“You can. Of
course, you can. You’re near the end now. In transition, I think. Liz is
getting someone to check.”
Erin was
panting and barely aware of his words as the next contraction came on the heels
of the previous one. She was crying again after that one ended.
She had thought
she was doing so well. Using her knowledge and education. Making informed
decisions. Staying calm—for the most part. And managing the extended hours of
pain without breaking down.
But she had
been crazy. No one could really manage this.
And now it was
too late for medication.
Seth’s voice
was right next to her ear. Saying things like, “You’re doing fine, baby. Just
make it through this next contraction.”
It helped for a
few seconds.
Transition was
horrible, but not very long. Fortunately, it blurred into nothing but an
anguished haze.
The next thing Erin
recognized distinctly was feeling a sudden, desperate need to push and Dr. Warren
looking up from examining her to say, “Ten centimeters, Erin. That means you
get to push your baby out now.”
Erin almost
sobbed with relief.
She’d been
waiting for this part for nine months.
***
Nothing Erin could remember felt
as good as being able to push.
She started in
a semi-reclining position, and when she felt the next irresistible urge to
push, she was actually allowed to do so. It was a blessing, a shattering
relief, to be able to
do
something after hours of suffering, to be able
to bear down into the pain.
Her three
pushes with the first contraction were uneven and kind of shaky, since she was
still experimenting and adjusting to the new dynamic.
“Good,” Dr.
Warren murmured, from where she was positioned between Erin’s legs. “But don’t
try to be discreet. Push into the pressure. Push down, through your pelvis. Don’t
be self-conscious. Just push everything out.”
Despite her
earlier worries, Erin wasn’t remotely self-conscious anymore. She’d do anything
to get this baby out, and she didn’t care what else came out of her in the
process.
“Are you
comfortable,” the doctor asked. “Do you want to change positions?”
The
contractions had spaced out longer now, so Erin actually had a little time to
relax. She was too exhausted to try a more demanding position than this, though,
even if it would mean delivering her daughter faster. She shook her head. “I’m
okay.”
She did try to
lift her back up more, not liking how she was slumping against the incline of
the bed.
The nurse must
have noticed her efforts because the woman said, looking at Seth, “Maybe you
could get in behind her. That sometimes gives women more support.”
Erin was about
to object, not wanting Seth to be forced to participate more than he wanted to,
but Seth—without even speaking—eased Erin’s back up and climbed into the bed
behind her. He must have done his research in this too, because he positioned
himself easily, adjusting so that he could support her back and shoulders.
“All right?” he
asked softly, his voice now right in her ear.
“Yeah.” She shifted
slightly, suddenly feeling too close, too intimate, too dependent. But then she
felt another contraction developing, and she knew she could really use his
support. “Thanks.”
Erin never
would have believed that this was Seth. He'd always been so distant and cool. So
dignified and aloof.
And yet he was
here. Doing this.
Erin summoned
her strength and bore down, as hard as she could. Released it. Breathed. Then
pushed again. Breathed. Pushed again before the contraction faded.
“Beautiful,”
Dr. Warren murmured. “Those are excellent pushes. We’re going to make some good
progress.”
For a blurry
span of time, there was nothing but pushing and breathing and resting in
between in absolute exhaustion. The pattern repeated. Again and again. She
occasionally shifted positions—onto her side and then back to a semi-sitting
position. Pushing and breathing and resting. Pushing and breathing and resting.
Sometimes so
tired in the lulls she might have slept.
Seth was
bracing her knees, keeping her legs out of the way, and his body was supporting
her back. He wasn’t speaking either, but his palms were slightly damp on her
bare skin.
When Erin
relaxed after an exhausting set of pushes, Dr. Warren smiled up at her. “You’re
doing great. Those are beautiful pushes. I can catch a glimpse of her head now.
It won't be long until it crowns.”
“Really?” Erin
mumbled, stupidly trying to lean over and see for herself.
Seth stopped
her. Then nodded toward the mirror that the nurse had just positioned for Erin.
