Page 53 of Midlife Woes (Ex)

“I think they’re fighting to see who comes out first.” He sounded so proud. “Baby, we didn’t get any girl stuff, so no girls. All boys. I’ll teach them how to play the game like their dad.”

“What if they want to read books instead of do sports?”

“Then we’ll build them a library.”

He wouldn’t stop kissing my forehead and being cute. If he’d said anything about my boys liking books more than sports I’d have had to remind him of the apron he wears around my kitchen. It has frills and is the only one he can find because I hide the others. A girl’s gotta get her kicks somewhere. He hinders my movements; I make his life hell.

It's a win-win for everyone involved, because tormenting him makes me happy and he loves to see me happy. I know we were both just trying to distract each other from what was going on with me, the proverbial elephant in the room.

We passed sirens going hard in the opposite direction, and I wondered if someone had mistakenly called the ambulance, something Damon swore I would never ride in because they’re full of germs.

I finally got him to go back to his seat the second time he almost fell over. “I’ll be fine, I promise.” The moms reassured him as well and I think I started to dose off from some strange reason because I hadn’t even been tired.

My mind was filled with the upcoming scenario at the hospital. Sheila had already called the doctor since that was the job given to her by Damon. Our mothers were trying to keep me calm and my kids were no doubt still taking bets as to what we were having and in what order.

There was someone in charge of making sure the house was locked up, but I can’t remember whose job that was at this point. What I do know is that there was no one in charge of scraping a bitch off my driveway.

Oh shit, there were cops at the house. “They didn’t arrest Savanna, did they?”

“Of course not. You don’t need to worry about that right now; Savanna is in one of the cars behind us.”

For someone who’s been ranting and raving this entire pregnancy, he sounded very calm. I didn’t trust it, but there was nothing I could do. I knew he was pissed off when we reached the hospital, and he carried me while an orderly tried to get him to put me in the chair they met us with, and he almost took the poor man’s head off.

“It’s policy, sir.”

“Well, carrying her is mine; now move.” But his jaw was so tight I could hear his teeth cracking. The specialist he’d found met us at the hospital. I won’t tell you why this man was spending his vacation in our hometown or how much my husband was paying him to do it.

But between the two of them, I had been able to carry my babies for more than the twenty-nine weeks my original doctor had quoted; also, because of Damon’s excessive bed rest, I never had to get my cervix stitched or whatever. That shit sounds horrendous.

I was relatively calm myself for some reason, maybe because I half expected Damon to give birth for me. That thought cracked me up so much I started laughing like a maniac which made him speed up his step, which only made me laugh harder.

Once again I was taken to a room that looked like it belonged at the Four Seasons and I have to say, for someone who only knew about an hour ago that I was coming in, the specialist had her shit together. I wasn’t afraid or jumpy because she’d taken the time to explain everything to me in terms that I understood, instead of trying to get me on the front page of her medical publication.

The only thing I was dreading was the C-Section because I’d never had one before and the thought of someone cutting so close to my kids was freaking me out just a little bit. I know most….

“Ooh”

“Ooh, what? What ooh?”

I felt something warm and wet slipping out between my thighs and once again in the space of about three hours, all hell broke loose. “I think they’re coming.”

Thankfully I didn’t have time to freak out. Damon was already in his scrubs so all he had to do was washup, not that he was helping with the delivery, he just wanted to be prepared.

I kid you not, it took fifteen minutes for them to come flying out. As fast as they left my body they were transferred to NICU, the biggest was about one pound eleven ounces. They looked like little pink rats, sorry, all wrinkled and the size of their Daddy’s palm.

I was in shock, not because of their size or the fact that they were so hastily whisked away, I’d already been prepared for that, but because of how easy it was compared to what I had heard.

Poor Damon was torn between what to do. Should he go with the babies or stay with me? “You should go.” In the end he chose to stay with me a little longer while our parents and kids rushed the NICU like they thought their little bundles of joy were going to be taken.

I got cleaned up and was feeling pretty good. I’m a boss bitch. “Six boys in fifteen minutes, not bad for an old bitch.” I think that’s what Tara called me before I left. I probably shouldn’t have reminded him of that because he was back to tensing his jaw.

I was thirsty as hell all of a sudden and the room was emptying fast since everyone was more interested in taking care of the babies who I had been assured were doing as well as could be expected given the circumstances.

Now, I was already happy that they were all alive and as close to the weight the doctor had guesstimated. That was my biggest worry, one that I never voiced out loud because I knew that my pregnancy was some kind of weird phenomena to begin with and poor hubby was barely holding on by a thread.

That jaw had relaxed a bit but he still had that glazed look in his eyes. “I think I want a….” I was about to say smoothie because the thought if the icy drink going down my throat sounded really good, but somehow the words got jumbled in my brain as pain hit me so hard I almost bounded off the bed.

“What the fuck?” Damon screamed and the last of the labor team that was about to leave called everyone back into the room so who didn’t need to be with the babies were back on me trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

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