The ride to the hospital passed me by completely. I was sitting on the stretcher, the baby clutched against my chest, making sure she stayed warm. I hadn't moved the entire ride because I was scared that she would wake up.

I kept looking at her. Every few minutes, I moved my finger over her cheek, nose, or hand to see if she moved. I don't know why,

but I just needed to know she was still breathing.

The nurse that was waiting in the ambulance, reassured me that newborn babies usually lay very still. She explained that labor is just as intense and hard for the baby as it is for the mother, and therefore babies, outside of their feeding which happens every three hours, tend to sleep a lot the first twenty-four hours after their birth.

After a twenty-minute ride through London, we arrived at St. Thomas's Hospital. I was brought straight to the ER, where the baby was taken away from me because she needed to be examined.

I'm now sitting in the waiting room. They promised to call me back as soon as they are done. I've been waiting for about forty-five minutes now, and anxiety is getting to me more and more.

What the fuck is taking so long? The guy back in that apartment said she was fine.

While I waited, I called Dwight and my supervisor. I discovered that Dwight is in the same hospital as me, waiting for news on the mother of the baby, Josephine. He knows that she is having surgery at this moment, but that's about it.

My supervisor agreed to schedule me out for the rest of the night after I'd told him the entire story. He did advise me to not get in too deep, and although I acknowledge his advice, I think it came too late.

I'm already in too deep. The moment I held that little girl and saw the fear in her mother's eyes, I was in too deep.

While I was waiting, I also texted Mercy, who is working in the maternity ward in St. James' as part of her internship. She's in her first year of medical school since she wants to be a gynecologist.

I asked if she was working, and when I got a text back with the confirmation that she was, I asked her if she had time. Once she'll have her break, she'll come and find me.

I need to share what I just went through with someone, and since Mercy and I are very close, I know she'll be there for me.

I'm just seconds scrolling through my phone to pass time when a nurse calls my name. When I look up, she beckons me over. "You can come back in now."

I follow her through the white hall. It seems quiet, but I know it's calm before the storm. It's almost four in the morning, and since half of London is going out right now, it's just a matter of minutes before the ER will slowly fill up.

When we arrive at a room near the end, she opens the door for me en lets me enter first. My eyes scan the room, and in just a second I see her, and a sigh of relief leaves my throat.

"She is doing okay," the nurse says from behind me, no doubt having heard how relieved I am. "She's just above the minimum weight and she is holding her temperature steady, so she doesn't have to lay in an incubator. We think she came well before her due date, considering her weight and length, so we need to keep a close eye on her for now to see if she keeps this up. We've washed her and gave her some clothes."

I nod my head and walk to the see-through crib, where the little girl is wrapped in a white blanket. She is now wearing a pink with white cap, and her eyes are closed while she is sucking on two of her fingers. The sight brings a small smile to my face. That little gesture is so familiar already, it is like I know her.

"Her mother was brought in thirty minutes before us." I turn around so I'm facing the nurse again. "Do you have any news about her?"

She shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry. I've been here with her the entire time."

I avert my gaze back to the small bundle in the crip. I reach out and let my finger make contact with her hand. She doesn't flinch; she just sucks a little more furiously on her two fingers, her eyes still closed.

"She'll need a feeding soon. Do you know if her mother wants to breastfeed her?"

I shake my head, not moving my eyes from the baby. "I have no idea."

"We'll start with giving her a little formula by finger-feeding her then. That way, if her mother wants to breastfeed, there is still a chance the little one will catch on. I'll be right back."

I hear the door close a few seconds later, and I decide to sit down on the chair next to the crip. I somehow have to keep my eyes on her. There is something so soothing about watching her sleep.

"You'll be fine little one. And your mummy will too. And I'll be here until she can take over," I whisper as I lay my hand on top of her head, my thumb stroking her forehead, hoping that she'll feel safe even though she isn't with her mom.

I'm so in awe of her, that I don't even hear the door behind me open again.

"What's up, brother?" Mercy says quite loudly, making me jump slightly. Right after though, I put my finger before my lips and point to the crib to let her know she needs to be quiet.

I haven't told her anything about what happened. It was just too much to tell through text. It's why she is completely oblivious and her bubbly self right now.

The moment she spots the baby, her eyes widen. "Oh, sorry." She takes a seat next to me, her voice now soft. "Who's this?"

