Chapter 76 Bryce
Thank God I read those books on pregnancy once I found out Jada was expecting.
Thanks to them, I knew what it meant when Fletcher said Jada was four centimeters dilated.
The timing of her contractions told me a story instead of being a series of numbers.
I held Jada’s hand on the ride, trying to help her be as comfortable as possible while we drove.
Eventually, the limo came to a stop, and I looked away from Jada, still in her wedding gown, and out the window. We were here at the hospital.
I got out the door before Gen could open it for us and rushed inside to the front desk where a scrubs-clad nurse with white skin and gray hair sat behind the desk.
Several people were in the ER waiting room.
But Jada was my focus. “My wife’s in labor.
I need a wheelchair to get her up to labor and delivery. ”
“Let me get you one,” she said. Then she sauntered to a private room behind the desk.
I ground my teeth together at her lack of urgency. Did she want my baby to be born in the parking lot?
It felt like hours later when she returned with a wheelchair and followed me out the door. Fletcher and I helped Jada out of the limo, getting her settled into the wheelchair.
“Good?” I asked her, leaning down.
She nodded, eyes closed. “Good.”
“Grab your skirt,” I told her. “Wouldn’t want it stained.”
She chuckled at the joke and then cringed. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“Got it.”
The nurse pushed her into the building and followed the blue line on the floor that led to the main hospital elevators.
I swore the lady was moving as slowly as she could while my legs twitched to run.
Jada was silently gripping the arms of the wheelchair, her fingers losing color.
Fletcher kept pace beside me with a sense of calm I tried to borrow.
At the elevators, I jammed my finger into the button multiple times, feeling like I was finally able to do something, even if small.
Soon, the four of us got in and the elevator was rising to the fifth floor.
When the nurses in labor and delivery saw us, they hurried into action, finally giving me the feeling that someone besides Fletcher and me cared. “Follow me to room three,” a nurse said.
No amount of reading could have prepared me for this moment—standing at the side of the bed, holding Jada’s hand while she pushed.
“Catch your breath, and then another big push,” Dr. Blake said behind their mask. “Just one more, Jada.”
A look of fierce determination crossed her face, and she nodded. After taking several sips of air, she squeezed my hand, hard, and then started to push.
“That’s it!” the doctor encouraged. “Keep going!”
The moment passed in a blur as the doctor held up the baby and laid her on Jada’s chest. My whole world contracted to a two-foot window with both of my girls in it. Jada, so strong and brave. And this beautiful little baby crying out, marking her life, her entrance to this world.
I bent down, kissing Jada’s forehead and then turning to look at our baby, blinking her big brown eyes. “She’s perfect.”
“She is,” Jada agreed, reaching out with her hand and caressing Twyla’s head, covered in short, dark hair. “So perfect.”
“Would you like to cut the cord, Dad?” Dr. Blake asked.
I stared at them, the title cutting me to the core. I was a dad. A husband.
As I swallowed down the lump in my throat, I knew I’d do anything for Jada and our daughter. “If it’s okay with Jada,” I said.
She nodded, a tired smile on her lips.
The doctor passed me scissors, and I snipped through the cord, feeling like I was cutting the cord to my old life as well. My mission was to take care of my family. To remove Jude from their presence at all costs.