Baby On The Way

by Sandra Paul

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Del demanded.

  But by then he knew.

  “My water broke,” Libby said in a small voice.

  13

  “I hate you!”

  “I know.”

  “I really, really hate you!”

  Del’s mouth quirked wryly. “Right now I’m not liking myself too much, either.”

  Libby probably would have responded, but the pain that held her in its grasp peaked at that moment. Her face contorted in agony. The fetal monitor strapped around her belly uttered encouraging quick beeps that finally slowed to a steady hiccup as the cramping gradually subsided again, and the once fairly rational woman Del had brought into the hospital reverted to the virago she’d become after eighteen hours of labor.

  “I don’t like anything about you. Your shoulders are too broad, you’re too tall—and your hair. I hate the way it always falls right into place. It’s so.thick,” she said in a disgusted voice.

  Del ran his hand through his offending hair. “Sorry about that.”

  Blocked on that point, Libby glared at him fumingly. The pain was coming again. She could feel it gathering low in her belly. “I don’t like your nose, either,” she panted. “It’s not straight.”

  “It is a bit crooked.”

  The cramp kept tightening. “Come here,” Libby gasped. “I’ll straighten it out for you.”

  Del prudently remained out of reach. “I don’t think so. Here. Hold my hand.”

  Libby grabbed his hand, squeezing as the pain peaked again. She rode the wave, her fingers clenched around his. When she was done, she stared up at him, her eyes dark and exhausted. “Del, I don’t think I can do this much longer.”

  He didn’t see how she could, either. Everyone—the doctor, the labor nurses coming on and off shift—kept assuring them Libby was progressing nicely, in fact, quite rapidly for a “primip” or first-timer. Del hated to imagine how long the process must take for those not progressing quite so “nicely.”

  Somehow he hadn’t expected it to last so long-or hurt Libby quite so much. The film they’d seen had only been half an hour, after all. A little grunting, a little sweating and the baby had slipped out. He’d expected Libby to do the same.

  At first, it seemed as if that might happen. Libby had been very calm during her early contractions, much calmer than he’d felt. His stomach had felt as if it had jumped into his throat when her water burst in the garage, and he’d kept swallowing, trying to force it back down.

  He’d wanted to rush her to the hospital; she’d insisted they wait. She’d taken the time to collect her overnight bag, pillow and a carefully selected set of tiny clothes for the baby. She’d even taken a shower. He’d wondered if she’d even need him, she’d been so self-possessed.

  Now he was in no doubt: Libby needed him all right. If he wasn’t there, who would she vent her spleen on?

  “Del…”

  He looked at her. Her brown eyes were suddenly vulnerable. “They’re sure my slip didn’t hurt the baby?”

  “Positive.”

  “How do they know?”

  Patiently he repeated what he’d already told her several times already—information the doctor and nurses had told her, too. “Because the monitor and every other indication shows that the baby is fine. They think you were probably in the first stage of labor for a couple of hours before it even happened.” He frowned. “Although I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me your back was hurting.”

  “I didn’t think it meant anything,” she said, responding to the faintly scolding note in his voice. “My back hurts a lot lately.”

  She fell silent as the labor nurse, a plump, grayhaired woman, briskly entered the room. “We’re coming along,” the nurse said, checking the tape the monitor steadily disgorged. She studied the series of zigzagging lines and then glanced at Del, “I can stay for a while if you want to take a short break.”

  Libby clutched his hand tighter. “Don’t go,” she said, ignoring the nurse’s frown.

  Del patted her hand, a feeling of warmth settling in his chest. She did want him there. “I won’t,” he promised.

  With a disapproving cluck the nurse left. Libby waited until the door shut behind her before confiding to Del, “She doesn’t like me.”

  He glanced at her in surprise. “Sure she does. She seems nice.”

  “To you,” Libby said. “She thinks I’m a wimp.”

  “Nah. I’m sure she doesn’t.”

  Libby knew better. No wonder birthing women wanted someone to be with them during the process. They knew instinctively that labor nurses had seen the process too many times to provide much sympathy.

