Ihit save and the relief hits me like a bolt of lightning. Four days it’s taken me to finish my essay and it’s finally done. Stretching my arms above my head, a pain shoots across my lower stomach and I crunch over and hold onto the side of my belly. I’m not due to give birth until next week and I still have an assignment to finish this weekend.
Standing from the desk chair, I push my stomach out and release the tension knotting in the bottom of my back. Turning the desk light off, I turn on the lamp on my nightstand.
It’s just before midnight and I wiggle out of my shorts and lean over to pull back the comforter. My thighs tingle with chills as wetness trickles down and I gasp.
No, no, no. This can’t be happening now. I mean, everything is ready for her but I’m not ready. I had wrapped my head around her coming next week.
I lean down to pick up my shorts and instantly regret it. Another pain blasts through my lower stomach and ripples out through my back and bump. I cry out and reach for my robe.
My dad is down in his office and shoots up out of his chair.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m pretty sure my waters just broke, and I’ve had a couple of pains I’ve not had before.”
His cheeks balloon with a heavy exhale and he moves into action. I’ve packed and repacked my hospital bag three times over the last week and we decided to leave it by the front door so it was easily accessible if we had to leave in a rush.
“Okay, we’ve got your hospital bag, your pillow… is there anything else we’re forgetting?”
“No,” I cry out as another contraction hits me.
“Okay, okay,” Dad frets climbing in behind the wheel and with one last glance at me, he drives away from the house and soothes me through till the pain ebbs away.
“You should call Darius,” he says.
I know I should. A small part of me wants to just get this over with and then let him know she’s here but he’s stuck to his word, and he’s been there every step of the way. I can’t take this away from him. It would be cruel.
“Call Darius,” I say into my phone.
It rings out and goes to voice mail, instead of leaving a message, I try again, and he answers.
“Amelia. Are you okay?”
“My waters have broken. My dad’s driving me to the hospital.”
“Dar, you want another beer?” I hear the feminine voice and I hang up.
My mind instantly tries to rationalise why there would be a woman with him at this time of night and it’s not like he was at Tariq’s because the music is always playing.
“Is he on his way?” dad asks.
“I’m sure he is.”
I can’t even think about him right now. Another contraction tries to kill me, and I grab onto the door handle so hard, my hand turns ghostly white.
“Try to breathe through it, sweetheart… we’re not far now.”
I know my dad is only trying to help, that it must be horrible to see your child in so much pain, but fuck me, if I don’t want to tell him to fuck off.
As the pain fades, so does my anger. Trying to catch my breath, the hospital comes into view, and I feel better knowing I’m going to be around doctors and nurses.
My dad helps me from the car and grabs my pillow and bag from the back seat. If I can walk in and get settled before another contraction comes, I’ll be okay. I let the nurse know who I am and that my waters have broken, and she brings out a wheelchair.
She pushes me to the private room my dad booked and helps me onto the bed.
“Exciting, isn’t it,” she beams, and I immediately like her. She’s a motherly figure and I smile.
“We’ll get you changed and settled and then I’ll conduct a quick exam to see how far along you are.”
