The Between Years

incapacitation dawned on me, I shouted for help, wiggled, grunted, struggled to crawl to my feet, but I couldn't budge. Before long, a crowd gathered around me, but no one extended their hand. Then a guy wearing a pair of EMO earrings, a lip ring, and orange hair sticking out under his Niagara College Paramedics Program ball cap, burst through the wedge of people, squatted at my side, and took my hand.

    “ Don't move.” He patted my hand. “Just stay still and don't try and do a thing. Take a deep breath and try and relax.”

    I heard his every word, but I couldn't register them, and I tried to sit up again. He pressed his hand against my shoulder and eased me back down.

    “ No, no, don't try and get up, that'll make it worse. Just stay put and relax. The gentleman behind me just called an ambulance, and it'll be here any time now.”

    He motioned for the bystanders to step back then shed his coat and draped it over me.

    I covered my face with my free hand, tried not to cry, and wished people would quit gawking at me. Yes, I was the stupid pregnant lady who'd just fallen flat on her ass, and I didn't need them to make a spectacle of me. Worse, I thought my pregnancy was doomed, that I had failed as a mother before Kenny had been born, and I would never have a second chance.

    A team of paramedics arrived on the scene in less than twenty minutes (real time). The dragging minutes felt like an eternity. They covered me with warm blankets, slid me onto a stretcher, loaded me into the ambulance, and rushed me to the hospital, sirens wailing. And with that, I turned my freewill, my son's fate, over to a group of strangers, and prayed for the best.

    I can't tell you how long the trip to the hospital took, except to say that it felt like forever. A collection of nightmare thoughts swirled tornado-like through my mind, and I had all but given up hope. Looking back, I can't believe I was so eager to cut my losses, throw in the towel, but I honestly thought little Kenny didn't have a chance.

    When we reached the hospital, I was still glued to the stretcher, but I'd held my head up the whole time, enough so I worried my head would fall off. The paramedics hoisted me out of the ambulance and we flew past the sliding glass doors. Randy was waiting for me, slumped over, fingers between his lips like a harmonica, and he popped to his feet like finished toast when he saw me.

    “ Everything's gonna be okay, Sweetie,” he said. When he said it, I was willing to believe it. All my doubts washed away. He stuck by my side when I was carted through a maze of corridors, and parked in a small, white room. The medics then shifted me from the stretcher onto an operating table.

    At first, I thought Randy had gone missing (or taken off) and the stress that had already ravaged me made me panic. Thankfully, he returned minutes later, dressed in green scrubs, a cap and mask. He took my hand, squeezed it, and again assured me that everything would be okay. Then another man in scrubs entered the room. He didn't take my hand or even introduce himself, but he did say, “I don't want you to be alarmed, but your baby is very premature, he'll need to be delivered tonight, and a C-section will be necessary.”

    Local anesthetic was administered and what looked like a tent was placed over my abdomen. I was awake for the entire procedure. My father underwent hernia surgery in Toronto the same way, and I wondered how anyone could stand to be operated on while they are awake. But the experience was nowhere near as creepy and disgusting as I had expected. I wanted to be awake for the birth of any child I was bearing, and after twenty-five minutes of surgery, I had a beautiful baby boy of my own. The nurse handed me the bundle to make sure I bonded with him immediately, and let me tell you that bond felt like an electric charge.

    Then I noticed his immediate bond with Randy. When I watched Randy cradle Kenny in his arms for the first time, I swore I'd never seen anything so natural. Randy said nothing; he just gazed down at his son, tickled his belly, and rocked him back and forth. For that moment, there was just a father and his son, and the rest of the world fell away like a severed drape.

    Taking Kenny home for the first time excited me, but it also made me nervous enough to bite my fingernails and grind my teeth. The nursery had been finished early, but the house was a mess, since my little accident caused Kenny to arrive a month early. We