"You won't believe what I'm about to tell you," I mumble, my hand and eyes not leaving the girl. "I helped to deliver her."

Without looking at Mercy's face, I can tell her eyes widen in shock. "You what?" She manages to keep her voice low, but I can hear how badly she wants to scream it out.

"I was there when her mother gave birth to her. I helped her. Fuck, Merc, it was insane." The realization of what happened suddenly sinks in, and for the first time, I allow my emotions to breakthrough.

While my eyes watch as the little girl in the crib starts to squirm, I feel my cheeks get wet. I can't remember the last time I cried, let alone about something at work, yet here I am.

"Wow," Mercy mumbles, no doubt seeing the effect this whole thing has on me. To let me know she is here, her hand moves to my back. "Where is her mother now?"

I wipe my cheeks with my free hand, my other one moving over the head of the baby, who is waking up slowly by letting out quiet cries. "She's in surgery. After she delivered her baby, there suddenly was a lot of blood. Before I could do anything, she collapsed on the floor."

"Wait, I heard about this," Mercy says, a little louder because the little girl is now full-on crying. "Maybe you should take her." She motions to the crib and I nod my head before I carefully take the little bundle in my arms. I place her against my chest, just like I did the first time I properly held her, and within seconds her cries fade.

"Damn, daddy," Mercy smirks, but almost at the same time her expression chances to disgust. "Holy Fuck, that was so wrong."

I chuckle and shake my head. "You are crazy." I look down and see that the girl has her eyes wide open now. She is taking me in, and although I know all she sees is a blur, I can't help hoping that she somehow sees me clear.

Her eyes are blue, a shade lighter than the ones of her mother. I think she looks like her overall, but that's just guessing since I have no idea what the story about her dad is.

Although given what I saw in that apartment, I fear the worst.

"What did you say about hearing something about her mother?" I ask, tearing my eyes away from the strong gaze of the little bundle in my arms.

She's so tiny, yet the effect she has on me is huge. It's insane.

"There was a young woman brought in about an hour and a half ago. She'd just given birth but her baby wasn't with her. Her placenta didn't come out after the delivery. It had loosened though, and it had left a big, open wound in her uterus. From what you've just told me, I think it could be her mother."

My eyes widen with hope. "Do you know how she's doing now? Is she okay?"

"Not right now, but I can try to find out. Do you know her name?"

"Josephine," I tell her while I stand and sway the baby, who has started crying again, from left to right slowly. "I don't know her last name."

Mercy stands as well. "Okay, I'll see what I can do."

I nod and then hear the door open once again. When I look in the direction of the sound, I see the nurse who left a few minutes ago. In her hands, she's holding a bottle with formula, a thin, long tube, and a roll of paper tape.

"Ah, look who's hungry," she smiles while putting everything on a tray to her right. She then catches me off guard by asking, "do you want to give it to her, or shall I?"

I move my gaze from the nurse to the baby in my arms, who is still crying loudly, her hands clenched into fists. When I look back up, I feel Mercy's hand squeeze my shoulder reassuringly. "You'll do great. I'm gonna see if I can find out more." With that, she gives me a warm smile and then walks out the door, greeting her colleague in the process.

"Well, if you hand her to me for just a second, you can wash your hands," she tells me, already holding her hands to take her from me.

I do what she says, giving her the baby and then I walk to the sink to wash my hands. I make sure every nape, nail, and groove is clean, rubbing my hands together frantically. When I'm done, the nurse hands me back the baby before nodding to a chair. "Sit down, it'll make it easier."

I do as she says once again, taking place at the chair with the still crying baby in my arms. It makes me nervous as hell. She is wiggling and it looks as if she is in pain.

"Is she really okay?" I ask.

The nurse smiles and nods her head in confirmation. "She's just hungry. She doesn't know that feeling yet, so she is just letting us know we need to do something about it."

She places the tray next to me and then looks at me again. "Hold up your pinky."

I do what she says and lift my left hand, sticking out my pinky finger. She then takes a piece of paper tape and one end of the small tube and attaches it around my fingertip.

She places the other end of the tube in the bottle with formula and then nods again. "All done. Now, place your finger against her cheek and let her seek you."

Again, I follow her instructions. I have no idea what the purpose of this whole thing is, but she is the expert here, so I'll just shut my mouth and follow like a puppy.

