Eight centimeters at 10 a.m.
Nine centimeters at noon.
"Almost there," Dr. Lin said. "Another hour or so and you'll be ready to push."
An hour felt like forever.
By 2 p.m. I was fully dilated.
"Time to have a baby," Dr. Lin announced, getting into position. "Paola, when the next contraction comes, I want you to push. Chin to chest, hold for ten seconds."
The contraction built. I pushed.
Nothing happened.
"Good! I can see a little bit of her head. Keep going."
I pushed through the next contraction. And the next. And the next.
Forty-five minutes of pushing. Exhaustion creeping back despite the epidural.
"I can't," I gasped. "I can't do this anymore."
"Yes, you can," Cesare said firmly. "You're so close. I can see her, Paola. I can see our daughter."
"I'm too tired—"
"One more push. Just one more."
"You've been saying that for twenty minutes."
"This time I mean it. Her head is right there. One big push and her head will be out."
Dr. Lin confirmed, "He's right. One more big one, Paola. Give me everything you've got."
The next contraction built. I gathered every ounce of strength left.
And pushed.
The pressure was incredible. The burning—the "ring of fire" everyone talks about—was real and overwhelming.
"Yes! The head is out!" Dr. Lin's voice filled with excitement. "Don't push! Pant! I need to check for the cord."
I panted, trying desperately not to push whilst my body screamed at me to keep going.
"Cord is clear," Dr. Lin said quickly. "One more push for the shoulders and she's here. One more, Paola."
Cesare leaned close. "One more. One more and we meet her. You can do this."
The final contraction built.
I pushed with everything left in me.
"That's it! Shoulders are out—here she comes!"
And then—
A cry.
