Taylor“Taylor’s back,” Nurse Jacobs announces to the new shift of OB nurses as we enter the ward. She hands me off, pats me on the shoulder, and leaves without a word.No words could comfort me from the goodbye downstairs.Upon returning to my room, I’m assisted to the restroom. I’ll never take the ability to use the bathroom for granted again. Two nurses escort and maneuver me with the precision of a team of Navy SEALs. I painfully rise from the wheelchair to the stool. They even lower my hospital-issued underwear for me. I am allowed the privacy of a closed door, but I’m ordered to call as soon as I am done. The simple task of rising from the stool and reaching for my underwear is painful and brings tears back to my eyes. Unsuccessful, I remain on the stool and call to my nurses. They assist me to rise, pull up my underwear, then stand at the sink, and wash my hands. Back in the wheelchair, the nurses assist me painfully back into my hospital bed. One nurse leaves while the other fu
TaylorHours pass. I don’t remember falling asleep. I didn’t feel my bed lowering to a horizontal position. To my side, the twins lie in the bassinets, tucked tightly beside a sleeping Jackson on the sofa at the window. I can hear his light snores. Not wanting to disturb him, I don’t raise the head of my bed.As I lie flat on my back, I keep my head turned towards the three sleeping Hayeses on the far side of my hospital room. We all need sleep; we need more sleep. But the uncomfortable urge that roused me from sleep grows with each passing minute. I give in to my need, and I press the nurse call button. My peppy nurse quietly slips into the room and my bedside. She must have been in earlier to know we were all asleep.“I need to go to the bathroom, my face is very itchy again, and my pain is back,” I whisper. Peppy nurse nods and turns off the call button before exiting. A few moments later, she returns with another nurse to assist. They raise the head of my bed, then offer me my pa
TaylorAfter dinner, the twins return to the nursery, and the nurses encourage Jackson to take me for a walk. I’m given a robe to keep me warm, and they secured my socks with the grippy-side down. I cringe in pain as I leave the bed. Once I’m upright, the pain fades. I tolerate slight pain, meandering up and down the obstetric hallway. We pause at the nursery window to peer at the other babies living with Jackson’s.Scratch that.Living with ours.Living with mine.My babies? Jackson and I really need to talk.On our next lap, at my turtle’s pace, I ask Jackson, “Will you hire a nanny to help with the twins?” I keep my eyes focused ahead down the hallway and my hand on the railing.“Do you want a nanny?” He inquires, stopping in front of me and lifting my chin so our eyes meet. “We have much to discuss. I have a few ideas,” he adds.“Want to talk as we walk?” I ask.“We’ll talk back in your room with Carter and Kennedy in our arms,” Jackson states. Jackson holds Carter lengthwise in h
TaylorEmotions somewhat in check, Jackson continues. “Taylor opened her door then yelled to wake me up. I got out and went to help Kennedy. Taylor’s water broke, so the EMTs drove the two of us here, while the fire department extricated Kennedy.” At his mother’s audible gasp, Jackson pauses, and Gerald reaches for his wife. “Taylor was in active labor when Kennedy arrived at the hospital. The babies were in distress, so she was prepped for a C-section. When Taylor went to recovery and the twins to the nursery, I signed forms for Kennedy to have surgery to stop her internal bleeding.” Jackson releases my hand and stands. “Taylor and the twins got settled here while Kennedy had a second surgery.”“It was a long emotional night,” I add, hoping to give Jackson some support in this emotionally tragic story.“This morning, Taylor decided she needed to go down. She paged nurses, insisting they wheel her down to see Kennedy. She didn’t take no for an answer.” Jackson’s Adam’s apple visibly bo
TaylorI behave like a perfect patient, and the doctor releases me on Sunday afternoon. As we round the corner, Jackson’s home comes into view. A large sign with balloons attached graces the front lawn, welcoming Carter and Kennedy home.“No, no, no,” Jackson chants. “I told Madison not to tell the neighbors. I can’t handle a party. This is not a time to party.” It might be easy to let his words upset me. The twins are to be celebrated. They are tiny, precious, bundle of joys. However, I completely understand Jackson’s need for privacy. The passing of his wife at the same time his twins are born takes its toll. “I will thank everyone for coming and send them on their way,” I offer. “I’ll fake fatigue.” Not that it would be much of a stretch. I’m exhausted; the thought of relaxing on the sofa or in my bed is my only goal.As Jackson pulls the Mustang into the garage, Gerald and Elizabeth park behind it in the driveway. Jackson opens my door for me and extends his arm to assist me to s
Taylor“Did you halt the mail delivery while you were in the hospital?” Gerald inquires.My eyes widen. We should have, but we did not.“I’ll walk Nya to the mailbox and back,” Elizabeth offers quickly. “You need to rest and Gerald, you need to sit still so the twins can nap,” she teases her husband.When they return, Elizabeth releases Nya from her leash. She immediately darts to Gerald’s feet. She stands on her hind legs to ensure the twins are safe in his care. Next, she whines at the side of the sofa, wanting me to lift her to my lap. This simple task requires planning on my part. One cannot simply bend over and pick up an eight-pound puppy two days after a C-section. As I cuddle and coo Nya on the sofa, Elizabeth uses kitchen scissors to open a small package. She asks me if she should look inside or wait for Jackson. My eyes remain on Nya as I give Elizabeth permission to open it.Sensing a change in her mood, Nya hops from the sofa to join her at the kitchen island. My eyes foll
TaylorIt’s Sunday morning, Jackson’s second day back at work. Elizabeth and Gerald are still in town, thank goodness. I climb from bed a bit easier this morning, my pain lessens with each passing day. I peek into the living room to ensure Elizabeth and Gerald are with the twins before I slip into the restroom. I enjoy a few extra minutes to freshen up; then stride toward the kitchen in search of breakfast. My appetite grows every day. I’m told it’s because I need extra energy for nursing.“Good morning,” Gerald greets from the sofa as I walk by.I return his greeting, noting he holds both twins in his lap. I climb upon a kitchen stool.“How’d you sleep last night?” Elizabeth asks, sliding a plate of sausage and tater tots my way. As I rise, she pushes my shoulder down and fetches the ketchup for me.I am very glad they put everything on hold to help Jackson with the funeral arrangements and me with the twins, but eventually I need to do everything on my own. She pampers me too much; i
TaylorThe doorbell wakes me from my nap. Who could it be on a Wednesday? I slowly rise from the sofa and glance at the sleeping twins in their nearby bassinets on my way to the front door. Through the peephole, I spy Dr. Wilson.Did I forget an appointment?“Hello,” I greet. “Taylor.” Dr. Wilson wraps me in a gentle hug. “I’m so sorry. I read about Kennedy’s passing in the paper. May I come in?”I’m frozen in place. Seeing Dr. Wilson away from her office catches me off guard. She is here to talk about Kennedy’s death.I’m not strong enough to work through this now with her.“Taylor,” Dr. Wilson prompts. “If this is a bad time, I can come back.”“No!” I announce louder than needed. “Come in. I just woke up, so I am a little out of it,” I confess, excusing my actions.“Resting when the twins rest is important,” Dr. Wilson states. “How have you been feeling?” She seats herself on the end of the sofa nearest the still sleeping babies.“Overwhelmed, but I’m sure all new mothers experience