I lay my fingertip against her tiny cheek, and immediately her head turns while her mouth begins to snap open and closed, clearly searching. After a few tries, she finds my finger.

I watch, completely in awe, as she begins to suck forcefully. Her fists clench and eagerly wrap around my hand, not giving me any chance to move away. Inbetween little sobs she drinks, her eyes half-closed. It's amazing how she looks utterly content while just seconds ago she was crying her lungs out.

"See, a natural," the nurse smiles. "She'll stop once she has had enough."

"It's amazing," I whisper, my eyes stuck to the girl who is holding onto my hand for dear life. "Why not just give her the bottle though?"

"If we do that, the changes that she'll ever take the breast are very small. Since we don't know if her mother wants to breastfeed her, we're keeping her options open. Because she has to suck the milk through the tube, she has to work hard, just like when she gets milk from her mother. The bottle will just spill it into her mouth. Also, your finger is closer to the shape and feel of a nipple," she explains.

I nod my head in understanding and watch how the baby has worked through half of the bottle by now. The bottle wasn't full, there was about forty cc in it, and I thought that it would take her a few seconds before she was done.

After a few more minutes, I feel the suction around my finger decrease. Her eyes are closed again, and her breathing has returned to normal. Her small body is laying in my arms, completely slack. She looks exhausted.

"She's stopped drinking," I inform the nurse, who was also watching from beside me.

"She's completely worn out," she chuckles. "It's normal. She's worked hard and now that her belly is full, she'll sleep for another three hours or so. You can slowly pull your finger out."

I carefully retrieve my finger before the nurse takes off the tape and tube. I then look at her expectantly, waiting for her order on what to do next.

"You can now lift her so she is laying against your shoulder. If you pat her back, she'll burp," she smiles encouragingly. "I'll take this away and come check on you guys in a few minutes, okay?"

I nod as I carefully lift the girl, placing her on her belly against my chest, her head against my shoulder. Even before I have time to pat her back, she lets out an unexpectedly hard burp.

"There you go, love," I chuckle, actually a bit impressed. "I don't have to teach you that, I see."

She lets out a deep sigh, followed right after by a lost sob as a result of her crying. I turn my head and place my nose against the soft hairs on her head. She smells like nothing I've ever smelled before. New, but also familiar, and I take a moment to overthink the fact that I have the privilege to hold her like this.

It only took this tiny, sweet girl about two hours for me to feel things I've never felt before. A type of responsibility that overwhelms me and an urge to protect her so big, it's almost all-consuming.

And I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it. I want her to feel safe. She is so helpless and right now, it feels as if she's completely depending on me.

"I'll make sure everything is going to be okay, little one. Just sleep." I let my lips come into contact with her soft hairs for a very short second before I pull back and rest my cheek on her head. I don't have the heart to lay her back in her crib, and since I'm alone in here, it wouldn't hurt if I hold her for just a couple of minutes more.

The door opens behind me once again, and immediately, Mercy makes herself known. "It's me. I have news about her mother."

I stand from my chair and turn to her, looking at her expectantly, to which Mercy continues. "She came out of surgery thirty minutes ago. She is stable, and she's brought to the maternity unit. She's slightly panicking now that she's awake. She wants her baby and she is fighting anyone who wants to explain or comfort her in any way."

My eyes widen, although I'm not surprised at all. She wakes up and her baby is not there; I would freak out too. "Can we go see her?"

Mercy nods. "Yeah. The gynecologist told me to come get you after I told her you were here. Dwight is there too."

I nod my head and start walking to the door. "Let's go then."

I follow Mercy, who leads the way. All the while I hold the little bundle close to me, and when we are waiting for the lift, I place my lips against her head one more time. "I'm taking you to your mummy, sweetheart. Everything will be okay now."

I look at Mercy, who is looking at me with an expression that I can't quite read. I want to say she looks endeared, but there lies something underneath that comes close to worry.

Without asking her, I know what she is thinking, and before she can voice her thoughts, I shake my head. "I know, but not now, Merc."

She nods her head but does raise her eyebrow, and in response, I can't help but roll my eyes. We are thinking the same thing; I'm in way too fucking deep.

_______________________________________

🖤

Also, this is what finger-feeding looks like. I fed both my newborn babies this way in the first 48 hours, and I swear I still feel those little fists gripping my hand 🥺🖤