FIFTY-ONE
BLAIR
“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” I whimper. At first, the pain was something I could breathe through. It took everything in me to do it, but I could logically understand that there was a light at the end of this tunnel.
Now, the light is growing dimmer and dimmer with each contraction that passes. The nurses get the room ready for my baby to arrive, but it still feels endless. No urges to push, nothing telling me we’re close to her being in my arms and this pain being over.
June is at my side a moment later, pushing back my hair.
“Shh, sweetheart. You can do this. Women have been doing this for years and years and years, remember?” she says, trying to soothe me with my own words. “In less time than you think, you’re going to have a pretty little girl lying on your chest and this will all feel worth it.”
I shake my head as she calls Colt over to put pressure on my lower back for me again. I’d waved him away earlier, so overstimulated I could barely breathe, and I feel a little bad about it now as I turn my head to the side to look at her with tears in my eyes .
“I don’t know how, Mama,” I whine and she smiles gently at me.
“Your body does, Blair. I promise you.”
That doesn’t help either, but I think I’m at the point where nothing will. I feel inconsolable, restless.
“You can cuss the whole time,” Colt says and I know he’s trying to be genuine with the family motto, but it doesn’t come across that way right now.
“I don’t like to curse,” I say, even as I start to pull myself out of the bed again. The hands-and-elbows position doesn’t feel right anymore.
“I think a little cussing is probably warranted, sweetheart,” Mama says as she helps me up. “What do you need?”
“I want my ball again.” I’ve got the oddest urge for it all of a sudden. It hadn’t helped me much when we first got here, so Colt just sort of tossed it over to the corner of the room, but I want it now.
Mama hesitates. “Let’s get the doctor in here to check on you again first.”
I shake my head with a whimper as another contraction hits and with it, an urge that feels both oddly familiar and entirely unique. “I have to push,” I say, probably louder than I mean to.
There’s a sudden flurry of attention as a nurse helps the doctor into his coat and gloves.
“Hold off for me, Blair.”
Colt’s at my side and everything gets hazy. I need to push. That’s the only thing I know for sure. Mama tells the nurses that I was going for the birthing ball and they ask if I want to try the squatted position.
“I need to push,” is the only way I can answer them.
They take that as a “yes” and set up the squatting bar on the bed, removing the bottom half of it as Colt holds me up when I start getting into position on my own.
“You’re doing so good, Blair. I love you so much. I’m so proud of you,” Colt’s whispering in my ear as I lean forward against the bar, but I’m too hot for that.
“Can she take the gown off?” Colt’s asking the doctor, having noticed somehow, but I don’t hear the response before it’s being removed. Any shame I’d normally have about being butt naked in front of my boyfriend’s mother and a bunch of strangers is nowhere to be found.
“When the next contraction hits, I want you to listen to your body and bear down when you need to.”
It feels like I’m two different people. The one pushing during contractions is so incredibly focused, with all of the strength in the world, and a sole purpose.
And then between contractions, I feel barely human, leaning against Colt as he whispers praises in my ear and pushes my hair away from my face.
“You’re doing so good, Blair. She’s crowning. Do you want to feel her?” the doctor says after several contractions, reaching for my hand. I smile deliriously as he leads me down to touch the slick, fuzziness of my daughter’s hair.
“Colt, she’s right here. Feel her,” I whimper through a happy sob, but Colt stays firmly planted by my shoulder.
“That’s okay. I believe you,” he says, pale.
“Colton Dean if you pass out, I will disown you,” Mama hisses at him.
Dr. Abernathy speaks over them both.
“We’re going to go slower with pushing now, okay, Blair? The objective is to prevent tearing if we can.”
I’m even more focused now, the light at the end of the tunnel back in full force, almost blinding with how badly I want to get there.
My legs start to shake between contractions, exhausted from holding this position for so long, and one of the nurses helps me lie back a bit more before the next one hits.
“Head is out, stop pushing,” the doctor says quickly and I watch as his hands move quickly between my legs as he slips the umbilical cord from around my daughter’s neck without concern. “Alright, one more push, Blair.”
It’s an odd, slippery sensation. I’m pushing and it feels so, so hard and then, suddenly, she just slips right out, and the doctor catches her. She’s on my naked chest a second later and I’m sobbing as the nurses start rubbing her down and the doctor clamps and cuts the umbilical cord.
Colt kisses my forehead, tears rolling down his cheeks as we celebrate the birth of my daughter, but it’s mostly quiet in the room. Too quiet.
I look at the nurse’s face, checking for any sense of urgency as my stomach drops.
“Why isn’t she crying?” I ask, terrified to know the answer.
“She’s working on it, just give her a moment,” the nurse replies sweetly, but she pulls my daughter’s limp body off my chest and takes her away to the little bed. I grab Colt’s arm in fear.
“She’s fine,” Colt promises as Mama comes over to take my other hand in hers. I’d forgotten about her being here, as shitty as that sounds.
As the nurses and doctor all fawn over our daughter, all I can think about is how it was snowing on the way here.