Page 117 of Breeding Clinic

“Three minutes apart,” Gabriel says. “Kat, I need to check you to see how you’re progressing.”

I’m dreading what he’ll find. Part of me wants to pretend this isn’t happening. But I know I can’t.

They help me down into my shitty nest on the kitchen floor. Matthew supports my back by sitting behind me while Gabriel washes his hands again and checks the baby’s progress.

“You’re fully dilated,” Gabriel says. “There’s the head.”

“He needs to be here,” I groan.

Matthew moves his hands up and down my arms, soothingme. “I know, honey. He’ll come back soon with the ambulance. Then we’re gonna get you to the hospital.”

It’ll be too late by then.

The next contraction comes with the vague urge to push. I grit my teeth and breathe through the discomfort. I need to move. Need to find a better position or get on my knees or… God, I don’t know. I don’t know what I want, and nothing is helping. Something is different now. Instinct tells me we’re out of time.

“We’re not making it to the hospital,” I say through clenched teeth. “The baby’s coming. Right now.”

“Remember your breathing exercise we’ve practiced,” Gabriel reminds me.

“Help me kneel,” I tell them.

We shift into a weird but comfortable position where Matthew sits in a chair and supports my upper body while I kneel in the nest and rock. It eases my back pain. Gabriel gets his stash of supplies ready, moving everything into reach. When the next contraction hits me, I cry out and cling to Matthew.

“There were supposed to be drugs!” I complain loudly.

Matthew uses a damp cloth to wipe the sweat from my forehead and rakes the damp strands out of my face as I labor. “You can do this. You’re doing such a good job, Kat.”

“Push when you have the urge,” Gabriel says.

Tears prick my eyes. “I can’t. I’m too tired.” But the urge can’t be ignored. It comes with the next contraction. The need to push is all-consuming, but my efforts seem weak and ineffective.

I try. Again and again. Until I’m screaming and my voice is hoarse.

“If you push, labor stops and you get a baby,” Gabriel says.

I’ll do anything to make it stop at this point. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to have a warm tubto labor in. A giant inflated ball for positioning. A calm birthing suite full of friendly staff to help us. Drugs shoved into myfuckingspine.

A stronger contraction hits me along with a burning sensation, like someone’s doused my vagina in flames. I let out a bloodcurdling scream through clamped jaws.

“Push!” Gabriel yells at me.

I’m trying. But there’s nothing about this that’s easy. My face heats from the strain, and tears collect at the corners of my eyes.

“I can’t,” I groan, my concentration slipping.

“Yes, you can,” Gabriel says. “You’ve got this, Kat.”

The urge to push wanes, and I get a minute or two to recover and breathe before the next one comes. I lift higher on my knees, resting my cheek on Matthew’s leg as he gathers my sweaty hair up from where it’s slipped out of its bun. The next contraction and urge to push is brutal. I can’t scream or moan or yell. The searing pain and sense of fullness, stretched to my body’s limits, muzzles me. My body shakes. And I push. Until my pelvis is a ring of fire. It’s an agony the likes of which I’ve never known before.

“Push!” Gabriel orders.

I need this to be over so I push. And then there’s relief. So welcome, I sob.

“I have the head. Push, Kat. One more and you’re done.”

One more. I can do it. But I’m so fucking tired. Giving birth is awful without drugs. How do people do this?

I push again and the baby slips free. The worst of the pain fades with her birth.

---