Dollhouse

twenty-six

..................................................................

Is my baby okay?

..................................................................

Am I alive?

There was a strong urge for survival surging through my blood. The darkness around didn't matter. I was on the run for the light. The light of life not death. The light at the end of the tunnel that people talk about is not real. Or perhaps I never truly got there. What did it even mean? Would I go to heaven... or hell?

...................................................................

What the heck is in my mouth?

...................................................................

I don't want to be in this darkness anymore.

My eyes struggle to open. They burn. I feel so tired. My eyes close and open repeatedly. The room before me was white. Machines attached to me. I didn't want to move. Not that I could anyway. My body felt heavy. My fingers could only twitch in their spot. Slowly my consciousness registers the endotracheal tube deep within my throat walls. My gag reflex freaks out so bad I almost choke.

"Woah, Genesis. Easy," a voice scolds me. I look for the source of that voice to see Matthew on a chair at my bedside. As much as I'd like to listen, I cannot. The reflex has been triggered. I can't stop it. "Breathe, baby."

I try to do as he says. It does not go without a struggle but I manage. I can hear the monitor die down as my breathing calms. Do I even swallow with this tube in?

"Welcome back, Miss. Ferreira. I'm Doctor Presley," someone else says at the door. "I'm glad to see you're awake."

An older lady with a white doctor's coat walks in. She's got a smile on her face. I want to tell her to tell me everything. How my dad is, where my sister is, and to take this damn tube out of my mouth. It's becoming deadly annoying to not be able to talk. She examines me carefully - taking a look at my vitals and asking me yes or no questions about how I'm feeling.

"It looks like you are able to breathe on your own. Would you like me to remove the tube?" she asks. I manage to nod. She calls in a nurse to assist her in the removal. Once the nurse arrives, they set themselves to work. "Take a deep breath and cough once it's out, okay?"

My gag reflex pushes the tube out, making me cough uncontrollably for a minute.

"Your throat will feel uncomfortable for a while," the doctor says. "I'll have a nurse check on you every fifteen minutes to make sure you're doing okay."

"What... happened to... my," I take a deep breath as I struggle to talk. My voice comes out hoarse and it hurts. "...baby?"

The older woman smiles. "It was touch and go for the embryo but we managed to save it. Your baby is still in your womb... where it's meant to be."

Oh, thank God, I think to myself.

"We did an ultrasound after the surgery. It looks like you're about four to five weeks along. You've been asleep for a while," she says. "Your baby looks like it's doing well after a hectic surgery. It did go under stress but your baby will be okay. Though I would like you to keep in touch with your OB to make sure everything is going as smoothly as it should. The first trimester is also the most difficult. Your baby is beginning to form essential body parts and limbs, but you still have a chance for miscarriage."