But this isn’t about me. This is about her. And though she wants this too, it needs to be slow. Because I can’t fucking ruin this.
Chapter Eighteen
Anastacia
It was another rough night. More cramps. It was difficult to get comfortable. If I don’t lay in the right position, I can’t breathe, and little limbs stick into my ribs, which has been an issue for a couple weeks now but is nothing compared to the cramps. Still, I get myself up in the morning and have breakfast with Grizz, who is staying here with me for a few hours while Kelsey and Tommy run a few errands. Once they get back, he’ll go to the club.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, walking me to the bedroom.
“Yes, I just want to take a nap,” I grumble.
He helps me into bed, kisses my head, then leaves me.
I hardly sleep at all, and at one point I’m curled over in pain with tears pouring from my eyes.
I should call for Grizz. He’s right down the hall, and he would be here in a second, but I don’t want to overreact. I don’t want to get him worried that something is wrong when it isn’t. It’s just cramping from the baby moving because they are moving so much and there is barely room. Plus, they aren’t consistent, the way Dr. Carter said they would be if I were in labor. And my water hasn’t broken yet, which I know is a big indication of going into labor. So whatever this is, it’ll go away like last time. I just need to keep breathing through it, and I definitely don’t need to make a big deal out of it.
Only by the time the sun comes up, I’m drenched in sweat and in so much pain that I can’t hide it. I hear Grizz’s footsteps down the hall before he enters the room. The door swings open, hitting the wall, his hurried steps coming toward the bed.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice full of concern.
This is what I was worried about. I don’t want him concerned when it’s nothing.
Only, maybe it isn’t nothing. Because he asked me a question, but my teeth are chattering so hard I can’t speak.
“Angel, tell me what’s going on,” he pleads, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Is it the baby? Are you… are you in labor?”
I take in a stuttering breath, letting it out slowly.
“I… th-think,” is all I manage to get out.
“Fuck, okay. Uh… shit. Okay, hold on. Please, just stay right here.” He runs out of the room. “Tommy! Kelsey! Wake the fuck up!” is shouted down the hall. More footsteps. Silence. Then more footsteps pounding on the floor.
The pain is worse, so intense that I curl into myself and can’t stop the scream that tears out of me. Something cold is pressed to my head, there are hands on me. People are talking, but I can’t hear anything. The pain is so much, it’s so bad. How did it get this bad so fast? I was just fine, and now all there is pain. So much pain that I can’t think.
It’s the most excruciating pain I’ve ever felt in all my life. My stomach. My back. My throat. Everything hurts.
My body is trembling, covered in sweat. My head is pounding, and my throat is raw and dry.
I hear people speaking to me, still faintly feel hands on me, but I don’treallyfeel or hear any of it. It’s all background noise. I can’t focus on anything but the pain.
It subsides for a moment, just a moment, and I take in a breath, letting out a sob when I get a second to breathe.
“—and screaming. She’s in so much pain!”
“I…” I start, but then the pain comes back. Light at first, but like a wave it rushes over me. I can’t breathe, can’t do anything but try to force it away by tensing up. I scream again, because for some crazy reason that helps, like I’m not holding it in but letting it out. Or maybe it’s just a small distraction.
This goes on forever. I swear, it’s forever that every nerve in my body is on fire. My lungs burn. My throat is raw.
Even when the pain goes away, I can’t think because I know it’s coming back. My lips are going numb, my fingers are tingling. I feel deprived of oxygen. I feel delirious. I feel like I’m not real. I feel like I’m dying, and all I want is for this pain to go away.
God, please, make this pain go away!
There are more voices now, and I faintly make out more people in the room.
There’s a new voice, a familiar, soothing one.
“Sweetheart, I know it hurts, but I need you to breathe, okay? In through your nose, big, deep breaths. Let it out through your mouth, okay?” Dr. Carter. He’s here. So that must mean— “Are you having contractions?”
