hen he finally realized what was happening, everything seemed fuzzy and out of focus, but since he was dreaming, he supposed that could be excused. All he knew for sure was that the first word out of his mouth that morning was “Ouch.”

“Wake up,” Lexie said, poking him again.

Still groggy, he pulled the sheet higher. “Why are you elbowing me? It’s the middle of the night.”

“It’s almost five, not the middle of the night. But I think it’s time.”

“Time for what?” he grumbled.

“To go to the hospital.”

Once the words registered, he bolted upright, flinging back the sheet. He wiped the sleep from his eyes. “You’re having contractions? When did they start? Why didn’t you tell me? Are you sure?”

“I think so. I’ve been having Braxton-Hicks, but these feel different. And they’re more regular.”

He swallowed. “So this is it?”

“I’m not sure. But I think this is it.”

“Okay,” he said, taking a long breath. “Let’s not panic.”

“I’m not panicking.”

“Good, because there’s no reason to panic.”

“I know.”

For a long moment, they simply looked at each other.

“I need to take a shower,” he finally said.

“A shower?”

“Yeah,” he said, getting out of bed. “I’ll be quick, and then we’ll go.”

He wasn’t quick. He took a long shower, long enough to steam the mirrors to the point that he had to wipe them twice in order to shave. He brushed his teeth and flossed, then slapped on aftershave. He gargled twice. He took the time to open a new container of deodorant, turned the hair dryer on low, and added both mousse and gel before brushing his hair. His fingernails were a bit long, and he was cutting and filing them when he heard the door fling open behind him.

“What on earth are you doing?” she gasped. Holding her belly, she was hunched over. “What’s taking so long?”

“I’m almost done,” he protested.

“You’ve been in there almost half an hour!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really!” Focusing through her pain, she blinked when she saw what he was doing. “Are you clipping your fingernails?”

Before he could answer, she turned and staggered out of view.

In rehearsing this day, Jeremy never imagined himself acting this way. Instead, he’d be the epitome of calm and collected. He would get ready with machinelike efficiency, keep an eye on his wife and alleviate her concerns, and grab the bags that Lexie had already packed before hustling to the hospital with hands that were steady on the wheel.

What he hadn’t expected was how terrified he would be. He wasn’t ready for this. How could he be a father? He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Diapers? Formula? How to hold the baby? He didn’t have a clue. He needed another day or two to read a few of those books Lexie had been studying for months. But it was too late now. His subconscious attempt to delay had failed.

“No, we haven’t left yet!” she said into the phone. “He’s still getting ready!”

Talking to Doris, Jeremy knew. And sounding none too pleased.

Jeremy began to throw on his clothes and was pulling a shirt over his head when she hung up. Arching her back, she suffered through another contraction in silence, and he waited until it passed. Then, helping her to her feet, he began to lead her to the car, finally gaining some measure of control.

“Don’t forget the bag,” she said.

“I’ll come back for it.”

In a flash, they were in the car. By that time, another contraction had begun, and he began backing out in haste.

“The bag,” she cried, wincing.

He slammed on the brakes and rushed back inside. He truly wasn’t ready for this.

The roads were empty and black beneath the darkened sky, and Jeremy pressed the accelerator, speeding toward Greenville. Because of the possible complications, they’d decided to have the baby in Greenville, and Jeremy called the doctor’s answering service to let him know they were on the way.

After another contraction passed, Lexie leaned back in her seat, looking pale. He pressed harder on the accelerator.

They sped along the deserted roads; in the rearview mirror, he could see the graying light of dawn on the horizon. Lexie was strangely quiet, but then again so was he. Neither had said a word since they got in the car.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, not sounding okay. “You might want to drive faster, though.”

His heart hammered in his chest. Keep calm, he told himself. Whatever you do, just stay calm. He could feel the pull of the car as they sped around a curve.

“Not that fast,” she said. “I don’t want to die before we get there.”

