Chapter Eighteen
Anastacia
It was another rough night. More cramps.
It was difficult to get comfortable. If I don’t lay in the right position, I can’t breathe, and little limbs stick into my ribs, which has been an issue for a couple weeks now but is nothing compared to the cramps.
Still, I get myself up in the morning and have breakfast with Grizz, who is staying here with me for a few hours while Kelsey and Tommy run a few errands.
Once they get back, he’ll go to the club.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, walking me to the bedroom.
“Yes, I just want to take a nap,” I grumble.
He helps me into bed, kisses my head, then leaves me.
I hardly sleep at all, and at one point I’m curled over in pain with tears pouring from my eyes.
I should call for Grizz. He’s right down the hall, and he would be here in a second, but I don’t want to overreact.
I don’t want to get him worried that something is wrong when it isn’t.
It’s just cramping from the baby moving because they are moving so much and there is barely room.
Plus, they aren’t consistent, the way Dr. Carter said they would be if I were in labor.
And my water hasn’t broken yet, which I know is a big indication of going into labor.
So whatever this is, it’ll go away like last time.
I just need to keep breathing through it, and I definitely don’t need to make a big deal out of it.
Only by the time the sun comes up, I’m drenched in sweat and in so much pain that I can’t hide it. I hear Grizz’s footsteps down the hall before he enters the room. The door swings open, hitting the wall, his hurried steps coming toward the bed.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice full of concern.
This is what I was worried about. I don’t want him concerned when it’s nothing.
Only, maybe it isn’t nothing. Because he asked me a question, but my teeth are chattering so hard I can’t speak.
“Angel, tell me what’s going on,” he pleads, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Is it the baby? Are you… are you in labor?”
I take in a stuttering breath, letting it out slowly.
“I… th-think,” is all I manage to get out.
“Fuck, okay. Uh… shit. Okay, hold on. Please, just stay right here.” He runs out of the room. “Tommy! Kelsey! Wake the fuck up!” is shouted down the hall. More footsteps. Silence. Then more footsteps pounding on the floor.
The pain is worse, so intense that I curl into myself and can’t stop the scream that tears out of me.
Something cold is pressed to my head, there are hands on me.
People are talking, but I can’t hear anything.
The pain is so much, it’s so bad. How did it get this bad so fast?
I was just fine, and now all there is pain. So much pain that I can’t think.
It’s the most excruciating pain I’ve ever felt in all my life. My stomach. My back. My throat. Everything hurts.
My body is trembling, covered in sweat. My head is pounding, and my throat is raw and dry.
I hear people speaking to me, still faintly feel hands on me, but I don’t really feel or hear any of it. It’s all background noise. I can’t focus on anything but the pain.
It subsides for a moment, just a moment, and I take in a breath, letting out a sob when I get a second to breathe.
“—and screaming. She’s in so much pain!”
“I…” I start, but then the pain comes back.
Light at first, but like a wave it rushes over me.
I can’t breathe, can’t do anything but try to force it away by tensing up.
I scream again, because for some crazy reason that helps, like I’m not holding it in but letting it out. Or maybe it’s just a small distraction.
This goes on forever. I swear, it’s forever that every nerve in my body is on fire. My lungs burn. My throat is raw.
Even when the pain goes away, I can’t think because I know it’s coming back. My lips are going numb, my fingers are tingling. I feel deprived of oxygen. I feel delirious. I feel like I’m not real. I feel like I’m dying, and all I want is for this pain to go away.
God, please, make this pain go away!
There are more voices now, and I faintly make out more people in the room.
There’s a new voice, a familiar, soothing one.
“Sweetheart, I know it hurts, but I need you to breathe, okay? In through your nose, big, deep breaths. Let it out through your mouth, okay?” Dr. Carter. He’s here. So that must mean— “Are you having contractions?”
“I think so,” I manage to say while trying to do as he said. In through my nose, big and deep. But it’s so hard to focus on anything but the pain. I’m telling my body to do things, but it won’t. I have no control over myself. The pain is too much.
