“As long as it’s what you want to do and you’ll be happy in the job, then yes, I think it’s a great opportunity and one that you should jump on accepting.”
“Okay, I’ll give Daniel a call tomorrow and tell him.”
“Great. Do you think you’ll have to start right away?” she asks.
“I’d assume in the next few weeks. You know as well as I do that the radio guys do more than just call the play-by-play for each game.”
“Sounds perfect,” she says, relaxing back against me a little more.
Chapter Eighteen
Austin
Three weeks later
“That’s it, babe, you’re doing such a great job,” I coach Reese as she breathes through another contraction. Her due date is still another ten days away, but our little one has decided today is the day he or she is going to arrive. We’ll finally know in just a few hours if we’ve got a daughter or son.
“That really fucking hurt,” she says, once the monitor shows the contraction has ended.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Do you want me to call the nurse and tell them you’re ready for some pain meds?” My wife, the rock star she is, has been in labor for over twelve hours already and hasn’t had one drop of pain meds yet.
“I don’t know,” she says, wincing again before she starts to breathe how we were taught in our labor classes.
“Babe, it won’t make you any weaker if you get the drugs. I hate seeing you in pain, please let me call them,” I plead.
“Okay,” she finally says, giving in to the pain. I press the call button faster than I can hit a slap shot into the net, summoning the nurse into the room.
“How’s it going in here?” she says, entering the room and immediately squirting some of the waterless soap they keep by the door, rubbing her hands together as she walks over to the computer and checks the monitors Reese is hooked up to.
“Painful,” Reese tells her between contractions.
“She’s finally ready for the epidural,” I tell the nurse.
“Okay, let me check you, and then I can call the anesthesiologist down to place the epidural. How does that sound?” She slides on a pair of gloves and watches the monitor. Once the contraction ends, she lifts the sheets covering Reese’s legs. “Sorry about the pressure,” she says as she starts her exam. “You’ve made great progress; I don’t think it’s going to be much longer. I’ll page the doctor now to come place that epidural for you. Can I get either of you anything else in the meantime?”
“I think we’re good. I just refilled her ice chips a little bit ago,” I tell her before she turns to leave the room.
I sit by Reese’s hospital bed, holding her hand and offering ice chips every few minutes as she continues to contract. It takes the anesthesiologist about fifteen minutes to get up to our room and everything for the procedure set up.
“Reese, I want you to take a deep breath and hold it in, you’re going to feel pressure. Do your best to sit completely still,” he instructs from behind her. They roll her over to her side to expose her back for the doctor. “Okay, deep breath in now.” He then pierces her skin with the needle. I have to turn my head away and I can feel myself getting queasy at the first sight of a drop of blood.
“You okay there, Austin?” the nurse asks, obviously noticing my reaction.
“I’ll be fine, I just can’t watch.”
“Okay, you just went white as a ghost. I don’t want you passing out, if we can avoid it. If you need to step out of the room while he finishes, you can.”
“No, I’ll stay here,” I tell her, looking at the floor and focusing on my shoes to keep myself from emptying the contents of my stomach on them.
“All done,” the anesthesiologist states. “You can roll back over onto your back if you’d like.”
“How are you feeling?” the nurse asks Reese.
“The best I’ve felt since my water broke at home this morning.”
“Good. That epidural should let you relax and finish dilating. I’ll be back at the top of the hour to check you unless you need anything before then.”
“Thanks,” I tell the nurse as Reese moves around and into a comfortable position.
“I feel like I could take a nap,” Reese says, reaching out to cup my cheek with her hand.
“Then take one. You’ve been working hard for a long time now. Your body needs the rest to get through delivery.”
“You sure?” she says as her eyes drift shut.
“I’m positive, babe.” I lean forward and place a kiss on her forehead. With her sleeping, I move over to the couch along the wall and kick back. I send a text off to our parents, giving them an update on her progress, then shoot off a text to all our friends, letting them know its baby day.
With everyone updated, I set my phone down on the table next to me and take advantage of the quiet room, drifting off into my own nap.
“Austin!” Reese calls out to me, startling me awake about forty-five minutes later. I immediately jump up and close the few feet between us.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, looking her over as best as I can.
“I’ve got to push. I can’t stop it.”
“Okay, let me get the nurse in here.” I push the call button and two nurses rush in. One checks her as the other starts preparing the bed and room for the delivery.
“We need to page Dr. Abbott, she’s close,” our main nurse, Emma, tells the other nurse.
“I’ll do that now.” She brings a hospital cell phone to her ear. “Dr. Abbott, you’re needed in L and D room eight. Mrs. Jones is ready to push,” she says into the phone. “Yes, we’ve got the room and the patient prepped. We’ll see you in a few minutes.” She ends the call and slips the phone back into her pocket. “Dr. Abbott is on her way up. She said she’ll be here in the next five minutes.”
“What if I have the baby before then?” Reese asks, her voice laced with concern.
