Page 44 of Loving London

It’s just stuff, I tell myself as I descend the stairs.

Two months ago, I wouldn’t have attempted this, knowing that being confronted with something of Cooper’s could have sent me into a full-blown panic attack. But, ever since that night a month and a half ago, where I dreamed of my dad and Nan and then went to the VA with Sarah, life has been more manageable.

I’m currently going to therapy three times a week. I’m also on different medication that’s been helping with my depression and PTSD. Yet I think what is helping the most are the weekly support groups that I’ve been going to with other wounded soldiers from Afghanistan and Iraq. They seem to understand what I’m going through more than the doctors ever could.

The past month has been, for all intents and purposes, pretty okay.

I hear a scream coming from Sarah. I immediately spot a fan and quickly grab it before heading back up the stairs.

Although my quality of life has been improving, Sarah’s has been getting worse with each passing day of her pregnancy. She’s currently ten days late and not very happy about it. She’s definitely no longer in the glowing and happy stage of pregnancy. It’s more like,If this baby doesn’t come out soon, I’m going to murder someone.

“Are you okay?” I ask when I’m back upstairs.

I plug the fan in and set it on the end table, so it’s blowing toward Sarah.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a stupid cramp. The fan feels good. Thanks,” she says weakly.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m so uncomfortable, Loïc. I can’t find a position to lie in that will allow me to sleep. My whole body hurts, and I just want him out. Why isn’t he coming out? I’ve tried to make him comfortable and happy in there. I love him. Why is he torturing me?” Sarah’s voice is full of despair.

“You just have to make it to tomorrow. You’ll see your doctor in the morning, and I’m sure she’ll induce you,” I offer.

“You think so?” Her voice is laced with hope.

“Yeah. Remember, at your appointment last week, she said she doesn’t like to let babies go too much over ten days late? Well, tomorrow will be day eleven, so I bet she’ll induce.”

“She’d better. I’ll have some choice words for her if she doesn’t,” Sarah says with a huff.

“I’m sure you will.” I grin. “Can I get you anything? Are you thirsty?”

“I could go for some lemonade.”

“On it.”

“Thanks, Loïc.”

“You’re welcome,” I say as I make my way to the kitchen.

I almost drop the pitcher of lemonade when Sarah screams again. Setting it down on the counter, I walk hastily toward the living room.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, just another stupid cramp. I think, if I lie a certain way, I get them. They kill, but they don’t last too long.” She holds her belly.

“Sarah, I’m pretty sure those are contractions.”

Her face shoots up to look at mine. “You think?”

“You’re getting these cramps every few minutes, right?” I ask.

She nods. “Yeah.”

“They’re contractions. Let’s grab your bag and get going. You’re having this baby.” I smile down to Sarah whose face shows utter shock and panic. “You’re going to do great,” I add.

“He hates me!” Sarah screams at the top of her lungs after a hard-fought push. She’s drenched in sweat. Her body shakes with agony.

Using a cool cloth, I wipe her face that’s dripping with a mixture of sweat and tears. “You’re doing great, Sarah,” I try to reassure her.

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