26. Bertie
BERTIE
Luke might not be overreacting.
Not that I’m going to admit that to him. I’ve dug my own grave, and I plan on staying right there.
I allow Rosie to tug me into the restroom and close the door behind us. She flips around to face me, an accusing finger flailing in my face. “You’re totally in labor you little liar.”
I scoff. “No.”
She plants her hands on her hips. “I’m your best friend. You can’t lie to me.”
My shoulders droop. “I didn’t think I was at first, but when they got stronger, I started to question it, but it’s your wedding and I don’t want to miss this.”
Rosie shakes her head. “You can be so damn stubborn. You need to get to a hospital.”
“I’m scared,” I admit. “I thought I had a few more weeks. We still haven’t even picked a name.” My voice gets higher at the end. “Luke hasn’t put the crib together yet. I mean, we have the bassinet, but we need a crib too, right?” My words slur together with nerves. “It’s not time. I refuse.”
Rosie grabs each of my hands in hers. “Honey, I don’t think you can refuse this.”
I burst into tears. I know she’s right. “I’m not ready.”
I wasn’t ready when the test turned positive and I’m not ready now to hold a baby in my arms. The magnitude of this responsibility has only gotten bigger as time passes.
“Oh, sweetie.” Rosie pulls me into a hug. “You’re going to be fine. You have nothing to worry about. I don’t think motherhood is something anyone can be ready for. You get tossed in the deep end and you figure it out and I promise you it’s easier than you think.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. And remember, you have a whole village around you.”
I wrap her into another hug. “Thank you.”
Meeting Rosie was one of the best things that ever happened to me.
Releasing me, she says, “You’re going to do amazing.”
After using the bathroom, I wash my hands and freshen up just a bit. It’s crazy how much more put together you can feel just by touching up your makeup and putting on some gloss.
Rosie waits for me and walks with me outside where Luke is waiting by my SUV with Daire.
“How are you feeling?” Luke asks as I approach.
My bottom lip wobbles thanks to all the feelings threatening to drown me. “Like you were right and I’m in labor.”
This is Luke, so I know better than to expect an I told you so. Instead, he reaches out and takes my hand to help me to the passenger side.
That’s when I feel a trickle between my legs. I look down. “I think I’m peeing,” I blurt.
“You just went to the bathroom,” Rosie says, voice filled with confusion. She gasps. “Is your water breaking?”
I look up into Luke’s panic filled eyes. We have an hour drive back to Nashville where my new doctor is.
“We’ve gotta go,” he says, practically ripping the door open. He helps me inside the car and straps me in even though I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.
He jogs around the front of the SUV. Panic is written plainly in the lines straining the edges of his mouth. Yanking his phone from his pocket, he tosses it at me.
“Put the address for the hospital in.”
“You don’t know how to get there?” I blurt.
He stares at me for a second. “I’m panicking here, Bertie, forgive me if I’m forgetting how to navigate at the moment.”
“Right.”
He buckles himself in and speeds away from the venue.
“After you get that set up can you call your doctor and let them know we’re coming?”
“Yeah,” I answer just before another contraction hits me. A scream rips out of me at the intensity. It’s hands down the worst one I’ve had all day.
“Bertie?” His voice is choked with concern.
I breathe through the pain and when it dissipates, I manage to say, “I’m fine.”
Poor Luke looks like he’s going to be sick, and a wave of realization hates me.
It hasn’t been that long since he shared with me about his OCD and his rumination of something exactly like this happening.
Truly, for most of the day I didn’t believe I was in labor.
Early labor with first babies is less likely than future pregnancies and at my recent OBGYN appointment I hadn’t made any progress, so I thought it was just my body preparing myself ahead of time for actual labor.
It’s not like I’ve ever had a baby to actually compare any of this to.
“Bertie,” he says my name again, sterner this time. “I need you to be honest with me as we’re driving, okay?”
“Okay,” I echo.
“That means if your contractions get closer together or worse you have to tell me.”
“I will. I’m so sorry. I should’ve known it was actual labor. I swear I wasn’t lying to you.” I wipe a tear off my cheek, ashamed of myself.
Luke softens. He reaches over, fingers grazing my knee in a gentle caress. “You don’t need to apologize, baby.”
“I feel so stupid.” More wetness seeps between my thighs. “My water is leaking again.”
