Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Hunter
Thirty-eight weeks pregnant
“ H unter, I think my water broke.”
Of course, tonight has to be the first December snowstorm DC has seen in over a decade. I peek out the window at the white covered streets from our bedroom while Michelle changes her pants. Best I can tell, they haven’t seen a plow in a few hours.
“How are we ever going to get a car to come pick us up in this?” She paces around the room grabbing things I’m positive are duplicated in our go bag.
“Okay, so you know how you complain every time the commercial comes on where the husband buys the wife a car for Christmas because it’s financially irresponsible to make a major purchase of that size without consulting your partner?”
She turns around slowly. “There’s also the one where the wife buys the matching trucks, one each, but I notice that’s not the example you used.”
I grimace. “Okay, so I signed the paperwork to have it delivered before those commercials started airing a month ago. It’s a push present, and it’s the blue Subaru Outback parked right outside the apartment front door.”
“Hunter,” she groans. I check my watch to see how long it’s been since the last contraction. “No, that wasn’t a contraction. That pain was solely caused by you.”
I laugh, lowering my wrist. “Okay, I know, but here’s the other surprise. We got the Safeway contract.”
She drops everything she’s holding to run, well waddle, forward as quick as she can to throw her arms around my neck. “You did?! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You know, push present, big romantic gesture, misguided man peabrain. The usual reasons.”
She leans up and kisses me once before pulling away. “Okay, new house rule. Purchases four figures or larger have to be approved by the other party.”
I bring my lips to hers again for another peck. “Engagement rings are the exception to that rule.”
Michelle leans back, shock on her face.
“No, no. I don’t have one of those hiding somewhere too. But wanted to write the exception into the house rule while we’re in the negotiation stages.”
Michelle’s face contorts in pain as she grabs her side. “Okay, now that’s a contraction.”
I check my watch again. “Still six minutes apart. Let’s say we get you to the hospital in a snowstorm, have a baby, and then we can finalize any new house rules.”
“Deal,” she says, heading for the door, everything she gathered in the last few minutes forgotten on the floor. I grab the go bag from the closet and follow her. My smile is indulgent. I’ll worry about the mess my adorable girlfriend made later.
With the door behind us, I head to the stairs when I realize Michelle’s not with me. I backtrack to find her standing just outside our door.
“You okay? Do we need an ambulance? ”
She shakes her head. “No, no. I’m okay. The next time we walk through this door, we’re going to be a family of three. I wanted to mark the occasion.”
I pull her in a hug, leaning down to her ear and say, “I can’t wait,” before pulling back and finding a smile on her face to match mine.
“I’m a little nervous about the pain coming my way between now and then, but . . . me neither.”
“All right then.” I lace my hand with hers. “Let’s do this thing.”
I thank the parking gods who let me snag this spot a week ago when we only have to walk a few steps on the covered sidewalk before I deposit Michelle into the car. My New England-self prepared for this storm by leaving the windshield wipers sticking up, but my snow-trained driving isn’t prepared for a city full of transplants.
I blare on my horn for the fifth time in as many blocks.
“Relax, babe. We’re going to make it.” Michelle tries to soothe me.
“I don’t understand why people are driving right now if they don’t how to drive in the snow.”
“Maybe they’re all having babies too,” she says, her tone telling me if I could take my eyes off the road to look at her, she’d be sticking her tongue out at me.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I growl, navigating around a car with its four-ways on half in the lane and half in a parking spot.
Finally, I pull up to the hospital and run around to the other side again to meet the valet.
“Where did you grow up?” I ask the kid approaching from the valet stand, who can’t be much older than seventeen.
“Uh, here?” he says, eyes wide, giving me an answer I’ve only heard a handful of times since I moved here in June.
I eye him warily. “Look, kid, the car is brand?—”
“What he’s trying to say is thank you so much for coming to work during a snowstorm.” Michelle’s voice comes from behind me. “You may not be able to tell, but we’re about to have a baby and he’s a smidge high strung.”
