19. Lizzie
19
LIZZIE
“ Y our what ? How? Why ? It’s too soon !” Pippa shouts, her eyes practically bulging from their sockets.
“I know it’s too soon.”
Breathe.
Calm down.
Breathe.
“What do we do?” Pippa spears her hands through her hair as she paces in front of me.
“I don’t know,” I cry out, trying not to panic.
“Hospital!” Without warning, she yanks the blankets off me. “We need to get you to the hospital right away. Come on.”
The first contraction hits as I finish changing into clean clothes. It starts at my back and wraps around my stomach, nearly knocking me on my ass.
“Oh, dear God,” I exclaim, gritting my teeth. Forcing myself to remember the birthing classes I’ve taken, I breathe in through my nose and slowly exhale through my mouth, working through the contraction until the pain fades. “All right, okay. That wasn’t so bad. One foot in front of the other. Gotta get to the hospital.”
Pippa returns with my coat, helping me into it. “You all right?”
“Nope. Just had a contraction. So, this is really happening. Oh, Jesus.”
“Just remember your classes. Keep taking deep breaths.” She takes me by the hand and leads me through the apartment. My bags are already waiting by the door, as is Mrs. Loughty.
“I’ve called a car,” she informs us, taking my hand from Pippa so my roommate can grab my bags. “It should be here by the time we get downstairs.”
“But I can’t afford?—”
“Shush now! It’s all been taken care of. My dear, don’t think about any of that. Just think of the new little bundle of joy you’re going to be welcoming into this world.”
Considering what my body is going through, it’s extremely easy to take her advice. Another contraction hits when we are in the lobby, making me stop dead in my tracks and groan in pain. Mrs. Loughty talks me through it while Pippa continues downstairs with my bags. A few doors open as our neighbors nosily try to see what is happening in the hall.
“Oh, shoo.” Mrs. Loughty waves them off. “Nothing to see here. Mind your own business.” Her untypical sharp tone is enough to scare them away.
“Mrs. Loughty, I’m scared,” I tell her, near tears. “I’m not ready yet. The baby isn’t supposed to come for another few weeks.”
At that, she chuckles. “The first rule of being a parent, my dear, is to always expect the unexpected. Things hardly ever go according to plan, as you’ve probably realized by now. But I know you’re more than capable of handling whatever comes your way.”
Pippa returns to help me to the cab, and I give Mrs. L one quick hug and a “Thank you,” before heading outside.
T he cabbie has already been informed of the situation, so as soon as Pippa and I are buckled into the backseat, he speeds off toward the hospital.
I clutch Pippa’s hand in a death grip, squeezing when the next contraction racks my body with pain. “Oh, God, this is horrible. Terrible. Why does no one warn you how bad these are?” I demand through gritted teeth.
“Because if they did, no one would go through it,” Pippa says, rubbing my lower back to try to work out the tension. “The human race would die out.”
I grumble under my breath, relaxing against the seat as the pain subsides. “Yeah, probably.”
“Do you want me to call your parents?” Pippa asks gently. “Let them know.”
I shake my head vehemently. “No. I’ll tell them after the baby’s born. You know my mom. She’ll likely turn the whole thing into a saga about me being a single parent who’s made a string of ‘bad’ choices.”
Pippa makes a noise of annoyance. “Fair point. Forget I asked.”
I don’t have a chance to say much else after that. The next contraction comes on quicker than I thought it would, and every bit of energy I’ve got is poured into breathing properly.
By the time we get to the hospital, the contractions are less than ten minutes apart. Pippa has called ahead for me, so the front desk has already begun the check-in process and has a wheelchair waiting. I collapse into it with a grateful sigh, my body feeling like it’s on fire. The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.
Pippa wheels me to the maternity ward where we’re greeted by a cheerful nurse.
“You must be Elizabeth,” she says, motioning for us to follow. “Hello, I’m Ronnie, the head nurse overseeing your care today. We have a room all set for you. Now, I will say, we have been trying to reach your doctor to let her know you’re in labor, but we haven’t been able to so far.”
“What?” My heart sinks. “Why not? She said she’d always be available if I need her.” I start to panic and look up at Pippa. “She did! She told me I could call her anytime. Why wouldn’t she be answering?”
Clearly well trained, Nurse Ronnie gently takes my hand. “Elizabeth, we will get in touch with her. Don’t you worry about a thing. Just leave it up to us. Now, let’s get you into a gown and a bed, huh?”
Despite her calming voice, I feel anything but. My anxiety is through the roof, the pain and changes my body is going through making it ten times worse. Pippa helps me undress and ties my hospital gown before I’m able to ease into bed.
“I’m so scared,” I admit once I’m settled. “Pippa, I’ve got no idea what to do.”
“Lizzie, listen. You are the strongest and bravest woman I have ever met. You have courage I never would have. If anyone can do this, you can.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“Oh, sweetie.” She brushes my hair from my face. “You know I love you too much to lie to you.”
Her blunt response makes me giggle through the pain and discomfort.
O ver the next hour, the time between contractions slowly decreases, until they’re no more than five minutes apart. The pain becomes more intense as the minutes drag by, and I no longer have any reprieve between contractions. Nurses come in and out of the room to check on me and take my vitals. Several times they ask if I want something for the pain or an epidural, but I decline.
I decided long ago I’d forgo any pain meds, not wanting to be high as a kite when I see my child for the first time.
Pippa helps me by rubbing my back and shoulders, counting through the contractions for me. She’s amazing and stoic as ever, much more put together now that she has gotten me to the hospital.
