She Said to Wait, But Our Baby Couldn't novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: Three in the Morning
Willa's water breaks and Dean cancels the ambulance because Gwen's group chat says to wait; she locks herself in the bathroom, calls 911 again, and the doctor finds no heartbeat while Gwen texts Dean: did they send you home yet?
At thirty-nine weeks, my husband still let Gwen teach him how to love me.
Gwen was his friend from college and a birth doula with two hundred thousand followers.
She ran a private group chat for Dean and five other people.
I was not in it.
Gwen said a husband who gave in to his wife's every need would throw the marriage off balance.
So Dean missed seven of our ten prenatal appointments.
Gwen said couples needed their own space.
So when insomnia got bad, Dean moved into the guest room.
Every night he brought me a mug of Gwen's sleep tea first.
He stood in the doorway until I finished it, then he kissed my forehead and went down the hall.
When I pushed back, he pulled me into his arms.
"Gwen sees us more clearly from the outside," he'd say. "She would never hurt us."
At three in the morning on a Tuesday, my water broke.
I shook Dean awake in the guest room.
"My water broke. Take me to the hospital."
He had barely sat up when his phone lit.
Gwen had tagged him in the chat.
"Don't let Willa scare you. First babies take forever."
"Even if you go in now, you'll only sit in a waiting room."
Then she sent a chart.
"Write down when it broke. Unless contractions are five minutes apart, you don't need to leave."
A cramp tore across my stomach and I couldn't breathe.
Dean pulled the blanket back over my knees.
"We're not at five minutes, babe. Don't work yourself up."
He sat beside me and timed them on Gwen's chart.
"Nine minutes," he typed.
"Still early," Gwen wrote back. "Leave at five."
When the next pain passed, I threw off the blanket.
A dark patch of blood had soaked through the gray sheet.
I grabbed my phone and dialed 911.
The dispatcher kept her voice level.
"Bleeding in the third trimester with less movement. You can't monitor that at home, ma'am."
"I'm sending an ambulance. Lie on your left side."
I had only given her our Santa Monica address when Dean took the phone out of my hand.
"She's awake and she can walk," he told her. "Would it be faster if we drove?"
"If you refuse an ambulance, go to the nearest hospital with an emergency obstetric unit. Go now."
"Understood."
Dean ended the call.
I held the edge of the bed and breathed through it.
"Then let's go."
He didn't move.
He was reading his phone.
"If she can walk, you don't need an ambulance," Gwen had written. "Paramedics at night will only make her panic."
"Drive yourselves. Tilt her seat back."
Dean seemed to find his answer in that.
I reached for my coat, and another contraction folded me in half.
"The baby isn't moving," I said.
His face changed.
He put his hand on my belly.
"Hey, buddy. Move for Daddy."
He waited past ten seconds.
Nothing moved under his palm.
"Take me to the hospital. Now."
He didn't answer.
He held down the voice button on his phone.
"Gwen, she says the baby isn't moving."
"She can't feel anything either," he added. "Is that normal?"
Her voice note came back fast and soft.
"Movement slows down at the end, Dean. There's less room. It's very common."
"Don't lose your head because Willa's panicking."
His shoulders came down.
He took my hand.
"You heard her. It's probably nothing."
"You would rather believe her than me?"
"I believe you," he said. "You're just in too much pain to be objective."
Another hot rush ran down my legs.
Blood dripped from my calves onto the floor.
The color left his face.
"How is there so much?"
He put the phone down and reached for me.
I stepped back.
"How much blood do I have to lose before I qualify for the hospital?"
His mouth opened and nothing came out.
"Okay," he said at last. "Okay, let me get your coat."
"I need the bathroom first."
He took my arm. "I'll go with you."
I let him walk me down the hall.
At the bathroom door I pulled my arm free and locked it behind me.
"Willa, open the door!"
I sat on the tile and dialed 911 again.
"This is the woman who called a minute ago," I whispered. "My husband hung up on you. I am bleeding and my baby has stopped moving. Please come."
"Units are two minutes away, ma'am. Stay on the line."
Dean pounded the door and said Gwen was typing.
I told him I was staying right here.
When the sirens stopped outside, I unlocked the door.
Two paramedics came up the stairs, and one of them, a tall man with tired eyes, knelt in front of me.
"Ma'am, I'm Miles. Can you tell me what happened?"
Dean stepped between us.
"She's fine. It was a false alarm. Gwen is a certified doula and she said..."
I stood up on my own shaking legs and walked around him.
"I'm going with them."
So I did.
In the ambulance Miles held my hand and said nothing false.
At the hospital a doctor moved the monitor across my stomach and moved it again.
Dean arrived behind us, out of breath.
The doctor looked up.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Ellison. I can't find a heartbeat."
I didn't hear what she said next.
Dean's phone lit up in his hand.
It was Gwen.
"Did they send you home yet?"
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