  Another wave gathered. She gritted her teeth. Del squeezed her hand to get her attention. “Relax,” he ordered. “Work with the pain-don’t tense up against it.”

  He coached her along and Libby heaved a sigh of relief when the contraction released her again. She’d once thought she wouldn’t want Del around to see her grunt, sweat and strain. During the past few hours she’d discovered intense pain won out over vanity any day. She didn’t know what she’d do without the sound of his calm, patient orders. She’d been probed, pricked, cleaned up and cleaned out. She was anchored to the delivery bed by the fetal monitor strapped around her stomach and the IV attached to her wrist. And she was tired of it all.

  She started to sit up.

  “What is it?” Del asked sharply, his arm sliding around her shoulders to steady her. “Do you want to push?”

  “No, I want to go home.” Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Libby wondered. If she could just get out of this white, sterile prison everything would be fine. She tried to swing her legs over the side of the bed. Del’s arm tightened. “Stop it, Libby. You aren’t going anywhere.”

  She wanted to argue-she wanted to cry. The pain was rising again-stronger this time.

  “Breathe slowly,” Del demanded. “No-don’t shut your eyes and grimace. Look at me.”

  His will was stronger than hers. She looked into his blue eyes as the pain crested, then flowed away.

  When the monitor slowed its excited beeping, he dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Good job. You’re doing great, sweetheart. Honestly.”

  The nurse bustled back in, checking the monitor and Libby. Despite her no-nonsense attitude, she was very gentle as she checked how many centimeters Libby had dilated. “Shouldn’t be long now,” she said, lowering the sheet and giving Libby’s knee an encouraging pat before she left again.

  Libby didn’t believe her. Nurses had been telling her the same thing since she came in yesterday afternoon. “Oh, no, not again,” she whimpered, feeling the gathering tension beneath her belly. “Del, I just can’t take anymore.”

  But Del was relentless. She didn’t want to breathe, she didn’t want to concentrate, but he made her, cupping her face between his hands and holding her gaze. More people were in the room now, she noticed vaguely between the ever-quickening contractions. Her doctor-who’d made herself pretty scarce after the initial check on Libby’s condition-and another doctor, who Del told her was a neonatologist, specializing in newborns.

  But it didn’t seem important who was there, a marching band could have passed through for all the attention Libby paid to anyone. Her whole focus was on Del and the pains that kept intensifying until suddenly they weren’t pains at all but a rippling motion that seized her body.

  “She’s ready,” the nurse announced. “We’re going to start pushing now, Libby.”

  Excitement built in the room. Libby could see the anticipation in the doctors’ and nurses’ intent faces. New energy surged through Libby. She strained and sweated, concentrating only on Del’s low coaxing tones, his intent face. “Good girl,” he said, helping to support her. “You can do it, Libby. It’s coming. It’s coming! Oh, Libby!”

  Wonder suddenly crossed his face.

  “The head’s out,” the doctor announced. “Pant through the next contraction, Libby, an
d then one more big push ought to do it.”

  She panted through the next contraction, resisting her body’s urgings, then bore down, straining with all her might. Her insides seemed to drop as the baby whooshed out.

  “It’s a girl!”

  “My God, she’s a miracle.” Moisture gleamed in Del’s eyes and his arm tightened around Libby’s shoulders. “Look, Libby. We made a real, little person.”

  Weariness forgotten, Libby reached eagerly for her baby. But the neonatologist and a nurse had taken her away to a draped table across the room. They were working intently over the small, purplish body.

  Fear gripped Libby. “What’s wrong?” The baby hadn’t cried, she realized suddenly. “Del! Please go see what’s happening!”

  But he was already instinctively moving in that direction, his face tense.

  The labor nurse stepped up to Libby’s side. She took Libby’s hand in a comforting grip.

  Oh, please let my baby be all right, Libby prayed silently. Please cry, darling!

  Come on little one, you can do it, Del urged silently. The baby looked so still and lifeless in the doctor’s hands.

  Suddenly the small body arched. Tiny lungs filled and a quivering wail pierced the air.

