Page 71 of Revived

“How long have you been in labor?”

“I don’t know,” I lied.

He gave me a look that said he absolutely didn’t believe me. “Are you comfortable with a nurse helping to deliver?” He asked me.

“What? Why?” Gabe’s voice suddenly sounded panicked.

“Because we’re about to have to deliver two babies at once from two different women, and I’m just not that good that I can split myself in two and be there to catch both,” the doctor informed him.

I chuckled. “Nurse is fine,” I told him as he quickly moved to the pregnant woman on the opposite side of the room.

“Mel!” Gabe hissed. “Were you going to just post up behind her bed, drop the baby out into my arms, and keep on going?”

“That’s absurd,” I told him just as I felt the need to push. “Oh God, I need to…”

“Okay, Melanie, deep breath and then go with it as long as the contraction lasts,” the nurse between my legs informed me.

“Wait!” Gabe called out. “We’re doing this now? This is happening now? That girl,” he yelled, while pointing towards Chevy’s whatever she was, “Has been here for hours now.”

“Yes, and your wife has been silently going through labor while offering her support the whole time. Now, it’s time to bring your baby into the world too.”

“Mel, we’re going to have a talk later,” he informed me in his stern, no-nonsense voice.

“Okay, babe, whatever you… FUUUCKK!” I yelled as another contraction hit and my body was left with no option but to push.

“That’s it, good job, Mel! You sure this is your first one?” I grunted a response, since it was all I could manage. She winked at me while I was mid-contraction and then grinned as she said, “Nurses just do it better.”

I swear, never in a million years did I think I would laugh during active labor, but in that moment, I absolutely did. The funny thing was it helped. “Her head is here,” the nurse announced. “One more good push and we’ll be able to wiggle those shoulders out and then it’ll be almost over.”

The minute she said that, there was an ear-piercing scream from the other side of the room. “Fucking hell! That’s not right!” Chevy yelped in response. The nurses did their best to keep from laughing at him while the doctor continued to coach the girl through what was happening to her.

The rest of the experience was lost to the immense pain and burning caused by squeezing a human being out of my body. Gabe was by my side the whole way. His presence never left, his love and support never wavered, even as his concern for his son tugged at his attention from time to time.

My daughter and grandson were born minutes apart, in the same room, with all four parents present. That was right before the woman, who had just given birth to our grandson, was rushed away to surgery when the doctor couldn’t get her bleeding under control.

We sat, and waited, as the babies were checked over – both healthy. We were eventually taken to a private room where I was to stay with my baby. Chevy followed us there, and his son was brought to him too. He had apparently brought proof of paternity with him so that there would be no question as to his right to be there. It turned out to be the best decision he ever made because his son’s mother died shortly after giving birth.

“Chevy,” I called out as the news the doctor had just delivered settled in. He came to me, handing his son to his father. Then he cried in my arms.

“I didn’t mean to kill her,” he wailed.

“Aww, honey, you did not kill her. These things happen sometimes,” I tried to soothe the ache I knew was forming in his chest. The two of them didn’t seem as though they were getting along well, but they obviously had at some point in time in order to make that beautiful little boy she left behind for him. Gabe was pale, the color drained from his face when a nurse came in to check on us and kindly took the baby from him and placed him back in the waiting bassinet.

“Gabe?” I called out as I continued to hold Chevy and rub soothing patterns along his back.

“That could have been you,” Gabe whispered.

“It wasn’t.”

“But it…” he started to say, but then our daughter began to cry.

“Would you bring her to me?” I asked. Chevy moved then and went to sit in the chair between me and the bassinet that held his son while Gabe brought our squalling daughter to me. I moved her around to where she had the best chance of latching onto my breast and then prayed that this went well, so I could continue to make these men understand.

“I’m fine,” I finally told Gabe. “See,” I rubbed the tiny little light brown hairs on our daughter’s head as she suckled from my breast. “She’s doing well, and I’m here.” Then I turned to Chevy and looked him in the eyes. “You have a lot to tell us, honey. Maybe, you should start filling in the blanks, so we know how to best help you, your son, and his mother.”

“She’s gone,” he whispered.

“I know that, but we’ll need to know how to honor your son’s mother – for him,” I nodded to the baby in the bassinet beside him, and my son’s tearstained eyes trained on the baby that was now his sole responsibility, and he told us his story.

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