“Where were you, baby?” I ask when it passes. I roll onto my side to recover. I’ve likely crushed every bone in the hand he gave me to hold as he sits on the daybed beside me. He doesn’t seem phased, though. His pain tolerance is nice and high.
“Working, lovely. But I’m here now, and you’re doing great.” He tucks some strands of hair behind my ear and kisses my forehead. “You look gorgeous.”
“Liar,” I breathe out.
He rubs my back, massaging it with his good hand. “Are you ready?”
“I was ready four hours ago.”
“Nice. I can’t wait to see what the little squirt looks like.”
“Me too. I wish he could’ve seen you with the Mohawk.”
“That can be arranged. It just takes a few months to grow back.”
Mom and Cindy walk in. “Molly honey, we’re going to get things going now,” Mom tells me, as though the last four hours were a walk in the park.
I’m feeling so lippy right now. “Okay, Mom. Pop that bag and let’s do this. I’m ready.” I look up at Tate. “We’re ready, right?”
“Fucking right,” he says and hears Mom clear her throat. “Uh, yes we are.”
Mom sets up the camcorder on a side table and starts recording, then moves to the open end of the daybed. Cindy and Debbie stand on either side of Mom, ready to help keep my legs up high to help the baby out. “Okay honey. We need you to roll onto your back now.” Mom parts my legs when I’m settled on my back.
“I’m in labor, Mom.”
“You are, honey. Baby will be here soon.”
“Shit, this is what being in labor feels like. It fucking hurts like a bitch, Mom. No wonder more than half of the women in labor at the hospital maternity ward ask for the epidural. I think I want some of that right fucking now.”
Mom smiles. “And you’re a nurse now, Molly, so you know full well that ship has sailed.” She doesn’t wait for me to answer because she notices I’ve started panting. “Oh good, honey. This is another contraction. I want you to take a breath and push. Right now.”
I reach up for Tate’s hand, squeezing as hard as I can as I push.
“OwwwwwwwEeeeeeeeeee,” I cry through the pain, pushing with everything I’ve got. My vaginal muscles tear and stretch and crack like someone is down there cutting me with a dull, dirty knife.
“That…fucking…hurts. Oh God the pain, oh hell.”
“Yes doll. That looks like it hurts,” Tate says in a soothing voice that only sets me off.
“How the hell would you know!” I shriek. “That’s my vag getting stretched all to hell! Ouuuccccchhhh. Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God!”
“You’re doing great,” Mom says from her spot between my legs. “You’re crowning, honey. Baby just needs another good push. He’ll be here and in your arms so fast. Can you give me another push?”
“I don’t think so,” I pant out. “I can’t. It really hurts.”
“You can do this. Come on. Let’s do it together. On the count of three. One, two, take a deep breath and three. Push.”
“Oh Goddddddddddddddd!” I cry.
“Yes, honey. The worst is almost over now. Baby’s head is out. If we can just get one last push, his shoulders will be next, and that’s it! Come on. I want to meet my grandson.”
“Jesus fuck, another push? I can’t,” I whine, hardly able to pant, let alone get a big enough breath of air to push again.
“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ll count to five this time.”
Mom counts down. I dig deep. I find that lungful of air and give the last push. The ton of pressure on my pelvis eases up, and Mom cries out, “Yes! He’s here! You did so well. I’m so proud of you.”
“He’s here? Baby’s here?”
“Yes he is, love. He’s perfect. So gorgeous, and he looks so healthy.” She moves over to the basin of water and wipes off the bundle in her hand, clearing the airways as I weakly catch my breath, desperately wanting to see the baby.
My baby.
“Congratulations, kids,” Cindy says. “Your little one looks very sweet. Doesn’t he, Debbie?”