“B-b-but Dean’s not here,” she wailed. “I want Dean. I want Mom. I can’t do this,” she said frantically, trying to get out of the bed. She barely made it to sitting before another contraction came. “Ahhhhhh—I have to poop,” she announced to the room, clutching her belly like she could squeeze out the pain.
A nurse ran up, palms out. “Nonononono—No pooping!”
“But the book said pooping is normal,” Ivy whined.
“Honey,” the nurse said gently as a fleet of women began stripping off blankets and breaking down the bed, “you don’t have to poop. You have to push.”
“No, I’m sure I have to poop,” she insisted. “I haven’t pooped in at least three days!”
“Ivy”—the nurse’s face hardened with authority—“if you try to poop, you’re going to have a baby. You don’t want me to deliver it, do you?”
Her chin wobbled. “N-no, thank you.”
“I didn’t think so,” she said, returning to her task.
“Just hold on for a few minutes, Ivy,” I said.
Her shoulders shook with sobs she tried desperately to keep in. “T-this wasn’t supposed to be how it went,” she said. “Dean’s not here, I have no drugs, I—” Ivy sucked in a breath and curled in on herself. When the contraction passed, she flopped back in bed, panting and sobbing.
“Ivy,” I said in that commanding voice again, “I am going to get you through this. Okay? Do you trust me to get you through this?”
She blinked tears from her eyes, nodding. “More than anyone. You do everything you ever say you’re going to do. Could you tell me you’re having my baby for me?”
“I wish I could,” I lied, “but I’ll be here the whole time. I will make sure every nurse does her job, that the doctor is here, that every single detail goes off without a hitch. All you have to do—the only thing you have to do—is lie right here and do what the nurses tell you. Can you do that?”
Hope lit in her eyes. “I think so.”
“That’s right. You can.” I turned to the nurse. “I need two more pillows, cool washcloths, and”—I picked up the pitcher on the rolling table, shaking it to find it empty—“ice chips. Where is the crib?”
The nurse managed to look both annoyed and afraid. “It’s on its way.” She scooped up the pitcher. “Be right back,” she said sweetly to my sister but shot me a look on her way past.
I ignored her, instead helping Ivy sit so I could rearrange the sawdust pillows at her back. Then holding her hand, wiping the sweat from her brow, soothing her when she came unraveled, which was about every third contraction. Texting Dean updates, overseeing the nurses, feeding Ivy ice chips.
The doctor ran in—literally ran, snapping gloves on as she entered—rolling up on a stool to acquaint herself with the state of my sister’s vagina. Minutes later, Ivy’s thigh was in the crook of my elbow as she bore down, teeth bared and face crimson. When the doctor announced the crown of the baby’s head, I made the mistake of glancing down to find her vagina made unrecognizable—first by that poor, elastic orifice’s size and shape, then by a mushed-up purple face covered in muck—and with a scream, a rush of fluids, and a strangled cry, the space in my heart grew to accommodate another person.
Ivy sagged, crying and peering through the gap between her knees as the doctor held up her baby, wailing and wrinkled and shining with gore and absolutely, life-changingly perfect. Tears welled in my eyes, emotion jamming my throat as I leaned into my sister, kissing her damp forehead.
“You did it,” I whispered. “She’s perfect.”
Nurses flocked, huddling around the baby for a cursory cleanup.
“Do you want to cut the cord?” the doctor asked.
It took me a moment to realize she was talking to me.
“I … yes,” I answered, the weight of the honor overriding my overall disgust at cutting an organ still attached to my sister.
I approached the table, taking the scissors as they held the wiggling purple baby, her mouth open and screaming and a shocking shade of red against ashy skin. The doctor held the cord between pinched fingers, which was already clamped at the baby’s belly button, indicating where I should cut. So I did, cringing, trying not to think about the gamey texture or strength at which I had to saw at it to disconnect the baby.
Frankly, it was one of the most disturbing and meaningful moments of my life.
From there, everything happened in a blur. The baby was placed in my sister’s arms, and the elation in the room as she met her child left me shaken. Too soon, they took her again, moving her across the room to a station to bathe her and weigh her and run tests.
“Go with her,” Ivy commanded, and all I could do was obey.
I pulled up to the counter, too struck to speak, which the nurses seemed grateful for. They were a finely tuned machine, moving around the baby as they slapped her foot, pricked her heel, and called out numbers. Took her hand and footprints, washed her with gentle care. Put her in the tiniest diaper I’d ever seen, then the tiniest long-sleeved shirt I’d ever seen. It had little pockets on the end that flipped over to cover her hands, so she wouldn’t scratch herself, the nurse told me when I’d asked. Tiny socks, tiny hat, and then she was wrapped up like a burrito in an ugly, scratchy blanket and carted back to my sister.
The doctor and a nurse had something red and slick in a metal bowl. Curious, I leaned in, trying to figure out what it was.
“Want to see the placenta?” the doctor asked when she noticed me lurking.
I spun away from her like a tornado. “Nope. No, thanks. I’m good.”
Ivy laughed, looking up from the bundle in her arms. “I’m gonna keep it. Put it in the freezer and fry it up with some onions.”
I gagged, swallowing back my lunch. “That has to be a biohazard or a CDC violation or … you cannot take that home, Ivy.”
“I’m kidding,” she said. “I don’t even want to see it, never mind eat it. You’re welcome to it if you want it though.” Laughing again when I shook my head, she looked to the doctor. “Could you make sure that’s gone before my boyfriend gets here? As much as I hate that he wasn’t here, seeing that without the context of the rest of it just feels wrong.” She bounced the baby in her arms. “That’s right. Because Daddy will be here soon. Won’t he, Lila?”
I checked my phone. “He’s in the building,” I promised with a smile, leaning over the baby.
She was beautiful, even all smooshed up. Under her cap, which was pulled down to her eyebrows, her hair was dark and curly. Her lashes were thick, and when her eyes occasionally cracked open, the irises were a deep, strange shade of blue. Her toothless mouth sometimes opened to mewl, but since finding her way back to Ivy, she was mostly quiet, wiggling every once in a while.
Dean burst into the room like there was a fire, his eyes wild and gigantic chest heaving. With a swipe of his hand, his beanie was clutched in his fist, his gaze fixing on Ivy and the baby. His dark eyes filled with tears, and his lips curled in the most reverent of smiles.
A happy sob burst out of Ivy as he floated toward her, and I stepped out of the way, fingertips to smiling lips and tears sliding down my cheeks.