12. Chapter Twelve Tristan
Chapter Twelve: Tristan
T hings were going wrong…and they were going wrong fast.
I jerked forward, my lips finding Adriana's with the urgency of a man dangling on the precipice of panic and resolve.
The kiss was a silent vow, a fusion of my racing heart and her steady pulse, a quiet storm amidst the chaos.
"Stay with me, Ade," I muttered against her mouth, lingering for just a fraction of a moment longer than necessary to taste the assurance on her lips.
The onset of another contraction had her gasping, and I pulled away, reaching across the tousled sheets for my phone, my fingers betraying a slight quiver. My thumb pressed the screen and brought it to life, illuminating our dim room in Delaware, where the plush carpet had witnessed our laughter and now braced for her cries.
"Still here," I croaked into the receiver, the operator's voice a lifeline as I glanced at Adriana, her brow creased with determination and pain.
"An ambulance will be there soon. Stay on the line with me," came the reply, steady and sure through the speaker. “Tell me your name.”
“Tris–my name is Ash O’Connell, and my wife’s name is Adeline.”
“Okay. The ambulance is on its way.”
"Thank you," I said, locking eyes with Adriana, letting her see the raw edge of fear I usually kept buried deep beneath the surface of my calm exterior. But this time, I let it show, for she needed to see that even I, Tristan Callahan, could tremble at the thought of life's fragility—especially when it came to her and the lives we were about to welcome into our world.
“In the meantime, keep timing her contracts. Make sure to keep me informed.”
“Got it,” I said.
The world faded to nothing but the glow of my phone's screen as I scrambled to open the timer app. Adriana's breath hitched with another contraction, and my thumb jabbed at the start button. The seconds began to tick by—each one a tiny eternity as she squeezed my hand, her grip ironclad.
"Tristan," she gritted out, her voice a strained thread of sound.
"Right here, love." I kept my eyes on the timer, counting the moments until the contraction eased. Her hand relaxed marginally, and I hit stop, my heart hammering out a rhythm I wished I could silence. The time between her waves of pain was shrinking, drawing closer like a noose. We were running out of time.
"Okay, that was...what, three minutes?" I mumbled more to myself than to Adriana, trying to keep the edge from my voice as I reset the timer.
"Feels like less," she gasped, and I glanced up to catch the flicker of fear pass across her face before she masked it with a grimace.
"Let's see." My hands fumbled again, this time to restart the timer at the onset of the next wave, but I didn't have to wait long. Hardly a minute had passed when Adriana's body tensed once more, and I knew—this was happening fast, faster than we'd anticipated.
"Tris, they're coming so quick now," she whispered, her eyes finding mine in the silent plea for reassurance.
"Shit, already?" I cursed under my breath, my own anxiety a surging tide I struggled to contain. "One minute apart, Ade. It's nearly time. Where’s the ambulance?”
The operator sighed. “It’s on its way, Mr. O’Connell.”
“Well, why isn’t it coming faster? The contractions are getting faster.”
“The ambulance will be there soon. Now, I need you to stay calm and support your wife. Can you do that for me?"
"Of course," I answered, the lie rolling off my tongue with practiced ease. Calm was a stranger to me now, but for Adriana, I would fake it until it became my truth.
"Good. Make sure she's comfortable and encourage her to take slow, deep breaths between contractions. Keep her hydrated if possible, and don't try to move her unless she needs it. Can you manage that?"
"Got it." I set the phone down on speaker mode, freeing my hands to tend to Adriana. Her face was etched with both determination and pain—a duality I had come to know intimately. I wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, whispering encouragements that felt hollow in my mouth but carried the weight of promises we'd made.
"Tristan?" she murmured, her hand reaching out to grip mine with strength that belied her condition.
“Yup, I haven’t gone anywhere.”
I shifted in my wheelchair, the worn grip of the rubber wheels familiar under my palms as I listened to the operator's steady voice. "Now, you'll need some clean towels, and a bowl of warm water," she instructed, her tone a lifeline in the chaos.
"Right, towels and water," I repeated, pushing myself towards the bathroom. My arms strained against the wheels, muscles tensed with the urgency of the moment. Adriana needed me, and there wasn't a second to waste on self-pity or hesitation.
The tiled floor came into view, gleaming beneath the overhead lights as I grabbed several thick towels from the linen closet. Balancing them on my lap, I maneuvered back to the bedroom where Adriana lay, her breathing ragged with effort.
"Here for you, Ade," I said, laying the towels within reach. Her hand fluttered out, finding my cheek in a gesture that grounded me. It was hard, damn hard, not to be able to sweep her into my arms and take away the pain. But this—being here, following every directive—it had to be enough.
