Sophie woke a while later—minutes? Hours? She couldn’t tell.
Her stretcher was up against the back wall of triage, tucked out
of the way from the main part of the room. She was chilled despite
the warm blankets piled on top of her. She felt the restrictive tug
of an IV line taped to her arm, tethering her to an IV pole.
Once fully awake, it all came rushing back. Sophie touched
her doughy belly with her baby no longer inside her and grasped
the gravity of the situation. Danny had been born too early to
survive without the neonatal intensive care unit. How could that
be? Her own doctor had told her she was a picture of perfect preg
nant health. And even though she’d felt some twinges walking
to the hospital, she felt better by the time she got there. What
happened?
She chewed on her lower lip as she thought over the past
three hours.
She had been running errands on her lunch break, making
her way through the crowded sidewalks of Midtown Manhattan.
The weather was typical of late December—cold, raw tempera
tures; gray skies; and week-old dirty slush on the city streets.
She’d bought a new Kong for Blu, her and Adam’s Portuguese
water dog. Blu had been there for the two of them through the
years of failed attempts at starting a family. It was their last try at
IVF that was finally successful.
With the Kong tucked under one arm and her pocketbook
slung over the other shoulder, Sophie headed uptown to her Madison Avenue office. The first twinge hit when she stopped
short to keep from bumping into the man waiting for the traf
fic light. At first, it registered low on her panic radar. She went
another three blocks and felt another twinge, more like a cramp
in her lower abdomen. But when it happened a third time at
the intersection of Fifty-Seventh and Lexington, she had to
decide—go left back to her office or go right to New York Metro
Hospital. She had to be sure Danny was okay. She wondered,
were these twinges of cramping normal? One minute she was
confident everything was fine; the next minute she doubted her
self. How was she supposed to know if something was wrong? She
was no obstetrician. She had known this little guy inside of her
for over six months—shouldn’t she know if everything was okay?
She stopped to call her obstetrician’s office and left a message
for someone to get back to her as soon as possible. Was it really
necessary to go to the hospital?
No way was she taking any chances. Work would just have
to wait. She chose to go get checked out—a decision that would
haunt her for years. Second-guessing herself all the way, she hur
ried to the hospital.
Sophie entered the two-hundred-year-old lobby of Metro
Women’s and Children’s Hospital. Another cramp hit her.
She hurried through the crowded lobby to the information desk.
Holding her belly, Sophie asked, “Where’s maternity triage?”
The woman behind the desk pointed to her left. Overhead
were signs that read Oncology, Maternity, Fertility Clinic,
Pediatrics, Neonatal Intensive Care, Day Surgery, and
Maternity Triage. Sophie hurried down the hall to triage. She
couldn’t help but notice the wall that extended the full length of
the hallway, lined with black-and-white photos of hospital phy
sicians wearing starchy white lab coats.
She arrived at maternity triage to find a small crowd of women waiting at the desk. A couple of them yelled for some
one’s attention. Another cramp seized Sophie. Remembering
instructions from her doctor’s nurse, she sat down and pulled out
her water bottle.
“If you feel cramping, drink lots of water. That’s probably the
problem. And for God’s sake, sit down and take a break.” Sophie
recalled the strict advice from her obstetrician’s nurse.
She drank the entire bottle, filled it up again from the water
dispenser against the wall, and continued to drink. After a brief
sit-down, she got up to stand in line at the triage desk. Her
cramping had subsided.
Behind Sophie stood a petite young woman, holding her
stomach and wincing slightly. Sophie turned to her and smiled.
“Hi, I’m Sophie.”
The young woman’s name was Anna. Waiting to be called
into triage, the two women chatted and compared notes—both
were twenty-six weeks pregnant and here at Metro for a quick
check of some minor abdominal pain. Seeing that Anna was still
wincing, Sophie moved behind her and told her she should go
first. Then she offered her a drink from her water bottle.
Anna shook her head. “No thank you. I’m okay.”
When Anna’s turn came to step up to the triage desk, her soft
brown eyes looked at Sophie questioningly.
“Yes, you go. I’ll be in right behind you.”
“Thank you.”
Sophie gave her a wink and said, “Good luck, Anna. See you
in there.”
Sophie checked her phone—it had been twenty minutes
since she felt the last cramp. Maybe it’s all a false alarm.
Sophie’s turn came. A nurse in her fifties, Sophie guessed,
with graying hair and smile lines that radiated from the corners of
her eyes, greeted Sophie. Sophie read the hospital badge clipped
to her scrubs breast pocket: Carol Bennett, Charge Nurse.
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THE VERY BEST OF CARE
“Come with me.” Carol led Sophie into triage.
“Actually, Carol, I feel much better now. I think I can go back
to work.” Then came a faint cramp, accompanied by that little
voice in her head: Don’t you dare let anything happen to Danny.
Carol studied her. “Well, since you’re here, let’s just check to
make sure everyone’s okay. No need to be nervous. You’re proba
bly right. More than likely everything is fine.”
“Okay. Maybe a quick check would be good, just to be sure.”
Sophie followed Carol through the door into the busy triage
unit. She looked for Anna but couldn’t find her.
Carol led her to a space with a gurney behind a curtain. The
curtain didn’t close completely, leaving a large gap that caused
Sophie to feel exposed. Carol got busy as she untangled moni
tor wires, pulled apart the Velcro of the blood pressure cuff, and
stuck a digital thermometer under Sophie’s tongue. “Sorry, we’re
out of the skin temp thermometers.”
