The mother of my child, folks.
“Four centimeters dilated,” Doctor Laura reports during her latest checkin. “We still have a ways to go, but things are progressing nicely.”
“Why is it taking so long?” I ask in concern. “Her water broke hours ago.” Eight hours and six minutes, to be exact.
“Some women deliver their babies within hours of the water breaking. Some don’t start having contractions as late as forty-eight hours after it. Every labor is different.” She pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll get there. Sabrina, let the nurse know if the pain becomes too much for you, and we’ll administer that epidural. But don’t wait too long. If the baby is too far down the birth canal, it won’t do any good. I’ll be back in a bit to check on you.”
“Thank you, Doc.” Sabrina’s tone is as sweet as sugar, probably because Doctor Laura is the one who controls the drugs.
And yep, the second the doctor is gone, my woman’s smile fades and she fixes me with a scowl. “You did this to me,” she growls. “You!”
I fight a laugh. “Takes two to conceive, darlin’。 At least according to science.”
“Don’t you dare bring science into this! Do you even care what’s happening to my body right now? I—” A groan rips out of her throat. “Noooooo! Oh, Tuck, another contraction.”
I snap to action, rubbing her lower back just like Hippie Stacy instructed me to. I order her to breathe and count out each breath, while diligently checking the monitor she’s hooked up to, which is measuring and timing her contractions.
It passes quickly, and the next one doesn’t come for a while, which disheartens me. I read up on the labor process, and it seems like Sabrina is still in the early stages of it. She hasn’t even hit active labor yet, and I pray to God that this baby doesn’t take days to pop out.
“It hurts,” she moans after another contraction ends. There’s a sheen of sweat on her face and her lips are so dry they’re turning white.
I rub an ice chip over her mouth and lean down to kiss her temple. “I know, darlin’。 But it’ll all be over soon.”
I’m lying. Four more hours pass before she dilates to five centimeters, and then another three before she’s at six. That brings the tally to fifteen hours, and I can see Sabrina’s energy beginning to drain. Plus, the pain is getting worse. Her latest contraction has her gripping my hand so tight I feel the bones shift.
When it ends, she collapses against the bed in a sweaty mess and announces, “I want the epidural. Fuck, I’ll even take the forceps of doom. Just get this baby out of my body!”
“Okay.” I smooth her damp hair away from her forehead. “We’ll tell Doctor Laura when she comes back to—”
“Now!” Sabrina yells. “Go tell her now.”
“She’ll be here any minute, baby. And the contractions are three minutes apart. We still have time before the next—”
Before I can finish, there’s a lethal little hand bunching up my shirt. Sabrina hisses like a cornered jungle cat and murders me with her eyes.
“I swear to God, Tucker, if you don’t go find her right now, I will rip your stupid head off your stupid neck and FEED IT TO THE BABY!”
Nodding calmly, I pry her fingers off my collar and drop a kiss on her forehead. Then I get the fuck out of there and look for the doctor.
*
The tallies keep racking up.
Time in labor: 19 hours.
Time between contractions: 60 seconds.
Number of times Sabrina has threatened to kill me: 38.
Number of broken bones in my hand: who knows.
The good thing is, we’re finally at the finish line. Despite getting the epidural, Sabrina is still suffering. Her face is flushed a deep crimson and she’s been in tears ever since Doctor Laura instructed her to start pushing. She’s not a screamer, though. In bed? Yes. In childbirth, nope. The only sounds she makes are anguished moans and low grunts.
My woman’s a trooper.
A few hours ago I was able to duck out of the room to take a leak and text my mother and my friends, but since the hard part began, Sabrina hasn’t let me leave her side. That’s fine, because I’m not going anywhere until our baby girl is safe and sound in our arms.
“All right, Sabrina, one more push,” Doctor Laura orders from between Sabrina’s legs. “I can see the head. One more push and you’ll get to meet your daughter.”
“I can’t,” Sabrina moans.