Chapter 22
Wynter – 2 months later
“ I have to poop,” I insist as I sit on the toilet with my phone clutched in my hand, hoping that this is an ordinary bodily function and frantic that it isn’t— the baby could be coming.
“Wynter, am I on speakerphone? Is Scott there?” Dr. Laura asks in a reassuring tone, and I appreciate her so much. Scott and I have depended on her to guide us through the most difficult time of my life.
Scott, my rock, gives me a sympathetic look, and says, “I’m here, Doc.”
“Does she have a bag packed?”
“Yes.”
Well, at least we’re prepared with a robe, toiletries, and a few magazines. So why am I freaking out? Can I take care of a baby twenty-four hours a day?
“Grab it and get to E-town General right away,” she urges.
Feeling anxious and scared that I have to push a watermelon out of my lady bits, I stutter, “It’s … it’s not time. I still have two weeks.” My voice feels weak and fragile.
“Wynter, breathe. When you get here, we’ll see how far you’re dilated. Just keep calm.”
“Owwww.” A wave of pain grips me, bending me over as far as my swollen belly will allow. A guttural sound escapes me—a mix of piercing pain and relief as it subsides.
“How far apart are her contractions, Scott?”
“Maybe ten minutes.”
“Okay, you need to move it.”
As a last-ditch effort to convince my obstetrician I plead, “Dr. Laura, I promise I just have to go to the bathroom.”
“Wynter, believe me when I say you’re in labor,” she says gently but firm.
Scott’s eyes collide with mine as her words settle in. I swallow hard feeling the reality of the situation.
“Babe, don’t be afraid. This is it,” he claims. “An adventure of a lifetime with our own family.”
For a moment, my worries fade away.
We arrive at the hospital. Scott used his red light so he could go faster than the speed limit, which was fine while we’re on the Bluegrass Parkway, but when we hit town and running stop lights, I was holding on to the ‘Oh shit’ handle.
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Scott asks, amused.
“I’m having a baby. That counts as an adventure. You can’t push the equivalent of a bowling ball out of you,” I snap.
He pulls under the shaded structure, throws the keys to the valet guy, and helps me out of the car. I had gott en my cast off a month ago, after having to wear it for six weeks. Another employee pushes a wheelchair toward me, and Scott helps me in. The pain stabbing me in the back is excruciating.
“Breathe, babe.”
We go straight to the labor and delivery room, and several nurses come in and introduce themselves. “We’ll be assisting Dr. Breadwell with your delivery today. Chantel will prepare the room, and I’ll check your vitals and a few other things that might not feel comfortable. Do you want your husband in the room during delivery?”
“Yes, he’s the only one who can keep me calm.”
He grins as he holds my hand.
“Good, it’s a bond you won’t forget,” she claims. Many of my memories have returned but still not the ones I want to remember. My wedding day. The first time Scott and I made love. How we celebrated the news of our pregnancy.
“Okay, hubby, let’s get her out of her clothes and into this hospital gown. Would you like help?”
“No, I’ll undress her.”
I wink, surprised I’m still flirting with him. “That’s his favorite thing to do.. undress me.”
Chantel laughs. “I can see that. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Scott changes me and just as I lie back on the bed. It feels like glass is piercing my skin. I scream.
The nurses and Dr. Laura come in to check on me. “We don’t have time for an epidural. This baby girl is coming now.”
A jolt of panic strikes me almost as hard and heavy as the contractions. With my pulse racing and fear tangling w ith excitement, I ask, “Are you sure? I can hold it off. Just please give me drugs.”
Deep down, I already know the answer because the contractions have gotten closer together.
“Babe, you’re the strongest woman I know. You can do this. Break my hand if you have to.”
His eyes are glossy, trying to hold back tears. Scott has never liked seeing me in pain, like the time we were swinging off a rope from a tree into the lake. I let go too late and fell in the shallows, hitting my butt on a rock just underneath the water.
I laugh and retell the memory to Scott. He strokes my hair from my face. “Your memories are coming back. More each day. I’m so proud of you.”
Another relentless contraction squeezes me from the inside out. My back flies off the bed. “It hurts so bad.” Every muscle in my body is gripped with tension. A relentless cramp has wound its way through me, refusing to let go.
Dr. Laura gives me instructions and asks Scott to push my knee up and hold it on his side; the nursing assistant will hold the other one. “On the count of five, I need you to push with all of your might.”
My body trembles at the pain and the weight of the task at hand—to bring my daughter into the world. The hospital lights blanket the room in a blur.
“Breathe in, Wyn, then blow out while you’re pushing. I’m right here, babe.”
I inhale, and the doctor counts down from five, then I push for ten counts. My lungs burn as I yell so loud from the pain. After I’ve pushed like ten or more times, I give up as exhaustion rolls through me. “I can’t do this. It hurts so bad.”