The passenger side door is open and her feet are swung around, ready to touch the snow-covered ground. Decision made for me, I drop the keys in the kid’s outstretched hand and rush to her side, helping her stand and step up on the curb.
Two steps later, Michelle stops walking, her face pinching in pain. She grips her stomach and breathes through the contraction. “I’d very much like to see a doctor and find out if it’s time for drugs yet,” she says. Her eyes open, her gaze surprisingly clear given the snow globe we drove through and what we’re here to do.
“Anything you want, babe,” I say. I wrap my arm around her back and guide her to the ramp leading to the emergency room entrance.
“Uh, sir?” the valet’s voice comes from behind me, his voice indicating the last thing he wants to do is engage with me any further. “Do you need this bag?”
Michelle snorts a laugh. “Next time we have a baby, maybe a little less interrogating and a little more checking the backseat to be sure we have everything.”
“Next time we have a baby”—I set her hand on the conveniently placed railing—“you’re giving birth in summertime.” I jog the few steps to the car and take a few extra seconds to log the valet’s name. “Thanks for the heads up, Jack. I’ll make sure you get a good tip whenever things aren’t so pressing.”
He nods, still looking like he’d very much like to get away from me. “Good luck, sir.” Without another word, he heads to the other side of the car, and I move back to Michelle’s side.
“You know, from a weather perspective, spring actually holds the least possibility of severe and sudden weather disasters,” Michelle says as I approach. “But I do think we should see this one through before we start planning any more.”
“Deal.” Bag settled on my shoulder, I wrap my arm around her and continue our walk to the doorway. “You know, the valet kid called me sir twice.” I mean to keep my tone nonchalant, but some of my surprise must slip through, because Michelle leans further into my side, causing me to look down at her.
“Fatherhood looks good on you, babe,” she says, tilting her face up for a kiss. I meet her willingly, like I will every time she wants my lips on hers for the rest of our lives.
I check my watch and see it should be about time for another contraction. Grabbing a wheelchair from where a few are left unaccompanied by an empty security booth, I help Michelle settle into one. This seems like a time for forgiveness and not permission.
She grabs onto my hand firmly, breathing through the incoming contraction, right on schedule. A few seconds later, she opens her eyes, meeting mine.
“Let’s go have a baby?” I ask. She nods, giving me her game face, determined to face labor head on. I move behind her so I can push us the rest of the way to the check-in desk.
“Though, if you want to take the first shift of pushing, I wouldn’t complain.”
“If I could, I would,” I say, my voice earnest.
She reaches up to grip my hand and turns so she can see me while we wait our turn. “Love you,” she says, her eyes displaying the depth of her emotion.
“Love you,” I say back, intertangling our fingers on the wheelchair handle.
“Next,” the administrator at the desk calls and I wheel us toward our future.
“ D o you think if I renounce Friends as one of my favorite TV shows, the universe will stop giving me a Rachel-esque labor?” Michelle asks, squatting in her bed hours later. “I feel like I’ve been stuck at seven centimeters for longer than the night it took to make her. ”
I check my watch, trying to swim through the brain fog to do mental math. She may be on to something, but I assume an actual confirmation won’t be helpful here. As tired as I am, I know Michelle must be at least three times as exhausted. She’s having trouble getting comfortable, so I don’t protest when she asks me to help her readjust to being on all fours.
A knock on the door catches our attention before Dr. Barber slips into the room.
“How are we doing in here?” she asks, sanitizing her hands and walking over to the bed.
“You know, I didn’t do much yoga before getting pregnant, but the past few hours have me reconsidering. If I can do those poses in labor, surely I will rock it without a baby in the way.”
Dr. Barber laughs, looking at Michelle’s chart.
“You’ve been here almost as long as we have, Dr. B,” I say. She hears the unasked question in my statement.
