Help Mommy!
Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x toddler!daughter x diabetic!wife!reader Warnings: angst, hypoglycemia, panicked toddler, ambulance ride, crying, happy ending. Summary: A routine grocery shopping trip ends up with you and Maya in the ER. And Jack thinks he's hallucinating when he hears the familiar voice of a toddler girl crying and calls for her dad in trauma 2.
Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction and written solely for entertainment purposes. 🎀 Based on this request 🎀 more diabetic!reader ; dad!abbot
Today had been relentless. Maya had skipped her afternoon nap, Jack had been called in early for a massive trauma shift, and you had thought a quick run to grab dinner ingredients would be manageable.
You were wrong.
"Mommy! Want the blue ones!"
Three years old Maya was standing up in the shopping cart, her small face flushed red as she reached wildly for a box of sugary cereal on a shelf way out of reach.
"Maya, baby, sit down please," you said, your voice sounding strange to your own ears. It felt thick. "We have cereal at home. Sit down before you fall."
"No! Want!" She began to kick her legs, her lower lip trembling into a full blown meltdown.
You rubbed your forehead. A cold prickle of sweat broke out along the back of your neck. You felt hot, then suddenly freezing. Your brain felt sluggish.
I need to check my phone, you thought vaguely. The sensor...
Maya let out a piercing shriek, tears bursting from her eyes as she tried to climb out of the cart entirely.
Panic spiked in your chest.
"Okay, okay, calm down, come here," you breathed, stepping forward to lift her out.
The moment you bent down and scooped Maya into your arms, the world tilted sideways.
Your knees gave out instantly. The physical exertion of lifting her hit your body, draining whatever trace of glucose was left in your bloodstream.
Oh god, you thought, terror seizing you. Not now. Not with her.
You collapsed in slow motion, sliding down the side of the metal shelf and hitting the floor, pulling Maya tightly against your chest so she wouldn't hit the ground.
Maya tumbled onto your lap, unharmed but terrified by the sudden drop. Her tiny fingers clutched your shirt as she began to sob hysterically. "Mommy? Mommy, up! Up!"
You couldn't move. Your body was betraying you at a terrifying speed. Heavy, leaden weakness pinned you to the floor. Your heart was hammering an irregular rhythm against your ribs, and a violent tremor took over your hands.
"M-Maya..." you rasped. Your tongue felt twice its normal size.
You fumbled blindly for the phone in your pocket, your hands shaking so badly you nearly dropped it twice. With blurred vision, you tapped the screen. The glucose sensor app opened, flashing a bright red warning with a single word:
LOW
No number.
Just LOW.
It meant you were under 40 mg/dL and dropping fast.
You knew you were crashing, hard.
The cold metal of the lowest shelf bit into your back, but it was the only thing keeping you upright. You were sat slumped against it, legs stretched uselessly out on the floor. The heavy weight of severe hypoglycemia was pulling you under.
But you were still conscious. Still clinging to the edges of awareness by a thread.
Maya wasn't throwing a tantrum anymore, she was scared. Her tiny world had completely shattered in the span of three seconds.
Mama was the person who fixed scraped knees, who rocked her to sleep, who always made things okay. Seeing you sitting limply on the floor, trembling, broke something inside her.
"Mama! Mommy!"
Maya was on her knees in front of you, her small hands tugging frantically at your sleeves. Her face was soaked in tears, her little body shaking with terror.
"Help! Help my mommy!" she shrieked, turning her eyes toward the strangers gathering at the end of the aisle. "She sick!"
"Sweetheart, don't pull on her, okay? It's okay," a woman knelt down beside you. "Can you hear me? Can you stand?"
"N-no..." The word fought its way past your heavy tongue. You managed a tiny shake of your head, your eyes were glassy with panic. "Can't... Low."
With hands shaking violently you could barely coordinate your fingers but you held up your phone. The screen flickered, displaying the blood sugar monitor app with the bold LOW reading.
"Oh you're diabetic!" the woman gasped, reading the screen. She looked up and yelled down the aisle to an employee, "Call an ambulance! Her blood sugar is crashing!"
