Twenty minutes. Okay. Maybe just the Braxton-Hicks pre-labor contractions I’ve been having for weeks.
Another one comes, and I check the clock again. Fourteen minutes, this time. A little stronger, too.
“Ian, I don’t think these are aftershocks.”
He’s fully alert now, his ears pricked forward. “What do you mean?”
“I think...” I take a deep breath as another heavy cramp rolls through me. “I think I’m in labor.”
For a long moment, he just stares at me. Then he’s on his feet, pacing back and forth while I watch from my nest of blankets, giggling. I love that I get to see him have all these first-time-dad moments.
“Okay. Okay.” He runs his hands over his head, flattening his ears. “I’ll call Dr. MacDougal. Don’t move.”
“Wasn’t planning on it. I’m very comfy here.”
He grabs his phone and dials, and I hear him explaining the situation in a remarkably calm voice considering he looked like he was about to pass out thirty seconds ago.
“She says to time them,” Ian reports when he gets off the phone, crouching beside me. “If they stay regular and around ten minutes apart for an hour, we should head to the hospital.”
“Already timing.” I show him the notes app on my phone, where I’ve been tracking. “The last gap was twelve minutes.”
“Twelve?” His eyes go wide. “That’s pretty close to ten!”
“I know.”
By the time the next hour is up, the contractions are coming every ten minutes like clockwork, and they’re intense enough that I have to stop talking and breathe through them. Ian helps me into clean clothes, loads my hospital bag with hands that only shake a little, and bundles me into the Jeep.
“How are you feeling?” I ask as he pulls out of the driveway, going exactly the speed limit even though I can tell he wants to floor it.
“I’m feeling like I love you.” He glances at me, visibly calming when he sees how ecstatic I am to finally be in labor. “How areyoudoing?”
“So good. I’m ready tomeet our babies.”
The drive to the hospital seems like it takes forever and no time at all. The contractions are getting more intense, and by the time one hits while we’re checking in at Labor & Delivery, I’m clutching Ian’s arm just to stay upright.
“Julia!” Dr. MacDougal appears as soon as we get settled in our assigned room, her calm presence a balm to my fraying nerves. “Let’s see how you’re progressing.”
She checks my cervix and announces that I’m already at seven centimeters.
“Well done, Mama,” she says approvingly, snapping off her gloves. “These pups are ready to come out. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit. Use the call button if you need a nurse, okay?”
Ian stays by my side, holding my hand. When the contractions peak, he reminds me to breathe. When I need counterpressure on my lower back, he’s there with his warm, strong hands. When I cry and tell him I can’t do this, he cups my face and looks me in the eyes and tells me I’m the strongest person he’s ever known.
“You’re doing really well,” he murmurs as another wave crests. “I’m so proud of you, pretty girl.”
I’m proud of me, too, I realize. These pups wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t brave enough to do this.
The next time the doctor checks in, I haven’t progressed as much as she thought I would, andshe offers to break my water to get things moving. I agree, but then immediately regret it when the contractions double in intensity.
“It hurts so much,” I whimper to Ian.
“I know. Just a few more and you’ll be done. Squeeze my hand.”
I squeeze hard enough that a human man would probably need a cast afterward. Ian just takes it, his golden-brown eyes never leaving mine.
The urge to push comes on suddenly, an unstoppable force that takes over my entire body. I hear Dr. MacDougal giving instructions, feel Ian supporting me, but mostly I’m just focused on the overwhelming need to get these babies out of me. Just as my future sisters-in-law promised, the pushing is the easy part.
The first pup arrives with a gush of fluid and a thin, reedy cry that makes Ian’s whole body go rigid beside me. Through my haze of exhaustion, I see Dr. MacDougal holding up a bundle. I catch a glimpse of reddish fur, just like Ian’s, and tiny hands clutching at the sky, as she passes the baby off to a nurse.
