We arrived at the emergency entrance of Manhattan Presbyterian Hospital, sirens wailing, red lights flashing, with chaos everywhere.
We were exposed and vulnerable; every Charles Sterling student in the city could be watching us, but none of that mattered. Only Rose matters to us right now.
Dr. Patel met us at the entrance. She was already alerted and ready.
"Katherine, we need to get you upstairs. Now."
I was being wheeled through the corridor with Tony beside me, holding my hand.
"Is she okay? Is Rose okay?"
"We're going to find out." Dr. Patel answered briskly.
At the maternity ward, I was placed on emergency monitoring.
Wires were attached to my stomach, a fetal heart monitor beeping, the beeping was too slow.
Dr. Patel was studying the screen, her face serious.
"Fetal heart rate is dangerously low and dropping."
"What does that mean?"
"It means Rose isn't getting enough oxygen. The placenta is failing."
My blood ran cold. "Failing?"
