“One more push,” the midwife orders.
The man at her side lifts his head and narrows his eyes on me. “Who the fuck are you?”
The midwife steps aside and I get full view of a head crowning.
From a woman who isn’t my wife.
Fuck!
“That’s not my wife,” I mutter, taking a step back, a little queasy.
A nurse quickly ushers me out of the room. And when the door slams shut in my face, I begin to feel faint.
Max gulps. “Um, Mal, this lady says Harlow’s room is down the next hall.”
I slowly turn to him and clench my hands into fists. “Dead. I swear, after my baby is born, I’m going to kill you, Max. Kill you!”
He flinches. “It was an honest mistake. It sounded like Harlow.”
“Kill you,” I snap, shoving past him.
The nurse clears her throat. “Down that way. Third door on the right. Her name will be on the board outside the room,” she explains.
I jog down the hall, my heart racing as I come to the door the nurse pointed to. Her scream bounces off the walls, and even without her name on the board, I know that scream. It’s Harlow.
I push open the door, and immediately, her head snaps up. “Get your arse here, right now,” she demands.
I jog to her side, quickly giving Joan a chin lift. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Harlow, your baby is in distress. We need you to give us one big push.”
“What’s wrong with our baby?” I demand, clutching Harlow’s hand.
“I can’t do this,” she cries, and I swear I hear my fingers crack as she pushes through another contraction.
“You can,” I encourage.
Her eyes snap to me, and her glare is so lethal, I shiver. “Don’t you dare speak to me. Not right now.”
I lean down, pressing my lips to her forehead. “Be mad at me later,” I drawl quietly, before turning to the midwife. “What’s going on?”
The midwife shares a look with the other before answering. “Your baby’s cord has gotten knotted around the neck. So, on the next push, you’ll feel more pressure on your vagina, but I want you to keep pushing through it. Can you do that?”
Harlow’s gaze locks on mine, and I push forward, squeezing her hand. “You’ve got this. Everything is going to be okay.”
Sweat drips down her face. “I can’t do this. It hurts. It hurts so much. And you weren’t here.”
“I’m really sorry, babe, but you can yell at me later. Right now, I need you to push. Can you do that?”
All of a sudden, we hear the Rocky theme tune and turn to the door where the sound is coming from, to see a hand holding a phone through the gap.
“Max, fuck off,” I growl.
“But look at everything you did to get here. It seems fitting,” he whines through the gap in the door. “The kid will be born a legend to this song. I played it during the triplets’ birth.”
“I am going to kill you, Max Carter,” Harlow screams.
“I’ve been getting that a lot today,” he mutters, as Harlow’s hand clenches around mine.
“Now, Harlow; we need you to push now, and we need you to use all your strength,” the midwife demands, as her and two other women stand at the end of the bed.
Harlow sits up, bearing down as she pushes, chin to her chest. I press my forehead against the side of hers, squeezing her hand to give her some extra strength. “Come on, baby, you’ve got this,” I encourage, my throat tightening.
“Just a little more,” the midwife yells.
Harlow’s scream pierces the air moments before she collapses back in exhaustion.
The nurses rush to aid the midwife settled between her legs, and I watch as my son is taken from her and rushed over to the basinet on the far side of the room, where a bunch of people start checking him over.
I can’t tear my eyes away, a lump forming in my throat.
It all happened too quickly, and now, now… I clench my eyes shut. I should have been here.
“Why isn’t he crying?” Harlow pleads. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
It’s my turn to clench my hand around hers.
My lips part, but no words form. I have no words. I don’t know how to make this better.
I stagger back, my gaze locked on to them working on our baby. Our tiny, tiny baby.
“Malik, do something,” she pleads. I glance down at my wife, and I know, without one single doubt, that I can’t give her what she wants.
The midwives and nurses are the only people who can help with this. If I could, I would.
I’ve felt powerless in my life; with my dad, when Harlow was hurt, and when the twins were born. But I never once felt it like this.
“Malik,” she cries.
“Harlow, I—” A tear slips down my cheek as I watch the midwife rub my son’s back, and as my baby’s head flops side to side, I plead to whoever is listening. “Please, please let him be okay. Please.”
“I want my baby,” Harlow cries.
“Let the midwife do her job,” the second midwife gently soothes.
“Sweetie,” Joan mutters, her voice breaking.
“Gran, what’s going on? What’s happening?” Harlow cries, her entire chest shaking with sobs. “Why isn’t he crying?”
And like he heard her plea, our son begins to wail, and I watch his skin slowly turns pink, his tiny legs kicking back and forth.
“Fucking hell,” I rasp.
“Fuck!” Max breathed, and I glance up to see him standing next to Joan. I never even heard him enter the room.
The only reason I don’t kick him out is because his gaze isn’t on my wife, it’s on our son.
“You are going to need stitches, Harlow, so we’ll get them set up soon for you,” the midwife announces.
My breath stalls in my chest as a woman strolls over, our son bundled in her arms. “Here you go, Mum, Dad; meet your son,” she declares softly, slowly placing him into Harlow’s arms.
Harlow sucks in a breath as she gently moves the towel away from his face so she can see him clearly. “He’s so beautiful.”
I press a kiss to her forehead as the same overwhelming love I got when the twins were born, hits me in the gut. “He’s okay,” I rasp, fighting to stay standing.
She tilts her head up. “We did it. We have another baby boy.”
I press my lips to hers, our tears mixing together. “Yeah, babe, you really did.”
Max rubs the back of his neck. “Do you know what you are going to call him?” Max asks, before clearing his throat. “Because I still say Max is a strong name. Just saying.”
Harlow glances up to me, her lips twitching. “We have a name. Gran, Max, we would like you to meet Trent Carter.”
“Beautiful name for a beautiful boy,” Joan murmurs, as she strokes her granddaughter’s head.
I stare down at my son, feeling my chest tighten. We could have lost him tonight, but we didn’t, and I have to believe there is someone looking down on us.
We did it. Again.
All my life I dwelled on my past. I let it control me. Suffocate me. Until Harlow walked into my life.
She gave me a new path to go down. She brought happiness and laughter into my life. She gave me love.