“I have been. With the snowstorm, our protocols change a bit, so I’ve been on duty for almost twelve hours. My relief should be here soon.” Something flickers across her face.
“Who’s coming in for you?” I ask, pretty sure I already know the answer.
“Dr. Jameson is scheduled to come in next.”
A groan of pain leaves Michelle as another contraction kicks in. The doctor and I both start timing. After a minute, Michelle’s body releases the tension, her breathing hard. I bring a cup of water with a straw close to her mouth so she can take a few sips of water.
“Can we hope the mention of his name alone kicked my body into gear? Because I would give almost anything to not have that fatphobic jerk deliver my baby.” Michelle’s eyes fill with tears.
I stroke her hair. “There has to be someone else here who can help. I’ll find them.” I promise. Seems even with our complaint, the guy has managed to keep his job.
“Let’s get you on your back to so I can check your progress. If you go into active labor while I’m on the clock, I can stay to see you through,” Dr. Barber says. She’s doing her best to show a layer of professionalism, but I see her struggling to keep it in place. Seems like he’s not very popular with his co-workers either.
She flags down a nurse, and we help Michelle navigate into position on her back. Michelle grips my hand while the doctor performs the same exam we’ve sat through countless times tonight.
Dr. Barber sits up, a large smile on her face. “Well, Michelle, good news. You’re ten centimeters and fully effaced. Give me a second to gear up, and we’ll start pushing.”
A nurse hooks Michelle up to monitors, the room suddenly a flurry of activity, but her eyes are only on me. I bring my forehead down to meet hers.
“Hey, you’re going to be great, okay? The climb to the very top of the mountain is here, but on the other side is our little girl. I’m so proud of you.”
She nods her head, moving up and down against mine. “Sorry in advance if I crush your hand.” A tear trickles out of the corner of her eye. I pull back slightly so I can wipe it away.
“Crush away. I can’t imagine a better reason to need a cast.”
“All right,” Dr. Barber says, reentering the room, an air of assuredness around her. “Let’s get ready to push.”
Everyone takes their positions, and Michelle wraps her hand a little tighter around mine. “Next contraction in thirty seconds,” a nurse says.
“All right, Michelle. When I say so, you’re going to push as hard as you can. Are you ready?”
She takes in a deep breath, eyes closed, before opening them to a look of determination. “I’m ready.”
Dr. Barber counts us down, and Michelle lets out a yell while she pushes down through her contraction.
“That was great, Michelle. I’m going to need you to be ready to go again, okay? ”
Michelle nods, and I brush the hair out of her face, never feeling more invested and more helpless at the same time.
She pushes through the next few contractions, the toll and energy they’re taking after a long night of labor clear on her face. A nurse appears out of nowhere, handing me a wet towel. Glad for something to do besides stand here and let nonsense praise tumble out of my mouth, I wipe sweat off Michelle’s forehead.
“Okay, Michelle, I can see her head after the last one. A few more big pushes and we’re going to have ourselves a baby.”
Michelle nods, too exhausted to comment, but the determined look returns, stronger than before.
“Okay, the heads out, big push for the shoulders.” Michelle screams again. “A little bit more.”
The next noise that joins the room is the loud, screaming cry of our daughter. Michelle flops back against the bed, tears streaming freely down her face. I blink rapidly, finding tears spilling down my own face. They bring our daughter up to lay on Michelle’s chest.
After a few minutes, someone says, “Dad, it’s time to cut the cord.”
I press a kiss to Michelle’s forehead, and she squeezes my hand once more, with affection this time, as I step to where Dr. Barber holds my little girl, one half of my entire world. I follow the doctor’s instructions and then watch as they take baby girl away to do the initial exam and clean her.
I take this brief moment to stroke my hand down Michelle’s face, putting all the love and affection I can into my look.
“You were amazing. That’s her, that’s our daughter.”
She nods. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” We both laugh wetly at the undersell of the past eighteen hours.
