Enter Carson

The day after Paul left I had a doctor's appointment. He met me there and we went in for my routine ultra sound. I had pregnancy induced high blood pressure throughout the pregnancy so they had to keep a close eye on the baby. I was still in shock from the day before. I had not slept yet and was very nervous about my appointment. The ultra sound tech had a serious look on her face as she did Carson's cord doppler readings. She said don't be alarmed we will just do a couple more. After she finished she walked out quickly and brought a nurse back in with her to check my blood pressure. 162/117. I was horrified. I knew the risks of having a bp that high. I knew by the look on everyone's face it wasn't good. She took us to a room to wait on Dr. Williams. When she came in she told us it was time to take the baby. She said it wasn't safe for me to carry him anymore. I thought the safest place for a baby was inside their mother's belly. I had failed at carrying him and protecting him already and he wasn't even born yet. She said he was not getting the oxygen his brain needed. We then had to rush home and throw a bag together and grab Reese. I was on my way to give birth to my son less than 24 hours after my husband walked out. I was furious. This was his fault. He did this. He put my baby boy in danger. He caused me to have to go through this amazing experience in the shape I was in. I begged him to pretend just for this day that he loved me and we were ok. I wanted our son to come into this world the way we had planned. Once I was at the hospital, I had two panic attacks. I freaked. I didn't want to do this. I begged them to let me leave. Paul couldn't hold my hand or kiss me. He never even made eye contact as we waited for them to take me to the OR. Once I was on the table and had my spinal block, I was scared and mostly alone. Paul was a million miles away. He looked like he was getting a root canal, not a beautiful baby boy. All I could think was about my son and if he was ok. I prayed and prayed that he would be healthy. I wanted so bad for Paul to touch my face and tell me everything was ok. I wanted him to hold my hand because it was hard to breathe. I knew if he would just talk to me and calm me down I could do this. I got NOTHING. My anesthesiologist was the one who supported me, the one who talked me through the csection, the one who held my hand and told me I was doing a good job. Not my husband. They pulled my precious baby boy out and gave him to Paul. He brought him around for me to see. He was perfect. His cheeks were puffy, his eyes were open, and he was breathing perfectly. He was healthy. Once again, I fell in an indescribable love with this tiny human. I glanced up at Paul. His eyes were empty. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. I had never seen that look before. It wasn't the proud, adoring look he had when he saw Reese. My heart broke all over again. Who was this person? Where was my husband? Where was the man I loved more than anything? How did we get here?
The days in the hospital were miserable. I didn't sleep. I woke Paul up crying and begging him not to do this. Begging him to not tear apart our family that we always wanted. I begged him not to walk out on us. I got nothing. I was ready to get out of there. I needed to get my son home and be with my baby girl.