"Mommy, up!" Maya sobbed, patting your arm. She was hiccuping hysterically. "Mama, please... want Daddy... help my Mommy!"
"It's okay, baby... I'm... I'm here..." you slurred, every single word costing an immense amount of energy. You squeezed her as tight as your failing muscles allowed. "Mama's... here..."
A shopper ran up, breathlessly dropping a bottle of orange juice beside you. "Here! This could work, is she conscious?"
"Yes, but barely," the woman said frantically. She twisted the cap off the juice, her hands trembling as she brought it to your lips. "I need you to take a sip, okay? Can you swallow?"
"M-yeah..." you breathed as the woman carefully tipped the juice into your mouth.
The sirens cut through the supermarket parking lot. By the time the two paramedics rushed in, the orange juice had started to trickling a tiny fraction of glucose back into you. The pitch fog was beginning to lift, though your body still felt like lead.
"Give us some room, please," the lead paramedic called out as he dropped to his knees beside you.
You were still sitting slumped against the shelf, but your eyes were clearer now, no longer completely unfocused. You held Maya tightly against your lap her sobbing had quieted into hiccups, she refused to let go of you.
"Hey there, I'm Marcus," the paramedic said gently. "Store manager said you're diabetic?"
"Yes, Type 1," you murmured, your voice raspy and weak, but coherent. "My sensor read LOW."
"Okay. We're going to check you out," the second paramedic, Sarah, said as she pulled out a glucometer and a blood pressure cuff. "You managed to get some juice down?"
"A few sips... maybe half the bottle," you whispered, resting your head against the metal shelf behind you.
Sarah prepped a finger stick test to confirm the numbers while the other paramedic wrapped the cuff around your arm. "Alright, let's see where we're at... Okay, 57. It's coming up. Blood pressure is pretty low, 90 over 60, and your heart rate is running fast."
Maya fixed her eyes on the paramedics with fresh panic. "Don't hurt my Mommy" she whimpered.
"It's okay, baby... they're helping..." you soothed weakly.
Marcus eye leveled with Maya, offering her a smile. "Hey little one, we're not going to hurt her, I promise. We're just making sure she's safe."
He looked back up at you, his tone shifting to professional concern. "Because your sugar dropped so fast, along with your pressure, we can't just leave you here. With a drop that severe, your body is depleted. You could easily rebound crash in another twenty minutes once that juice wears off."
"I... I can just go home," you tried to plead softly, feeling an anxious lump form in your throat. "I just need to..."
"I hear you, but medical protocol for a severe symptomatic hypo like this requires a full evaluation," Marcus explained firmly but kindly. "We need to get you to the hospital for a full check-up to monitor you."
That ment take you to Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.
Your stomach flipped. Jack was on duty right now, probably in the middle of a chaotic shift, completely unaware that his wife had collapsed in a grocery store with their baby girl screaming beside her.
"Okay," you breathed. "Just... please don't separate me from my daughter."
"Not a chance," Sarah smiled warmly, reaching out to help lift you carefully onto the gurney while Marcus gently guided Maya.
On the back of the ambulance, you were propped up on the stretcher with an IV line taped securely to the back of your hand.
Beside you, sitting safely, Maya was still holding onto you.
"How are we feeling?" Sarah asked from across the cabin, adjusting the monitor that tapped out your steadying heart rate.
"Better," you breathed, giving her a smile. "A lot better."
"Good. Blood sugar is up to 70 now, but we'll let the hospital team get you fully stabilized." Sarah turned her attention to Maya, the toddler'a little chest was occasionally catching on a residual hiccup. "And how about you, little lady? You were pretty brave back there."
Maya blinked at the woman. "Mommy... my mommy 's okay?"
"Mama is doing great, sweetie. We just need to do a little check up," Sarah reached into a cabinet and pulled out a latex glove, blowing it up like a balloon and tying off the end. With a marker, she quickly drew a smiley face on it. "Here. A glove pal to guard Mama."
Maya stared at the puffy rubber hand. She slowly reached out her hands to take it. "Silly hand," she whispered.
"Silly hand is on duty," Sarah smiled warmly. "He's going to help us drive to the hospital."