He slowed the car, then found himself speeding up again every time she had a contraction. They seemed to be coming every eight minutes or so. What he didn’t know was whether that meant he had plenty of time or not enough. He really should have read the book, any book. It didn’t matter now.

Once in Greenville, the traffic picked up. Not too many cars, but enough to require him to stop at more than a few lights. At the second one, he turned toward Lexie. If anything, she seemed even more pregnant than she had when they’d begun the drive.

“You doing okay?” he asked again.

“Stop asking me that,” she said. “Trust me, I’ll let you know if I’m not.”

“We’re almost there.”

“Good,” she said.

Jeremy stared at the light, wondering why on earth it wouldn’t turn green. Wasn’t it obvious there was an emergency here? He glanced over at his wife, fighting the urge to ask again if she was doing okay.

He rolled to a stop at the emergency room entrance, and his frantic look and the loud announcement to all assembled that his wife was in labor brought an orderly to the car with a wheelchair. Jeremy helped Lexie from the car, and she moved to the wheelchair. He grabbed the bag from the backseat and followed them through the entrance. Despite the hour, the place was crowded and three people were waiting at the check-in window.

He figured they would head straight for the maternity ward, especially given the circumstances, but instead Lexie was wheeled toward the check-in window and he was forced to wait in line. No one behind the counter was rushing; the nurses seemed to be far more interested in sipping their coffee and chatting. Jeremy could barely contain his impatience, especially as he waited while those in front of him were checking in. None of them looked as if they were at death’s door; most looked as if they wanted to get a prescription refilled. One even seemed to be attempting to flirt. Finally-finally!-it was his turn. Before he said a word, a nurse who seemed uninterested in his wife’s plight thrust a clipboard toward him.

“Fill in the first three pages, sign the fourth, and I’ll need to see your insurance card.”

“Is this really necessary now? I mean, my wife’s in labor. Shouldn’t she go to the room first?”

The nurse turned her attention to Lexie. “How far apart are your contractions?”

“About eight minutes.”

“How long have you been in labor?”

“I don’t know. Maybe three hours?”

The nurse nodded and looked at Jeremy. “First three pages, sign the fourth. And don’t forget the insurance card.”

Jeremy took the clipboard and hurried toward a seat, feeling more than a little put out. Paperwork? They needed paperwork at a time like this? In an emergency? In his opinion, the world was drowning in paperwork already. The hospital had reams of paperwork, and he was about to set aside the clipboard so he could march up to the window and calmly explain the situation. The nurse just didn’t seem to get it.

“Hello?”

Jeremy looked up at the sound of Lexie’s voice. Her wheelchair was still stationed next to the check-in window, halfway across the room. “Are you just going to leave me sitting here?”

Jeremy could feel the eyes of strangers on him. More than one woman scowled.

“Sorry,” he said, rising quickly. He scurried across the room to get her. Then, after wheeling her around, he started back toward his seat.

“Don’t forget the bag.”

“Right,” he said. He went back to get it, ignoring the stares, and sat beside her.

“You doing okay?” he asked.

“I’m going to punch you if you ask me one more time. I’m serious.”

“Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

“Just get the paperwork ready, okay?”

He nodded and went to work on the forms, thinking again that he was wasting his time. They really should have given his wife a room first. He could have done the paperwork later.

It took a few minutes, and then he headed toward the check-in counter. As fate would have it, someone seemed to have exactly the same idea and got to the counter first, and he was forced to wait again. By the time it was his turn, he was stewing, and he handed over the clipboard without a word.

The nurse took her time again. She examined each page, made copies, and then grabbed a few wristbands from the drawer and began to write Lexie’s name and identification number on them. Slowly. At a glacial pace. Jeremy tapped his foot while he waited. He was going to have to write a letter of complaint. This was ridiculous.

“Okay,” the nurse finally said, “just take a seat and we’ll call you when we’re ready.”

“We have to wait again?” Jeremy exclaimed.

The nurse eyed him over her glasses. “Let me guess. Your first baby?”

“As a matter of fact, it is.”

The nurse shook her head. “Take a seat. Like I said, we’ll call you. And put the wristbands on.”

