“It’s good, but I think we’re going to cut it short.”
“Why? Do they not have anything you like?” I love that he’s at least feigned an interest in all things dress related.
“Umm, no. My water broke actually.” My voice wobbles slightly as the first contraction tightens like a steel band around my belly. He hears me gasp in pain.
“Oh, shit!” His words are yelled excitedly and nervously into the phone. “Okay, baby. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Shit, I wish I could be there right now. I…umm…let me …” He’s so frantic that he doesn’t even know what sentence to go with.
When the pain recedes, I say, “Shh. Calm down, Reid. We’ve got plenty of time. Go tell Dylan and then meet us as at the hospital.”
I hear his deep breathing through the line. “Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I love you, baby.”
“I love you too. Be safe,” I say as I end the call. Walking to the car is grossly uncomfortable with my soaking wet pants, but sliding into the car, I’m comforted by the smiling faces of my girls.
Momma reaches for my hand from the driver’s seat. “Ready, sweetie?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be, Momma.” But ‘ready’ is the last thing I’m feeling. Scared, anxious, excited – that’s what I’m really feeling.
By the time Reid meets us at the hospital, the nurse has already gotten me all hooked up to whatever IVs and monitors I need. Frozen in the doorway, his face pales and his eyes widen. He won’t admit it, but he’s scared. Seeing me on the bed, in a hospital gown with tubes and wires all over must have brought him back to my accident. This time, our hospital stay will have a completely different ending.
Reid walks toward the bed and I hold out my hands to him. “Hey, baby. You made it.” My voice is soft, but I cringe on the last word as another contraction tightens around my belly.
I squeeze his hands and my face contorts in pain. When I can open my eyes again, all I see is Reid’s concerned face. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” He grazes his knuckles down my cheek in an attempt to comfort me.
“Yeah, I’ll be okay, I think. It just hurts.” Hurts is a huge freaking understatement, but I don’t want to scare him more than he already is. “Well, I’m right here for you. We’re in this together.” Reid kisses my temple softly and then busies himself with my ice chips.
The next twelve hours pass by in a blurry, pain filled haze. Contraction after searing contraction, Reid holds steady by my side. Feeding me ice chips and wiping my brow, he is never more than an inch away from me.
When Dr. Trivedi introduces me to the anesthesiologist who offers me the opportunity for pain relief, I want to leap out of the bed and squeeze the life out of her. After the epidural, I feel like a completely different person. The pain isn’t gone completely, but it’s bearable and I hope to get a little bit of rest.
A few hours later, I’m dozing as Dr. Trivedi enters the room to check on me. “Hey, Maddy. Let’s take a look and see how you’re doing.” She smiles brightly at me and sits on the stool at the end of the bed. Easing my legs to the side, she check to see how dilated I am.
I don’t feel pain so much as I feel the pressure. When she’s done poking and prodding at me, she adjusts the blanket and pulls some other items out of the cabinet behind the bed. Smiling reassuringly at Reid, she says, “Are you ready, Daddy?” Reid just stares at her. Dumbfounded, he doesn’t move or say anything as she fills out some information on my chart.
“It’s time to start pushing. I’m going to get some things together and have the nurses set everything up. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” The door clicks closed and I realize that these next five minutes will be the last that Reid and I spend together as a couple. After this, we’ll be a family of three. I’m absolutely in love with that idea.
After pacing the room, he returns to his spot at my side. Squeezing my hand gently, and lightly playing with my hair, he says, “Maddy, I am so damn proud of you. You’re doing great, baby.” All I can do is smile at him in return. Words simply won’t come out past the lump in my throat.
Dr. Trivedi returns with her nurses, and after they’ve gotten everything set up, it’s time to push. And pushing is no joke. After what feels like hours, Dr. Trivedi announces that she can see the head. Reid is still at my side, helping me hold my knee up to my chest. His face brightens and excitement replaces his fear. “You’re almost there, baby. You’re doing perfectly, Maddy. God, I love you.” He kisses my forehead as I brace for what I hope is one last push.
“Come on, Maddy. You can do this.” Dr. Trivedi coaches from the end of the bed. “You’ve got it, sweetie. Almost there. One more little push, Maddy.”
I’m trying my hardest to listen to her instructions, but exhaustion and nervousness are taking over. “I can’t…I can’t do this. It’s too much.” Anxiety is rising. Panic is setting in.
I feel a cool rag at my brow and then tender lips at my temple. Reid whispers into my ear, “Shh, Baby, you’ve got this. I’m right here. Now, let’s do this together.”
His soothing words and calming touch are all I need. With my composure regained, I focus on what Dr. Trivedi is telling me. “Okay, just a little more. Slow…slow….alright, the head is out. Let me just suction, and now just give me one more little push. Perfect. Here we go.”
When Dr. Trivedi places the baby on my chest and says, “Congratulations. It’s a boy!” my world stops. An overwhelming sense of peace bathes over me as I wrap my arms around my son. Everything that I’ve ever been through seems to have been leading me to this point. This tiny, bald, bundle of joy instantly makes all of the pain vanish. I finally feel complete.
Looking up at Reid, I notice a similar look of peace relax his features. Reid’s tear streaked face leans in close to mine. “I love you so much.” He can’t say more than that as happy sobs get in the way of his ability to speak.
After she cleans him up and swaddles him, Dr. Trivedi hands our son to Reid. “Congratulations, Daddy. He’s beautiful.”
With awe and amazement coloring his words, Reid replies, “Thank you.” He turns to me and my breath catches in my throat at the sight of Reid holding our tiny son in his arms.
“Maddy, he’s perfect. He’s so tiny.” Reid kisses his bald little head and then passes the baby, our son, very carefully into my arms.
As I’m staring into my son’s innocent eyes, Dr. Trivedi asks, “Does he have a name?”