Sophie looked up at her and offered an “It’s okay” smile.
“Are you having a boy or a girl?” asked Carol.
“A boy,” Sophie answered around the thermometer in her
mouth.
“That’s wonderful. What’s his name?”
“Daniel.”
“I love that name. Is it a family name?” Carol continued with
light conversation as she settled Sophie in for her stay in triage.
Her chattering helped to ease Sophie’s nerves.
Five minutes later, Sophie lay with wires attached to her chest
and abdomen that connected to monitors on the wall above her
head. An IV dripped into her left arm. Carol had done a brief
physical exam and confirmed her gestation of twenty-six weeks.
“Your uterus is just a little irritable, nothing serious. It hap
pens all the time around twenty-five to twenty-eight weeks. Not
so much a sign of early labor, more a sign you need to relax and
hydrate.”
8
JULIE HATCH
Carol adjusted the IV clamp, speeding up the drip of the fluid.
“I’m going to give you a small dose of progesterone, a med
ication that will help keep your uterus from cramping.” Carol
injected the medicine into her IV.
Sophie took some deep breaths and allowed herself to believe
that everything would be okay. She and Adam had worked so
hard to conceive. No way was she going to let any harm come
to this little treasure inside of her. He’d never survive being born
this early.
She took in the busyness of the crowded triage unit. The air
was charged as doctors and nurses bustled from patient to patient,
checking monitors, taking vital signs, examining bellies, inject
ing IVs, writing notes in charts, and typing on laptops, all the
while talking among themselves and with their patients.
The clock read two thirty. She’d been gone from the office
for over two hours. When Carol came back around to check on
her, Sophie asked if she’d be able to leave soon.
“I’ve got a pile of work waiting for me at the office and two
impossible deadlines,” she smiled as she explained.
Carol looked at her monitor and felt her belly. “If you don’t
have any more cramping in the next fifteen minutes, you should
be good to go.”
That’s a relief. Sophie considered calling Adam but decided
against it. She wasn’t going to interrupt him and his class of high
school sophomores just to tell him she and the baby were okay.
She could wait until dinner to tell him about her afternoon.
Adam. He’d been the one to rescue her six years ago from the
rigid, restrictive confines of her own making. Safety and security
for Sophie had always come in the form of planning and con
trolling. The tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed Irishman had reached
in and touched her heart. Adam had rescued her from a marriage
that had gone sour as soon as she’d taken her vows. The marriage
she’d been so careful about, to choose the right guy and plan the
9
THE VERY BEST OF CARE
perfect ceremony, was over in under a week. The guy turned out
to be a monster. Adam, who was a friend at the time, had stepped
in to help. He’d cracked open her rigid exterior and shown her
how to let go, lighten up, and trust that the world was not out to
hurt her. She’d come a long way in learning to calm down, but
she knew she was still a work in progress.
Sophie sat up and swung her legs over the side of the gurney,
looking for her clothes. It was time she got going. She scanned
the room for Carol. She needed help getting rid of this IV, then
she’d be out of there. Fifteen minutes had passed, and she felt
back to normal. She examined her IV, figuring out how exactly
she should disconnect from it.
“Mrs. Young?” A voice pulled her from her concentration.
“I’m Dr. Wagner.”
Sophie looked up to meet a tall, rather handsome doctor. He
smiled and politely offered his well-manicured hand. She shook
it and smiled up at him. He was dressed in blue scrubs and a
white lab coat with his name embroidered on the front. He leafed
through her paperwork as he spoke. Hanging behind him was a
nurse with a hospital ID clipped to the front of her scrubs top.
Amanda, Sophie read.
“You’re thirty-seven,” Dr. Wagner read off the chart.
Sophie nodded.
“Ah yes, I see here. Says you’re twenty-six weeks.”
She nodded again.
Dr. Wagner jotted something down on a folded piece of paper
that he’d pulled from his scrubs pocket. He turned and handed it
to the nurse. “Could you hang on to this, please, Amanda? Why
don’t you lie back down, Mrs. Young. I’d like you to stay just a
little longer so I can be sure you and your baby are okay.”
Reluctantly, Sophie got back under the covers. “Is there
something Carol missed? She said I should be good to go, and
I really need to get back to work.” Feeling queasy with the idea
10
JULIE HATCH
of staying in triage any longer and missing any more work, she
added, “Please, I’ll check in with my regular doctor first thing
tomorrow. I’m fine.” She wanted out of there. This Dr. Wagner
was probably just dotting his i’s and crossing his t’s before letting
her go.
“I know I’m not your regular doctor, but I need to make sure
everything checks out with your baby. I can’t just let you go with
out an exam and a chance to monitor your baby. Relax, this won’t
take long.” He gave her a reassuring smile.
“Okay, I’ll try.” She took a deep breath.
“Good.” He gave her hand a quick pat, then took a minute
to adjust her IV before turning to check on the next patient. He
and Amanda moved from patient to patient as a pair.
Triage was getting busier. The wails of one very pregnant
woman reverberated off the triage walls.
“Let’s get her upstairs to deliver,” yelled one of the doctors.
Sophie watched as two nurses ran to push the laboring woman
out of the room. She put her hand on her belly, silently telling
Danny to settle down and behave until she could get them both
out of there.
