Page 65 of Love Bitters

They help me into Evan's car, knowing I would've struggled to get up into Murph's truck right now. Ollie and Wes are already waiting on us there with my and the baby's bags between them, the latter reaching up from the back to gently massage my shoulders. We're just getting started, and I'm already exhausted. That's the truth and my excuse as I sink into my seat, letting his hands work magic on the stress in my shoulders.

I must doze off because the next thing I know we're pulling up to the Emergency Room doors. Thatch and Murph are already waiting outside with a wheelchair. From there, it’s a blur of paperwork, getting checked in, a million questions, and being brought up to a room, all while battling another couple contractions. By the time I'm in a dressing gown on a hospital bed and hooked up to several different machines, I truly am exhausted.

"I'm so tired," I tell Thatch who's been clutching my hand since they put me in bed.

He winces in sympathy. "I know, babe. Try to get a little rest while you can. We'll be here when you wake up."

I want to say I'm sorry for dragging their asses out of bed in the middle of the night and to Murph again for possibly ruining his mattress, but I just can't. Letting my eyes drift closed, I fall asleep to the quiet murmuring of the guys getting settled around the room.

A hard contraction wakes me up a little while later, causing me to grab my lower belly with a groan. Hands are soothing back my hair instantly, letting me know someone is sitting within reach. After about twenty seconds, the pain finally lets up, allowing me to breathe again. All the books and videos can never actually prepare someone for the real-world pain, and I know it's just beginning. The only way I know how to categorize it is if I took my worst ten days of period cramps over my lifetime, added them together, then multiplied them by ten. That's what the pain feels like. It almost makes me want to go against my original decision to forgo the epidural.

Within the next hour, I have three more contractions. Ollie's trying not to pace a hole in the floor as he calmly states, "They're coming sooner and lasting longer. They said the doctor would be in here soon, right?"

Evan reassures him yet again in the next hour. It's shortly after that when my doctor makes his appearance.

"How are we doing in here, Ms. Imma?" he asks, not bothering with the chart on the door. His eyes catch on the guys spread around the room. He had to have guessed there was something weird going on when I started bringing different people to each of the appointments. The only thing he does say is, "Looks like we've got a good support system in the room this morning. Your nurse tells me you're having several contractions an hour and that all the vitals look healthy for you and baby. All good news to my ears. Let me just check and see how far dilated you are, then we'll let you rest a little more until we get closer."

It's nothing to lie here and spread my legs for the entire room. Not like there's anything down there that the six of them haven't seen over the past several months. Plus, I'm just too cranky to give a shit.

"Okay," he says, gently laying the end of the blanket back over my legs. "You're about five and a half right now, so we're in for a few more hours. Hang strong, mama. You've got this."

I nod in reply, wondering if he's as crazy as he sounds. We've got hours? I'm going to want to commit murder by then. Turning back once he’s at the door, he asks, "To make sure, you haven't changed your mind about the epidural, right? We're coming up on the cutoff time for it."

"No, sir," I tell him, mustering a smile which I get returned before he leaves us alone again.

"God," Ollie mumbles, "I don't know if I'm going to last another couple hours."

"You?" I tease, smiling at my impatient man. "Why don't you guys go get coffee or something? Not like I'm going anywhere anytime soon."

"Then we aren't either," he challenges, coming to sit at the foot of the bed.

And they don't. Over the next several hours, we sit together in our little space as nurses check on us until the doctor comes in to announce it'll be soon now. I could've told anyone that. The contractions have gradually increased in intensity and are coming every five to ten minutes now. I'm currently straddling the bed, sitting up with my forehead resting against Wes's. He's in a chair at the foot, leaning over the bed, which can't possibly be comfortable, but he never complains. Murph made Thatcher trade places at one point and is now rubbing circles across my back and risking a crushed hand every time another contraction hits. Evan has been keeping Ollie calm while Thatch takes his turn pacing.

Another contraction tightens my muscles and sends pains from the top of my back down between my legs. "Wes, I feel like I need to push."

"Okay, baby. Just breathe and we'll get the doctor," he responds gently.

Someone does just that, but it isn't him since he never lets go of my hands. He's still with me when the doctor comes in a few minutes later. "I hear we're ready to push in here."

It's only then does Wes finally step away, taking my other side while the doctor moves into place. He and Murph help me lay back before the man announces, "Yep, we're definitely ready to push down here. Now, Ms. Imma, when you feel your next contraction, I want you to start pushing. Don't strain, but give it everything you've got, okay? It wouldn't hurt to have these strong men here holding your legs for you so it's less work."

Neither Wes nor Murph hesitate. Ollie comes around Murph with a cold rag to wipe the sweat that seems to be melting off me. I get a glimpse of Thatch and Evan at the backs of the two nurses, waiting for the baby to be handed to them, and that's when shit gets real. A hard contraction hits. Between it and the way my body is angled, I have no other option but to push. The pain I'd been feeling up to this point was a joke. I'd cry if I could suck air into my lungs. By the time I need to breathe, several people are talking at once.

"Okay, one more time should do it. You're doing great, Ms. Imma," the doctor says.

"Steady breaths," Murph tells me.

Wes is murmuring to me, but I can't hear him over Ollie. "You're so perfect, babycakes. Now push that beautiful baby out so we can meet her."

"I'm never doing this again," I snap at him unintentionally.

The room breaks out into chuckles, but I don't get a chance to appreciate them since another contraction wracks my body, and I have to start pushing again. This one feels like it lasts twice as long as the last, and it makes me cry out at the end, leaving me gasping for air. Then the pressure is gone. There are a few sucking noises and then a baby's cry. My baby.

Tears flow freely down my face for totally different reasons as the doctor holds her up to us and says congratulations. He offers to let one of the guys cut the cord but ends up having to do it himself. I'll give them shit for it later, but for now, I'm so damn tired I only want two things. To hold my baby and to sleep. The first gets handed to me moments later, wrapped in a warm blanket cocoon. Ollie was wrong. I'm not perfect, but the tiny-handed human laying in my arms is. She looks so peaceful that I can't help pressing my lips to her forehead. All the sadness, tears, frustrations, loneliness, and cravings were all very much worth every second. I want to hog her to myself, but there are five proud daddies in this room waiting their turn. They pass her around once, each taking a few seconds with her, and the sight of her tiny body in their giant-looking arms is one I don't think I'll ever get tired of seeing. I use it as a distraction while the doctor finishes what he's got to do.

Once he's done, we thank him before he leaves. The nurses take our baby out with the promise of returning quickly after that. In the meantime, a different set of nurses come in and help change the sheets. By the time I'm settled back into bed with warm blankets covering my body, I’m ready to accept praises and kisses from each of them before I fall asleep.

Between the nurses and five doting fathers, I actually manage to get a full eight hours or more. I've just finished feeding the baby the next day when there's a soft knock at the door. I halfway expect it to be my mother considering I texted her this morning to let her know that she's a grandma now. She'd read the message and left it as such, which sounds like her, but I haven't let it get me down. How could I when there's so much happiness surrounding me right now?

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