“Mom, Dad, here’s baby girl Lewis.” One of the nurses helps lift up Michelle’s gown so they can lay our daughter on her bare skin once again.
“Hi there, baby,” Michelle coos at the infant cuddled on her chest. My heart stutters with the effort to absorb all the love coursing through me while I gaze at the two most important people in my life. Michelle looks at me for a moment, and whatever she sees in my face helps her make a decision.
“It’s baby girl Brandt,” she says with finality, causing my heart to leap again. I already know they’re my forever, but never assumed our daughter would share my last name from birth.
“We’ll leave you three alone for a few minutes. You’ll be able to start bringing family in within an hour or so.” Michelle and I look at each other, confused, before looking at the nurse.
“Snowstorm or not, seems like you have some people determined to be here for you.” She walks out of the room, smiling.
“Sounds like them to not wait for us to call like we said we would,” I say, turning to Michelle.
She shrugs the shoulder our daughter isn’t laying on. “I think your family isn’t very good at showing they care from the sidelines. I’m not surprised they’re here.”
I laugh. “When you put it like that, I guess I’m not either.”
We sit in silence for a moment, staring at the little human we created, changing our lives forever.
“I know we had our favorites list, and I’ll call her baby girl for as long as we need to. But, any gut feelings?” I ask Michelle softly.
She gazes down at the tiny head with a smattering of red hair covering it before looking up and meeting my gaze. “I’m going to call an audible and throw out a Hail Mary,” she says, biting her lip.
I roll my eyes. “Fucking Duncan for getting you hooked on those fantasy football podcasts. What’s the name, babe?”
“Hope.” She says the word simply, and in the second it takes for my synapses to fire and comprehend, I know it’s perfect. Before Michelle, before that one night in March, my life coasted along perfectly fine. Because I didn’t know what I was missing, what I could have once I found the perfect woman. And even when I didn’t believe I deserved them, Michelle never lost hope I’d be the perfect man for her, the best father for our daughter .
“It’s perfect,” I breathe, scooting closer so I’m able to wrap my arms, however awkwardly, around them both.
“I thought so.”
Another beat passes before I ask, “And the middle name we talked about?”
Michelle nods. “I think they go together perfectly.”
“Me too,” I say, and we lapse into silence, watching Hope breathe.
It’s around an hour later, after the nurses have come and gone again, when another knock sounds at the door. Michelle and I look at each other and smile, before she says, “Come in.”
Preston, Duncan, Hayden, Charlotte and Jax file in. “Look at her, she’s so gorgeous,” Charlotte says quietly, bringing her hands to her mouth.
“She amazing, guys,” Hayden says. Preston and Duncan offering their agreement.
“Hold the phone up higher, Hay. I can’t see!” Spencer complains, his face visible on a phone screen. Hayden complies and Spencer gasps. “Oh, look at her,” he coos.
“Laurel told me the first thing I say has to be that she’s pissed at you for going into labor while she’s out of town and flights are canceled,” Jax says, shrugging. “And I’ll add she is absolutely beautiful.”
Michelle laughs and shakes her head. “Here, Hunt, take her for a second? I’ll send Laurel some pictures right now.”
She lays Hope in my arms and my breath catches, like it has every other time I’ve held her this morning. Gathering myself, I walk over to where my brothers, both physically and digitally, stand.
“Hey, guys. I want to introduce you to someone. This is Hope Catherine.”
Four identical gasps, one slightly delayed via phone speaker, fill the room when I say our mom’s name following Hope. I glance behind me and see Jax and Charlotte, arms intertwined, their eyes glistening with unshed tears, while they stand next to Michelle’s bed.
We stand there a moment more, the only audible sounds in the room intermittent sniffles.
Duncan finds his voice first. “It suits her. I know Mom would be thrilled.”
“I think so too,” I say, gazing down at my daughter. There’s a lot that terrifies me about being a father. But I’m certain these people around me, faces so full of love for my little family, will help hold us up and never let me fail.