TAKE TWO_ Who says you can't ma - Heather M. Orgeron Page 0,87
some tape across her back to hold the tube in place and almost instantly her pain seems to vanish.
“I’m so sorry!” Nya’s hands cover her bright red face.
The ladies help my wife to lie down on the bed, being she no longer has control of her body from the waist down, all the while assuring her this is completely normal, and she has nothing to be ashamed of. Apparently, they keep extra scrubs on hand for this very reason. You’d think if they knew this shit was likely to happen they’d have put my ass somewhere out of the line of fire.
The once-warm water now feels ice cold with the frigid temperature of the room. With a laugh, I grab my overnight bag from the closet and head for the bathroom to change.
God sure knew what he was doing when he delegated women for this task. If the continuation of life were dependent upon men giving birth, we’d have been extinct with the cavemen.
Nya
Welcome home
“Oh, wow. That’s a lot of hair.”
I’m going to fucking kill him. How hard is it to shave a pussy? Nausea climbs in my throat, and I glare at him. I have never been so embarrassed. “I’m very sorry, Janet.”
“Sorry for what?” the nurse laughs. “You must’ve had the worst heartburn.”
“Oh, you mean the baby! The baby has a lot of hair.” I can visibly see the relief on my husband’s face as I crack up laughing.
“Seven centimeters…almost eight.” Her head pops up and she eyes me suspiciously. “What did you think I meant?”
“Oh, nothing.” My cheeks flood with warmth
“She thought I didn’t do a good job shaving her snatch this morning.” And… now I’m back to wanting to murder him. Labor and delivery would be a lot less stressful if men still hung out sipping brandy and smoking cigars in the waiting room.
The redhead chokes on a laugh. “Seriously, what is it with you and pubic hair? I promise no one around here is spending a moment worrying over that.”
I nod, too embarrassed to speak.
“Shouldn’t be too long now. I’m gonna start prepping and page the doctor. You try to relax.”
I somehow manage to doze off, and when I awaken there are surgical lights set up at the foot of the bed and a team of nurses fluttering around the room. A few are setting up the baby warmer and others breaking down my bed and positioning my legs in the stirrups.
My throat goes dry, and my pulse races. This is it. We’re really about to have a baby.
“She’s complete,” Janet announces. “Let’s see if we can get this baby to crown.”
Liam holds one of my legs back, and some nurse who I’ve never met grabs the other. On Janet’s command, I bear down with each contraction—chin to my chest—pushing with all I have.
By the time the doctor comes in to catch the baby, I swear that I don’t have the energy to go on another minute.
“I can’t,” I cry, throwing my head back against the pillow. “I can’t do it.”
“You’re doing so well, Nya,” Janet croons, holding an oxygen mask to my face. “That’s it. Take a few deep breaths.”
“He’s almost out.” Liam smooths my sweaty hair back and kisses my forehead. “Next contraction,” he says, cupping his hand behind my neck.
“Now,” Dr. Bing announces, and Janet starts counting back from ten.
With Liam’s help, I lift my head, pushing so hard I feel blood vessels bursting around my eyes. I push until I nearly pass out from lack of oxygen, and then I push some more, ending with a loud roar as I collapse.
“Head is out,” Dr. Bing announces.
An electric current zings across my skin.
“On three, I need one more tiny push, Nya.”
I nod, a renewed energy pumping through my veins as I hear the gurgling of our baby being suctioned while he counts off.
With my husband whispering words of encouragement beside my head, I give everything I have for one final push. Despite my inability to feel a thing from the waist down, I know the instant the baby slides out.
I feel so full and yet so empty all at once. This little person, who’s been a part of me for all these months, is no longer filling me up. It’s a hollow ache that won’t be satisfied until I hold my baby in my arms.
Falling back on the bed, I openly sob while Liam is called to cut the cord.