“How often are they coming?” he asks.
“They won’t go away!” I scream as another one hits. “It won’t stop!”
I hear him ask if my water broke, to which I shout, “No!” But maybe if it did, this baby would come out.
Then I hear him say something about checking my cervix to see if I’m in labor.
I scream for him to do it. I just want this pain to go away.
Whatever he can do to make this go faster, I want him to do it.
I don’t care what it is, I just want this to stop.
I would do anything to make this pain go away.
I roll around on the bed, the sheets sticking to my sweaty skin, desperate for relief.
Please, just make it stop!
The world spins, and I think I’m going to pass out. No, maybe I’m going to die. Surely this pain will kill me, right? No body can endure this much pain. It’s impossible. It’s not humanly possible to go through this and come out alive on the other side. It’s just not.
Something soft is placed under my head as hands fall away from my arms and my back.
The pressure on my back helps just a little—a fraction.
Not enough to make a difference, but maybe if they keep doing it?
I try to mutter please, try to ask them to keep going, but all that comes out is another cry for help and sounds that aren’t words.
The bed dips beside me, and someone takes my hand.
Grizz.
I’d know his hand anywhere. I’ve held it so many times now. Stared at it so many times.
And though it does nothing to make the pain go away, it gives me just a little bit of peace knowing I’m not alone. He’s here with me, and with him, I can get through this. I can do this.
Then someone is on the other side of me, and they’re grabbing my legs. I open my eyes, but everything is blurry with the tears. It’s like all my senses aren’t working, shutting down, because this pain is killing me. I’m dying. Surely I am dying.
Someone else says something, but I can’t hear what it is—or even who it is.
Then something cold is between my legs. There’s something inside me. Then there’s pressure and a little bit of pain. I cry more because how much more can I handle?
“Sweetheart?” I hear, loud and clear.
“Yeah?” I whimper, my body shaking like crazy.
“Hope you’re ready to have a baby.”
A baby… yes. A baby. That’s why I’m doing this. That’s what all this pain is for. I just have to have a baby, and then it will go away. Then I will get to meet them and everything will be perfect.
I hear Grizz’s deep raspy voice on the side of me muttering, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” and I bet his face is so funny right now.
I bet he’s terrified, and that just makes him so adorable.
I wish I could see it. I wish I could—another contraction starts, and I swear I’m going to throw up.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to focus on my breathing and not the nausea, but it’s impossible.
It all came on so quickly, so hard, that I didn’t have a second to get a handle on it.
“Sweetheart, when I tell you to push, I’m going to need you to push as hard as you can as we count to ten, okay? The harder you push, the quicker your baby will be here.”
Push hard. Baby comes out.
Okay, I can do this. I can totally do this.
“Holy shit,” Grizz says. “Holy fucking shit, this is happening.”
“You ready to have a baby?” Dr. Carter asks.
But that just makes me cry harder. Because no.
I am not ready to have a baby. I am not ready to be a mother and be responsible for another human when I am still learning how to be responsible for myself.
I am not ready to bring a baby into this evil world full of vile people. But it will make the pain go away.
Baby comes out. Pain goes away.
“I know this is scary, but you’re going to do great,” Dr. Carter says. His voice is soft, and it’s soothing.
There’s more talking, but it’s fading in and out now.
I think I really am passing out. My body is shutting down.
Something is happening because I feel like I’m going in and out of sleep.
But then there’s something inside me again, more pressure.
I cry out because it hurts. This all hurts so badly.
Then a warm gush of water flows out of me, soaking beneath me.
I think I peed myself. I peed myself in front of all these people because I’m in so much pain that my bladder lost control.
“When the next contraction comes, I need you to push down really hard, okay? Do you think you can do that?”
I know he’s talking to me, and I try to answer him. I think I do, but I’m not sure. I can’t remember. This pain is unbearable. I can’t take it anymore—I can’t! I can’t do this. How can anyone do this?
“I think you can,” he says. “You can do this.”
And then somehow, the pain gets worse. And I don’t remember a thing until there is a tiny baby in my arms.