He hadn’t said a word in what seemed like ages.
Erin peered in
the mirror. Couldn’t see anything. But, with the next contraction and set of
pushes, she saw a glimpse in the mirror of a little scalp. But it disappeared
as soon as she stopped pushing.
“She’s bloody,”
Erin gurgled.
“She’s
perfect,” Dr. Warren assured her. “A few more pushes and you'll be able to see
more of her head.”
Erin breathed,
feeling so much pressure between her legs that she thought her eyes would pop
out. And then, with the next contraction, she began to push again, staring at
the mirror for another glimpse of the little head.
She started to
feel a stinging, stretching pain that was entirely different than what she’d
been experiencing during all of the previous hours. It intensified as the
baby’s head became more visible, and Erin stopped pushing automatically so the
pain wouldn’t get any worse.
This time, the
top of the little head didn’t disappear when the contraction faded.
Erin stared at
it, mesmerized.
It was almost
over. Almost finished.
She felt
another contraction coming.
Dr. Warren
said, “Don’t push with this one. We don’t want to force her head through.”
Erin whimpered.
Now that she was so close, now that she could see the end, she just wanted to
give one last push and have the whole thing over.
She felt Seth
get a better grip on her.
She’d never
seen him so quiet, not since he was sixteen years old and walking the aisles of
the library.
Wondered what
he could possibly be thinking.
Didn’t have
time or energy to wonder anymore. Because the next contraction rose up, and she
tried to channel all of her need to push into blowing air out of her lungs
instead.
She could feel
her flesh giving way, stretching even more. It hurt. But it was such a
different kind of pain. Sharp. Superficial. Familiar. It stung so much there
were tears in her eyes, but it was almost a relief after the deep intensity of
the contractions.
Things had
slowed down significantly, now that Erin wasn’t pushing, but she forced herself
to rest during the break. Stared at more of the little head in the mirror.
Then blew out
in little pants with the next contraction—the sharp pain numbing as the
pressure increased. Saw even more of the head appear.
Eventually,
enough of it emerged for the doctor to suction the baby’s nose and mouth.
When her daughter’s
head turned enough for her see the whole face in the mirror, Erin started to shake.
“One more
contraction and we’ll have the shoulders,” Dr. Warren said quietly. “You can
push again, but do it gently.”
Seth was a
silent, unknowable presence behind her, but he was solid and so strong. He was
holding onto her, breathing against her hair. But she only registered his
existence intuitively, unconsciously.
Her entire
focus was on only one thing.
She was trembling
helplessly, soaked with sweat, choking on emotion, and now struggling to
breathe. Every part of her body hurt in ways she’d never imagined. The room was
a vague blur around her, and she couldn’t even remember who was there with her.
It didn’t
matter. None of it mattered.
On the last
push, she reached unsteady arms out instinctively.
A lot of things
were happening at once, but Erin didn’t register any of them.
Someone
faceless—who must have been the doctor—pulled her daughter out the rest of the
way.
The baby was
smeared and wrinkled and puckered and slimy. And, after a moment, she gave a
shrill, angry cry.
The nurses and
doctor were working, doing things that Erin found impossible to follow.
And then
someone else—Seth, it was Seth—started moving. Pulled himself out from behind
her, leaving the back half of her body cold and weak. He stood up smoothly. Didn’t
say a word. Disappeared from Erin’s range of vision. Maybe he even left the
room.
Erin didn’t
know why. Couldn’t even wonder.
Because her
little pumpkin was laid on her bare belly, and the blue-red face was contorted
into the most horrendous scowl Erin had ever seen.
So nothing else
existed in the world.
Erin was
sobbing hysterically. Had no idea when she had started.
She felt like a
fool. An exhausted, awed, ecstatic, stupid, sappy fool.
She didn’t
care.
Over some
things even irony was powerless.
Erin held her daughter
at last.
***
The next half-hour passed in a
haze. Erin hardly noticed it go by at all.
