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My thoughts continued: This is it. It is happening. But this can’t be happening. It’s 2008. Healthy women don’t die in hospitals after something as routine as having a baby. Certainly not women like Liz; she is young and in great shape. Where the fuck is our family?

I reached into my pocket and grabbed my phone. I called Liz’s mom, then her dad, and then my mom. No one answered. I called Anya’s cell phone. She was at work, but picked up immediately. “Is everything okay?”

“No. Can you get to the hospital right now? I don’t think she’s gonna make it.”

“Madeline?” she questioned.

“No. Liz.”

“What?” she screamed, her voice cracking.

“Anya. Just get here. Please.”

I hung up before she could say anything else. I tried Liz’s mom again. This time she answered. “Candee. You guys need to get here right away. It’s not good.”

Like Anya, her response was “What?”

This time I gave a more specific answer. “Liz. There’s something wrong. Things are not looking good.” I heard her screaming “No, no, no!” as I hung up my phone.

I called my mom again. She answered. “Hi, honey.” This was my third call, and my words were even more direct this time. “Mom, come to Liz’s room right now. I don’t think she’s gonna make it.” I knew that she’d have a thousand questions, so I hung up on her, too. I felt like I was being overly dramatic with these calls, but panic started to grip me as I tried once again to deny what I knew I was about to find out.

A couple of minutes later, Pat and the other PCA walked out of Liz’s room, arms around each other’s shoulders, backs to me. I didn’t need to see their faces to know.

Liz was dead.

Chapter 8

dead.

i can’t fucking

believe that

dead follows

the words,

liz

is.

Nothing could be done to bring her back. There was no one to blame. Shitty luck and, most likely, a pulmonary embolism brought about the saddest, most horrific moment of my life.

My back slid down the wall until my ass hit the ground. I started crying harder than I’d ever cried. An intense heat was emanating from my body, but I was freezing. I trembled so violently that I thought I was having a seizure. I felt like I was going to vomit and keep vomiting for the rest of my life. I thought I had gone deaf, because all I could hear was nothing. The only fact I could comprehend was that my heart was beating and Liz’s wasn’t. I wanted to feel something—I ached to feel some sense of detachment, some feeling of denial. I wanted even for just a few seconds to believe that everything was okay and that Liz was still alive. But I knew. I knew she was dead.

It had happened only a moment ago, and I was already conscious of it. And then my thoughts went straight to Madeline, alone in that NICU, completely unaware of how drastically our lives had just changed.

Liz’s parents and my mom came running around the corner to the nurses’ station, eyes wide, unsure of what was happening. I pulled myself together enough to stand up, but I didn’t need to say anything.

Candee started bawling. I grabbed her and hugged her as hard as I could. Behind her stood Tom, his face showing disbelief. He seemed to be watching an awful Greek tragedy as it unfolded on a dark and distant stage—I don’t think he could fully grasp what had happened. Seeing my mom next to him, trying to comprehend, made me cry even more as the reality of Liz’s death grew larger. I felt terrible that they hadn’t gotten there before she’d died, but what had they missed? The result was the same no matter when they arrived.

I let go of Candee as Dr. Nelson came toward me, crying with outstretched arms. “Matt, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” I couldn’t figure out why she was apologizing. She hugged Tom, Candee, and my mom, and apologized to each of them, too. Yes, it was by far the worst fucking thing that ever had or ever would happen to us, but I knew that it was not her fault and she did not need to apologize. The human body is a complicated machine, I thought, and sometimes shit happens.