A couple of years later, Lexie’s name was finally called.

Okay, it wasn’t that long, but it seemed even longer. Lexie had already started another contraction, and she pressed her lips together, hands on her belly.

“Lexie Marsh?”

Jeremy stood up as if his pants were on fire and hopped behind the wheelchair. In a few quick steps, he was nearly at the swinging doors.

“Yeah, this is she,” he said. “We’re going to the room, right?”

“Yes,” she said, oblivious to Jeremy’s tone. “This way. We’ll be going to the maternity ward. It’s on the third floor. You doing okay, honey?”

“I’m fine,” Lexie answered. “I just had another contraction. They’re still about eight minutes apart.”

“I think we should go,” Jeremy said, and both Lexie and the nurse turned toward him. Granted, his tone might have been a little snappy, but this wasn’t the time for chitchat.

“Is that your bag over there?” the nurse asked.

“I’ll get it,” Jeremy said, mentally kicking himself.

“We’ll wait,” the nurse said.

Jeremy wanted to say, Gee, thanks in his most sarcastic voice but thought better of it. For all he knew, this was the lady who would be assisting with the delivery, and the last thing he wanted was to get on her bad side.

He rushed back and grabbed the bag, and they headed through the maze of corridors. Up the elevator, down the hall, and into the room. Finally.

The room was empty, sterile, and functional in the way all hospital rooms were. Lexie got up from the wheelchair and slipped into a robe before climbing carefully into bed. For the next twenty minutes, nurses bustled in and out of the room. Lexie had her blood pressure and pulse taken, had her cervix measured, answered the same questions about the duration of her labor and the timing of the contractions, when she’d had her last meal, any complications with the pregnancy. Toward the end, she was hooked up to a monitor, and she and Jeremy stared at the speedy rhythm of the baby’s heartbeat.

“Is it supposed to be that fast?” Jeremy asked.

“It’s just right,” the nurse reassured him. Then, turning to Lexie, she hooked the chart at the edge of the bed. “I’m Joanie, and I’ll be checking on you as the morning progresses. Since your contractions haven’t started getting closer, you might be here for a while. There’s no way to tell how long labor will last. Sometimes it suddenly clicks and goes fast; other times it’s more of a slow and steady progression. But don’t feel you need to stay in bed. Some women find that walking around helps, others like to sit, and others find that going on all fours is helpful. You’re not ready for the epidural you requested, so just do whatever you think you need to do to stay as comfortable as you can.”

“Okay,” she said.

“And . . . Mr. . . .,” she said, turning to Jeremy.

“Marsh,” he said. “My name is Jeremy Marsh. And this is Lexie, my wife. We’re going to have a baby.”

The nurse looked amused by his response. “I can see that. But your role for the time being is to support her. Down the hall there’s an ice machine, and feel free to bring her as many ice chips as she wants. There are some washcloths by the sink that you can use to wipe her forehead. If she does want to walk around, just be there to support her. Sometimes contractions hit just right and the legs get wobbly; you don’t want her to fall.”

“I can do that,” he said, mentally going through the list.

“If you need a nurse, just press this button. Someone will get to you as soon as they can.”

The nurse started toward the door.

“Wait . . . You’re leaving?” Jeremy asked.

“I’ve got to check on another patient. And there’s not really anything else I can do right now, except to put in the call to the anesthesiologist. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.”

“What are we supposed to do in the meantime?”

The nurse thought about it. “I guess you could watch television if you like. The remote is by the bedstand.”

“My wife’s in labor. I don’t think she’s in the mood for television.”

“Or not,” the nurse said. “But like I said, you might be here a while. I once had a woman in labor for nearly thirty hours.”

Jeremy paled, as did Lexie. Thirty hours? Before they could dwell on it, another contraction started, and Jeremy’s attention was diverted not only by Lexie’s discomfort, but by the pain he felt when she dug her nails into his hand.

They turned on the television half an hour later.

