Chapter 34 Sage
SAGE
It really is a cruel twist of fate that in the final weeks leading up to a baby’s arrival, the mother is unable to sleep for more than an hour or two without having to get up and pee or just change position.
At least, that’s my reality.
As much as I’ve missed him these last few days, I’m glad Brady is out of town.
I’ve been feeling incredibly guilty for disrupting his sleep, to say nothing of the grumpy mood that overtakes me at some point almost every day when I’m fed up with all the discomfort of late-stage pregnancy.
I even offered to move back into the other bedroom, the one that now has a bright white crib, a bookcase full of toys and books, and a dresser filled with teeny-tiny clothing and diapers.
But he’s refused to let me leave his—our—bed. And truthfully, what little sleep I do get tends to be best when I’m in his arms.
Last night was quite possibly the worst night I’ve had so far this pregnancy.
No matter what I did, or what position I tried, I could not get comfortable.
My stomach feels tight, the pressure on my pelvis is unbearable at times, and the lower back pain has me close to tears if I move wrong.
If I hadn’t been reassured by Enid when I called her yesterday that all of this is normal for the late stages of pregnancy, I’d be a lot more worried.
Especially with Brady out of the country for two more days.
I may not be worried, but I am grumpy. And tired.
After dragging myself out of bed and standing under a warm shower in hopes of waking up, or easing the back pain, I shuffle back into the bedroom.
The idea of getting dressed and going anywhere is too much for me to consider right now, so instead, I pull on a pair of Brady’s shorts and a sports bra.
It might be September, but this has been one of those lingering summers, when the days can still get warm.
To say nothing of the furnace I have burning inside of me, courtesy of my daughter.
I take my cup of coffee out onto the patio and immediately shiver in the brisk morning air.
“Okay, fine. Not so warm yet,” I grumble, going back inside. So much for my plan to sit outside with my coffee and try to enjoy a quiet morning. My stomach chooses that moment to contract again, this one far more painful than any of the practice ones I’ve had so far.
“Damn,” I gasp, bending over and holding my stomach with my free hand. After what feels like an eternity, it passes. I take a few deep breaths before straightening. Whatever that was, it seems to have passed.
“If real labour is gonna be even worse, maybe I do want the drugs,” I mutter to myself, rubbing my stomach as I walk to the kitchen to get some water. I drink it down, still focusing on breathing, but now it’s for my nerves, not the pain.
That was intense.
I’m in the bedroom closet looking for a sweater so I can go back outside with my coffee when another contraction hits. This one is just as strong as the last.
I struggle to breathe through it, trying to ignore the panic threatening to choke me. These are just Braxton Hicks. Totally normal. Right? It subsides, but my heart is racing now. Some deep instinct rising inside of me is clamouring for my attention, telling me this is not normal.
Or rather, not practice.
But that can’t be. I mentally do some math. I’m still close to three weeks from my due date. Sure, I know babies come early, but I’ve had no signs of that happening. At my last midwife appointment, Enid seemed confident I’d go to the end.
Sudden pressure on my bladder has me abandoning the hunt for a sweater and walking swiftly into the bathroom. I take care of business, then stare down at the pink smear on the toilet paper.
“Oh no,” I moan. “No, no, no, no!”
I stagger back into the bedroom where I left my phone. I manage to dial Fiona, then pray another contraction holds off until I can talk to her.
“Sage? Hey, what’s up?”
“Fi, I think I might be in labour,” I pant out, just as another swell of pain starts. “Oh God. Can you come over?”
“What? Yes. Oh my God, of course. I’m on my way. Call Enid!”
“I will. Hurry.”
I don’t want to know how fast Fiona drove, I’m just thankful for whatever she did to get to the apartment in record time. She lets herself in and finds me leaning over the couch, swaying my hips back and forth.
“Shit, Sage. What can I do?”
I shake my head, still focused inward, as the latest contraction starts to fade. Only when it’s fully subsided do I look up at her. “They’re about eight minutes apart, I think? I’ve tried to time it. Can you take over? Enid didn’t answer, but I left a message saying it was urgent.”
Fiona whips out her phone. “On it.”
I start to walk in a circle around the apartment.
“Have you called Brady?”
“No,” I say sharply, turning to look at her. “Don’t do it. He’s got to focus on the game. First babies take forever to come, and I don’t even know if this is real labour.”
Even as I say it, I know I’m lying to myself. As if to prove that fact, I feel the contractions start up again.
“Ohhh,” I moan, moving back to the couch and bending over it. My phone, which is on the couch next to me, starts to ring.
“It’s Enid,” Fiona says, answering the call and putting it on speaker. “Hi Enid, this is Fiona, Sage’s best friend. I just got to her apartment and…”
I don’t hear anything more, all of my attention on the pain rippling through my abdomen.
“Come on, girlfriend, we’re meeting Enid at the hospital so she can assess you.” Fiona’s voice breaks through the haze. “Where’s your hospital bag?”
“Nursery,” I manage to gasp out before moaning again. “I need a shirt. Jersey. Brady’s.”
Thank fuck she knows what I’m trying to say.
Moments later, Fiona’s back at my side, the hospital bag Brady and I packed before he left in one hand, and one of his home team jerseys in the other.
I pull it on but leave it unbuttoned. The faintest whiff of his scent comes up from the collar, making me long for him to be here.
“You need to call Brady. He should be here, Sage.”
I bite my lip, feeling tears start to build. I want him here. But I don’t want to worry him for no reason. It’s still so early.
“Okay, I’ll call him if Enid confirms it’s actually happening,” I whisper. Giving me a nod, Fiona wraps her arms around my waist and leads me to the door.
Thank God the hospital is close to the apartment.
I only have to suffer through one more contraction on the drive.
At the hospital, Enid meets us at the entrance, guiding Fiona on how to check me in while she immediately takes me over to the elevators that lead to the labour and delivery ward.
Upstairs, she gets me onto a bed and checks me over.
“Well, you’re definitely in the early stages of labour,” Enid says calmly as she removes her gloves. “You’re already four centimeters dilated. Is Brady on his way?”
“He’s in Idaho. Due back tomorrow.”
Enid’s brow furrows. “Sage, I don’t think you have that long. Have you called him?”
“We’re going to do that right now,” Fiona announces as she walks in. Coming over to the bed, she hands me the phone. “Before your next contraction, preferably.”
I open my phone and dial his number. Hopefully he isn’t busy with practice or a team meeting. But just as the phone is ringing, another contraction starts to come on.
“Sage? Hey, what’s up?” he answers.
All I can do is moan in response, “Baby’s coming.”