A few minutes later, after he’d scrubbed and donned surgical wear he stood next to Hana, gazing down at her. Her head was split open at the top but he concentrated on her face. One doctor looked particularly irritated as he held a scalpel poised above his wife’s open skull. But he could feel the others in the room were sympathetic, sad in a way. He placed his gloved hand on top of her belly, hoping to feel his son kick, feel something. There was nothing.
“Mr. Otoo…” someone said in a cold hard tone, “We don’t have time. That’s an exposed brain there.”
He choked back a sob and his eyes settled on her face. She was so beautiful, his beautiful princess, his dream girl. She was the one he had lusted after for years. She was the one he had done everything for. He had loved her more than life itself. Before he met her, he had prayed for years for the right woman. What if this was all meant to happen just the way it had, her confession, the accident, discovering he was going to have a son, what if this was all the way God meant it? What if this was God’s punishment and he was God’s tool? What if his son, his blessing, was meant to be here, to be born? Who was he to stop all that? What was the right thing to do? He lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. He closed his eyes and prayed silently. Thy will be done, O God.
“Save my wife. And I mean save my wife, as she was, as she’s meant to be, not a vegetable, save my wife,” he said quietly but with as much force as he could muster. The doctor who looked irritated earlier nodded and lowered his scalpel.
Then Sean turned and walked out the door, back to the waiting room, to wait for a future he could not picture or imagine. He closed his eyes and waited. She was his life. And it had nothing to do with marriage vows. She was his life. She was the one God gave him, and he was going to keep her.