It seemed wrong, but they couldn’t think of anything else to do in between the contractions, which were still eight minutes apart. Jeremy had the sudden suspicion that the baby was going to take her own sweet time. Not even born yet and already mastering the skill of being fashionably late. Even had he not been told beforehand, he would have definitely made the assumption that he was having a girl.

Lexie was doing okay. He knew not only because he asked, but also because afterward she punched him in the arm.

Doris showed up about an hour later, dressed in her Sunday best, which seemed more than appropriate for this special day. Thinking back, he was glad he had showered. With no speedup in the contractions, they still had plenty of time.

Doris seemed to take over the room, arms flailing, looking as if she were swarming toward the bed. She’d had a child, she said, so she knew exactly what to expect, and Jeremy could tell Lexie was glad she’d arrived. When Doris asked if she was doing okay, Lexie didn’t punch her. She simply answered the question.

He had to admit, that bothered him a bit. Actually, so did the fact that Doris was even around. He knew it was petty, that she’d raised Lexie and wanted to share in this special day, but a part of Jeremy believed this was something that just the two of them should share. Afterward there would be plenty of time for bonding and sharing and feeling giddy. Still, as he moved to a chair in the corner of the room, he never considered saying anything. It was one of those instances where even the most delicate diplomacy might cause offense.

He spent the next forty-five minutes half listening to their conversation, half watching Good Morning America. A big chunk of it was devoted to the ongoing campaigns of Al Gore and George W. Bush, and Jeremy found himself tuning out whenever either of them opened his mouth. But it was easier than overhearing how selfish he’d been when she woke him earlier that morning.

“He was cutting his fingernails?” Doris said, eyeing him with mock outrage.

“They were getting kind of long,” he said.

“And then he drove like a maniac,” Lexie added. “The tires were actually squealing.”

Doris shook her head in disappointment.

“I thought she was about to have the baby,” Jeremy said defensively. “How was I to know that we had hours to spare?”

“Well, listen,” Doris said, “I’ve been through this before, so I stopped at the drugstore on the way and picked you up a few magazines. Brainless stuff, but it’ll help pass the time.”

“Thanks, Doris,” Lexie said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Doris said. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

Lexie smiled.

“I’m going to pop downstairs and get a cup of coffee, okay?” Doris went on. “Would you mind?”

“No, go ahead.”

“Would you like anything, Jeremy?”

“No, I’m doing okay,” he said, ignoring the growling in his stomach. If Lexie couldn’t eat, then neither would he. It seemed like the right thing to do.

“See you soon,” Doris chirped. On her way out the door, she touched Jeremy’s shoulder and leaned toward him. “Don’t worry about this morning,” she said. “My husband did the same thing. I found him cleaning his office. It’s normal.”

Jeremy nodded.

The contractions started coming faster. First every seven minutes, then every six. An hour later, they seem to have stabilized again at five minutes. Joanie and Iris-another nurse-seemed to be switching off, alternating their visits.

Doris was still downstairs, and Jeremy found himself wondering whether she’d been able to read his mind about wanting to be alone. The television was still on, though neither was paying much attention to it. With the contractions coming faster, Jeremy was wiping Lexie’s forehead and giving her ice chips. She hadn’t yet wanted to go for a walk; instead her eyes seemed glued to the monitor, where she watched the baby’s heartbeat.

“Are you scared?” Lexie finally said.

He saw the worry in her face. With the time drawing nearer, it didn’t surprise him.

“No,” he said, “not really. It hasn’t even been two weeks since the last ultrasound, and she was doing fine then. I think if the band were going to attach, it would have done so by then. And even if it did, the doctor said that she was far enough along that any problems would be minor.”

“But what if it attaches to the cord at the last minute? What if it cuts off the blood flow?”

“It won’t,” Jeremy reassured her. “I’m sure that everything’s going to be okay. If the doctor was worried, I’m sure you’d be hooked up to a lot more machines and talking to a lot of different doctors already.”

She nodded, hoping he was right but unwilling to convince herself until she knew for sure. Until she could hold the baby and see for herself.