  Joyous tears filled Libby’s eyes. The nurse patted her hand. “There. See, she’s just fine. They’re cleaning her up and handing her to your husband right now to bring to you.”

  Del took the blanketed bundle in his arms.and fell in love. He could actually feel his heart melting at the sight of those pansy eyes, button nose and pink dab of a mouth. Her skin had pinkened and the dark tuft of hair on her head stood straight up. Her fingers were so tiny. And her toes! He hesitantly touched a small foot. Had any baby anywhere ever had such exquisitely formed feet? She looked like a doll, and yet she felt so alive in his arms as she stretched her little arms and tried to kick her legs.

  He walked back to Libby as carefully as if he were carrying a load of dynamite that could go off at any minute, his eyes fixed on the baby’s face. Her mouth opened, revealing a miniature tongue. So sweet, so alive—yet so alarming was the cry she gave that he handed her to Libby in anxious relief.

  For a moment, Libby couldn’t see her daughter clearly. Tears still blinded her. She blinked the wetness away, half laughing with delight at the feel of the warm little body in her arms. Slowly, the small face came into focus. The baby-her very own baby-had her daddy’s dark hair, his blue eyes. Surely there was some resemblance to herself in that puckered pink mouth? And that nose-where had she gotten such a tiny, adorable button of a nose?

  “Isn’t she beautiful?” Del asked, leaning closer to nudge a small fist with his finger. “Her head’s a little pointy-but we can always put a hat on her.”

  “Her head’s not pointy!” Libby protested.

  “She’s a bit scrawny, too.”

  “She’s petite!”

  “She’s perfect,” said the labor nurse, giving Del a reproving look. “A lot of newborns’ heads look like that for a day or so after they’re born.” She smiled down at Libby. “She’s wonderful. You did a great job.”

  Libby smiled back. “Thanks.”

  With a final pat on Libby’s shoulder, the woman walked toward the door. When she opened it, a wail could be heard from down the hall.

  “You stupid, selfish jerk! If you ever so much as

  look at me again, I’m going to—”

  The door slammed shut.

  “Looks like another mother-to-be just came in,” Del noted.

  Libby pursed her lips in disapproval. “There’s no need for all that screaming. You’d think the woman would try to control herself.”

  He grinned. “Yeah. You’d think so.”

  He watched Libby fuss with the blanket and cuddle the baby close. She checked fingers and toes, and the ID bracelet on the baby’s wrist that was a small duplicate of her own. She kissed a tiny plump cheek and the baby turned, seeking blindly with her mouth.

  Del stared at the two of them. They were so involved in each other. Some of his joy faded. He felt like an interloper.but he couldn’t tear himself away. “What are you going to name her, Libby?”

  “I’m not sure…”

  “What about Nikki?” he asked almost diffidently. “After your Dad.”

  Something in his voice caught Libby’s attention. She glanced up. He looked tired, almost as tired as she felt, but for once his thoughts weren’t hidden. His lean face was soft with yearning tenderness as he stared down at the baby in her arms.

  Libby’s heart, full to bursting already, ached a little more as she nestled the soft bundle closer. Nikki. Yes, she looked like a Nikki.

  Del added, “And maybe Elizabeth for a middle name? After you and your mom?”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” she choked out. Wanting to touch him, she reached up and put her hand on his arm.

  Immediately, Del sank down beside her on the bed, a smile curving his mouth. He put his arm around her shoulders, and rested his chin on her hair as he gazed down at his daughter.

  Libby leaned back against his strong chest, savoring the sense of completeness she felt whenever he was near. She had him at her side, her baby in her arms. The happiness rushing through her was almost unbearable.

  She looked up into the understanding blue eyes above her. “Oh, Del,” she choked out. “You’ll never know how much I wanted a girl!”

  14

  For the next two days Libby was the happiest woman in the state, in the country, in the whole world. Del stayed almost constantly by her side, and Libby smiled almost continually, enjoying the sense of being a family. She never ceased to be amazed by her small daughter. Nikki’s expressions, her sounds, her movements—all were miraculous and new. And her heart filled with tenderness whenever she watched Del with his little daughter as he changed a tiny diaper or carefully wrapped Nikki up. Life was absolutely perfect.

