Page 74 of Best Friends
He sits up so fast I think he might give himself whiplash. “What? Are you sure? Oh fuck, okay, we need to—where’s your hospital bag? Did you call Dr. Harrison? Should I call an ambulance?”
“Malcolm, breathe,” I say, even though I’m fighting my own panic. “I haven’t done anything because I just woke up too. Butwe have time. First babies take hours, remember? Dr. Harrison said so.”
He’s already out of bed, pulling on jeans and a T-shirt with shaking hands. His shirt is inside out, but I don’t bother commenting on it. “Right, right. But we should still call him. And time the contractions. Are you having contractions?”
I take inventory of my body. There’s a low, cramping sensation across my belly, different from the Braxton Hicks I’ve been having for weeks. “I think so. They’re not bad yet.”
“Okay, good. That’s really good.” He’s moving around the room like a man possessed. “I’ll get your bag, and we’ll head to the hospital. Should we shower? Should we eat breakfast? You might need food to keep up your strength.”
“Malcolm.” I catch his hand as he passes the bed. “Stop. Look at me.”
He freezes, his blue eyes wide and scared. His scent is sharp with anxiety, almost overwhelming.
“We need to stay calm,” I tell him firmly. “The baby’s okay. I’m okay.”
He takes a deep breath, his grip on my hand tightening. “Fuck. I knew this was coming, but I… I don’t feel ready.”
“Me neither,” I agree, but despite the fear, I feel a flutter of excitement. “But apparently the baby is ready. So we just have to go with it.”
He sucks in a calming breath and seems to get control of himself. “Okay. You’re right. Sorry.”
I smile. “It’s fine. This is a big, scary deal. But it’s also exciting.”
He nods. “Yeah, very exciting.” He grins sheepishly. “I’ll calm down now.”
The next hour passes in a swirl of activity. Malcolm calls Dr. Harrison while I change into clean clothes, and the doctor confirms that we should head to the hospital since my water broke. The contractions are coming every ten minutes now, manageable but definitely getting stronger.
By the time we’re in the car, I’m gripping the door handle through each contraction, breathing through the pain like we learned in the birthing class. Malcolm drives carefully but quickly, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“It’s going to be just fine,” he keeps saying, reaching over to squeeze my hand between contractions. “You’re so strong, C.”
The hospital is quiet at this hour, the emergency entrance lit with harsh fluorescent lights. A nurse with kind eyes and graying hair meets us with a wheelchair, even though I insist I can walk.
“First baby?” she asks as Malcolm fills out paperwork with trembling hands.
“Yeah,” I manage, another contraction building. I close my eyes and breathe through it, feeling Malcolm’s hand on my shoulder.
“You’re doing beautifully.” The nurse smiles at me. “I’m Linda, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Now that the paperwork I out of the way, let’s get you settled in a room.”
The labor and delivery room is larger than expected, with a bed that can be adjusted, monitoring equipment, and a chair where Malcolm can sit. The lights are dim and soothing, and there’s a window that will show the sunrise in a few hours.
“Let’s see how things are progressing,” Linda says, helping me into a blue hospital gown.
The internal exam is uncomfortable, despite Linda’s gentle touch. “You’re about four centimeters dilated,” she announces. “Still have a ways to go, but you’re making good progress.”
Four centimeters. Six more to go. I try not to think about how much stronger the contractions will get. I don’t want to psych myself out before I even get there. Besides, the calmer I am the calmer Malcolm will be.
“I requested an epidural.” I grimace. “I’m not one of those brave omegas who can push a baby out without pain medication.”
“Honey, you don’t have anything to explain to me,” Linda says kindly. “I had epidurals for all four of my babies. Who said we have to be in agony just because we’re having a baby?”
“Yeah.” I smile weakly. “Maybe I don’t feel like suffering more than I have to today. That doesn’t make me a wimp.”
“Not at all.” She nods. “We’ll get the anesthesiologist in here as soon as the time is right. It’s a little early for that. For now, let’s get you hooked up to the monitors so we can keep an eye on the baby.”
The next few hours blur together. The contractions get stronger and closer together, each one requiring all my focus to breathe through. Malcolm never leaves my side, holding my hand, rubbing my back, offering ice chips when my mouth gets dry.
“You’re amazing,” he whispers during a brief lull between contractions. “I’m so proud of you, C.”