“I think she should have a brother or sister,” Lexie said. “I don’t want her to be an only child like me.”

“You turned out okay.”

“I know, but still, I remember growing up and wishing that I had what most of my friends had. Someone to play with on rainy days, someone to talk to at the dinner table. You grew up with five brothers. Didn’t you think that was wonderful?”

“Sometimes,” Jeremy admitted. “But other times it wasn’t so great. Being the youngest, I got taken advantage of a lot, especially in the mornings. I used to tell people that being the youngest of six meant a lot of cold showers and soggy towels.”

She smiled. “I still want more than one.”

“So do I. But let’s get this one out of the way first. Then we’ll see what happens.”

“Can we adopt?” she asked. “I mean . . . well, you know. . . .”

“If I can’t get you pregnant again?”

She nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “We can adopt. I’ve heard it can take a long time, though.”

“Then maybe we should start the process.”

“I don’t think you’re in any condition to start anything right now.”

“No, I mean when the baby is a couple of months old or something like that. We can keep trying to have a baby the regular way, but that way, we’re still going forward if nothing happens. I don’t want them too far apart in age.”

He wiped her forehead again. “You’ve been giving this a lot of thought.”

“I’ve been thinking about it ever since we found out about the amniotic band. Once I found out that there was a chance we could lose the baby, I realized how much I wanted to be a mother. And no matter what happens, I still do.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” he said. “But I know what you mean.”

She reached for his hand and kissed his fingers. “I love you, you know.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I know.”

“You don’t love me?”

“I love you more than there are fishes in the sea, and higher than the moon.” She looked at him curiously, and he shrugged. “That’s what my mom used to say to us when we were little.”

She kissed his fingers again. “Will you say that to Claire, too?”

“Every day.”

With that, another contraction started.

Doris returned a little while later, and as the hours rolled on, ever so gradually, the contractions started coming even more quickly. Five minutes, then four and half. At four minutes, Lexie had her cervix checked again-not exactly the prettiest picture, Jeremy thought-but afterward Joanie stood up with a knowing look.

“I think it’s time to get the anesthesiologist,” she said. “You’re already six centimeters dilated.”

Jeremy wondered exactly how that had been calculated but decided now was not the time to ask.

“Are the contractions more intense?” Joanie asked, tossing her glove into the garbage.

When Lexie nodded, she motioned to the monitor. “So far, the baby is handling it well. But don’t worry, once you get the epidural, there’s no more pain.”

“Good,” Lexie said.

“You could still change your mind, if you’d like to do this naturally,” Joanie suggested.

“I’ll pass,” Lexie said. “How much longer, do you think?”

“It’s still hard to tell, but if you keep going like you are, maybe in the next hour or so.”

Jeremy’s heart pounded in his chest again. Though it could have been his imagination, he thought the baby’s heartbeat did the same. He tried to steady his breathing.

A few minutes later, the anesthesiologist appeared, and Joanie asked Jeremy to leave the room. Although he consented, as he stood in the hallway with Doris, he found the idea of privacy a bit ridiculous. There wasn’t a chance that hooking up the epidural could be nearly as invasive as having her cervix checked.

“Lexie said you were writing again,” Doris remarked.

“I am,” Jeremy said. “I’ve actually written a few more columns in the last week.”

“Any big story ideas yet?”

“A couple. But we’ll have to see if I do them. With the new baby, I don’t know how much Lexie will appreciate it if I take off for a few weeks. But there’s another story that I think I can do from home. It won’t be like the Clausen piece, but it’s strong enough.”

“Congratulations,” Doris said. “I’m happy for you.”

“Me too,” he said, and she laughed.

“I hear you’re going to name the baby Claire,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve always loved that name,” Doris said, her voice quiet. In the silence that followed, Jeremy knew she was remembering her daughter.

“You should have seen her when she popped out. She had a full head of the blackest hair you’ve ever seen, and she was loud. I knew right away I was going to have to watch her. She was a wild thing, even from the beginning.”

