#39. The Twelfth Man

in a sea of Claret and Blue

I’m sitting on a blue chair in the corner of a well-lit room and I’m watching.

Jade is sat high on the operating table ahead of what had become an emergency C-Section, the simultaneous looks of vulnerability and confidence etched into her face.

A stool is wheeled over and she’s instructed to rest her feet on it. It’s too high, her legs to stiff to raise. The assistant calls over another to sit on it whilst she activates the lever to lower it. I smile at the comedy of the moment in an arena otherwise dripping in professionalism.

The room is filling. From three or four, we’re creeping up to eight, nine, 10, 11 medical staff gliding around in claret or blue scrubs in a harmony you’d be forgiven for thinking as choreographed, the air filled only with checks, affirmative’s and the beeps of three heart rates.

One comes in, asks Jade, some questions as she’s laid down.

“And how’s dad?” she asks looking over at me.

“I’m fine” (I’m dad!). No one has called me that before.

And I genuinely am fine. The nerves of waiting together beforehand have dissipated. Professionals were at work, it was a privilege to witness and there was an acceptance that I was powerless in the moment.

“Leave the electrical work to the electricians” my dad used to say. I heard him.

Through several bodies surrounding the bed, I see her eyes.

Yakira.

We’d met her a few weeks previously when Jade’s waters first broke. Her emphatic delivery of news had left us both feeling more assured that night and we hadn’t seen her since.

Well, not in the capacity of our subsequent check ups. But I’d seen her in the corridor an hour before with her ear pods in, staring at a wall.

Now here she was staring at the events unfolding before here.

I’m sitting in the blue chair, in the corner of the well-lit room and I’m watching her.

She did not blink. Not once. I could see the three hearts on that table were in safe hands.

A glance at the monitor and she edged towards the table.

“How long until that’s ready?” she asked the anaesthetist.

“A minute,” he replied.

“It needs to be now.”

Five seconds later, “Ready!”

[End scene]

“Would you like to come over and see them?”

I couldn’t even tell you who asked me that at this point but, as I walked over to the two beds marked ‘Twin 1’ and ‘Twin 2’ I can tell you I felt lighter than I can ever remember.

I saw not just two boys, my boys, our sons. I saw permission to let go. Of what, I’m not sure yet. But I’ll find out.

Fox and (Wil)Fred, already giving.

JF