“You’ve got this,” Scott reassures me. He glances at Laura, and a hint of panic covers his face. “Can I touch her?” he asks. He proceeds to run his palms over my stretched stomach, calming me. He leans down, whispering, “Baby girl, your mama needs you to slide out. She’s the most amazing woman, and you’re going to have so many adventures together. What do you say we get this party started?”
Tears fall down my cheeks. “She has the most loving dad.”
“Wynter, she’s almost here. I saw the head on the last push. Three or four more, and you’ll meet your daughter. Ready?”
I nod as Scott wipes my forehead with a wet cloth, then kisses me. The doctor counts down, and I breathe in. The room feels small like it’s closing in on me, and Dr. Laura urges me to push.
Screaming, a rush of memories flash through my mind, clicking like a view finder on steroids, going faster than I can see them. I use every ounce of adrenaline in my body as the doctor continues to say, “Push.”
“Oh my God, she’s beautiful. Her face is precious.”
Dr. Laura says, “One or two more.”
I bear down so hard, my eyes bulge. I’m dripping with sweat and once again, I see my past, Happy and relieved I shout, “I see us. I see us standing at the altar. I see us painting the baby’s room. I see us jumping from a plane. I see it. I see it all. Our first kiss on the bourbon barrel. Sliding down the gorge on a slip and slide.”
In the past two months, Scott hasn’t shown me a picture or told me anything. Everything I’ve learned about m y past is through doing. When I do something I love or hate, I ask him if I used to like it. Occasionally, we’ll be in town, and someone will slip up and tell me a memory. But now, I remember everything.
Memories continue to crash like a tsunami while giving birth to my daughter. They’re coming so fast; I can’t even shout them out fast enough. The pain is no longer “feelable.” I’m numb and in a haze of memories.
“You did so good, babe,” Scott says as they hand him our baby girl as she screams. “She’s feminine and delicate, yet strong with a fierce set of lungs like her mama,” he teases me. He pulls my gown down, exposing my breasts, and lays our baby on my chest.
I look at her, then at him. “We made her. I remember making her. How many pregnancy tests did I take? Five? Ten?” I ask.
The nurse takes the baby to get her clean while Dr. Laura stitches me up. Lord, I hope I didn’t rip too much. When she’s finished, she says, “I’ll leave you alone. The pediatrician will be in to see you in a couple of hours. Congrats. And Wynter, I’m so happy your memories are returning. Your baby girl needs to know all you’ve done. You are a true role model.”
“Oh, no. No. She’s going to be a perfect little student like her doctor. If she grows up to be exactly like you, Laura, I’ll be so proud. Thanks for sticking with us through all the amnesia. Honestly, I don’t know if we could have gotten through it without your support and guidance.”
I blow out a breath. Scott kisses my lips then our baby girl on the forehead. “Yes, thanks, Laura. Those first few days after the accident almost broke m e, and you were there to help me see that she’ll remember, and now she has.”
Dr. Laura leaves with a pat on my leg, and the nurse removes the sheet beneath my legs, then a team of people moves me to a new bed.
Scott gives me a sponge bath and dresses me in a new nursing gown. He slides beside me on the double bed with his shirt off as the nurse brings our baby back in. He tucks the baby girl into his chest, and as I look at them, I can’t imagine a better father.
“Look what we can do when we’re together,” he says, a tear streaming down his cheek and getting caught in his stubbled jaw.
I prayed countless times a day for my memories to return because one day, I want to share some… only some of my adventures with Scott. Even then, I’ll leave out some details. There are some things a daughter should not know about her parents.
“Are you happy?” I ask my half-naked husband.
“Are you kidding? The happiest! Hearing you spout your memories while giving birth fills me with so much love. It was as if your words stroked my soul, soothing it.” His soft, pliant lips press against mine. “So, are we going with Beatrice or Brianna?”
I smack his arm playfully. “Brianna. She’s strong. She survived a major fall, my broken leg. She healed my ribs and never kicked me in the wrong spots. It’s as if she knew she would be hurting me.”
“Brianna Paige Wilson,” I state, knowing Scott wanted her middle name to be Paige after his grandmother who passed away in our teens.
“It’s perfect, bab e. She’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
I put the exclamation on it with a smooch on his bicep. “We’re perfect.”
He nods, kissing my forehead and our baby girl lets out a little sigh as she nuzzles into her daddy’s chest. Scott hands me my journal, peering at it with a slight smile, all while holding Brianna. “Do you feel like writing down the memories you had while giving birth?”
“Yeah, but some of the memories might make you blush,” I joke, but then summon each recollection. Minutes pass while I write them into the journal and each time I glance at my family, my heart squeezes.