“She was wild?” Jeremy asked. “I got the impression from Lexie that she was the perfect southern belle.”

Doris laughed. “Are you kidding? She was a good kid, I’ll grant you that, but she could really test the limits. In the third grade, she got sent home from school for kissing all the boys on the playground at recess. She even made a couple of them cry. So she got in trouble, right? Grounded for the rest of the day, told to clean her room, and we talked her ear off, explaining how that just wasn’t appropriate behavior. So the next day at school, she did the same thing again. When we picked her up, we were at our wits’ end, but she just said that she liked kissing boys, even if she did get grounded later.”

Jeremy laughed. “Does Lexie know that?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know why I even brought it up. But having children changes your life like nothing else. It’ll be the hardest and best thing you’ve ever done.”

“I can’t wait,” Jeremy said. “I’m ready.”

“Really? Because you seem terrified.”

“I’m not,” Jeremy lied.

“Hmm,” Doris said. “Can I hold your hand when you say that?”

The last time she’d done that, Jeremy had had the strange sensation that she’d read his mind. Even if he didn’t believe it had really happened, because . . . well, it just wasn’t possible.

“No, as a matter of fact, you can’t,” he said.

Doris smiled. “It’s okay to be a little nervous. And scared, too. It’s a big responsibility. But you’re going to do fine.”

Jeremy nodded, thinking that in less than forty minutes he would find out.

With the epidural in, Lexie was no longer in pain and had to watch the monitor to even realize she was having a contraction. Within twenty minutes, her cervix had dilated to eight centimeters. At ten, the party would begin. The baby’s heartbeat was still perfectly normal.

Without the pain, her mood improved dramatically.

“I feel good,” she said, almost singing the last word.

“You sound like you’ve had a couple of beers.”

“Feel that way, too,” Lexie said. “It’s a lot better than the way I was feeling. I like this epidural. Why would anyone want to do this naturally? Labor pains hurt.”

“So I’ve heard. Do you need any more ice chips?”

“Nope. Doing great now.”

“You’re looking better, too.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Well, I showered this morning.”

“I know,” she said, singing out the word again. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I wanted to look good for the pictures.”

“I’m going to tell all my friends.”

“Just show them the pictures.”

“No, I mean about you taking your own sweet time while I was writhing in agony.”

“You were on the phone with Doris. You weren’t writhing.”

“I was writhing on the inside,” she said. “I’m just tough and don’t show it.”

“And beautiful, don’t forget.”

“Yeah, that too. You’re a lucky man.”

“Yes, I am,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said.

It was time.

The nurses went into a flurry of preparations in the delivery room. The doctor eventually appeared and, like the nurses, checked Lexie’s cervix again. Then, leaning forward on his stool, he explained what was going to happen. How he would ask her to push once the contraction started, how it might take two or three pushes to get the baby out. That in between she should conserve her strength. Lexie and Jeremy hung on his every word.

“Now, there’s still the issue of the amniotic band,” he said. “The heartbeat has been good and steady, so I’m not expecting anything unusual in the birth. I don’t think it’s attached to the cord, and the baby doesn’t seem to be in any distress. There is a chance, however, that it could still entwine the cord at the last minute, but by then there’s nothing we can do except get the baby out as fast as we can, and I’m prepared for that. We’ll have a pediatrician in the room, and she’ll examine the baby, checking for amniotic band syndrome, but again, I think we got lucky.”

Lexie and Jeremy nodded, looking nervous.

“You’re going to do fine,” he said. “Just do what I tell you, and in a few minutes you’ll be parents, okay?”

Lexie drew a long breath. “Okay,” she said, reaching for Jeremy’s hand.

“Where do I go?” Jeremy said.

“Right where you are is fine.”

As the doctor finished up with everything he needed to do, another nurse entered the room, along with the pediatrician, who introduced herself as Dr. Ryan. A sterilized tray of surgical tools was rolled toward the bed and uncovered. The doctor seemed completely at ease; Dr. Ryan chatted easily with the nurse.

