Page 35 of Room 1017

He nodded wordlessly, and I used my cane to balance as I pushed up from the table. Couldn’t think of a worse time to fall and hurt myself. I could usually do without the aid now, but I never knew when a flare-up would hit me, so better to be safe than sorry.

Outwardly, we must’ve looked like a couple going for a nice stroll, and some people might’ve assumed that we kept a leisurely pace down the sidewalk because of me, the man with the cane, but for once, I wasn’t the slowest one. Every time Casey had a contraction, we stopped right where we were while he closed his eyes and took long, deep breaths. It was a beautiful day, the sun shining brightly from the clear blue sky. The park was packed with parents and squealing kids playing tag, people in ones and twos jogging along the circular path, pigeons begging for crumbs from anyone with food, a dog walker attached to a dozen leashes being yanked after a taunting squirrel… but I didn’t see any of it. All my focus was on Casey. The longer he was in labor, the quieter he got. I tried to engage him in conversation, but eventually, the most I could get were one-word answers. Creases formed around his eyes and mouth, and he kept his gaze focused on the ground in front of his feet.

“Should we go to the hospital yet?” I asked when we’d reached the far side of the park, because honestly, I couldn’t tell. It was starting to scare me how quiet he’d gotten.

“Nope.” He tried to make it sound all casual and easygoing, but he wouldn’t look at me as he said it, just started walking again.

It was past lunchtime by now, and we were on our third lap of the park. My lower back was aching, but as long as Casey needed to walk, I would be here at his side. We’d just passed a hotdog cart with a lineup down the block when Casey let out a guttural moan. He bent over, hands on his knees, trying to breathe through the pain.

“Okay, that’s it. We’re going to the hospital,” I said, putting my foot down. If he wasn’t going to make the call, I would. His contractions were seven minutes apart, but we still had to walk the two blocks to the hospital. Casey nodded wordlessly, and when he was finally able to stand up straight, we made our way there.

It was a good thing we’d gone when we did, because he was barely able to walk by the time we reached the emergency room doors. He paused just outside to lean against the brick wall, grunting quietly. “Can we get a wheelchair over here?” I called inside.

An orderly in green scrubs heard me and jogged over pushing a wheelchair. “Have a seat, sir,” he said, expecting me to sit down.

“It’s not for me,” I said sharply, biting back my annoyance. I grabbed the chair from him and wheeled it over to where Casey had propped himself, a sheen of sweat making his blond hair cling to his forehead. “Come on, angel. You’re almost there.”

For a second, it looked like he would argue the wheelchair, but when he pushed off the wall, I thought for sure his legs were going to buckle. He wisely chose the chair instead.

It felt a little surreal to be the one pushing the wheelchair, when not so long ago, it had been me getting pushed around, but I was so incredibly grateful for where I was, this entire momentous occasion. We took our turn in triage, behind a man who’d had a kitchen accident and had a towel wrapped around his hand. Once I’d filled in the paperwork for Casey, we were sent upstairs to labor and delivery—and still, Casey hadn’t said more than a few words.

I tried to respect his method for dealing with this, but I found that I’d gone quiet too, since he wasn’t responding to my attempts at conversation. This was supposed to be a happy day, but with every contraction, Casey seemed to be shutting down, curling inward.

When we were finally shown into a birthing room, and Casey had changed into a hospital gown, we had a moment of privacy, just the two of us, while we waited for a nurse to come and check on our progress. Casey was sitting on the edge of the bed, and I came to stand in front of him. I took his face between my palms and tipped his head back. “Angel, please talk to me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it just…” He bit his lips, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

“What is it?” I asked softly. “You can tell me anything. Are you scared?”

He shrugged, then shook his head. “It hurts more than I thought it would,” he whispered, looking like he was wracked with guilt.

I was so confused. Why would he feel guilty about that? “I have no doubt it hurts. Did you think it wouldn’t?”

“No, it’s not that. I just told myself I wasn’t going to complain about it. After everything you went through, I’m sure this is nothing in comparison. You’re in pain every day, just walking around, existing. I see people dealing with chronic pain all the time at the clinic, and I guess I figured I could grin and bear it, like you do.”

Groaning, I dropped my forehead to his. “Oh, baby, no. First off, one person’s pain does not invalidate what someone else feels. This is real for you, and I’m telling you right now, there is no way I have the pain threshold to push a baby out. Are you kidding? I am in awe of you right now. And trust me when I tell you I did plenty of screaming and crying, loudly and often, over the past couple years, not to mention the painkillers I took. Please, Iwantyou to let it out. Curse me out for doing this to you, call me every name in the book, squeeze the hell out of my hand, whatever you need so I can help you through this.”

Casey choked on a laugh, tears spilling down his cheeks. “You’re saying I can threaten that you’re never going to touch me again? That I’ll castrate you for doing this to me?”

“Sure, as long as they’re empty threats.” I kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose, then finally his lips. “Now, are you ready to have this baby?”

He drew in a deep breath, seemingly bolstered by knowing he didn’t have to hold back anymore. “Yes, let’s do it.

Over the next two hours, I heard the most creative, over-the-top swear words come out of his mouth. I was sure he was doing it for my sake now, more than his own, but more than once he had the nurses in stitches at the colorful bursts of vitriol he threw in my direction. My favorite was when he called me an “ass drizzle.” For how rude I’d been to him in those first weeks, I had no doubt I deserved every word of it.

By the time our son was born, Casey was too exhausted to be angry with me anymore. We both cried happy tears. “You did it! I’m so proud of you, angel.”

“I did it,” he echoed, seemingly stunned that it was over.

“Congratulation, daddies,” Dr. Zappek told us, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, and even though he’d probably delivered loads of babies, I chose to believe he looked particularly proud of my angel.

As much as I wanted to crawl into the bed with Casey and our son, it simply wasn’t a viable option with my back, so I dragged a chair as close as I could get. I could watch them all day. We’d agreed ahead of time on the name, Rowan, whether it was a boy or girl, and I decided it suited him just fine.

“Here, you should hold him,” Casey said once he’d fed him, passing me the swaddled bundle.

“Yeah?” I was honestly a little scared about dropping him, but as soon as he was in my arms, I knew everything was right with the world. I leaned back in my chair and let this moment wash over me. There would come a day—probably sooner than I wanted to admit—when our child would be able to run faster than me, but for now, we were right here together.

And everything was perfect.

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