“Worst case scenario is that one of us will catch the baby,” Emma tells her. “I’ve delivered my share of babies over the years.” She removes the lower section of the bed and pulls out the stirrups. “Now, Reese, when the next contraction starts, I want you to take in as big of a breath as you can. We’re going to help bring your legs up and count to ten for you. I want you to focus on pushing that baby out. You might feel the most pressure in your bottom, almost like a bowel movement. We need to get that baby through the last little bit of the birth canal.”
“Okay,” she says stoically.
“Austin, I need you to hold her left leg and I’ll take her right,” the other nurse says to me. I never did catch her name, not that I’d probably remember it right now.
“All right, Reese, big breath and bear down,” Emma says. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Great job, now relax.” She coaches her through the contraction. We repeat this process another three or four times before Dr. Abbott walks in the room, already dressed in scrubs, thankfully.
“Hello, are you ready to have this baby?” she asks as she pulls on a gown and face protection. Once she’s fully dressed, she takes a seat on the stool at the end of the bed and coaches Reese through one more contraction. “Reese, you’re so close. The next contraction, I’m going to need a push. The head should come out, and then I’ll need to check for the cord being around the baby’s neck. Once that’s been cleared, I’ll tell you to push again, and we’ll get this baby out and onto your chest. How does that sound?”
“Okay,” Reese’s shaky voice croaks out.
“You’re a rock star,” I say as I place a kiss against her temple. “I love you.”
We wait for the doctor’s instruction. It’s only a matter of a few seconds, but time almost feels like it stops. Our world is about to change forever. I feel like I’m floating and looking down on this amazing life I’ve somehow stumbled upon when Reese came dancing and singing her way into my life and heart.
“Push!” Dr. Abbott says, snapping me back into the moment. I pull Rees
e’s leg back and watch as my wife pushes with all her strength. “Good!” Dr. Abbott praises. “Okay, the head’s out, and no cord. Let’s push one more time. If you want to help pull the baby out, reach down and you can pull it the rest of the way out.”
Reese reaches down and Dr. Abbott helps guide her hands to the baby’s head. As she pushes, she also pulls, and out comes our baby. My gaze immediately goes to my wife’s face. We both have tears streaming down our cheeks as our child takes its first breath, letting out the most beautiful squeak of a cry I’ve ever heard in my life.
“Congratulations, it’s a girl!” Dr. Abbott exclaims.
“A girl!” Reese says in complete bliss.
“Thank you.” I bring my lips to hers. “Thank you for giving me a daughter. She’s perfect. You’re perfect,” I tell her, still crying.
I look down at my daughter lying on my wife’s chest. She’s still covered in whatever it is that babies are covered in when they’re born. Her eyes are wide open and looking straight at me. “Hi, baby. I’m your daddy,” I whisper to her, bringing my face closer to hers as I run my hand down her back.
With her skin-to-skin with Reese, she only let out the one cry when she first took a breath of air. Otherwise, she’s laying here, calm as can be. I can’t say I’d be as chill as she is if I’d just gone through the same stressful situation.
“Would you like to cut the cord?” the doctor asks me a minute or so later, holding out the special scissors.
“Sure.” I stand back up to my full height, taking the scissors, and place them between the two clamps holding the cord. “That felt weird,” I say, once I’m finished cutting it.
“We get that from most dads.” The nurse laughs.
“Can we take the baby and get her cleaned up and her measurements?” Emma asks Reese.
“Sure,” Reese tells her, lifting her up.
“Can I come with you?” I ask, not wanting to be away from my daughter.
“We’re not going anywhere, just over here. You’re welcome to come over if you’d like,” Emma tells me. I grab Reese’s hand and squeeze it while we both watch as our daughter is taken a few feet away. They quickly clean her off and take some vitals, then put a diaper on her and wrap her up in a blanket, after placing a little hat on her head.
“Here she is,” Emma says, placing her back on Reese’s chest. “Have you picked a name yet for this little one?”
“We have.” I look at Reese for confirmation. We’d finalized our girl and boy names, so I wanted to make sure she didn’t change her mind at the last minute.
“Nicole Martha Jones.” Reese and I just liked the name Nicole, and Martha is her nana’s name. With how close they are, she wanted to honor her by naming our first daughter after her.
“That’s beautiful,” Emma tells her as she writes it down on the little card she then places in the bassinet.
“You’re all done. You did great,” Dr. Abbott tells her as she removes her gloves and protective clothes. “No tearing or episiotomy, so no stitches. I’ll come back by tomorrow to check on you. If anything happens before then, the nursing staff can page me.” She comes to stand on the other side of the bed and looks at Nicole in Reese’s hands. “You did great. She’s beautiful.”
“Thank you for everything, Dr. Abbott,” Reese tells her.
“My pleasure. Now get some rest and enjoy that new bundle of joy,” she says before ducking out of the room.
“Your epidural was turned off as soon as you delivered, but it can take a little bit for all the medicine to flush from your system,” the nurse explains. “Once you can feel your legs again, we can get you up and into the shower, if you’d like. In the meantime, just enjoy bonding with Nicole. She might be ready to nurse, if you want to try it. She also might just hang out being content for a little while, as well.”