"Tristan... it's so close," she gasped, and I nodded, my focus laser-sharp as I soaked a towel in the warm water I'd managed to collect.
"Stay with me, love," I murmured, wringing out the excess liquid before gently bathing her forehead. The room felt like it was closing in, each sound amplified—the ticking of the clock, Adriana's labored breaths, the soft murmur of the operator's voice guiding me through what could very well be the most important minutes of our lives. “What do I do with the water and towels?”
"The wet towel is for her forehead, to keep her cool. The dry towels will be used once the baby arrives," the operator instructed calmly. "Is your wife comfortable where she is?"
“And the water?”
“You’ll need that to clean up. Is your wife somewhere comfortable?”
I nodded, then realized the operator couldn't see me. "Yes," I said out loud. "She's on the bed."
"Okay, great. Do not try to move her unless absolutely necessary. Please make sure she keeps breathing, slow and deep," she instructed as Adriana let out another groan.
"Alright," I whispered more to myself than into the phone, placing it on speaker again as I turned my attention back to Adriana.
"Keep talking to her, keep her focused," the operator continued, her calm cutting through my mounting fear.
"Adriana, you're the strongest person I know," I told her, meaning every word. "Our little one is almost here."
"Tristan," she whispered, her grip on my hand tightening with each contraction, "stay with me."
"Always," I promised, my voice a thread of steel woven with velvet tenderness. "Always. Okay.”
I spoke into the receiver again. “Now what do I do?”
“Put me on speakerphone,” the operator said. “I need to talk to your wife.”
I did as instructed, placing the phone beside Adriana. I threaded my fingers through hers, keeping the contact our tether in the storm raging around us.
"Adriana," came the operator's voice, steady and calm, "I need you to do exactly as I say. Can you do that for me?"
Adriana nodded, her eyes glassy with exhaustion but unwavering in their determination. "Yes," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but laden with a strength that made me fall in love with her all over again.
"Good," said the operator, "now, I want you to take deep breaths when you can, and push when you feel a contraction coming on. Don't force anything.”
I squeezed Adriana's hand reassuringly as she let out a shaky exhale, bracing herself for the next surge of pain. I watched as her face twisted with the effort of it all—the tension etched deep into her features was an agonizing sight.
“I can’t, I can’t,” she said.
"You can, Ade. You're the strongest woman I know," I reminded her, my gaze never leaving hers. "You've got this. We've got this."
The contraction passed, and Adriana sagged against the pillows, exhausted.
“Okay,” I said. “Okay. You’re doing great. What do you need me to do, uh…”
The operator had told me her name, but I’d already forgotten it.
"Jeanette," she supplied, sounding unperturbed by my lapse. "Is there anyone else there with you who can help?"
"No, it's just us." I swallowed hard, glancing around the room that seemed so big, so empty. "My wife...Ade needs me."
"I understand," Jeanette replied softly. "Then I need you to listen to me very carefully. Can you do that for me, sir?"
"Yes, I'm listening," I said, my skin prickling with anticipation as Adriana squeezed my hand. Her face was pale, her lips drawn into a tight line. Seeing her in such distress twisted my insides, but I pushed down the panic threatening to engulf me. We were so close.
"Sir, when the next contraction hits and Ade pushes, you'll need to check if the baby's head is visible," Jeanette instructed, her voice unwavering as she methodically guided us through the birth.
"Alright," I replied, swallowing hard. The idea of delivering our child myself was a surreal one, but there was no other choice. With every second that ticked by, we were becoming more and more on our own.
"Also, try not to let Ade push too hard or too fast," Jeanette continued. "We don't want to risk a rapid delivery."
"A rapid..." My voice trailed off as another contraction seized Adriana. She let out a strangled cry, her fingers digging into my hand.
"Now? Should I check now?" I asked, my voice pitching higher with stress.
"Yes!" Jeanette confirmed.
Inhaling sharply, I did as she instructed.
“I don’t want you to look!” Adriana said.
I held back the urge to laugh. “Well, I don’t think you can do it yourself, so…”
She let out a growl that would have been comical under any other circumstances. "If you make jokes right now, Tristan Callahan..."
I couldn't help but chuckle, even if it was more out of nerves than amusement. The fear was still there, threading its way through my veins and making my heart pound against my ribcage, but there was also a strange sort of exhilaration. This was it - the moment we'd both been waiting for.
Another contraction ripped through Adriana, her body seizing up with the force of it. She let out a small cry of pain, her hand tightening around mine until her knuckles were white. I could hear her breath coming in short gasps, the sound intertwining with my own ragged breathing.
