Page 136 of Things We Burn

She only smiled.

A contraction built, and I felt my reserves of energy dwindle down to nothing. There was nothing left in me.

Except I had to.

So at the peak of my contraction, I went somewhere in my head. Outside of the room but still in it. And then I pushed.

With all my might.

And out came our daughter’s head. All of it.

My doctor cradled it, and I looked at her, half out of my body.

“That’s the hardest part, now let’s get the rest of her out.” She told me this so calmly, nonchalantly, as if she wasn’t holding half of my baby, who was hanging out of my vagina.

I pushed once more then felt immense relief.

Out she came.

Screaming.

Beautiful.

Then she was on my stomach, getting cleaned off, using her lungs.

I blinked down at her. This baby, this living, breathing, crying thing that was mine. Ours.

My hands found her skin.

It was warm, still wet with vernix, but it was perfect.

I looked up at Kane.

He was crying. Tears ran down his face as he gazed at our daughter in wonder. Then he looked at me with worship.

“I pushed her out,” I whispered. “Our baby.”

His whole face softened some more. “Yeah, Chef, you did. You did fuckin’ great.” He leaned in to kiss my head.

“You want to cut the cord, Dad?” a nurse asked.

“Nah, that’s grandma’s job,” Kane said, staring at our baby.

We’d already discussed that. Mom and Maisie were in the waiting room, and we’d instructed a nurse to go get Mom once the baby was born to surprise her with this. I knew she’d been fully expecting to be shut out of everything, as she had been all the other important moments of my adult life.

Mom rushed into the room, eyes shining and already wet with tears as she took in the scene.

For once, my mother was speechless as a nurse held out the scissors.

“Go on,” I smiled at her. It had been a revelation to me, how hard my mother had tried to connect with me. How hard I’d tried to push her out.

So it was important to me that I gave her this. Gave us this.

Her tears landed on the scissors as she cut the cord.

Then the doctors did their work.

“We’re just going to get her cleaned off and weigh her,” a nurse said as she plucked Mabel from my chest.

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