I was sitting on my couch, my fingers digging into the armrest beside me even as I tried to appear relaxed, staring at the TV show I was not following.
“Libby?” Louisa asked in a careful voice.
“Yeah?”
“You’re having to breathe through the contractions. I don’t think they’re Braxton Hicks.”
“Yes, they are.” There was a bite in my voice. The kind born of terror and the need to deny reality.
“I’ve been timing them—”
“You what?” I finally broke my gaze from the TV and looked at her.
She held up her phone. “They have an app for tracking contractions.”
I blinked, surprised that my not-so-tech-savvy mother-in-law would respond to an inquiry with “There’s an app for that.”
“They’ve been coming pretty steadily for more than an hour, Libby.”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t mean I’m actually in labor.”
“Okay. Why don’t you go take a shower, let yourself relax. If it’s not the real deal, they’ll probably stop. If they continue, then we’ll need to think seriously about going to the hospital, all right?”
I nodded immediately. She had a plan. I liked plans. Especially ones that might stop my contractions so that I didn’t go into labor at the exact wrong moment. Because this was the exact wrong moment.
I headed upstairs, having to pause once to cling to the railing and breathe through the pressure being exerted on my abdomen.
I stayed under the spray of water for a long time, willing my body to relax.
Stupid, disobedient body.
They were stronger when I got out than when I’d gotten in. I got dressed and blow-dried my hair while sitting on the edge of the bathtub. I turned off the hairdryer and breathed for a minute with my hand braced against the wall before I could get up.
When I stepped out of my room, I hollered downstairs, “Louisa?”
“Yes?”
“I think—” I couldn’t even say it out loud.
“I’ve got your bag down here already,” she said with maternal calm.
Returning to the living room, I sat down as Louisa called Nick, and I grabbed for my phone, my thumb hovering over Sean’s name, wanting desperately to call him. I stopped myself. He was literally in the middle of his concert. He wouldn’t have his phone on him, and even if he did, I couldn’t interrupt him. Labor took a long time. Especially for a first kid. He just had a couple more hours of his concert, then he’d have to hop the first available flight back. He was playing in Chicago, so it wouldn’t be that long of a flight. I wouldn’t have to do this without him. There was no need to completely freak out yet.
Louisa hung up and then sat on the coffee table in front of me, taking my hands in hers. “It’s time to go to the hospital.”
I just breathed carefully, trying to keep my tears at bay and failing.
“I know it’s scary.”
I nodded.
“And this isn’t how you planned it.”
More tears spilled as I nodded again.
“But you can do this. I’ve got you. Okay?”
I closed my eyes, ignoring my soaked cheeks. “Jonas should be here,” I whispered.
Her hands convulsed around mine. “I know, honey. I know. But”—her eyes shimmered with tears—“you’re going to have a baby soon.”
Nick came through the front door, trying to look professional, but there was a desperate hurry in his step that told me labor and delivery were not part of his job description and he felt like he was in way over his head.
It was oddly comforting to see him unsure and afraid. It validated my own freak-out.
He didn’t say anything, just stood there looking nervous.
Louisa took control. “Up you go,” she said as she pulled me to my feet.
As I got into the car, I hoped that my contractions would magically stop and it would prove to be a false alarm, but by the time we reached the hospital, they were bad enough that I was relieved to be in close proximity to medical professionals who knew what they were doing.
The maternity ward was its own separate building. Louisa had called ahead to let them know we were coming, and they had to buzz us in once we reached the door. I wasn’t sure what the staff thought of Nick staying in the waiting room while Louisa went back with me, but I guessed they were used to having plenty of random family members come in. They probably assumed he was my brother or something.
We got settled in a room and the nurse determined that I was most definitely in labor and that things were “progressing nicely.” I managed to bite my tongue and not argue with her definition of “nice” as another contraction started at my lower abdomen, worked its way up my belly and then clamped down when it reached the top. I would probably have been impressed with the mechanics of child birth if I hadn’t been so consumed with all my worries.
Louisa rubbed my back and got me juice and reminded me to “think of the contractions as pressure instead of pain.” That helped some, and as I concentrated really hard on breathing and relaxing, I was able to get through the next two and a half hours.
Then my phone rang. Louisa picked it up to look at the screen. “It’s Sean,” she announced, the relief evident in her voice.
A great wave of relief rose up, along with a flurry of other emotions that I didn’t bother identifying. “Put it on speaker,” I said, not trusting myself to hold a phone.
She did as I asked.
“Sean?” I nearly cried.
“What’s wrong, Libs? Nick left me a message to call you as soon as I got offstage.” He sounded appropriately panicked.
“I’m gonna have a baby.”
There were three seconds of silence and then, “Now? You’re in labor now?”
“Yes. I’m at the hospital and—” I stopped talking so I could breathe through my contraction.
“She’s doing great, Sean,” Louisa jumped in. “We’re all settled here at the hospital. The nurses say everything is fine.”
Sean was suddenly yelling out instructions to the people around him, rearranging so that he could get out of there as soon as possible, then he was back to talking to me. “Are you okay, Libby? Are you sure? Has the doctor seen you? Do you have everything you need?” He shot the questions at me one after the other.
“Sean, please don’t freak me out more than I am!” I yelled, overwhelmed by all his questions and the panic in his voice. It was not comforting.
He swore. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, Sean,” Louisa interrupted. “Why don’t you hang up and call us back when you’re on your way and don’t have so many people around?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Good idea. I’m so sorry I’m not there, Libs. I never should have come.”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re coming. You are coming, right?” I demanded.
“Right now. I’m leaving right now.”
“Good,” was all I had the energy to say.
“All right,” Louisa jumped in again. “Call us back when you’re a little calmer. Okay, Sean?”
“Of course. I love you, Libby. You’re amazing.”