“Good. Now, as for your unborn child. In the event of both of your deaths, who would you like to appoint as legal guardian?”

“Genna,” we say together. That’s never been a question. We couldn’t think of a better person to look after our child … or children.

Parker’s ringing phone wakes me from a dead sleep. He doesn’t move so I nudge him.

“Parker, your phone.” It goes silent, but mine starts a moment later. I don’t recognize the number, but answer groggily. “Hello?”

Someone clears their throat, then an unfamiliar voice says, “Hello, I’m sorry to disturb you in the middle of the night, but I’m looking for an Aundrea Jackson?”

“This is she.”

“My name is Tonya, one of the nurses at Minneapolis Medical Center.”

I sit up fast and my head spins.

“Yes?”

My anticipation grows stronger with each hammering beat of my heart.

“I’m calling on behalf of Mr. Henderson. He’s requesting your presence.”

Wendy. My heart sinks. “My presence? For what?”

Parker rolls over then, opening an eye.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to say.”

“What do you mean you’re not at liberty to say? You’re the one calling here asking me to come to the hospital and you can’t tell me why?”

Parker sits up then, taking the phone out of my hand.

“Who is this? What’s going on?” Fuck.

I look at him, worried, but he holds his hand up.

“What do you mean you can’t tell me? Fuck HIPAA! Put Ron on the phone. I need to make sure she’s okay. Is she okay?”

He grows angrier, hanging the phone up.

“Parker?” I feel sick and I’m pretty sure I’m going to vomit.

“God damn it!” he screams as he throws the phone across the room. It shatters in an explosion of metal and plastic.

I begin to tremble.

Parker jumps out of bed and then doubles over.

“Parker!”

I run over to him. He’s choking. “It’s okay, babe. Breathe. Deep breaths in and out. That’s it, in and out.” My words come out smooth as I him take deep breaths. “Now, I need you to tell me what’s going on.”

His eyes flash to mine and I feel the blood drain from my face.

“Wendy.”

I’m not sure what’s wrong with me, but I’m certain what I’m feeling isn’t right. It’s like sand is dripping down, clogging my throat.

Parker moves and speaks quickly. “We have to leave. The nurse won’t tell me what’s going on, but Wendy’s been in some sort of accident.”

“Oh, God,” I choke out, covering my mouth. I pull on my shirt and tug at the neckline, trying to relieve the sensation that I’m choking. “What did the nurse say exactly?”

“She said nothing, Aundrea. That’s the fucking problem! And Ron asked we be there, so we have to move. Now!” he snaps. I know he doesn’t mean to, but he does.

“Parker, I’m scared.” Every single terrible feeling I can imagine is coursing through me. I want to think positive, but I can’t push through the fear no matter how hard I try.

“Aundrea, I need you to be strong right now. We need to leave.”

I rush to grab clothes, as does Parker. I don’t think we’ve ever moved so quickly in our lives.

If ever there was a time I didn’t mind Parker’s speeding habit, this is it. Now, he can’t go fast enough for me. Since my phone is in pieces on our bedroom floor, I use Parker’s to try and call Wendy’s landline. I don’t know who I’ll get, maybe a family member watching their kids? Someone who can let me know what’s going on. No one answers.

I try again. Then I try Ron’s cell number. When he doesn’t answer I try one more time.

Then one more, just in case.

Still no answer.

“Where the fuck is everyone?” I yell, pounding the dashboard in frustration.

Parker doesn’t answer. I glance his way. I haven’t looked at him since we got in the car, too afraid to meet his eyes. To see the hurt and worry there. His jaw is tight, his eyes wide with concentration, and he’s white knuckling the steering wheel. Its then that I also notice our speed: a hundred miles an hour.

“Uh, Parker?”

No response.

“Parker.”

No response.

“Parker!”

“What?” His voice slices through me.

“I understand we want to get there as quickly as we can, but we can’t get there if we’re hurt along the way.”

He looks at the speedometer.

He lets off the gas just a little.

We don’t speak for the duration of the ride. I do take his hand, though, needing to feel his touch. If ever I’ve needed him, it’s now. My head hurts so much it feels like it’s going to explode. It’s the worst pain I’ve ever experienced, and that is saying a lot.

If I thought I knew what death felt like after chemo, I was wrong. So wrong. Because this feeling right now? This is death. The burning feeling, as if my whole body is breaking and being pulled every which way. It’s the worst kind of pain I’ve ever had to endure as I think about all the worst-case scenarios that are speeding through my mind.

If anything has happened to our unborn child I don’t think I’ll ever recover. Our baby’s life hasn’t even truly begun; I can’t fathom losing him or her before we even get the chance to meet.