“If you are losing blood that severely, just lay a towel down and stop wrecking my birthday,” were the parting remarks Tyler offered me before he pulled his luggage shut. I was collapsed on the nursery floor, one palm gripping the pale spindles of the crib, while the other pressed against my belly, still distended and throbbing from having a baby. Our little boy, Parker, had made his entrance a mere eight days prior, and that week-plus had dissolved into a fog of sleepless fatigue, unrelenting agony, and the paralyzing dread that accompanies initial motherhood. But on that specific afternoon, the weariness felt altered because it arrived alongside a terrifying quantity of blood I was powerless to halt. The pricey cream-hued carpet my mother-in-law had insisted upon to give the room an elegant air was already entirely saturated beneath me, a deep crimson mark expanding outward with every passing second.
I gazed at it in shock, struggling to fathom how a peril of this magnitude could unfold within the walls of such a tranquil, gorgeous residence. “Tyler, I’m begging you to hear me out, because I have to get to the emergency room this instant,” I whispered frailly, scarcely capable of raising my volume.
He emerged from the walk-in wardrobe sporting pristine designer sunglasses and a freshly ironed white shirt, as though he were en route to a glossy cover shoot. “Here we go yet again with the perpetual need for attention,” he grumbled while adjusting his hairstyle in the looking glass. “My mom told me all females bleed post-delivery, so you clearly aren’t the first individual in human history to have a baby,” he tacked on with a derisive smirk. “This isn’t typical, because I am sensing myself becoming lightheaded and passing out,” I maintained, extending my hand toward him frantically.
Tyler refused to step an inch nearer. He remained propped against the doorframe, swiping across his mobile device with patent annoyance. “Listen, Olivia, I dropped an absurd sum on this birthday getaway at those premium lodges up in the Blue Ridge Mountains,” he stated, keeping his gaze locked on the display. “The exclusive supper booking is secured, and my buddies are well on their way. I am not scrapping the entire affair simply because you’ve abruptly decided to become the center of focus,” he went on. The phrase “focus” pierced my heart more painfully than the cramps ripping across my spine. Parker began wailing in his bassinet, a small, frantic noise that somehow gave the impression he detected the peril surrounding us. I attempted to pivot toward the infant, yet my limbs weighed a ton, and the whole chamber spun fiercely in my vision.
“I implore you, dial your mom or an ambulance or literally anyone capable of assisting me,” I pleaded through a veil of tears obscuring my sight. Tyler sneered icily, the resonance bouncing down the corridor of our Franklin house. “Therefore, you expect me to dial emergency services and permit the entire community to assume I deserted my spouse on the day I was born?” he questioned resentfully. “Go brew some herbal tea and settle yourself. My mom will swing by to look after you first thing tomorrow,” he waved off. “I doubt I will even survive until dawn,” I breathed into the silent chamber.