Z* asked me to come down to Sam’s* room and speak with her. She stated that Sam* was really upset and thought I may be able to help here. When I got down to her room, she was quite upset to see me. She told me to go away, and got angry with her mom for bringing me to her. I did as she wished and returned to our room.
When I got into the room, A asked what was going on, but I couldn’t muster words to explain. I just grabbed E out of her crib, and rocked on the bed sobbing. A, even being the cool, calm, and collected person that he is, started to get visibly upset wondering what was going on. I was finally able to explain what I saw, and just explained how scared rather terrified I was that we were going to lose this precious little girl whom we had given our whole hearts to.
We both just sat on the bed, rocking E, holding each other, praying. 30 minutes passed, and my phone started ringing (it was now close to 11pm). It was Sam*. She asked me to come back to her room so she could talk to me and explain what was going on.
For the second time that night, I made what felt like the absolute longest walk down the hospital hall way, my heart pounding in my chest, and each swallow feeling like a gulp. It took all the energy I had to keep my composure, standing tall and fighting back the tears as I knocked on Sam’s* door, walked in, and sat next to her on her bed.
I asked the only question I could compile words to ask, “What’s up?”