Chapter 10 - THE NIGHT THE TWINS CAME EARLY
My water broke at thirty-three weeks and four days.
It was two-thirteen in the morning.
I had been asleep when I felt a sudden rush of fluid.
For one second, I thought I was dreaming.
Then I sat up.
“Ben!”
He appeared almost immediately.
“What?”
“I think the babies are coming.”
His face went pale.
Then he reached for his phone.
At the hospital, everything moved quickly.
Nurses checked my vital signs.
Doctors evaluated the babies.
An obstetric team explained the situation and the possibility of premature delivery.
I listened.
Asked questions.
Signed forms.
Tried not to panic.
At four-thirty, contractions intensified.
I gripped the bedrail.
Sophie held my hand.
Ben stood near the door looking as though he might faint.
I almost laughed.
“Ben.”
He looked up.
“Yes?”
“Sit down.”
He obeyed immediately.
At six-twelve, I asked for my phone.
Sophie handed it to me.
I stared at Grant's name.
For months, I'd avoided speaking to him.
But these were his children.
And I wanted the decision about his involvement to be mine.
Not Margaret's.
Not Celia's.
Not the media's.
Mine.
I called Evelyn.
She helped coordinate a message to Grant.
I'm in labor. The babies may arrive today. I am safe and receiving care. I'll provide updates through counsel.
Grant replied almost immediately.
Can I come?
I stared.
Then typed:
Not into the delivery room. I need calm. I'll let you know when they're born.
He answered:
I understand.
For once, he didn't argue.
At eight-forty-seven, my daughter was born.
Eleanor Rose Vale.
Four pounds, nine ounces.
She cried.
A small, fierce sound.
I began sobbing.
Seven minutes later, my son arrived.
James Andrew Vale.
Four pounds, thirteen ounces.
He needed additional respiratory support.
The neonatal team moved quickly.
I watched them carry him away.
My heart felt as though it had been pulled from my chest.
“Is he okay?”
The doctor explained what was happening.
They would monitor him closely.
He was premature.
But he was receiving the care he needed.
Both babies went to the neonatal intensive care unit.
I couldn't hold them immediately.
That was the hardest part.
I had carried them through humiliation, fear, legal threats, and sleepless nights.
Now they were here.
And I could only watch through the glass.
Grant arrived at the hospital that afternoon.
He didn't come into my room.
He waited in a family area.
Evelyn called to tell me.
I looked at Sophie.
“What do you think?”
She shrugged.
“What do you want?”
I thought.
Then said:
“I want him to see them.”
Grant entered the NICU wearing hospital-issued protective clothing.
He stopped when he saw the incubators.
I watched from a chair nearby.
He looked at Eleanor.
Then James.
His face crumpled.
“Oh my God.”
He pressed a hand over his mouth.
For a long moment, he couldn't speak.
Then he looked at me.
“Hannah.”
I nodded.
“They're beautiful.”
He began crying.
I had never seen him cry like that.
Not at our wedding.
Not when his father died.
Not when Vale Health went public.
He looked at the babies.
Then whispered:
“I'm sorry I wasn't there.”
I looked down.
“So am I.”
He didn't ask me to forgive him.
He didn't ask me to come home.
May you like
He simply sat beside the incubators.
And for the first time since I'd become pregnant, Grant Vale was exactly where he was supposed to be.
