Page 73 of As The Shifter World Turns

73

OH, BABY!

Ivor

I rubbed the small of my back as I heaved myself out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Walking, or waddling, from the bedroom to the toilet was a well-traveled route and I could do it blind-folded. Not that I would because I’d trip.

As I climbed back into bed, I groaned, knowing I’d never get comfortable. I needed this baby out and I rubbed my belly, wanting to hold my daughter in my arms and not be pregnant any more.

My belly cramped a little and I winced. I’d been having these small contractions on and off over the past few days.

“You okay, love?” Ryder was lying on his stomach and he stuck his head up, one eye open.

“Braxton Hicks.”

“Who?” He flopped back onto the mattress. “I don’t remember anyone of that name.”

“The false contractions that prepare your body for birth.”

“Oh those,” he mumbled, his face in the pillow.

Minutes later, he was snoring and I was still awake. But two hours later, I shook his shoulder, my belly cramping uncomfortably. “Ryder, we need to get to the hospital.”

“Now?” He leaped out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants he’d thrown over a chair last night.

“Mmmm. I called the hospital and they said to come in.” My bag had been beside the door for a week and I handed Ryder the car keys and his phone. He opened the front door. “Mouth wash, babe.'' While I had toiletries in my bag, I didn’t want to deal with my mate’s manky breath while driving to the hospital.

Ryder helped me into the back seat of the car because I needed space, but the ride to the hospital was interminable. We’d driven this route many times and yet today we hit every traffic light.

Baby . My wolf was telling me it was time.

Yeah. Soon.

Arriving at the hospital I was put in a wheelchair. There were examinations and voices and the beeping of machines. And pain. Ryder’s hand was in mine and he breathed with me through the contractions. My mate fed me ice chips and I lost track of time, not knowing if it was day or night. Faces peered at me as I whimpered, begging for them to get the baby out.

“Time to push, Ivor.”

“Haven’t I been doing that?” There’d been so much pain, I thought I must have given birth. With my energy drained and Ryder holding me up, I pushed with each contraction until I thought I was being split in two.

“Make it stop,” I yelled.

“One more push,” Dr. Grey insisted.

I was wrong. Now I was being divided in half.

But through the tears, frustration, pain, and Ryder’s voice telling me to keep going, our baby’s cry rang out and my eyes snapped open.

“She’s here, Ivor,” my mate gushed as he cut the cord and a midwife placed a squirmy, slippery bundle on my chest.

I inhaled her scent, committing it to memory, just as she knew mine from being inside me for nine months. Ryder nuzzled our daughter and kissed my sweaty brow and when we were taken to my room, I did my best to feed our little one. She wasn’t interested and the nurse told me not to worry but to try again soon.

I’d read a lot about feeding and spoken to Archer so I understood I had to persevere, but she wouldn’t latch on and as the hours passed I grew frantic.

“Ryder,” I shrieked. My mate was sitting in a chair, his head lolling forward but he leaped up on hearing my voice.

“What is it? You hungry?”

I’d been stuffing my face since the birth and in addition to the hospital food, my mate had ordered Thai food.

“Look at Dyani.” We’d only decided on her name since we laid eyes on her and her long legs told me even if she wasn’t a deer, I imagined her leaping over a hedge and running through the woods. “Does her skin look blue to you?”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” he said but when he leaned over, he turned his head and caught my eye. There was uncertainty and fear etched on his face.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

He nodded and pushed the buzzer. The nurse arrived and then the doctor. He checked the chart and asked about Dyani’s feeding, and then he took my daughter from my arms and I’d never felt so empty as I sobbed and Ryder held me.

With each passing second, the bubble of fear in my belly was growing and getting ready to choke me. “What’s wrong?” But I didn’t want to hear the answer. Or I did but I needed them to say I was imagining it. All newborns were kinda blue and lethargic. It was completely normal.

Dr. Grey furrowed his brow and I was tempted to unleash my wolf and rip that freaking frown off his face. Without making any demands, I held out my arms. I didn’t need words to communicate, “Give me my baby.”

The doctor stood beside the bed and I held my breath, determined not to take another mouthful of oxygen until I knew my daughter was okay.

“The baby may be hypoglycemic,” he suggested.

“What? How?” Though it made sense as she hadn't drunk anything since she was born. But I was a dad, a new dad and I wasn’t about making sense. I wanted action.

But Ryder beat me to it, his hand clamped in mine, both palms bathed in sweat. “Fix it.” My poor mate. It wasn’t a question but a command.

“We’ll do a stick test.”

I hugged Dyani to my chest, not wanting anyone to touch her, and definitely not sticking a needle in her. Tears spilled over my cheeks and dropped onto the baby blanket, as Ryder stammered, “H-How do y-you d-do that?”

“In the heel. It’s the best way of taking a blood sample from a baby.”

“But it’ll hurt,” I blubbered.

“It’s very quick and we need to get this sorted. Hypoglycemia is easily treated but we can’t wait,” the doctor explained.

I refused to allow my daughter out of my sight and wouldn’t hand her over so they did the test with me in the bed holding her. Ryder had a hand over my shoulder and the other stifling a sob. Dyani gave a short sharp cry which pierced my heart and set off another flood of tears. And the whole time, our phones were blowing up.

We’d spoken to my parents and our Sunshine Manor family after Dyani was born, and we’d sent pics. But I suspected everyone wanted to come and see us and the baby. Ryder and I ignored the devices until my mate put both phones on mute.

Ryder sat beside me on the bed while we waited for the test results and I did my best to feed her but she wasn’t interested. The words, “What if?” clogged my head but I couldn’t say them. But Dr. Grey said it was easily treated.

When the doctor returned, he was holding a bottle of what looked like formula. “Yes, Dyani is mildly hypoglycemic, so let's try her with formula.”

I burst into tears. “But I want to feed her myself.”

“And you will,” he assured me. “Once her glucose levels are normal.”

But our daughter wouldn’t take the bottle and when I allowed the nurse to take over, she had no more success than I did. Next was a bottle of glucose and water, but Dyani was less interested and her skin was so pale it was almost see through.

“Ryder,” I sobbed as I felt my daughter’s life force ebbing away.

“No.'' There was steel in his voice and his clenched fists spoke of his internal turmoil. “She’s going to be fine.”

The doctor was back.

Dyani, my wolf yelped, wanting to help our little one.

“She won’t feed and she’s listless and pale. What do we do? This is the twenty-first century. We must be able to do something.”

“We can. We’re going to give Dyani glucose through an IV.” He glanced at the nurse. “And we’ll do this in the NICU. She may only need the IV overnight until the levels have stabilized or it could be 72 hours.”

“I won’t let you take her.” I rested my chin on her head and was certain the doctor could see my beast in my eyes.

“We have to be with her,” Ryder insisted. “She needs us.”

“I agree,” the doctor told us. “She needs both of you there with her.”

This was one battle we didn’t have to fight.

Though the phones were muted, mine was vibrating and Ryder grabbed it as it headed for the edge of the nightstand. “It’s Archer.”

“Tell him what’s happening and we’ll call when we can.”

My mate’s low murmurs punctuated the silence in the room as I was helped into a wheelchair. This wasn’t how I expected our post-birth experience to be.