"My Daddy work at hospital," Maya offered suddenly, hugging the glove face to her chest. "Daddy fix people."
Sarah chuckled softly, assuming it was just toddler imagination. "Is that right? Well, today the doctors are going to fix up your mommy."
Minutes later, the ambulance entered the hospital. it's was late afternoon so day shift were swapping charts with night shift staff. The paramedics pushed your stretcher through the automatic doors, Marcus holding your IV bag high while Sarah guided Maya, who was tightly clutching her blown up glove.
"Trauma 2 is open! Bring her there," Dana called out, waving the paramedics down without looking at them.
They wheeled you into Trauma 2, rapidly transferring you to the hospital bed while Sarah began her handoff to the day shift residents, waiting for an attending. "Female, mid-thirties, severe symptomatic hypoglycemia, Type 1 diabetic..."
Just across the hall, Trauma 1 was emptying out after treating a heart attack.
Jack let out a sigh, removed his surgical gloves, and threw them into the container. He rubbed his tired eyes with his palms for a moment. It had taken about half an hour to stabilize the victim, but they had managed to save his life. The shift change was in twenty minutes, and all he wanted was to clock in, and go home to Maya and you before heading back for his night shift.
That was when he heard it.
A piercing sound echoed down the ER.
"DADDY!"
Jack blinked, shaking his head slightly.
I'm hallucinating, he thought. I'm just exhausted.
"MOMMY! WANT DADDY!"
That voice was unmistakable for him. It was the distinct, desperate, pitch voice of his daughter.
Jack spun around and, directly across from him, the doors to Trauma 2 were wide open. A primary care nurse and a paramedic were standing near the foot of a gurney, while a second nurse was trying gently to comfort a hysterical toddler who was kicking her tiny sneakers against the floor.
"Maya?!" Jack’s voice cracked.
The little girl turned at the sound of his voice. Her red teared face lit up, and she instantly broke away from the nurse's gentle grip, sprinting clumsily across the floor with her arms stretched out.
"DADDY!" she sobbed, throwing her entire body against him. "Daddy! Help Mama! Mama sick!"
He lifted his head, his gaze shooting into Trauma 2. There, with an IV line running into the back of your hand, was you.
His heart hammered against his ribs as he scooped Maya up into his arms, pulling her tightly against his neck as he strode straight into Trauma 2, his eyes never leaving your face.
You looked completely exhausted, your lips still slightly pale, but your eyes locked onto his.
"Jack..." you whispered softly, giving him a small smile.
"Dr. Abbot?" the nurse in Trauma 2 blinked in total confusion, holding your chart. "Oh, says Mrs Abbot, wait... is this your family?"
"Yes," Jack said. "Yes, she’s my wife."
He didn't wait for the nurse's shocked reaction. Jack pulled Maya deeper into his chest, her small frame still trembling violently with sobs.
"I've got you, bug. Daddy's here," Jack murmured into her hair. His free hand reached out, his thumb sweeping gently over your cheek. "Jesus. What happened, baby?"
"Dropped... fast, again," you breathed, leaning your head weakly into his touch. "We were at the store... I couldn't stop it in time."
Before Jack could ask anything else, Robby arrived alongside Dr. Santos. Robby took one look at Jack holding a crying toddler, looked at you on the gurney, and pieced it together in half a second.
"Oh, well, look who we got here." Robby said smoothly. "You know the rules, brother. You're family on this one. Let us work."
"Robby, she has been-" Jack started.
"Jack. I know. Step aside," Robby interrupted firmly, placing a gentle hand on Jack's shoulder, steering him a step back from the bed. "We got her. Santos, let's do a complete analysis: full blood count, complete metabolic profile, blood glucose, the whole basic protocol for hypoglycemia. Let's make sure she doesn't suffer a rebound effect or develop DKA, just fluids for a moment untilyou check her glucose."
"On it," Dr. Santos quickly agreed, pulling out a new glucometer and prepping a kit while Robby grabbed a stethoscope to listen to your lungs and heart.
"Stop scaring Abbot with this episodes, it's like the third hypo this week, isn't it?"