When the next contraction started, the doctor told Lexie to grab her legs and push. Lexie grimaced with the effort, and the doctor checked the baby’s heartbeat once more. Lexie strained, squeezing Jeremy’s hand as hard as she could.

“Okay, good,” he said, moving into a better position. He got comfortable on the rolling stool. “Now relax for a minute. Catch your breath and we’ll try this again. Push a little harder if you can.”

She nodded. Jeremy wondered whether it was possible to push harder, but Lexie seemed fine with it and began to push again.

The doctor was focused. “Good, good,” he said. “Keep going.”

Lexie kept pushing; Jeremy ignored the pain in his hand. The contraction ended.

“Relax again. You’re doing fine,” he assured her.

Lexie caught her breath as Jeremy wiped the perspiration from her brow. When the next contraction came, she went through the process once more. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her teeth clenched, her face flushed with effort. The nurses stood at the ready. Jeremy was still holding her hand, amazed at how fast things seemed to be moving now.

“Good, good,” the doctor said. “Just one more big push and we’re there . . .”

After that, everything went foggy, and he couldn’t explain how it happened. Later, he would realize that he could remember only bits and pieces, and he sometimes felt guilty about that. His last clear memory of Lexie was one of her pulling up her legs as the next contraction started. Her face was shiny with perspiration, and she was breathing hard as the doctor told her to push one last time with everything she had. He thought he saw her smile.

And then? He wasn’t sure, for his gaze was drawn toward Lexie’s legs, toward the quick and fluid movements of the physician. Though he considered himself knowledgeable and worldly, it suddenly struck him that this was the first-and possibly only-time that he would witness the birth of his child, and at that point the room itself seemed to shrink. All at once, he was only dimly aware that Doris was still in the room; instead, he heard Lexie groan and watched as Claire began to emerge. First her head, and then with a quick shift of the physician’s hands, the shoulders slid free, followed almost immediately by the rest of her body. In an instant, Jeremy had become a father, and he stared in amazement at the new life before him.

Covered in amniotic fluid and still attached to the umbilical cord, Claire was a slippery mass of gray and red and brown and seemed at first to be gasping; in an instant, Dr. Ryan placed her on a table, a suction tube was inserted in her mouth, and her throat was cleared. Only then did Claire begin to cry. The pediatrician began to examine her. From his spot, Jeremy couldn’t tell whether the baby was doing okay. The world was still closing in. Vaguely, he heard Lexie gasp.

“I don’t see any signs that the amniotic band attached,” Dr. Ryan said. “She’s got all her fingers and toes, and she’s a cute little thing. Good color, and she’s breathing fine. Apgar is an eight.”

Claire continued to wail, and Jeremy finally turned toward Lexie. At that point, everything moved so fast that he was still having trouble processing it.

“Did you hear that?” he asked.

It was then, while looking at her, that he heard the long, steady beep on the machine behind him. Lexie’s eyes were closed and her head lay back on the pillow, almost as if she were asleep.

His first thought was that it was strange that she wasn’t craning her neck in search of the baby. Then, all at once, the physician rose from his stool so quickly that it shot out toward the wall behind him. The nurse shouted something about code, and the doctor yelled to the other nurse to take Jeremy and Doris from the room immediately.

Jeremy felt a sudden contraction in his chest. “What’s happened?” he shouted.

The nurse grabbed his arm and started dragging him from the room.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong with her? Wait . . .”

“Please!” the nurse shouted. “You’ve got to go now!”

His eyes widened in terror. He couldn’t turn away from Lexie. Nor could Doris. As if from somewhere far away, he heard the nurse shouting for help from the orderlies. The doctor was over Lexie now, pushing on her chest. . . .

Looking panicked. They were all panicked.

“Nooo!” Jeremy screamed. He tried to shake free from the nurse.

“Get him out of here!” the doctor shouted.

Jeremy felt someone else grab his arm. He was being pulled from the room. This couldn’t be happening. What was wrong? Why wasn’t she moving? Oh God, she’s going to be okay. This can’t be happening. Wake up, Lexie . . . oh, please, God, wake up. . . .

