Page 38 of Home Is Where the Witch Is
“Nope.”
“Okay then. Does this thing work?” he asked, picking up the TV remote.
A contraction torethrough Rosie’s stomach, burning and stretching in equal measure. Once the pain had started in earnest, the memories of Maggie’s birth had all come flooding back to her. Logic had told her all along this was never going to be a picnic, but her hips felt as though they were being forced apart by a vice and that was to say nothing about the pressure in her lady-parts region. She gulped for air, filling her lungs before letting it coast out of her in a long, steady stream of very controlled breath.
Declan never left her side. He looked a little worse for wear, though. His usual pinkish coloring was definitely on the paler side of things, and his eyes were shaded with worry for his wife. When Ben had arrived he’d graciously taken the kids out to the waiting room, so the four parents-to-be could have a little privacy. Rosie was beyond grateful. There were just some things she didn’t think her daughter or teenage stepson needed to see.
Like the doctor lifting up her blanket and hospital gown to check how dilated her cervix was. When she was done, the woman smiled up at Rosie from between her own legs. You know. The way doctors do.
“I think we’re ready to take you through to your birthing suite, Mrs. Forrest.”
“What?” Tammy asked, her head snapping in Rosie’s direction.
There was a thick undertone of jealousy in her tone, and Rosie couldn’t blame her friend one bit. Tammy was having a bit of a rough time; unable to get comfortable or relax much meant it had been a bit of an ordeal for the anesthetist to complete her epidural. In the end, they had opted for just the gas as pain relief. Rosie wasn’t religious per se, but Tammy was of course.
So Rosie prayed for her.
“Darlin’,” Myles said soothingly, wiping Tammy’s head with a damp wash cloth. “I love you, but Imightneed to use my hand once we’re done here.”
Tammy’s grip on his hand was white-knuckled and desperate as she clung to him for support without realizing just how hard she was clinging.
“I might need to use other parts ofmybody once we’re done here too, darlin’,” Tammy replied, sounding more sarcastic than Rosie would have given her credit for. “But it is what it is!” Myles’ serene expression faltered as her shot landed.
Oh dear.
“Just breathe,” the doctor urged, leaving Rosie and going to check on Tammy’s progress. She lifted the sheets and did her thing, talking calmly all the while. “It’ll help to relax and allow the gas to work. You’re only six centimeters dilated. Still have a little while to go yet.”
“Can’t we do somethin’ to hurry it up?” Tammy asked, sounding thoroughly fed up.
Rosie’s heart squeezed for her friend. She obviously understood the situation better than anyone else in the room at that point, but she could see the time for a little tough love had arrived.
“Listen hon. If you don’t breathe and you don’t relax, you’re makin’ it harder on yourself,” Rosie said, her words loving but her tone no-nonsense. “So you need to breathe and maintain the grace we all know you for.”
It seemed to have done the trick. Tammy was pulled out of her rapidly increasing panic and back to the moment. Her gaze met Rosie’s and she nodded just once with the determination Rosie knew she had, deep down. Myles threw Rosie a grateful look as his wife released his hand, and he flexed his fingers gingerly before reaching for Tammy’s water bottle.
“You gotta hydrate, love,” he said sweetly, as the orderly returned to the room and began to take off the brakes on Rosie’s bed.
“Good luck, you two!” Tammy called as they began to wheel Rosie out of the room.
“You two as well!” Rosie called back, holding tightly onto Declan’s hand as he trailed beside her.
The birthing suite was little more than a hotel room with medical accouterments. The bed was parked up next to the wall, and a waiting nurse hooked Rosie up to all the various gadgets she was gonna need to get this baby born.
“I didn’t like to say in front of your friend,” the midwife said, joining them a moment later, “but you’re pretty close. Well done, mama!”
Rosie gave a tired smile as her most recent contraction began to fade off. “How close are we talking?”
“Within the hour.”
Declan squeezed her hand excitedly, bending down to place a kiss on her forehead. “You’re doing great,” he told her. “Not long, love.”
Rosie squeezed his hand back, her other hand gently rubbing over her baby bump to help soothe their son or daughter.
“Prep the trolley,” the midwife said to the nurse, sitting on a rolling stool so she could scoot right up to the end of the bed. “We’re gonna start pushing now, Rosie. Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Rosie declared. Her stomach was a knot of different emotional threads: excitement, nerves, fear, happiness. She turned to look at Declan, who was smiling at her encouragingly.
“You’ve got this,” he told her, and she knew he was right. She nodded and squeezed his hand as the midwife got herself prepared.