Hours later, there’s a knock on the door, and Scott says, “Come in.”
Beau, Vanessa, Axel, Ali, Maverick, Jessica, and Major enter with balloons and gifts.
They take turns bending over Brianna’s little clear crib. Ooh’s and aah’s fill the room.
“Brother, she’s beautiful. Definitely got that from her mother,” Major pulls Scott into a hug.
Vanessa says, “Don’t worry, our boys will protect her.”
I start to tear up. “What would I have done without all of you? Not just during the amnesia but my life wouldn’t be the same without all of you.” Everyone, even the guys, go silent. “My memories came back. I think all of them.”
My girlfriends scream and hug me, and the guys shake Scott’s hand and slap his back.
“We’re so happy for us!” Ali says as she dances around the room. Ali is pure sunshine all the time. She doesn’t let things get her down. Always looking forward. But then she turns to Major. “No, we need to get Major married off, and Maverick and Jess need to have some kids so w e can all have playdates, and our kids can go to school together.”
“Oh no. I am not a one-woman man. Too much trouble,” Major laughs but sounds like he means it.
Maverick looks at Major. “I promise you when you find the right woman it;s better than a hundred groupies.” Maverick is a billionaire, but you would never know it.
“Not for me, man. But I do love kids.”
Scott picks Brianna out of the crib, handing her to Major. “Speaking of which, will you be her Godfather?”
Major’s eyes round and his mouth parts for a bit. His finger skims Brianna’s tiny arm and then she curls her fingers around his. It’s so stinking cute the way he’s looking at her with bright eyes and tenderness. “Me? I guess I can sing her to sleep.”
He starts humming, walking around the room, then he sings, “I Hope You Dance,” by Lee Ann Womack. That rolls into “There Goes My Life,” by Kenny Chesney.
We’re all mesmerized by his voice. He’s one of those guys who you know is a gentle soul but acts like a badass. Inwardly, I smile to myself because Scott has said the same thing about me. I can’t wait for Major to realize, much like me, that there is more happiness when you fall in love with someone rather than being with random women.
Dr. Laura enters the room and I catch her zoned in on Major and Brianna—with a smile that conveys something I can’t quite put my finger on.
Longing?
Sadness?
When Major finishes the song, he seems surprised to see Dr. Laura and immediately kisses Brianna’s li ttle fingers then hands her to Vanessa.
What the heck is going on? I don’t have any memories of Major and Dr. Laura together, and I don’t believe that Scott would keep that from me, but there is definitely something between them.
Adding to the tension, Nancy, my old nurse and now my good friend, peeks her head in and says, “Drake’s here with me. Is that okay?”
Scott nods, agreeing. None of us are back to being the best of friends, but he came over a couple of weeks after I moved home and apologized to both of us. For putting me in the position to be upset and run off. And to Scott for everything. He’s been dating Nancy for a month or so and that has eased Scott’s mind.
The fairly new couple admires Briann while Vanessa smiles.
“She’s so tiny,” Drake says.
“Didn’t seem tiny when I was pushing out the equivalent of an eight-pound bowling ball.”
Everyone chuckles as Nancy asks to take Brianna from Vanessa and rocks her in her arms. Drake hands me a gift bag filled with crinkling toys, pacifiers, and a onesie that says, “Heartbreaker.”
“Thank you.”
They both smile. “We just wanted to pop in and congratulate you. She’ll have the best parents.” She hands the baby to Scott. “Let us know if you need anything.”
“We have everything we need—each other. But thank you, Drake. It means the world to both of us that this is behind us, and Wynter recalls her entire life now. You mean a lot to her,” Scott admits.
I reach my hand out for Drake’s, and he hesitates before he takes hold. “You do. Just like I had to take baby steps to get my memory back, we have to take it slow to get our friendships back to where we all want it.”
Drake gives us a tight-lipped smile. “I know. I was a mess but I’m happy now.” He slips his arm around Nancy, pecking her lips.
Scott hands the baby to me and extends his hand. For a moment, Drake looks puzzled. “Thanks for stopping by. It takes a man to admit his mistakes. I’d love for you to coach middle school football with me this year.”
They already coach baseball together but Scott couldn’t this season because of me. Scott never told me that he was going to ask Drake to coach football, so this is a huge step forward.
“You would?”
“Yeah. Beau’s going to be the offensive coordinator. I want you to be the defensive coordinator.” Scott slaps his shoulder.
“I’d love to. Nancy has to work so we’re going to grab a bite to eat first. Congrats again.”
When they leave, the rest of our crew gives Scott ear-splitting grins. “You’re a good man, Scotty Wilson,” Jessica says.
He is.
He’s mine.
And I’ve always been his, even if I was too stubborn to admit it.
Thank you for reading Midnight and Mine.