I wheeled myself to the bottom of the bed.
"Tristan," she gasped out, her voice strained with the effort. "Is... is the baby..."
My heart pounded as I forced myself to look down, squinting in the dim light. But I could see clearly enough – there was a tiny patch of dark hair visible.
"Yes," I croaked, feeling a jolt of adrenaline surge through me. "I can see the baby's head, Ade."
The relief in her eyes was palpable, and it was all the encouragement I needed.
"Good," Jeanette's voice came through the speaker again, "keep going. You're doing well."
Adriana nodded, her eyes fluttering shut as she rested for a brief moment. Then another contraction seized her and she pushed with all her might.
"Can you still see the baby's head?" Jeanette asked.
I swallowed hard as I nodded. "Yes, it's...it's coming out."
"Okay, then guide your wife to slow and controlled pushes. We don't want any tearing."
Tearing? My stomach churned at the thought but I pushed away my growing unease. "Ade...slow down, alright? We're almost there."
She nodded. “Fuck!”
I could see Adriana grit her teeth, her body trembling with the effort as she struggled to follow Jeanette's instructions. Her hand clamped tighter around mine, her nails digging into my skin. But the pain was negligible compared to the pained cries filling the room.
"Tristan," she whispered in-between gasps, "I can't...it hurts...I can't..."
"Yes, you can," I countered, my heart wrenching at her words. "Ade, I'm right here. You're not alone."
"Alright, Tristan," Jeanette's voice cut through our exchange once more. "When the baby's head is out and your wife is at rest between contractions, gently check for a cord around the baby's neck. If there isn't one or if it's loose and can be easily slipped over the head, tell your wife to push on the next contraction."
The words 'cord around the neck' made my blood freeze, but I swallowed down my fear and followed Jeanette's instructions.
But the head wasn’t out. Not yet. And I didn’t know if that was normal.
"Jeanette," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "The baby's head isn't out yet. Is that normal?"
There was a moment of pause before she replied, "Yes, it's normal. Every birth is different. But your wife needs to push harder on the next contraction."
Adriana looked at me, her eyes reflecting the same worry that I was sure was present in my own. "Okay. Okay, I can do that." Her words were punctuated by her shaky breaths.
I squeezed her hand tighter, my thumb rubbing soothing circles onto her sweaty palm. "I know you can, Ade."
Another contraction hit and Adriana pushed, her face contorted in pain. But this time when the contraction subsided, a sizable portion of the baby's head was visible.
"Yes!" I cheered, an intense wave of relief washing over me.
"Good work," Jeanette's voice echoed from the phone on the bedside table. "Tristan, check for the cord now."
Cautiously, I reached out and gently felt around the baby's neck. There was no cord – another sigh of relief escaped me.
"There's no cord," I informed Jeanette quickly before turning my attention back to Adriana. "There's no cord, Ade. You're doing great."
Adriana opened her eyes, her gaze locking onto mine as a small smile ghosted her lips. "We're...we're doing great," she corrected breathlessly, squeezing my hand.
"Right," I agreed, my voice wavering. "We're doing great."
"Alright, Ash," Jeanette's calm voice cut in again. "It's time for your wife to push again. But this time, I want you to apply gentle pressure on the baby's head to prevent it from coming out too quickly."
I nodded, even though Jeanette couldn't see it.
"Okay, Ade," I said, my voice steady despite the quickening beat of my heart. "You need to push again."
She nodded, her forehead creased as she bore down with all her might. The room filled with her ragged breathing and quiet grunts of effort. While deeply terrified, I couldn't help but marvel at the sheer strength and determination radiating off Adriana in waves.
"Apply gentle pressure?" I repeated, my fingers trembling. I was on the precipice of my courage, peering over into the unknown. But Jeanette's voice guided me back, her confidence anchoring me.
"Yes," she said firmly. "Gently press against the baby's head as your wife pushes."
Adriana gave me a look of fierce determination, her hand gripping mine tightly. "I'm ready," she muttered, her voice trembling with exertion.
I nodded and took my place. My hands were shaking as I followed Jeanette's instructions and applied a gentle pressure against our child's emerging crown.
Adriana pushed again, and this time, with a cry of effort, our baby's head finally emerged in full. It was wet and coated in Adriana's blood, but it was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen.
"We did it," I breathed out in disbelief, my chest constricting with a wave of emotion that threatened to bring me to tears.
“Yes,” Jeannette said as Adriana glared at me. “We’re almost there.”
That’s when I heard the sirens approaching the house.