Samson took his job much more seriously than the nurses. He turned to me. “Ang. Calm down. You’re okay.” Those were his words, but in his expression, I could see his panic — the way his eyes widened, the shallow breaths that he was taking.
“I. Can’t. Breathe!” I told him like I’d told everyone else. If anyone would believe me, it would be Samson.
“Calm down, Angela,” one of the nurses said in a sterner voice than she’d been using. As if being stern was going to save my life.
I wanted to scream again, but I didn’t have enough air to say another word. My mind took over and began to play out the many scenes of my life. As life drained from me, my mind reminded me of all that I’d lived. But at the same time, I saw everything that I would never see.
Like my baby!
Dear God, my baby!
Would my baby live? I prayed that she would. Samson would take good care of her since I wouldn’t be there for her. He would be a great father.
Father! My father! What would he do when he found out that I’d died and he wasn’t by my side? He would never forgive himself.
“Get my father!” I struggled to say to my husband.
As life drained from me, I wanted my father there. If I was going to die, I wanted the last people around me to be my father, my husband, and my unborn baby.
Hold on, Angela. Hold on.
Even though that’s what I kept saying to myself, I didn’t think that I’d be able to hold on until my father got there. I was fading fast. I fought to scream again. “Help me please! Somebody help me.” I was filled with such desperation that I barely recognized my own voice.