"I am breathing—"
"Keep breathing."
In the car, contractions were four minutes apart. Intense enough that I couldn't talk through them.
"We're almost there," Cesare kept saying, driving faster than he should. "Almost there, baby."
I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or Lucia.
The hospital at 2 a.m. was quiet. Eerily so.
They got me checked in quickly—pre-registered weeks ago, everything ready.
A nurse guided us to a delivery room while I had two more contractions in the hallway.
"Let's check your progress," she said once I was in a gown, monitors attached to my belly.
Lucia's heartbeat filled the room—steady, strong, perfect.
"You're at four centimeters," the nurse announced after checking. "Active labor. You're staying."
Four centimeters. Six more to go before I could push.
The contractions intensified through the early morning. Every few minutes, the pain building, peaking, slowly releasing.
Cesare never left my side. Breathing with me. Holding my hand. Whispering encouragement.
"You're so strong. You're doing amazing. Just breathe through it."
By 6 a.m. I was exhausted and only at six centimeters.
"I want the epidural," I told the nurse. "Now. Please."
"I'll page anesthesia."
The epidural was a miracle. Within twenty minutes of placement, the pain dulled to pressure. I could breathe again. Think again.
"Better?" Cesare asked.
"So much better. Why didn't I do this hours ago?"
"Because you're stubborn."
"I prefer 'determined.'"
"That too."
He texted Piero:She's in labor. Could be hours still. I'll update you.
The response came immediately:We're coming. Waiting room.
"They're here," Cesare said within a half hour. "Piero, your father, Anna. All in the waiting room."
"Tell them it might be a while."
"I did. They don't care."
The morning stretched into afternoon. Dr. Lin checked every hour.
