Do pregnant women make a habit of going around pissing themselves and lying about it so they can have their babies? If so, that’s some savage shit. My wife wouldn’t do that…would she?
“You’re sure you didn’t have a little accident?” I ask, nervous we’re about to be sent home.
“For heaven’s sake, Liam.”
I shrug, trying to play it off like a joke. “Just messin’ with ya, honey.”
It takes nearly an hour for Dr. Bing’s nurse to come back and confirm that indeed Nya’s water has broken, and we are having a baby today.
“Never doubted you for a minute.” I pat the top of my wife’s hand while she rolls her eyes. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Despite the fact that we preadmitted weeks ago, there’s still a bunch of paperwork before Nya finally gets hooked up to monitors and I’m able to track the strength of her contractions. To look at her, you could barely tell anything’s going on at all. It’s a comfort to me to be able to see what’s happening in there.
Nya is not impressed by my play by play commentary on the strength of her contractions, so I sit down and shut up, watching reruns of America’s Next Top Model while my wife dozes fitfully.
“Four centimeters. I’m going to order your epidural.” Janet lowers the sheet to cover my wife and takes off.
I don’t know what that nurse did while she was down there, but she must’ve kick-started something. By the time the anesthesiologist arrives, my wife is in some major pain. Watching her grip those bed rails as she grunts through the contractions, with sweat beading on her forehead, is pure agony, for both of us. As a man, her husband, I have this natural urge to want to protect her, to make this better, and there is literally nothing I can do but stand here and watch while she nearly breaks every bone in my hand with her vice grip. At first, I did my best to distract her, but everything I say only seems to annoy her.
“Would you like to step out while we administer the epidural?”
When I see the size of the needle she’s about to shove into my wife’s spine, the word yes is on the tip of my tongue. I take one glimpse at Nya’s outraged face and swiftly decline the invitation.
“All right, Daddy, you can sit in that chair against the wall over there,” she says as she preps the site.
Janet moves to stand between my wife’s legs. “Nya, I want you to wrap your arms around my neck and bend forward. Arch your back out like a cat. That’s it…”
The woman’s voice fades away, and ice filters through my veins, chilling me to my core. I shut my eyes, praying the room will stop spinning. There’s a ringing sound in my ears that just won’t quit. The smell of latex and alcohol assaults my nostrils. If I pass out, I’ll never live this shit down. I look up to see how my wife’s doing just in time to get another look at that needle. Just as I feel the chair start to fall out from under me, there’s a gush of warm fluid. It soaks my shoes and the bottom of my jeans, splattering all over the floor.
“It’s okay.” Janet tries to ease my wife’s mortification at bathing us in her amniotic fluid with a soothing tone. “Just relax, honey. It’s normal for it to gush out with the contractions.”
There’s one way to snap me out of it. But I don’t dare show how disgusted I am, because my poor wife is beside herself.
“All done.” The anesthesiologist slaps some tape across her back to hold the tube in place and almost instantly her pain seems to vanish.
“I’m so sorry!” Nya’s hands cover her bright red face.
The ladies help my wife to lie down on the bed, being she no longer has control of her body from the waist down, all the while assuring her this is completely normal, and she has nothing to be ashamed of. Apparently, they keep extra scrubs on hand for this very reason. You’d think if they knew this shit was likely to happen they’d have put my ass somewhere out of the line of fire.
The once-warm water now feels ice cold with the frigid temperature of the room. With a laugh, I grab my overnight bag from the closet and head for the bathroom to change.
God sure knew what he was doing when he delegated women for this task. If the continuation of life were dependent upon men giving birth, we’d have been extinct with the cavemen.
Nya
Welcome home
“Oh, wow. That’s a lot of hair.”
I’m going to fucking kill him. How hard is it to shave a pussy? Nausea climbs in my throat, and I glare at him. I have never been so embarrassed. “I’m very sorry, Janet.”
“Sorry for what?” the nurse laughs. “You must’ve had the worst heartburn.”
“Oh, you mean the baby! The baby has a lot of hair.” I can visibly see the relief on my husband’s face as I crack up laughing.
“Seven centimeters…almost eight.” Her head pops up and she eyes me suspiciously. “What did you think I meant?”
“Oh, nothing.” My cheeks flood with warmth
“She thought I didn’t do a good job shaving her snatch this morning.” And… now I’m back to wanting to murder him. Labor and delivery would be a lot less stressful if men still hung out sipping brandy and smoking cigars in the waiting room.
The redhead chokes on a laugh. “Seriously, what is it with you and pubic hair? I promise no one around here is spending a moment worrying over that.”
I nod, too embarrassed to speak.
“Shouldn’t be too long now. I’m gonna start prepping and page the doctor. You try to relax.”
I somehow manage to doze off, and when I awaken there are surgical lights set up at the foot of the bed and a team of nurses fluttering around the room. A few are setting up the baby warmer and others breaking down my bed and positioning my legs in the stirrups.
My throat goes dry, and my pulse races. This is it. We’re really about to have a baby.
“She’s complete,” Janet announces. “Let’s see if we can get this baby to crown.”
Liam holds one of my legs back, and some nurse who I’ve never met grabs the other. On Janet’s command, I bear down with each contraction—chin to my chest—pushing with all I have.
By the time the doctor comes in to catch the baby, I swear that I don’t have the energy to go on another minute.
“I can’t,” I cry, throwing my head back against the pillow. “I can’t do it.”
“You’re doing so well, Nya,” Janet croons, holding an oxygen mask to my face. “That’s it. Take a few deep breaths.”
“He’s almost out.” Liam smooths my sweaty hair back and kisses my forehead. “Next contraction,” he says, cupping his hand behind my neck.
“Now,” Dr. Bing announces, and Janet starts counting back from ten.
With Liam’s help, I lift my head, pushing so hard I feel blood vessels bursting around my eyes. I push until I nearly pass out from lack of oxygen, and then I push some more, ending with a loud roar as I collapse.
“Head is out,” Dr. Bing announces.
An electric current zings across my skin.
“On three, I need one more tiny push, Nya.”
I nod, a renewed energy pumping through my veins as I hear the gurgling of our baby being suctioned while he counts off.