“Probably.”
“So youarein labor?”
I nod.
“Don’t you think you should go to the hospital?”
“Not yet.”
“Well then maybe you should go upstairs and lie down?”
“If it’s really time then that means I’m officially on maternity leave as of today. I just want to wrap up a few more things first.”
She rolls her eyes at my stubbornness.
“We’ll manage without you. You know I’ve got it all under control.”
“All but Dante,” I say with a raised eyebrow and a wry smile.
“Well, if youweren’there, I would have handled it,” she says defensively, and I chuckle.
“Uh-huh.”
Jill huffs an annoyed breath then leaves me alone. I pull out my phone and debate whether or not to call Noah. I know he deserves to be there with me when our little bean makes its way out into the world. I would never take that experience away from him. But I’m still hurt, and my pride is getting in the way. I don’twantto call him. Not yet.
I scroll through the string of text messages he’s left me since that fateful day two months ago. It’s hard to believe it’s been that long. We were only really together for a short while, but the time without him has felt endless.Wrong.
After I’ve re-read through all his begging and pleading I scroll further back, to happier times. Our discussions about baby names, that silly emoji convo, and his sweet comments about me. In a way our messages tell the story of our love, I realize. Starting from the beginning I can see us growing closer together, becoming more comfortable with each other. You can read between the lines and sense the growing feelings there.
I suffer through three more contractions before I feel the suddenly urgent need to pee. Hurrying to the bathroom I discover a pinkish discharge in my underwear and I think it might be my mucous plug. Gross. But also,uh oh.
Shit’s happening.
I make my way back to my office and time the next two contractions.
Six minutes apart.
It’s time to face reality, so I call my doctor.
“Hello, Doctor Lee’s office. Nell speaking, how may I help you?”
“It’s Lucy Sage. I think I’m in labour.”
“Hi Lucy, can I ask if you’re having contractions?”
“Yes, definitely. All morning.”
“Okay, and do you know how far apart they are?”
“About 6 minutes.”
I hear the sound of papers rustling and the scratch of a pen as she makes notes.
“I think it’s time for you to head over to the hospital. Do you have someone that can take you?”
“Yes, but … it’s too soon, isn’t it?”
More rustling.
