33. Chapter 33
“So, don’t make fun of me for having no idea how this works, but why are you not screaming in pain right now?” I ask Emily as I merge onto the highway and flip the turn signal to move into a faster lane.
“The contractions haven’t started yet. My water broke. You saw that—”
“Yep. It was gross.”
“Oh, you have no idea how gross it’s about to get. Anyway, that can happen way before your body goes into active labor. But, actually, as we speak, I kinda feel like maybe I’m getting a little one.” She lets out a slow breath.
By the time we reach the hospital, she is confident her contractions are starting, although they are “few and far between,” whatever that indicates. I go to get her a wheelchair, but she waves me off and opts to walk.
Apparently you don’t go to the regular emergency room when you’re having a baby, you go to the labor unit. When we get there, a cute little thing in pink scrubs and yellow hair in a bouncy ponytail looks up and says, “Hi there, how can I help you?”
I can’t help myself. “We’re here for a pedicure,” I say, because, seriously, what the fuck?
Emily bursts into laughter, then suddenly doubles over and clenches her stomach. “Ah!”
“What?” I bark.
“Contraction. Big one.” She blows out another breath.
“I thought you said they were few and far between.”
“Yeah, well, they’re getting stronger. That’s what happens.”
Another nurse, or doctor, or tech—whoever—comes out with a wheelchair, which this time Emily accepts, and we head back to a triage area where they get her information and start hooking her up to monitors. All the while Emily is in more and more pain.
“Isn’t there some sort of shot you get, like, in your back, or something? To stop the pain?” I ask from the corner of the curtained-in “room,” biting my nails.
“Yes. Epidural,” Emily grunts through her teeth. She’s now in the bed, knees up to the sides of her chest as a doctor is elbow deep in her vagina. “I’d like one of those, please,” she pants.
“Um, I’m sorry to tell you this, ma’am,” the female physician tells her. “But I think you’re having precipitous labor.”
“Go fuck yourself!” Emily spits as she groans and arches her back.
“What the hell does that mean?” I ask.
The doctor chuckles. “It means the baby is coming now and there’s no point in getting the anesthesiologist down here because the show will be over before then anyway.”
“Wait, the father isn’t here yet!” I yell. “Emily, Bram isn’t here!”
“Yeah, the thing is, babies kinda come on their own time,” the doctor says.
Emily is doing the he-he-hoo breathing I’ve seen in movies, and the doctor is repositioning Emily’s legs.
Emily reaches for me, and even though I want to run—even though I want to puke, and hide, and plug up her freaking vagina and tell that little hellion to wait until its father gets here, I walk over and take her hand. “I’m here,” I say. “I’m here.”
“OK, Emily. It’s time to push,” the doctor says. And another woman in scrubs stands next to me and holds her leg up as Emily lurches into a half sit-up position and groans out a loud noise, squeezing my hand as she does. “Ohhhh, shitttt!” she lets out.
“That’s good. You’re doing great,” the doctor says. “Again.”
And she does. Emily does it again. She does it again and again as the minutes seem to drag on. I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, but I don’t dare let go of Emily’s hand to answer it.
“I can’t,” she finally relents as the doctor tells her to relax for a minute. “I can’t do this,” she cries.
With my free hand, I turn her head toward me. “You can do it,” I say, even though I’m talking out of my ass because I’m not sure I could do it.
“You’re close, Emily,” the doctor says. “The head will be out with the next push, and then it’s smooth sailing from there. Just one more push, and hold for ten seconds.”
Leaning in, I say to Emily, who looks exhausted and defeated and scared, “You can do anything for ten seconds. Pain is temporary. You’re going to make it. And then your baby will be here.” Except that’s bullshit, too. If anyone knows pain isn’t temporary, it’s me.
Looking in my eyes, she nods, and then the curtain billows open and there’s Bram and Knox. “Emily!” Bram shouts as he makes his way over and grabs her other hand, kissing her forehead. Knox immediately turns on his heel, having seen something he shouldn’t have, and stands with his back to us.
“Where the hell have you been?” I scold Bram as Emily tightens her grip on both of us.
“There was a pileup on the highway, I was texting you—”
“Yeah, a little busy here—”
“It’s OK,” Emily says. “You’re here now. You’re here.”
There’s a pause, and then we hear, “Hey, Em. How’s it going.” It’s Knox, his back still turned to us.
“Fucking fantastic, brother. How you doing?”
“Eh, you know. Same old, same old—”
“Everyone shut up,” the doctor interrupts. “Emily, I need you to push. You want me to clear the area, or you good with everyone here?”
“They can stay,” she pants, then adds to Knox, “Just don’t even think about turning around!”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he replies.
Taking in a big breath, Emily bears down, screams, swears and growls.
I make a point not to look at the danger zone as sounds of sloshing, and slurping, and just grossness ring out. “The head is out, now just one more push,” the doctor says, and my eyes bulge as I envision a baby’s head just hanging out of Emily’s crotch.
She gives another push and then there’s more wet sounds and a sudden cry. It’s horrifying, and exciting and … unbelievable.
Bram and Emily are both sobbing uncontrollably as the doctor holds the baby up. “Meet your new baby girl,” she says as she lays it down on Emily’s chest.
“Oh, God!” I gasp. “What’s wrong with her?” Bram, Emily and the doctor laugh.
“Nothing,” the doctor says. “Nothing at all. She’s perfect.”
“Why does she look like a raisin? And why is she all goopy?!”
More laughter. “She’s had a day,” the doctor says, gesturing toward the little thing crying and squirming on my sister-in-law’s body. And, to my horror, both she and Bram are touching it and kissing it, completely oblivious to the white slimy stuff all over her.