“It’s normal,” he says. “Call your doctor.”
“Oh. Right.”
I ring my doctor’s office and tell them what’s going on and that we’re in route to the hospital. They’re calm and not at all worried, so it eases some of my anxiety.
After I hang up, another contraction seizes me and I lean over clutching my stomach. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Luke’s head whip worryingly in my direction before he focuses back on the road. “Talk to me, B.”
I grit my teeth. It’s on the tip of my tongue to yell at him that I don’t exactly feel like talking, but I wait to reply until the contraction has faded. Sweat dots my brow after that one.
“That’s been the worst one so far. As soon as we get to the hospital, they better give me an epidural.”
A sound that’s a cross between a groan and a laugh leaves him.
Silence fills the SUV except for my occasional panting breaths. After another contraction, I grab his hand and lace our fingers together. He gives my hand a small squeeze and I’m thankful he doesn’t comment on my clammy palm.
“I’m scared, Luke.”
“I know, baby,” he replies. “I’m scared too.”
“You are?” I ask, sniffling. Great, I’m crying again.
“Terrified.” He gives a soft chuckle. “But I think there might be something wrong with us if we weren’t afraid.”
“You think?” I squeeze his hand tight when a new contraction hits. A small cry rips out of me.
He talks through my pain which I’m grateful for.
“I think if you’re not scared then maybe you’re too cocky about being a parent.
I think fear allows you to be open to growth and learning.
Babies are different and what works for one doesn’t for another, so you have to be adaptable.
If you’re too set in your beliefs, you can’t adjust.”
When the contraction is over my head slams against the headrest. “I’m never doing this again. One and done, Luke. Do you hear me?”
He grins over at me, and I wonder why he’s so pleased by my statement when he says, “Had you been planning to have more of my babies?”
“Uh…”
He laughs. “It’s okay, B. You don’t need to answer that.”
I open my mouth to reply, but I’m cut off by yet another contraction. When it’s over, I ask, “How close are we to the hospital?”
“About twenty-five minutes,” he answers with surprising calm, but I know that I’m about to send that calm flying out the window.
“We’re not going to make it.”
He’s silent for a second. Two. Three. “What do you mean?” He glances at me. “Why aren’t we going to make it, Bertie?”
“I need to push.”
“Fuck,” he curses. He grabs his phone and rings 911. He explains what’s happening as he navigates to the nearest exist and to the parking lot of a Burger King.
“Luke!” I swat at his arm. “I cannot have our baby in the parking lot of a Burger King. I refuse!”
He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, which is probably true. “B—”
“No,” I say, steadfast. I point through the windshield. “There’s a bookstore and it looks like it’s closed already.” Without a word, he puts the SUV back into drive and moves the car. “Thank you.” My thanks is cut off with a painful cry. “I need to push. Like now.”
Luke is out of the car in an instant. I hear the 911 operator saying something to him and he replies but I’m in so much pain that I can’t make out what words are being exchanged.
Luke opens the door to the back seat and then mine.
“I want my epidural,” I cry.
“Baby, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t magically have an epidural.” I whimper as he leans across my body and undoes the seatbelt. “I’m going to help you out,” he says, grabbing my hand and guiding me out of the front seat.
He helps me to the back, and I lay down on the seat, pulling my dress up and out of the way. Luke says something in response to the operator and reaches between my legs to yank off my underwear. He tosses the pair into the trunk.
“I see the head,” he blurts.
“Can I push?” I beg as sirens sound in the distance. “Please,” I cry.
“Yeah, baby. Just listen to your body.”
I feel as if I go into a trance as I push.
“Good job,” he says as I pause to catch my breath.
He sets the phone down on the floor and rips off his tux jacket and undoes the buttons on his sleeves so he can shove them up to his elbows.
He disappears for a moment back to the front seat and grabs the bottle of Germ-X I always keep there, drenching his hands.
“The paramedics are close,” the operator says.
“I need to push again,” I tell Luke.
He grabs one of my legs and holds it up for me. It’s a tight squeeze in my backseat, but we’re making it work. It’s not like the vehicle was designed to have a baby in.
“He’s right there,” Luke tells me. “Another push, maybe two, and he’s here. Can you do that?”
I nod and push as soon as another contraction hits.
Luke smothers me with words of encouragement as he reaches between my legs. It feels like he turns the baby slightly and then he just slips out.
