I shook out my hands, said a quick prayer, and rolled my shoulders back. I could do this.
Mom’s right knee leaned against the back of the seat but her left foot was on the floor. I looked at the hem of her dress, her knees caught in a steady, unending tremble.
Crap.
I couldn’t do this.
“Char-lie!” Mom moaned, her head lolling as the pain overtook her. For a second I thought she’d passed out but then her eyes opened, focused yet slightly unhinged. “I n-need y-you.” There was no time for wavering. No room for being scared.
“I got you, Mom. I’m going to slip off your underwear.”
She shook her head adamantly. “No-no.”
“The underwear came off when her water broke,” Dad said.
“Okay.” I laughed. “Never thought I’d be grateful to hear my mom’s gone commando.” I looked her in the eye, shoving every worry or thought of impropriety out. “Here we go.” I lifted her dress and peeked under. Every muscle in my body froze. “Dad! The head is right there.” A laugh burst out of my vocal cords as I peeked again. “She’s got brown hair! So much brown hair!” Was it normal for a baby to have that much hair?
“Brown?” Dad sounded choked up. He’d always wanted a baby that looked like Mom, but they always came out looking like him.
“She does?” Mom whimpered.
“Yes.” I smiled. “So brown. Maybe black.”
“How much of her head can you see?” Dad asked, his voice tight.
“Like…a four-inch radius.”
He spat out a string of swear words. “Hang on.” I grabbed Mom’s hips, keeping her level as he turned hard right into the hospital parking lot. “We’re here!” he called with a relieved chuckle.
“Good,” Mom said, panting. “Because the baby’s here too.” Then, as if she couldn’t have stopped it if she wanted to, her body bore down, and her eyes squeezed shut.
“Mom, wait!” I shrieked, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
But it was no use. She released a guttural scream that would probably make me need hearing aids in my mid-thirties. A tiny, slippery body came flying onto the seat. I scooped the baby up just as Dad brought the van to a screeching halt.
She twitched in my arms, her little mouth opening like she was struggling for air. Her head turned this way and that and for a second, I thought something was wrong. But then…
The cry came.
Sharp, perfect, and ear splitting—it echoed off the van walls.
I whooped as she reared back and let another loose, announcing her arrival to the world. “Mom, you did it,” I said, chest so tight I could barely breathe. “She’s here.”
“Wedid it,” Mom said, beaming like I was her hero.
Dad parked in the ER drop-off loop and raced inside.
I quickly checked the baby. “And she has all her fingers and toes.”
Mom glanced up at the ceiling but her words went much further. “Thank you.” She reached for the baby.
“Hold on. You need to be skin to skin.”
I laid the baby across her thighs—oh, she did not like that—then reached up and unbuttoned the front of her dress. Gently, I settled the baby against her chest, careful not to crush the umbilical cord.
She looked at the newborn, but she was still reaching. For me.
I lay my head against Mom’s shoulder, gazing at my sister. “She’s so beautiful,” I barely got out.
