“For real this time,” she says through gritted teeth. “I’m leaking…” Her cheeks flame. “I think my water broke. Or maybe it’s breaking. I don’t know. It’s not a big gush like the movies, but I think that’s what it is.”
I move swiftly into action, grabbing the bags we packed in preparation for this day. “Get in the car,” I tell her. “I’ll get everything else.”
In a matter of minutes, I’ve loaded our bags, along with the one for the baby, and several pillows. The car seat has already beeninstalled. I specifically went to the firehouse to ensure it was done correctly. When I’m certain we have everything we could possibly need while we’re at the hospital, I slide in behind the wheel.
“Do you think we’re bringing too much?” she asks, her lip caught between her teeth.
“No.” Yes. Way too much. But better safe than sorry. I don’t want to leave her side if I don’t have to.
Twenty minutes later, we pull into the hospital parking lot. Salem hasn’t complained once, despite the pain contorting her face every few minutes.
“How far apart are they?” I ask.
“About six minutes, I think.”
Once I’ve parked, I dart to the entrance in search of a wheelchair, and as I rush back and find she’s already waddling toward me, I curse. She’d smack me if she knew I called her walk a waddle, but that’s exactly what it is.
“Salem,” I scold. “Get in the chair.”
She does so without protest, clearly in a lot of pain. I hit the lock button on my fob and spin her around. I’ll be back for our stuff later. Right now, I need to get her inside.
Check-in goes smoothly since we preregistered, and in triage, a nurse confirms that she’s in active labor, adding that she’s already at six centimeters.
Salem squeezes the life out of my hand, eyes squished shut.
“Breathe,” I tell her when her face reddens.
“Shut up,” she bites out. “It feels like a bowling ball is trying to force its way out of my vagina. It fucking hurts.”
I press my lips together.
Silence.
Got it.
Several hours and one epidural later, it’s time for Salem to push.
I hold one leg while a nurse takes the other.
“Come on, baby,” I whisper, kissing the side of her head. “You’ve got this.”
Her bottom lip wobbles, her eyes full of terror. “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be. On the other side of this, you get to meet your daughter.”
She squeezes my hand, lips quivering. “Ourdaughter.”
Fuck. Tears immediately burn my eyes. Those simple words mean more to me than she’ll ever know. Despite my classes and work, I haven’t missed a single appointment. I want to be involved in everything. The ultrasounds, the baby’s movements, all of it. Night after night, I’ve talked to our child, more and more excited to meet her.
“Our daughter,” I echo around the lump in my throat.
“All right, Salem,” the doctor says. “Here comes another contraction. I want you to bear down and push. Trust your body. It knows what it’s doing.”
She does as she’s instructed. When she pauses for a break, she brings those pleading eyes to mine. “Don’t look down there.”
I laugh. “A little late for that, sweetheart.”
She groans. “You know what I mean.”