"You know I can't fully control them, Robinavitch."
"Last name, okay, seems like you're breathing good."
"Shut up." you said to him, you had this hate-love friend relationship with your husband's friend.
Maya saw Santos reaching for your arm with a needle and let out a whisper. "NO! Don't hurt Mama! Daddy, stop them!"
Jack held her tighter, soothing her.
"Shh, bug, it's okay," Jack pleaded softly, he wiped a tear from her flushed cheek with his thumb. "They're helping Mommy, okay? Remember Dr. Robby? He's Daddy's friend. He's just making sure her blood sugar goes back to where it belongs."
"Is Mom sick?" Maya hiccuped, her fingers digging into the collar of his scrubs.
"Mama's sugar just got super low, bug," Jack whispered, kissing the top of her head while keeping his eyes glued to the monitor over your head as Santos drew your blood. "She's going to be okay."
You watched them, feeling the sting of the lab draw on your arm, but the sight of Jack cradling Maya brought a reassuring warmth and calm into your chest.
--
The soft lighting of the private exam room was a welcome relief from the bright lights of the trauma bay.
By the time Dr. Robby signed off on your discharge papers, your blood sugar and pressure had safely stabilized. The weakness in your body had dissolved into fatigue, and the color had fully returned to your face.
"All right, sweetheart, labs look great, balanced, and you are officially cleared to go home," Robby said, flashing a warm smile as he handed the discharge summary to Jack. He clapped Jack on the shoulder. "Take her home, brother. I will cover you tonight."
"Thanks, man. I owe you one," Jack said.
Minutes later, after a nurse came to take off your IV, the door creaked open, and in marched Maya, carrying a paper bag from the hospital cafeteria with both hands held high.
"Mama! Look! Look what I got!" she squealed, her previous terror completely forgotten.
Jack followed close behind her, holding a cup of coffee with a smile playing on his lips. "Someone got an award in the cafeteria for helping Mom today," he murmured, coming closer to the bed, sitting Maya on the bed and putting his arm around your waist, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. "Are you okay, beautiful?"
"I'm feeling better," you smiled, leaning into his touch before turning to your daughter. "What do you have there, my love?"
Maya carefully reached into the bag and pulled out a wrapped bakery item. "A cookie!" she announced proudly, showing off a giant chocolate chip cookie.
Then, she reached back into the bag and pulled out a second wrapped oat pastry. She shoved it toward your hands. "And this one for you! Daddy said no... no sugar cookie for Mama's sugar!"
You blinked, looking up at Jack, who rubbed your hip with care.
"She refused to leave the cafeteria until she picked one out specifically for you," Jack explained softly. "She told the cashier, 'Mama's sugar crashed, and now she has sugar on her, so she needs the special one.'"
Your heart melted right there. "Oh, baby... thank you."
Maya giggled, happily. "Mama better!"
"Yeah, baby, Mama is good now," Jack whispered, leaning down to scoop Maya into his lap and pressed a quick kiss on her cheek. "Alright," Jack said. "Let's go, my little monster. Mama needs to go home and get some sleep, and I'm taking the night off."
Jack lifted Maya in his arms and sat her on his hip. He put the discharge papers in his backpack pocket as you stood up.
Maya’s eyes went wide, her hands instantly clapping together. "Daddy staying home?! No hospital?"
"No hospital," Jack confirmed, smiling. "I'm all yours."
Maya leaned against him and then she turned on the full force of her irresistible puppy dog eyes. "Can we have hamburgers, Daddy? Please? Big hamburgers?"
Jack groaned rolling his eyes playfully. "Hamburgers? Well... I suppose after the afternoon you've had, we can manage hamburgers."
You shook your head, a laugh bubbling up from your chest as you took his free hand and leaned against his shoulder, walking slowly toward the exit.
"She has you totally wrapped around her finger, Abbot," you murmured. "You're lucky I'm too exhausted to fight you on it."
Jack looked at you, gently stroking your knuckles with his thumb. "I'm lucky," he whispered, pulling you a little closer to his side to kiss the top of your head. "In every important way."
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