Her dad, who’d
been waiting outside the room during the delivery, had left to get Erin some
real food—since nothing they’d brought with them seemed substantial enough to
satisfy her. She’d been in labor for less than eighteen hours, but it felt like
she hadn’t eaten in a week.
Liz had stuck
around—on some kind of giddy, talkative high—and pretty soon a nurse came in to
work with Erin on how to nurse the baby.
Her daughter was
tiny and squirmy and perfect, and she didn’t look nearly as blue-red now as she
had at first. She had fair hair that lay like down against her scalp and bluish
eyes that squinted up at Erin.
But she didn’t
seem to be very hungry.
The nurse was
encouraging and helpful, and eventually the baby deigned to suck a little. She
let go a few seconds later. Licked again. Then latched on and started to suck
once more.
Erin’s eyes
almost popped out of her head. She had to bite back her words to keep from
corrupting innocent infant ears with an inappropriate expletive.
Erin had
expected a soft little pressure from such a tiny mouth, but this baby could
really clamp down.
The nurse
showed her how to adjust the position and—after sucking and releasing, and
sucking and releasing—the pressure on Erin’s breast started to feel better.
Erin tried to
pay attention, but mostly she just gazed besottedly at her baby. Silently
scoffed at all the other parents in the world who naively believed their babies
were something to brag about. They were all woefully mistaken.
Obviously, Erin
had gotten the best one.
Her daughter
didn’t want to nurse very much, but this was evidently normal. So Erin did her
best and mostly just enjoyed the cuddling.
Tried to simply
relax and be happy.
Seth had
disappeared.
Liz told her
he’d walked out of the room just as the baby was delivered.
And he hadn’t
come back since.
Whenever Erin
thought about it, she got a heavy, clenching pain in her chest. So she pushed
it to the back of her mind and didn’t let herself worry about it.
It didn’t
necessary mean anything.
The man Seth had
become was the most guarded, controlled person she’d ever known, and this had
been an emotional, vulnerable moment that could have stripped away all
defenses.
He’d told her,
after all, that his inclination was always to walk away when he felt too
vulnerable.
If he needed
some time and space to find himself again—to recover—that was fine. People
dealt differently with overloads of feeling, and Seth’s nature didn’t lend
itself to naked, sentimental expressions of tender emotion—at least, not when
the feelings ran deep.
He might never
openly admit that he loved his daughter, but that didn’t mean he didn’t.
Still. Erin
hoped he’d come back soon.
She really
wanted Seth to meet their baby and to see how perfect she was.
Liz had started
grumbling earlier about Seth’s abrupt departure, but Erin had silenced her
immediately. She just couldn’t handle hearing that now.
She was drained
and exhausted, but no longer sleepy. She had too much adrenalin rushing through
her for that. All she wanted to do was eat something and hold her baby.
Not to think. Or
talk. Or worry.
Just to
be
for a little while.
A few minutes
after the nurse left, Seth walked quietly into the room.
Erin had been
cooing in a silly way, but she fell silent when he entered.
She felt her
heart swell with an unexpected tenderness when she took in his worn, sweaty
shirt and trousers—a far cry from his polished appearance early that day. He’d
worked really hard to help her. Not as hard as she had, but still his efforts
hadn’t been insignificant. Especially given how foreign it must have been to
him.
His face was
composed, but she could see fatigue in the lines around his mouth and in the
heaviness of his eyelids. Her throat ached as she felt an instinctive pull
toward him.
This was Seth. The
father of her baby.
She was so, so
glad he’d come back.
Erin smiled up
into his drawn, handsome face. “Look at her. Isn't she amazing?”
He gave a tight
little smile. “She is.”
It wasn’t a
very affectionate answer, but Erin wasn’t surprised. The standard clichés
didn’t really work for them.
It wasn’t like
they were a cozy, little family or would kiss and ride off into the sunset
together. The connection they shared was real, but it was neither definable nor
easy. They weren’t really friends. Weren’t in love.