Page 45 of Loving London

“I hate this,” she cries. “It hurts so much. How can women do this every day?”

By the time we got to the hospital, Sarah was almost completely dilated. We weren’t in the hospital room for more than thirty minutes before she started pushing. So, apparently, she had been having cramps for a while. The downside was that she was past the point to get an epidural, so she is having her first baby completely naturally, and she is quite upset about it.

“It will be over soon,” I say soothingly.

“This baby hates me, Loïc. Why is he doing this to me?” Tears course down her face.

“Stop saying that. He does not.” I hold back a grin. “This is just part of the process. I know he can’t wait to get out of there to meet his mommy.”

“Oh no.” Sarah’s face goes white in fear as another contraction starts.

“Time to push for a count of ten. Push,” the doctor tells Sarah.

Sarah bears down, whimpering in pain, as the doctor counts back from ten to one. When the doctor reaches one, Sarah relaxes. Her now red face starts to lighten, and she cries. I hate seeing her in so much pain. I’m pretty sure that I’m praying for this to be over almost as hard as she is. Watching someone you love suffer is the definition of torture.

Sarah ends up pushing for an agonizing two hours before the baby finally slides out.

For as long as I live, I will never forget the sight of the doctor putting the wet little guy on Sarah’s chest. The look on her face resonates with unconditional love. She sobs uncontrollably as she holds him to herself. And, this time, she is crying because the overwhelming love she feels needs to get out. She cries tears of love, relief, and joy.

She keeps repeating the words, “I love you. I love you. I love you,” in between gently kissing him on his head.

She looks up at me. “He’s perfect,” she chokes out.

“He is,” I agree. My eyes fill with unshed tears from the sight below me. “Just perfect, Sarah.”

The nurse takes the baby to clean him up while the doctor tends to Sarah. I hold her hand, rubbing my thumb across her warm skin.

“You were amazing,” I tell her, still in awe of what a woman goes through to bring a baby into the world.

“It hurt so bad. I think he’s going to be an only child,” she says, exhausted.

I laugh. “You say that now. You might change your mind.”

There are a few moments where no words are spoken between us.

I think about love and loss. I think about Sarah as a mom. She will never be the same person she was yesterday. The type of love one feels for their child changes them. She’ll spend the rest of her life walking around as if her heart were on the outside of her chest—fragile and exposed—always worrying for her child. I think that’s how all parents feel—at least the good ones. And Sarah’s going to be a great one.

I lightly squeeze Sarah’s hand, and she opens her exhausted eyes.

“I think the people we love most in this world are the ones who have the capacity to cause us the most pain. This little boy is going to be the best thing to ever happen to you. I think you’ll find you’d go through it all again, multiple times, to have him because on the other side of anguish is a powerful love.”

“I think you’re right.” She smiles.

The nurse brings the baby over and places him in Sarah’s arms. “He’s just perfect,” she says. “Eight pounds, two ounces and twenty inches long. He passed his exam with flying colors.”

Tears fill Sarah’s eyes once more, and I know how relieved she must feel.

“Do you want to hold him?” she asks me.

“Sure.” I carefully take the baby from Sarah’s arms and hold him in mine.

His eyes are open, but I can’t make out the color. Right now, they’re dark—a combination of blue, gray, and black. He’s completely bald with faint wisps of white hair covering his scalp. I get the feeling he’s going to be blond, like his mother.

I draw in a breath as an enormous wave of love envelops me. The precious boy grabs ahold of my pinkie with more force than such a tiny human should have. He’s strong. He’s perfect. And, though I’ve just met him, I know I’ll love him forever.

“Do you want to hear his name?” Sarah asks.

“You decided?” I grin.

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