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Epilogue
Three Years Later
Hazel
“OW!Ow, ow, ow.” My knuckles crack against the unyielding lip of the granite countertop from the force of my grip. Blazing lightning streaks up and down my back, across my hips, and radiates along my abdomen. I mean, I knew it would hurt like a bitch, butmy God.
A small hand makes comforting circles across my back, soft words of comfort falling on deaf ears. The whole world has focused on the sharp, blinding pain that has me doubled over. Within moments that seem like lifetimes, the pain begins to wane and the dull buzz of the world around me grows stronger.
“It’s okay, Momma. You’ll be okay. Shh. I know it hurts.” Over and over again Harrison’s gentle voice repeats the same words, his hands moving over me the same way mine have whenever he woke up from a nightmare, hurt himself, or had a bad day.
Sweat beads on my forehead, my hair sticking to my face and I’m panting like a dog, but at least for now, things seem to have quieted down. “Okay,” I gasp, loosening my grip. “I’m okay.”
“Can we get her a wheelchair or something?” Joanna talks frantically with the nurse behind the front desk before turning her attention to me. “I told you guys to wait in the car.”
Harrison places a hand on my arm and shrugs. “She said she needed to walk. Dad says walking’s a good thing.”
I nod along with him, focusing on my breathing. My stomach hangs low and heavy and I absentmindedly cradle it, stroking up and down over my tight skin. Just when I thought my belly couldn’t get any bigger, it did.
Pregnancy was a planned surprise. No matter how much you plan for it—or try for it—it’s still an amazing gift.
I might’ve been a bit hysterical when I told Grant the news. He, on the other hand, was as calm as a cucumber. But seeing the happy smile and tears of joy as he held the onesie I set out on his pillow the night I told him, is something I’ll never forget.
This is the first time either of us get to experience everything that comes with pregnancy and planning for a baby. It’s been a beautiful, yet stressful, process. Harrison’s beyond excited to be a big brother. He and Grant built the crib last week after it finally came in on backorder.
Believe me, thinking I wasn’t going to have a bed to bring my baby home to was threatening to put me into premature labor.
The look Joanna shoots my way makes me laugh. Panicked wide eyes with blonde hair flopping over her forehead on top of the low ache in my belly is too much. We’ve been best friends for decades and I still can’t take her seriously when she looks at me like that.
She sighs, exasperated. “First, I have to come pick you up in a grocery store parking lot because you decided to drive yourself instead of waiting for your husband and now you couldn’t do theonething I asked you to do?”
A nurse pushes a wheelchair behind me and helps me settle into it before leading us down the hall towards Labor and Delivery. “I had to come inside at some point.”
Contractions have been coming and going all day and according to Google they were Braxton Hicks and I shouldn’t beworried about them. Should I have called mydoctorhusband or nurse sister who’s done this twice?
Yeah, probably.
But it was time to pick Harrison up from school and I saw no point in asking someone else to do it for me. Any one of them would’ve dropped what they were doing in a heartbeat, but I didn’t want to bother them when I was fully capable of doing it myself.
Getting to the school to pick up Harrison wasn’t the problem anyway. Driving home was the issue. It wasn’t until we were almost home that things started to get more intense and I had to pull over.
Jo helps me get into the hospital gown and in bed before the nurses hook me up with wires and monitors. Harrison sits in the hospital chair talking on the phone with Grant about what’s going on as he drives to the hospital. Well, as much information as an almost nine-year-old can relay.
He’s gotten so big in the last several years. He’s all gangly limbs and buck teeth, but I love him so much. Thinking about not being his momma has tears brimming in my eyes. I can’t imagine life without him or his dad in it. We made it official shortly after we got married. Right there on his amended birth certificate where it says “mother” is the name Hazel Elizabeth Rollins.
He’s stuck with me for good.
They both are.
The contractions grow closer and more intense and by the time Grant rushes into the room I’m downright exhausted. His warm lips press to my forehead as he whispers my name, his hands working to brush my hair off my face. “How are you feeling?”
Even exhausted I manage a smile. “Seriously? I’m in unmedicated labor and you’re asking me how I’m feeling?”
Grant laughs. “Sorry. I guess I’m still in doctor mode. Can I get you anything?”
“The nurse? I think I’m ready for all the drugs.”