  On the last morning before Del arrived, the nurse handed Libby a form. “It’s for the birth certificate,” the nurse explained. “Fill it out and leave it at the desk before you check out today.”

  Lying in the hospital bed, Libby stared at the form for a long time before laying it down and picking back up the birth announcement she’d been trying to fill out She nibbled her pen, studying the blanks on the pink card. The baby’s weight was no problem. Nikki had weighed in at a solid six pounds, four ounces. Libby jotted down Nikki’s length, too-an impressive eighteen inches. The date and time were easy. Nikki had made her appearance on October 19, at precisely 8:00 a.m.

  No, it was the blank for the name that made Libby pause. Nicole Elizabeth…Sinclair. That sounded pretty. Nicole Elizabeth Delaney. That sounded even better.

  Libby chewed on her pen again. Del would certainly think so…wouldn’t he? But if so, then why hadn’t he mentioned marriage again? He’d certainly been all for it a few weeks ago. Could he have changed his mind?

  Of course not. She didn’t doubt he loved the baby. There was too much tenderness in his face when he looked at her for there to be any question on that score. And surely now that Nikki was here, he could see how important it was to be with a child every day. Why, already she was changing. She’d lost the pointyheaded look, for one thing.

  He was probably just waiting for the right time to ask Libby to marry him again.

  She hastily shoved all the papers under the covers when he suddenly appeared at the door. “Hey, aren’t my girls ready to go yet?” he asked, heading directly for Nikki’s bassinet next to the bed. He smiled down at his daughter, saying over his shoulder to Libby, “I thought you were ready to blow this joint.”

  “I am,” Libby answered. “Nikki’s all ready. Would you mind taking her for a little walk or something while I get dressed and take a shower?”

  “Sure.” He reached down and wrapped Nikki up in a receiving blanket, nice and tight like a little mummy. Not even Libby could do a wrap job like he could, he thought proudly.

  He scooped her up, cradling
her head in his hand and tucking her body along his arm like a football. “We’ll be back in about half an hour,” he told Libby and strode out into the corridor.

  Not much going on here, he decided, looking up and down the empty hall. He glanced down into the baby’s face. “Wanna go see some other babies?” he asked.

  He took Nikki over to the nursery window. Five or so babies were lined up in baskets—like loaves of bread in a bakery window, Del thought indulgently. “So, what do you think of the other kids? All kinds of babies here. Little ones, big ones—Whoa! Get a load of that chunky one in the corner!” He held Nikki up a little so she could see.

  Nikki yawned.

  “Not interested, huh?” Del nuzzled her swatch of hair, shutting his eyes to take a deep breath. She smelled like baby powder and milk. He gently dropped a kiss on her little head.

  “Why, hello. You’re here, too?” someone asked from behind him.

  Del turned around. Ken was standing there, beaming at him. “Looks like we both graduated from class early,” Ken said, noticing the baby in Del’s arm. “There’s my son, Kenneth, Jr., right there.” He proudly pointed through the window at the chubby, blond baby that seemed to almost fill the whole bassinet.

  Kind of a plain little guy, Del thought, politely checking him out. “He looks just like you,” he told Ken.

  Ken smiled smugly. “We think so. And who’s that?”

  Happy to show Ken what a baby should look like, Del pulled back the blanket to display his daughter’s face. “This is Nicole Elizabeth,” he said proudly. “I named her.”

  Ken regarded her rather doubtfully. “She’s.nice. But isn’t she a bit undersized?”

  “She’s petite.”

  “Oh.” Ken glanced at his son again, adding in satisfaction, “Yeah, well, not Kenneth. He weighed in at ten pounds, five ounces.”

  Del gave a low whistle. “Barbie must have enjoyed that.”

  Ken stiffened. “She handled herself with. decorum.”

  “Yeah,” Del answered. “Libby, too. We heard Barbie come in. Nikki was already here by then, of course. She came through the gate at 8:00 a.m.” He paused. “When did junior clock in?”