“A shower sounds wonderful. I feel so icky after today.”
“Just hit the call button once you can feel your legs and we’ll get you up and in there.”
“Can our parents still visit tonight?” I ask before Emma leaves the room.
She looks at her watch and then back to us. “Visiting hours end in about thirty-five minutes. If they can get here before then, I won’t kick them out, as long as no rowdy parties are going on in here.”
“Thank you. I’ll text them now and let them know,” I say as I grab my phone. I first snap a picture of Nicole laying on Reese’s chest, content as can be, and then shoot off a group text to all the grandparents, who are all in town, letting them know they’d better get their butts down to the hospital ASAP, if they want to meet their new granddaughter tonight.
“How you doing, Momma?” I ask Reese once I’ve finished texting with our parents.
“Tired, but also wonderful. I can’t believe we have a daughter,” she says, tears brimming her eyes.
“She’s perfect,” I say, taking in my girls. My girls. Mine.
“She is,” Reese agrees, bringing her lips to the top of Nicole’s head as she starts to squirm and squeak her little cry. “I think she’s getting hungry. I’m going to try nursing her.”
“Can I help adjust anything?”
“Yeah, sit up the bed a little bit, please.” I press the button to incline the back of the bed and she adjusts herself, Nicole still crying in her arms. She pulls the gown out of her way and almost like second nature, Nicole latches on and starts to eat.
“It’s like she knew exactly what to do,” I say in astonishment.
“They say you can put a newborn baby on a mother’s stomach, and it will squirm its way up to the breast and start nursing when they get high enough to latch on.”
“Impressive. We’ve got a genius on our hands,” I muse.
I watch as Nicole nurses, then cuddle with my girls. Both sets of parents arrive with about five minutes left of visiting hours.
“Oh, my goodness! She’s just precious!” Savannah cries when she gets her first look at Nicole. “Name, birth stats?”
“We’d like to introduce you to Nicole Martha Jones,” I tell our parents as they all lean over, gushing at her. “She was twenty inches long, eight pounds even, and born at six thirty-five p.m.”
“Would you like to hold her?” Reese asks her mom.
“Of course!” she says, holding out her hands. I sit next to Reese on her bed and we watch our parents pass our daughter around as we discuss the events of the day, and just enjoy bonding over this precious gift we’ve been given.
Our parents all leave around nine thirty, promising to return the next morning to see us. We’re hopeful we’ll be released and able to go home, but that’ll be determined tomorrow once the pediatrician comes and does her check of Nicole.
Reese
I watch Austin from across the room as he lays with Nicole against his bare chest. He’s been such a huge help this past week since she was born—getting up at night with me when she’s awake, taking her when she’s fussy, making me take the time to shower and take naps, so I’m rested for the late nights she likes to keep. Their bond is already growing, and it just melts my heart when I see the two of them together like this.
She’s only been in our lives for a few days, yet I can’t imagine what life was without her. I might have married a laid-back, brute of a hockey player, but you put his daughter in his hands and the man becomes putty. I fear for any boy that picks on her or asks her out on a date in fifteen years or so. They’re going to have to deal with one protective dad, if they even make it that far.
“Hi, baby,” he coos at her. “Who’s my princess?” he says, shifting her so she’s laying on his legs facing up as he looks down at her.
I walk closer, alerting him to my presence in the room. “Look who came to join us,” he tells Nicole, who I can now see is wide awake. “How was your shower and nap?”
I sit down next to him on the couch. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in closer to his side.
“I feel like a new person,” I tell him, melting into his si
de.
“Good, are you hungry? I was thinking of ordering something.”
“Starving. I can go rummage in the kitchen and find something to make us.”
“No, you keep your pretty little self right here. I’ll order us something.”
“Okay,” I give in easily. “What are you going to order?”
“Don’t really care, what are you in the mood for?”
“A burrito bowl sounds heavenly right about now.”
“That I can do.” He pulls up a food ordering app on his phone. “Food should be here in the next half hour,” he says as Nicole starts to fuss in his lap.
“I should probably nurse her; she should be hungry by now.” I get situated on the couch and he hands her over. Our first day home from the hospital was a bit of a shit-show with nursing, not having the nurses there to help when things weren’t going easily. It took us a day or so to get things down, but once we got it figured out, it’s been like second nature. I was scared there for a little bit that we’d have to throw in the towel, as I was in tears almost every time she was hungry, but we pushed through and we both figured it out.
“Are you ready for our pictures tomorrow?” Austin asks, after we’ve finished our dinner a little while later.
“I think so. I’ve got all the outfits picked out and ready to go. Having them done here at the house will help in case we run into any problems. Hopefully, Nicole cooperates and doesn’t have a massive blowout or spit-up episode.”
“Don’t jinx us now.” Austin laughs.
“I just wish my stomach had gone down more by now,” I tell him, feeling self-conscious.
“Reese,” he states seriously. “Give yourself a break. You just gave birth, like, a week ago. It takes time to bounce back.”
“I know, I just wish it happened a little faster.”
“It kills me that you feel that way. I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”
The First Intermission Page 14