There’s still no word from my doctor.
As much pain as I’m in, I’m still very much aware that she hasn’t arrived yet. It isn’t until I near hour two of labor that Nurse Ronnie enters the room. I can immediately tell that she doesn’t have good news.
“I’m sorry to say that your doctor is currently assisting in another delivery. Given how quickly your labor has progressed, she won’t be able to make it in time. She has called in one of her colleagues.”
“I don’t want her colleague! I want her,” I snap, shoving my sweaty hair out of my face as it escapes the bun Pippa had tied it in. “I don’t want an unknown person delivering my baby.”
“I can assure you Dr. Maxwell is extremely experienced and highly qualified. He rushed over as soon as we called him. He’s changing now and should be in any moment.”
Fate slams on the brakes.
Time comes to a screeching halt.
The world around me stops.
Memories from that night come flooding back. Not to mention the sexy dreams I’ve been having starring the man that brought me to orgasm so many times I lost count.
I barely feel the next contraction through my utter shock at what she’s just said. “Dr. Maxwell? As in…”
I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence because there he is, in the flesh, standing in the doorway like a weird hallucination.
Dillan. Maxwell.
Dr. Sex-in-a-Scrub Maxwell.
He looks so madly sexy and handsome.
I’m going to die.
Literally. (I know, the word’s exhausted to the max, but damn, it’s happening!)
He doesn’t seem as surprised to see me as I am to see him. Then again, he likely had more than a couple seconds to realize what’s happening. He would have been told my name or seen my records or something before he arrived.
“Hey, Lizzie. Hey, Pippa, if I remember correctly? You’re Lizzie’s friend from school? We met a few times, I think,” he says as he enters the room. “What a pleasant surprise to see you both here.”
The way he talks, it’s like he’s run into us at the grocery store, buying strawberries—not like he’s about to deliver my frickin’ baby.
His frickin’ baby.
He wears a face mask, so I’ve got no idea what his expression is, therefore, I’ve got no clue what he could possibly be thinking about the situation.
“Oh, hi, Doc,” I mutter softly, still in shock.
“Hi.”
“It seems you already know each other,” Nurse Ronnie says brightly. “See, Elizabeth. Now a stranger won’t be delivering your baby.”
Nope.
Not a stranger.
Just the father of my child who didn’t even know I was pregnant until this moment.
The doctor who’s going to deliver his own baby.
Pippa squeezes my shoulders to comfort me, but I’m spared from responding when another contraction, much worse than the others, hits me out of nowhere. As I yell in pain, Dillan comes over and kneels at the end of the bed to check my dilation.
“Good thing I got here when I did,” he says. “It looks like you’re going to be able to push soon. Pippa, keep an eye on her to make sure she keeps breathing.”
“Dillan—” I begin.
I’ve got no idea how I want to end the sentence. Thankfully, I’m spared from trying when Dillan cuts me off.
“Whatever you’re going to say, Lizzie, it can wait until later.” His voice is as steady and calm as ever, and it instantly puts me at ease. “Let’s just focus on taking care of this little one, okay?”
With no other choice and no energy to argue, I nod in agreement.
The nurses, who have been checking on me throughout the evening, gather around Dillan as he works. He gives them instructions under his breath, making sure to keep his attention on me the whole time. At one point, an oxygen mask is put over my face when it becomes apparent that I’m holding my breath through the pain.
After that, everything seems to happen in a blur. I’m too focused on giving birth to really think about anything else, and ever the professional, Dillan does what he does best. Delivers my child.
Our child.
I thought contractions were the worst, but really, it’s tied with pushing. Time drags on as I try desperately to deliver our baby. I’m sure I’m using some very colorful language during the process. At one point, I vaguely remember yelling. “This is a terrible way to make another human .”
“You’re almost there, Liz,” Dillan encourages me.
“You said that an hour ago!”
That earns a chuckle from him and the assisting nurses. The next thing I know, my blurry vision comes into focus on the face of the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen in my entire life. The baby isn’t crying though—its face is scrunched in the most adorably annoyed expression. I yank the oxygen mask off with shaking hands before reaching out for my child.
Dillan carefully places him in my arms.
“Congrats, Lizzie,” he says in a soft voice. “It’s a boy.”
I cry as I cradle my son. Pippa cries too, smoothing my hair and hugging my shoulders. We stare in wonder at the little bundle in my arms. He looks just like his daddy. So sweet and sincere, vulnerable, beautiful.
Dillan asks me something, but I don’t hear him at first. “What?” I ask, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.
“What’s his name?”
“Isaac,” I say. “His name is Isaac.”
I can see the smile in Dillan’s eyes as he looks down at the baby. “It’s nice to meet you, Isaac. You’ve got a very special mother.”
All at once, my feelings for Dillan come rushing back, and I’ve got to shut my eyes against the onslaught. It’s all too intense, too emotional, too much to bear for someone who’s had their world change in a short span of time. I’m spared from further interactions with Dillan. He goes back to business, cutting Isaac’s umbilical cord and taking care of the aftermath of everything.
Pippa steps away to call Mrs. Loughty, and I ignore everyone around me in favor of staring at my new baby.
Nurse Ronnie helps me place him directly on my chest, so his skin touches mine. I can feel his little heartbeat, the same heartbeat I heard all those months ago in Daisy’s office. Already I love him with my whole being, and I know from the depths of my soul there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep him safe and happy.
“He’s a tough little cookie,” Dillan says, smiling at me and the baby.