“Oh my God,” I sob as Luke puts the baby on my chest. My hands hover over the baby covered in blood and goo.
Luke rubs the baby’s back vigorously but there’s no sound of a cry yet.
“What’s wrong?” My voice rises in pitch. “Why isn’t he crying?”
Luke grabs our baby off my chest and sweeps his finger through the baby’s mouth. A moment later a cry rings out. Luke hands me the baby back and I sob as I take in that cry. Nothing has ever sounded so good before. So perfect.
Luke puts his hand on our son’s back and continues to rub. Tears stream down his face. “You did so good, Bertie. So fucking good. You’re amazing. I’m in awe of you.”
I’m in too much shock to make a comment back. I look down at the squirming newborn. A shock of dark hair is plastered to his tiny skull. His eyes are squeezed shut as he cries.
“It’s okay, little love.” I draw my finger over his cheek. “Mommy’s here.”
His tongue shakes as he screams open-mouthed.
I don’t realize Luke has stepped away until a paramedic is practically on top of me telling me they need to get me out and move me to the gurney.
“I can move,” I assure him.
I might be wrong, but I think I’ll be fine.
I clutch the baby to my chest and scoot out of the vehicle after the paramedic has moved.
Hands are immediately at my side, helping me to stand and move to the gurney.
The next thing I know they’re clamping the cord and handing Luke a pair of scissors to cut the cord.
I’m happy he gets to do it. I hadn’t even thought about that yet.
“Has she delivered the placenta?” someone asks, looking around like they might spot it rolling across the parking lot.
“Not yet,” Luke answers.
They make a note on a clipboard. I get loaded into the back of the ambulance. “Luke?” I gesture for him to come, not wanting to be without him.
“There’s not enough room,” a new paramedic replies. “He’ll have to follow.”
Luke is tall enough that he towers above everyone else. “I’m going to be right behind you, Bertie.”
“You promise?”
“I promise, baby.”
The paramedics load up into the ambulance and doors close. The sirens scream as we drive away.
A tiredness like I’ve never felt before comes over me and my eyes close.
Hours later, the hospital room is finally clear of nurses and doctors.
It’s just me, Luke, and our son. I managed to get cleaned up and changed into a hospital gown, but Luke’s still wearing his tux sans jacket.
His white shirt is stained with blood, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
He leans over the bassinet just staring at our baby.
“He’s so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. He looks over at me and holds my gaze. “Thank you.”
I give a tired laugh. My whole body is exhausted. I used muscles I didn’t even know existed. “For what?”
“For carrying our baby. For bringing him into this world. For being so damn strong.”
“I can’t believe that happened.” I stifle a yawn. “I had a baby in a parking lot.”
A laugh bursts out of him. “That was pretty crazy.”
“I guess you were right to be worried about that.”
He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. The baby makes a small noise and wiggles around, trying to break free from his swaddle.
“You should hold him. You haven’t done skin to skin yet.”
“Are you sure?”
I reach for the water cup in front of me and take a sip. “He’s your son, too. You don’t have to ask for permission.”
Luke turns away and unbuttons his shirt. He wiggles out of it and hangs it on the back of the chair. There’s a slight tremble in his hands as he reaches down and unwraps the baby from the swaddle.
He picks up the wiggling baby, naked except for a diaper, and holds him against his chest. The gentle way he holds him and cups the baby’s neck does something to me and I realize I’ve lied—I would have many more of this man’s babies.
He sits down in the reclining chair beside my bed. “He’s so little.”
“He looks even smaller in your arms.”
Luke rubs the baby’s back, his hand practically bigger than the baby. I had been worried with Luke’s size that I was going to have a giant baby, but he only weighed in at just over six pounds and twenty inches long.
“I know I already said it, but he’s so perfect.”
“He needs a name.”
Luke gives a small, crooked smile. “I have an idea for that.”
“Oh?” My eyebrows rise. “I’m curious.”
“You’ll see.”
“Tell me now,” I beg.
He shakes his head. “And ruin the surprise? Never.”
“I had our baby in the car. I think I’m done with surprises for a while.”
“You’ll like this surprise. You’ll see.”
I sigh and it immediately turns into a yawn. My eyes are heavy and sleep is seconds away from pulling me under. “Whatever you say.”