The nurse adjusted the fetal monitor and smiled at Ruby. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like something calmer?”
I flinched. This woman did not understand what kind of bear she was poking. “I’m sorry. Is there a Spotify playlist titled Screaming Into the Void While Pushing a Human Being Out Of Your Vag?” Ruby asked in a demonic voice. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. I’m good.”
Bristling, the nurse gave her a tense smile and headed for the door. “I’ll get more ice chips.”
As she stepped out, Frankie arrived, wearing a tank top and her coveralls tied at the waist. She had oil smeared on her cheek, and her wild hair was pulled back into a knot on top of her head.
“I’m here,” she said. “Great song.”
“Paul doesn’t like it,” Ruby grumbled. “I know you wanted whale songs, honey,” she said to him, her tone softening just a little. “But I want Wolves of the Apocalypse?—”
She doubled over, moaning.
With a hand on her back, I spoke calming words to her.
“I’ve got this.” Frankie approached Paul, who physically stiffened in her presence. I couldn’t blame him. Who wouldn’t be afraid of my badass friend?
“Paul,” she said, puffing up. “She’s birthing your child, and you have an awkwardly large head. There is no fucking compromise.”
When all he did was nod, wide-eyed, Frankie smiled and turned back to us, rubbing her hands together.
“You bitches ready? Let’s have another baby.”
The nurse returned with a cup of ice chips, noting that they had several deliveries and informing us that the doctor would be in shortly.
Soon, we discovered that it helped if we scratched her back while she screamed to the music through each contraction and threw anything she could get her hands on at Paul.
Paul, to his credit, was proving to be extremely good-natured and supportive.
“Don’t come back without an epidural,” Frankie shouted at the nurse, her voice barely audible over the death metal and Ruby’s screeching.
“The anesthesiologist is on her way,” she said. Again. She’d told us that the last time she came in. And the time before that.
And Ruby was running out of steam.
The smell of antiseptic and the beeping of the fetal monitor brought with it flashes of my own labor. The fear that had overtaken me that day prickled inside me again. The hiss of the oxygen line reminded me of the numbness and terror I’d felt.
I’d had Ruby’s and Frankie’s hands to squeeze, but I’d still felt so alone. Initially, I’d assumed it was my punishment for not knowing I was pregnant. For not seeing the signs. For being so detached from my body that I had no idea I’d been creating a human life for the better part of a year.
But as Paul sat on the bed, his forehead pressed to Ruby’s, whispering words of love, there was no room in my heart for envy. Instead, a strange peace enshrouded me.
I’d survived. Not just labor and delivery, but the shock and the fear. And Vincent was thriving. I’d figured it out with no preparation or planning.
Maybe I’d already done the hard part. Maybe I could let this go and focus on what came next.
Maybe it was time I stopped punishing myself for my sins.
“Paul,”Ruby cried as she cradled the tiny baby in her arms. As I looked on, I thought about Vincent. The feeling when he was placed in my arms for the first time. So tiny and small, so fragile.
Frankie and I stepped out, giving Ruby and Paul privacy as they cried happy tears and admired their healthy baby.
I’d really only known Paul as Ruby’s straitlaced accountant husband, but today, I’d seen a different side of him. He was so tender, so demonstrative and affectionate. I could see how Ruby had fallen in love with him.
And that made me think about Jasper. His quiet presence. The way he kept showing up, day after day, even when I snapped at him or pushed him away.
He was devoted to Vincent.
“He’s also devoted to you.” Frankie handed me a Diet Coke from the vending machine.
