hisses.
“Yes, straight to hell.” I wipe a cloth across her sweaty forehead. I wish I could take this pain away but I can’t.
“After today you’re not allowed to touch me everrrrrrr.” Her eyes close and her back bows slightly off the table as the next contraction rips through her body.
I promised I wouldn’t lie to her but these are extenuating circumstances. “Never touching you again,” I agree. “You got this. Keep breathing.” I don’t need to go to hell. I’m already there. Seeing her in this much pain breaks my fucking heart. I’d trade places with her in a heartbeat. The contraction wears off and her lower lip trembles. The hand at my throat falls away and while I can breathe again, I’m worried. “What is it?”
“You’re not ever touching me again?” She wails. “Are you saying I’m not sexy anymore?”
“What?” I backtrack a few seconds to catch her train of thought. “No, I—“
“I can’t believe that in the first sign of any kind of hardship you’re just going to abandon me.”
“That’s not right,” inserts the nurse.
I glare at the woman in the shapeless blue scrubs. She is not helping.
“I will touch you everywhere as soon as the doctor says I can,” I hurriedly reassure her.
“What if I don’t want you to touch me?”
“You shouldn’t touch anyone who doesn’t want to be touched,” adds the nurse.
She’s fucking with me. I know it, but I can’t do anything about it.
“I won’t touch you. Unless you want it. Then I’m touching you everywhere.”
“If you’re just touching me because I want you to touch me, then you should keep itttttttt.”
The next contraction hits so I don’t have to answer which is a good thing because I don’t know what to say at this point. When the pain passes, she’s moved on.
“Do you love me?” She demands. Her lips are dry and her eyes are glassy and she’s never looked more beautiful.
“With everything I’ve got.”
“Good. I want you to get rid of the doctor and reach in and pull the baby out. Like a calf.”
“You’re not a cow, babe.”
“Did you just say I’m a cow?” She says, her voice perilously high.
The nurse snickers and even the sober doctor’s face twitches slightly.
“No, but, Slick, I cannot pull our child out of your womb. I’m fairly sure that every medical journal says that that is not the way to birth a child.”
“All those fucking manuals are written by men, that’s why,” Hayden yells. “Get this baby out of me before the next contraction hits or I’m going to—“ She pushes herself up on her elbows and glares at the doc. “Rip it out,” she orders.
The doctor laughs. “No, I’m sorry but your husband is right. We can’t remove the baby like that, but I have good news. I can see the crown of the baby’s head so a few more pushes and you’ll be done.”
“Can I kill my husband? Is that allowed in the birthing room?” Hayden asks sarcastically. At least I hope she’s being sarcastic.
“Absolutely,” the doctor replies. “Do you need some tools or just want to choke him?”
Hayden grabs my shirt. “I’ll choke him.”
All the women in the birthing suite wear varying expressions of approval. We are definitely only having one child.
“All right, time for you to push,” announces the doctor.
“I can’t,” Hayden moans. The fight seems to have been drained out of her.
“Yeah, you can. You can do anything, even this.”
Tears roll out of the corners of her eyes. Maybe she would protest more, but the contraction comes again. She alternates between screams and cries, threats of violence and pleas for help. It’s a pleading that gets me. I won’t touch her again. I can’t put her through this.
I pass the cloth across her forehead, let her squeeze my fingers so hard they might break off, whisper words of encouragement. What a warrior she is, how strong she is, how no one but her can do this. I’ve never been so worthless in my entire life.
“It’s coming! It’s coming!” announces the nurse.
“One last push,” instructs the doctor.
Hayden gives it her all and the baby slips into the doctor’s hands. There’s almost complete silence and then a thin wail fills the room.
Hayden begins to cry. My own eyes feel damp.
“It’s a boy,” they tell us. It’s a blur from then on. The nurse does something with the baby. The doctor tells Hayden to push one more time to rid her body of the placenta and then finally, a tiny bundle of skin and bones and a shock of dark hair is placed on Hayden’s breast.
“A son. We have a baby boy,” my wife says in hushed, reverent tones.
The boy is tiny. His fingers are wrinkled and his toes are curled tight against his foot. His eyes look glued shut and his little mouth opens and closes. Hayden guides the baby to her breast and he latches on, suckling on the nipple without any encouragement. She sighs in relief and falls back against the hospital bed. Her arms droop to the side. My girl is exhausted. “You did good, Slick. You did real good.”
“Is everything alright?”
“It’s perfect,” the nurse tells us.
Relieved, Hayden allows her eyes to drift shut. The nurse nudges me aside to take the baby. I watch as he is bundled up into a blanket burrito. A little hat is tugged onto his small head and then I get to hold him.
“I know you’re going to be strong because your momma is made of steel.”
“I’m still not going to let you touch me again,” Hayden says from her hospital bed. Her eyes are still closed but there’s a smile on her face.
“Too bad,” I reply, hitching my son’s small body higher against my chest. “Because I’m going to need about ten more of these little ones.”
“Maybe once more,” she concedes.
I lean down and press a kiss against her forehead. “At least nine of them.”
“Three.”
“Eight.”
“Three.”
“Seven and a half.”
Her eyes flick open. “How do you plan to have a half of a kid.”
“I don’t know. I was just throwing numbers out there.”
“You’re silly.” She closes her eyes again.
“Silly in love with you.”
“Four.”
“A total clown in love with you.”
“Four.”
“Four, then.”