Marines, she found out her husband was killed in Iraq. It’s never good when there are two of them. Never.” Her voice trails off as she moves to the window and peers out at them.
Olivia is shaking her head and then collapses onto the floor. One of the Marines bends down to a knee and scoops her into his arms, carrying her over to the couch in the lounge area. She doesn’t look conscious, and I call out to Dr. Hagan, who lifts her head from the desk. “Can you help? Olivia just passed out in the hallway.” She grabs smelling salt taped to the cabinet door and rushes out.
As soon as Dr. Hagan swipes the salts under Olivia’s nose, she opens her eyes and immediately begins to sob and wail. Her mother slides on the couch next to her, cradling her head in her lap. I can’t bear to watch this any longer.
“I hope to God she didn’t just hear what I think she did, but my instinct tells me she just found out her husband is gone.” Cassie pulls the blinds shut, giving Olivia privacy from our curious eyes. My chest tightens, and I try to fight the grief I feel for this young mother and her new family.
I look over at Ben and close my eyes. “God, please let this boy grow up strong and healthy,” I whisper quietly.
His monitor suddenly starts beeping wildly, jolting me from my silent prayer. Cassie and I both rush to the incubator and open it. His color is grayish and his heart rate is dangerously low. The monitors go off again, indicating something is wrong with his tube. The brand new tube that I just inserted. I feel faint and desperate.