Page 58 of Upshot

“Thank you. I needed to hear that.” I look at the overhead lights to stop from crying. I read that looking up at the sun will help with that. Or maybe it was sneezing and drinking water keeps you from crying. Whatever, I’m trying what I have available.

“Don’t ever doubt yourself. And remember, I’m here too. I’ll fight your battles when you get tired.” He brushes my hair off my sweaty forehead.

“Hey, folks. Am I interrupting something?” a man asks from the doorway.

“Are you here to do the epidural?” Rand responds.

“I am. I’m Dr. White.” He holds out his hand to Rand.

“Then, by all means, interrupt.” Rand shakes his hand. “We’re both more than ready to give Brontë some relief.”

Dr. White introduces himself again to me. He then explains what he’s about to do. He gets to the word needle before my next contraction. Rand holds my hand while Dr. White finishes his explanation. They chase Rand from the room, promising he can come back as soon as they’re done.

With the help of a nurse, Dr. White sits me up. I bend over as far as a ginormous beach ball of a baby allows and hang onto the nurse. The doctor talks me through the procedure until they finish.

The relief is almost immediate. The contractions are still there, but nothing like what they were before. Rand must have been right outside because he is back the second they leave.

“Alright, Brontë, time to have a baby,” Dr. Hoffman states half an hour later, trying to maneuver around the nurse who proceeds her in the door. Rand stands to wait for instructions. She goes spelunking again before settling in by my feet.

“Push when I tell you to.” Man, I guess we’re really going to do this. Rand helps me sit up better in the bed. The doctor moves him to hold one of my legs. “Push, Brontë.”

I won’t gross you out with the details. Let me just say that Rand and I are now the proud parents of a perfect baby boy. I’m so proud of Rand for making it all the way through without panicking. As a matter of fact, he even cut the umbilical cord.

Right now, he can’t seem to take his eyes off our tiny bundle. As for me, I’m a sweaty, exhausted mess. But I don’t care. I have a son.

“Should we call your family now?” Rand asks, carefully handing the baby to me.

“We should agree on a name first.”

“What would you like to call him?”

“Do you want him to be the fifth? Or is it the sixth?”

“God, no.”

“Then how about Henry Keats Randolph?”

Rand’s grin lights up his face. “You want him to be a Randolph?”

“Would you rather he be a Caraway?”

“No. I’d rather both of you be Randolphs. But this seems like a horrible place to propose. Are we calling him Keats?”

“I think it sounds cool. What about you?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty badass. Just like his mother.”

We grin at each other. Don’t think I didn’t hear the part about us all being Randolphs. I’ll be all over that later. But Rand is right, for now I’m happy just being a mom and girlfriend.

I nod when he wags his phone at me. He pulls up a group video chat app and goes to work. It’s only six in the morning, so this should go over well. Soon I hear my family complaining about being woken early.

“Hold on, guys. We have something to show you,” Rand says before lying next to me and Keats. Then all I hear is a burst of excitement from the other side of the chat.

“We need all the details, right now,” Austen demands. I feel sort of bad for not having her here for the birth. I would say so, but Rand doesn’t give me a chance. He’s so damn proud, I let him have the fun of telling them everything.

“Everyone meet Henry Keats Randolph. Weight seven pounds, three ounces. Height eighteen inches. Born at five-thirty this morning. Mom and baby are doing well,” he says.

Reed yells the statistics at Austen who’s no longer on the screen. “What is Austen doing?” I ask.

---