They are in a little bubble. They are on another planet right now. Just the two of them and their new baby. And then a weight hits me in the gut as I wonder what it’s like. What it would have been like for Knox and me. And then the guilt for having that thought is a second punch, because I should be nothing but happy for them.
“Alright, Dad, will you do the honors?” the doctor asks Bram, handing him a pair of scissors that looks like something I would cut Christmas wrapping paper with.
“Is it safe to turn around, now?” I hear Knox ask.
“Yep,” the doctor says as she snaps off her gloves and throws a sheet over Emily’s legs. “The placenta already came out. We’ve got some cleanup to do, but she’s got a minute.”
Barf.
Knox slowly turns around and takes in the scene: His brother sobbing like a baby, Emily beaming, the goopy disgusting little bundle between them. And then me. I have no idea what kind of emotion I am projecting, but it must be concerning, because Knox gives me a sad smile.
And there it is. One of the things that binds us together. I can tell he feels it, too. The sadness and the guilt amidst the sheer happiness. Because we are happy for them. So incredibly happy. We’re just feeling sad for ourselves, too.
There’s no one else in the world who can share this melancholy moment with me. I wish to God there was.
“Here,” I hear Bram’s voice near me and look up. I hadn’t even noticed that someone swaddled the baby up and he’s now holding her, walking over to me. “Hold her.”
“Um, but … she’s still all goopy,” I say as I automatically put my arms out to take her because Bram is just depositing her into my arms. “Oh my God,” I breathe as I instinctively start to sway my body, with her tucked in it. “She’s so light!”
“Thanks for being here with Emily,” Bram says over my shoulder, not taking his eyes off his new daughter.
It’s too much. This sweet little disgusting thing in my arms and all the possibilities that exist for her. And before I know it, ugly sobs start to tremble through me.
And then Knox is by my side. He places a hand on my lower back and looks down at his niece—our niece. “She’s, uh,” Knox clears his throat. “She’s beautiful, man. I mean, she’s a little bit gross right now, but I’m sure she’ll look great once they clean her up.” We all laugh.
“We were thinking, for a name …” Bram says as he looks back to Emily, and she nods in encouragement. He looks back at us. “We want to name her Monica.”
A choked sob leaves Knox, and I actually feel bad for him. It’s a beautiful thing, and a wonderful notion there will be another Monica Mitchell in the world. But, damn, it’s overwhelming.
Knox just nods, and his brother puts a hand on his shoulder.
“I, um, I feel like I need to just … get a water, or something,” I say as I pass the baby back to Bram. “I’ll be right back.” I turn, duck around the curtain, and head out into the main corridor. I take a step one way, but don’t see an exit, so I turn and head in another direction, my soles squeaking on the floor with each hurried step. I can’t remember which way we came to get to the labor unit, so I spin again and almost run into a nurse pushing an empty bed on wheels.
“Sorry!” I say as I come to a screeching halt.
I can feel it coming. The walls are closing in and the air is getting thick. I can’t swallow past that lump in my throat, and my fingers are frozen despite sweat breaking out on my skin.
I can still see the curtain that separates me from my in-laws, so I turn and place my hands on a nearby cool, bland wall. I breathe through my nose—in, hold, and out—and I squeeze my eyes shut. I know all I can do is ride it out, so I let the feelings consume me. I can’t even identify all of them. But they hit me hard.
I feel him before I hear his quiet, “Lizzie.”
Knox steps up behind me, his front flush to my back, and places his hands over mine on the wall, caging me in. He breathes with me, his head next to mine. After a few slow breaths, he guides my hands down from the wall and folds them across my chest, wrapping his arms around mine, squeezing me. Slowly, tightly. I allow myself to practically fall back into him as he holds me up, his arms around my body, his face buried in my neck. And he sways me as I silently sob, and I feel him sobbing, too.
We try not to let our trembling and gasps for air make a sound, aware of Bram and Emily and their bubble only a few feet away, hidden behind a curtain.
I wonder what people walking by must think. The busy doctors and nurses going from one patient to the next. The new parents and parents-to-be nervously pacing.
“Knox,” I quietly choke out with a hiccup.
“Shhh,” he soothes me as he continues to sway. “I know, Lizzie. I know. It’s OK. Let’s just dance.”
Oh … This is so much more than just a dance.
We stay like that for I don’t know how long. Until I’m out of tears. Until I’m almost out of breath. Until I don’t hate the fact I don’t hate Knox’s arms around me.
Finally, I clear my throat and pull away from him, wiping the tears from under my eyes. Spotting a box of tissues on the desk at the nurses station, I step over and grab a few, then wipe the snot from my nose. Without looking up at Knox, I pluck a few from the box and hand them over to him.
I hear sniffs, and a cough, then I feel him next to me again.
“Home?” he asks. And I don’t know if he means my home or his—well, his dad’s home—but either way, I want out of here, so I nod.
As he walks by me, he automatically reaches back and takes my hand in his and pulls me along, but I tug my hand out of his, then make like I’m pulling the sleeves of my long-sleeved shirt over my hands.
Knox looks down as soon as he feels me pull away, and I see the hurt cross his face as he brings his now empty hand up to run through his hair. “Sorry,” he says. “Habit.”
“There you guys are.” We hear Bram approach, the curtain billowing behind him, cell phone in hand. “They’re just stitching Em up, so I’m calling Dad.”
Stitching? Vomit.
“I think we’re going to head out before it gets any worse outside,” Knox says to his brother. Any worse? How long have we been here? This place is like a vacuum.
“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” Bram says, before pulling Knox in for a hug, and then me. “Thanks for being here, guys.” Then he pulls away, makes a few swipes on his phone and puts it to his ear as he walks away, and we hear, “Dad! It’s a girl.” Then more crying.