“What’s happening?” he screamed again. He was led to the hallway, barely hearing the voices telling him to calm down. From the corner of his eye, he saw a stretcher being rushed down the hall by two orderlies. They vanished into the room.

Jeremy was being held against the wall by two other orderlies. His breathing was shallow, his body as tense and cold as cable wire. He heard Doris sobbing but could barely process the sound. He was surrounded by rushing people and all alone at the same time. This was what true terror felt like. A minute later, Lexie was being rushed from the room on a gurney. The doctor was still on top of her, giving her CPR. There was a bag over her face.

Then, all at once, time seemed to slow. His body finally loosened once Lexie vanished through the swinging doors at the end of the corridor. Suddenly he felt weak, and he could barely stand. He was dizzy.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again. “Where are they taking her? Why isn’t she moving?”

Neither the orderlies nor the nurse could look at him.

He and Doris were led to a special room. Not a waiting room, not a hospital room, but someplace else. Blue vinyl padded chairs lined the two walls of the carpeted room. An end table was littered with magazines, a garish mess beneath cold fluorescent lights. A wooden cross hung on the far wall. An empty room but for the two of them.

Doris sat pale and trembling, staring without seeming to focus on anything. Jeremy sat beside her, then rose to pace the room, then sat again. He’d asked her what happened, but Doris knew no more than Jeremy. She brought her hands to her face and began to cry.

Jeremy couldn’t swallow. He couldn’t think. He tried to remember what happened, tried to piece it all together, but he couldn’t concentrate. Time slowed.

Seconds, minutes, hours . . . He didn’t know how much time passed, didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know if she would be okay, wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to rush back into the corridor to find the answers. More than that, he needed to see Lexie to know that she was okay. Doris continued to cry beside him, her trembling hands clasped in a desperate prayer.

Strangely, he would always remember everything about the waiting room, but as much as he tried, he couldn’t picture the face of the hospital counselor who eventually came to find him, and even the physician looked different from the way he’d appeared in the delivery room or during any of their previous appointments. All he would really remember was the cold terror he suddenly felt when he saw them appear. He stood, as did Doris, and though he thought he wanted answers, all at once he didn’t want them to say anything at all. Doris held his arm, as if hoping he were strong enough to support them both.

“How is she?” Jeremy asked.

The doctor seemed exhausted. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this,” he began, “but we think your wife had what’s called an amniotic fluid embolism. . . .”

Again, Jeremy felt dizzy. Trying to steady himself, he focused on the specks of blood and fluid that had splattered on the doctor’s gown during the delivery. The words echoed as if from a great distance as the doctor went on.

“We don’t think the amniotic band had anything to do with it . . . they were completely separate events. . . . Amniotic fluid somehow must have entered one of the vessels in the uterus. There was no way we could have predicted it. . . . There was nothing we could do. . . .”

The room closed in around him, and Doris sagged against him, her voice going ragged. “Oh . . . no . . .,” she said. “No . . . no . . .”

He strained to draw breath. Numbly, he heard the doctor going on.

“It’s very rare, but somehow, once the fluid entered the vessel, it must have traveled to her heart. I’m sorry, but she didn’t make it. The baby’s fine, though. . . .”

Doris staggered, but Jeremy was able to hold her upright. How, he wasn’t sure. None of this was making any sense. Lexie couldn’t be gone. She was fine. She was healthy. They were talking a few minutes ago. She’d delivered the baby. She’d pushed.

This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be real.

But it was.

The doctor seemed to be in shock himself as he continued to attempt an explanation. Jeremy stared through his tears, light-headed and nauseated.

“Can I see her?” he suddenly croaked out.

“She’s in the nursery, under the lights,” the doctor said, as if glad to finally have a question he could answer. He was a good man, and this was obviously hard for him. “Like I said, she’s doing fine.”

“No,” Jeremy said in a strangled voice. He struggled to form the words. “My wife. Can I see my wife?”