Page 119 of More Than Words

As soon as the monitor belt was strapped across her belly, the line on the screen arced and Isobel gasped, gripping my hand hard enough to turn both our knuckles white.

“Have you decided about pain intervention?” the doctor asked, watching the line on the screen arc upward. “Can you tell me on a scale of one to ten how much pain you’re feeling?”

“I don’t know. It feels like I’m being tortured one moment, but then it eases off and I feel okay.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. “Looks like you’re still in the early stages of labor, so those contractions will get much stronger as she moves down the birth canal and her head drops into position.”

Miguel made a gagging noise from his spot near the doorway, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

“These are going to get stronger?” Isobel whispered, wincing at the line as it continued to travel up. When I thought she’d squeeze my hand off, she said something none of us were expecting. “Who do I have to blow to get an epidural around here?”

Miguel and Drew let out surprised laughs, finally deciding they’d seen enough of this show. “On that note, we’re gonna take off. Text Chase and we can make sure your rental car gets brought over sometime tonight.”

I fished the keys out of my pocket, describing the car and telling him where we’d parked it.

The two of them left, and the ER doctor followed shortly afterward. He’d been completely unfazed by her uncharacteristically crass demand for pain intervention, promising to let the nurses upstairs know she wanted an epidural.

“Please tell me this is just a false alarm?” Isobel whispered as she turned her head to face me. Her once polished up-do had fallen, curls cascading down her shoulders. She looked terrified, but still beautiful.

“She’ll be okay. If they thought it was an actual emergency, we’d already be in a delivery room. We’ll make it work, whatever happens.”

“How are we going to get her home? What if she has to go to the NICU?” Isobel’s breath faltered, more tears streaming down her cheeks. “I should have listened to you. I’m a terrible mother. It was so selfish of me to want to come here this weekend. I keep trying and nothing seems to go right lately.”

“Is,” I whispered, cupping her cheek. “We had no way of knowing this was going to happen. We just have to trust the doctors to get her here safely. Worrying won’t change anything. We’ll figure this out.”

Three hours later, the baby was still nowhere close to being born. Isobel had been settled into a private room that could double as a delivery suite as long as the baby and mom weren’t in distress.

Isobel had been in pain until the anesthesiologist had come with her epidural a short while ago. Once the giant ass needle had been inserted into her spine, she’d calmed down, eventually falling asleep. Even resting, her face was drawn with worry, and I wished there was something I could do. Just waiting like this made me feel helpless.

While I’d tried to be encouraging at the time, I was just as freaked out as she was. We were nowhere close to home and had no idea if our premature baby would be stuck here after she was born.

Drifting off in the chair next to her, I tried to get some rest while she did, knowing I’d need to be strong for both of us.

Five hours later, the lights in her room flickered on, and another doctor came in to check on her.

“Has she been resting alright with the epidural?”

Blinking the drowsiness out of my eyes, I squeezed Isobel’s hand, watching as she winced before she awoke.

“I think so. I fell asleep, but she never woke me up.”

“How’re we doing, Ms. Blom?” the doctor asked, moving to the end of the bed and shifting the blankets off her legs. “I’m going to see how far along you are.”

We both watched, Isobel squeezing my hand as the doctor’s gloved hand disappeared beneath her hospital gown. “We’re almost ready to get this show on the road. Are you feeling a lot of pressure down here?”

“Am I supposed to be?” Isobel asked with a yawn.

“I’d hope so. You’re dilated to a little over nine centimeters. I’m going to go ahead and page the rest of the birth team and we can get you sitting upright to try to push.”

“Already?” Isobel’s panicked eyes found mine, and I tried not to look as terrified as she did.

“Looks like your daughter isn’t going to hang out anymore. I’d expect she’ll be here very soon. I’ll get in contact with Peds and let the NICU know we will be expecting a pre-term delivery in case they need to step in.”

Isobel’s chin trembled as he let himself out, “NICU? She’s going to need the NICU?”

“We don’t know that yet. Babies born at thirty-five weeks don’t always have to spend time in the NICU.”

Watching her cry, I felt helpless, standing to pull her into my arms as much as I could with all the monitors attached to her. “You got this, babe. We can do this. You can do this.”

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