Avenging Us - Gina Whitney Page 0,33
hospital. You’re scaring the fuck out of me.”
Cindy rubbed my arm in gentle circles and said, “I agree.” Woody hadn’t said a word—his fingers texting furiously.
The terrace door blew open with a gust of wind and a pane of glass shattered. The draft swept through the bedroom and we all momentarily froze. I got a terrible, chilling sensation. A bubble burst inside of me and an odorless gush of water drenched the floor. “Oh my god, my water broke!” I screamed, and thunder boomed angrily outside. Abel’s face paled, and everyone sprang into action. Cindy grabbed the diaper bag, heading for the door. Next thing I knew…I was hoisted into Abel’s arms. Woody ran to secure the door, and Chance was still petrified in place. Figures, the one guy who is always triple prepared for everything freezes.
“Woody, grab Chance,” Abel yelled and carefully carried me into the bathroom. “Have the car out front…I’ll get her changed and cleaned up.”
He sat me down on the toilet seat and ran to my dresser. I was surprisingly calm for being so nervous. This was it. The last time it would be just he and I. God willing, I’d return with a bouncing healthy baby, and the omen I had would be just the feelings of fear.
Abel returned with a fresh pair of panties, bra, yoga pants and one of his Lethal Abel tee-shirts. I smiled. He shrugged. “Something of mine,” he said, grabbing a washcloth to clean me up.
“I already have something of yours,” I said, rubbing my stomach. He kissed the palm of my hand before dressing me.
We hurried to the car where Woody, Cindy, and Chance waited. Abel chose to drive, not wanting to take any chances. He needed something to control, and this labor wasn’t one of them. Woody rode shotgun while Cindy and Chance sat on either side of me. The warm winds began to howl as if some wolf was calling to some deep, dark secret. The swaying winds increased, blowing debris around. Abel veered out of the driveway; lightening flashed all around us and the rain started to pour.
The sheets of rain became an avalanche of a blinding storm. Abel kept driving, never saying a word. I’ve never seen rain like this in LA. This was the dry season—or so I thought. I began to pray, hoping we would make it to the hospital and not be killed. We were twenty minutes from the hospital with no traffic and the storm was proving to be formidable. We drove through the darkened curvy roads, and barely missed another car head on as he bulldozed his way though.
But we made it.
Abel lifted me from the car and noticed how badly shaken I was. Remorse blanketed his face as he carried me into the hospital, yelling to anyone and everyone for help. I remained eerily quiet despite the pain. The storm of my life was heading my way, and it seemed that prayer would not stop it. This baby was coming…
There were three labor suites and five delivery rooms. We settle into a private suite, and I was immediately hooked up to a monitor and examined by the nurse. She said I was three centimeters dilated and probably going to have the baby by the end of the day. Abel was freaking out. He sat down, stood up, sat down, walked to me and held my hand, sat down again, and then stood up and dialed his parents. Then I started to feel a hardening or tightening in my lower abdomen again. It felt like the baby was stretching before making an arrival. The nurse continued to read the printout of my contractions, circling as each one came.
“Get some rest, Ms. Mastro…this could go on for hours.” She smiled, and wrote something on my chart.
“Hours? I hope you’re kidding,” I argued. She didn’t say another word, her smile sympathetic as she hung my chart at the end of my bed and left.
Abel spent the next thirty minutes on his cell phone. I couldn’t blame him, as the stark reality was that, for the moment anyway, there wasn’t really much he could do for me.
“Where is everyone?”
“I told them to get something to eat. You heard the nurse…it’s going to be a while,” he said, pulling the recliner across the room to my bedside. He grabbed my swollen hand and held it to his face. He looked rough. His hair a perfect mess, unshaved, and exhausted—no doubt from his nerves.
“You should