Hitting the Bottom Ch. 11

"Stop, please! You'll hurt yourself. Sit down, please, baby. It's not THAT soon."

I sit down heavily, and she reaches out to take my hand, squeezing my fingers.

"'Soon' can mean anything from a couple of hours to a couple of days, baby. There's no rush. I don't feel any contractions or anything. Best we can do is go to sleep now... they say they don't call it 'labor' for nothing. It's best if I get some rest."

Breathing deep, I will myself to settle down as much as I can under the circumstances. She's going into labor soon. Mutely I nod, and then get up to walk around the room and blow out all the candles before getting back to bed and flipping the main lights off.

I gather my hugely pregnant wife in my arms - and pull her gently to me until her head rests on my shoulder, and her two-sizes-larger breasts press sweetly to my side.

"All right, baby. Rest it is then. Let me know when it's the right time to panic, okay?"

Her soft chuckle tickles my neck. "Yes, sir. Will do."

*

*

*

I wake up a little after midnight to the sound of water running in the shower. A few minutes after Sandra shows up at the bathroom door, and smiles nervously when she sees me sitting there.

"I think it's time".

It takes all of eight minutes for us to be out the door, and during that time she has two contractions which are strong enough that she needs to concentrate and breathe through them.

The contractions come closer and closer together as we drive to the hospital, until by the time we arrive to the Labor and Delivery ward they are only two minutes apart, and Sandra no longer smiles through them.

Upon admission we are told she is 'officially' in active labor and the nurse asks if she wants any pain relief, but Sandra just shakes her head no, asking instead to get into the shower. And so, as soon as we finish filling all those forms and are assigned our labor and delivery room, she strips naked and walks into the bathroom, and then spends the next hour in there, sitting in the tub with the spray of scalding hot water on her back.

Lin, our midwife, arrives soon after Sandra gets in the shower. The petite, blue-eyed woman is in her fifties, her hair mostly grey and her smile reassuring. She'd takes a quick look at Sandra's results from her check-up upon admission and then, with a satisfied nod, goes over to the shower and gently knocks on the door before peeking her head inside.

"How are you doing in there, Sandra?"

' - I'm doing good here, let me be. I'll call you when I need you' - comes the annoyed-sounding reply, and so we do just that. I get myself a cup of coffee and tea for Lin and settle down to chat - though for the life of me I won't be able to recall any of it later on. And we wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Once in a while we hear low moans coming from the shower. But every time we check on her Sandra chases us away, preferring, so it seems, to labor in solitude.

We wait some more.

Then a loud moan comes from the bathroom, and by the time we get to the door it swings open from the inside and Sandra stands there, haphazardly wrapped in a hospital-issued towel.

"I feel like I need to push" she declares, and the midwife gets her on the bed to check.

"Yes, you're fully dilated, so you can push whenever you feel the need to. Are you comfortable in this position? Or would you like me help you move around to a different one?"

"Squat" Sandra answers between quick exhales. Lin motions for me to come over so that we can support Sandra from both sides as she slowly rises to a sit, gets her legs under her, turns to face the back of the bed, holds on to the railing, and finally sinks into a deep squat.

It's certainly effective - within a few contractions the baby descends fully - but then Sandra can't keep the position; her thigh muscles are shaking, and Lin quietly advises her to lower her knees to the mattress.

Once she does, though, she doesn't need our support - and she turns back to hiss between gritted teeth - "let me be, please, don't touch me right now" - and so I find myself tucked in the corner, watching my wife groan loudly and then scream with every push.

I wish I could do something to help; to ease her pain. I've never felt so useless in my life.

"Oooohhh here it comes, here it comes...!"

Sandra's low moan sounds ethereal and I watch, fascinated, as every muscle in her torso contracts in a coordinated ripple, engulfing her body, and then she throws her head back and roars - she actually roars - while the midwife places her hands at her opening.

"Ohmygod it burns, it burns so much...!"

This one comes out as a miserable whine, and the midwife does something - I can't see from where I'm standing - and speaks to her in a low voice.

"That's right, it burns, I know... don't stop pushing, push-push-push as long as you can... keep pushing... a little more... there you go! Atta girl! The head is out! Good girl, you did so well!"

Sandra blows heavily and I can see that half-smile on her face that I love so much. She tries looking down but can't see the baby's head beyond her still-huge belly. Lin rests a reassuring hand on her tense shoulder.

"You're doing great, Sandra. When the next one comes I want you to push a long one again."

The midwife looks up to catch my eyes and gives me an encouraging, confident smile and I can suddenly breathe easier.

Then the next contraction comes and Sandra growls low and long as she pushes with all of her might. Both she and Lin seem frozen in place, and then suddenly there's a rush of movement as Sandra screams 'Ohmygod-ohmygod-ohmygaawwwddd!' and then the baby is out - he's out! - and the midwife quickly clears his airways and rubs him vigorously with the towel.

I watch the process, transfixed, from my place in the corner, when Sandra's hoarse voice sounds from the bed.

"Why - why isn't he crying?"

My heart stutters as I turn my frantic eyes to Lin, but the midwife calmly picks our baby up, and then spanks on his bottom in a well-practiced move. A second later we hear his strong, healthy cry.

Lin smiles knowingly. "Sometimes it's necessary, for them to figure out how to start their new lives," she says, soothing the baby's stinging buttocks with a soft caress, and then motions for me to come forward.

"Help your wife sit back so that I can hand her the baby."

Sandra half-collapses to her side and then rolls to her back, and I help her scoot up so that she is propped against the tilted backrest, a pillow supporting her head. Lin steps forward and gently places our still-naked, newborn son in his mother's arms, and then draws the sheet up to cover both of them.

"The skin-to-skin touch is very good for both mom and baby" Lin says to the room at large, and Sandra nods absentmindedly, her teary eyes riveted to the tiny, wrinkled face lying against her breast, looking up at her through puffy eyelids.

Lin moves back, and motions for me to take her place. "Go on, Daddy. Say hello to your son."

I step forward and then bend low to take a close look at my son's face. His eyes are closed now and I swear, never in all of mankind's history has there ever been a more perfect baby.

"God, he's beautiful."

"He is, isn't he?" Sandra beams at me, and I lean to kiss her forehead.

"You are too, baby. I'm in awe, seriously."

Her exuberant grin widens even as her chin trembles.

"I love you." She squeaks out, and my own cheeks are wet when I lean for a sweet, tender kiss.

"I love you, too."

In that moment our baby's eyes blink open, and he looks up at us. I laugh out loud.

"You, too, Antonis Theodore Moreno. Mommy and Daddy love you, too."

~ The End ~

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