Three Girls and a Baby

by Rachel Schurig

  “Good point.” Annie plopped on the recliner next to me and put her feet up. “God, I’m tired,” she moaned. “I taught four classes this afternoon.”

  “Well, join me in my lovely land of laziness; it’s a wonderful place.”

  Shortly after Ann arrived, my cell phone rang. I looked down at the screen, groaned, and hit the ignore button. “You’re not gonna answer that?” Annie asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s my mother, and if I talk to her right now, I think my head might explode.”

  My mother had taken our semi-reconciliation at the shower as a cue to try and get involved in every aspect of my pregnancy. Over the last few weeks we had had several maddening conversations about my health, the baby’s health, what I was eating, how much I was sleeping, where I was going to get the baby baptized. A few of these had ended in shouting matches, and I was not eager to go there right now.

  Jen arrived home about an hour later. As she opened the door and the outside light filtered in around her, I gasped and held up my hands.

  “Light bad,” I moaned. “Close it, close it!”

  Jen shut the door and looked around the dark room.

  “What on earth are you guys doing?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

  “Ginny is hot and uncomfortable, due to her massive knocked-up-ness,” Annie explained drowsily. “I have joined her in her efforts to beat the heat to show my support.”

  “She says she’s being supportive,” I complained. “But she refuses to get up to get me more iced tea.”

  “You guys,” Jen said patiently. “It’s gorgeous outside. The sun is out, there’s a nice breeze. You should get out of this room, or at least open some windows, let the sun in.”

  “No, no, no sunlight!” I proclaimed, then groaned. “God, talking makes me so hot!”

  “Alright, enough of this moping crap, my friends!” Jen said. “We’re going out!”

  “Ha!” I muttered, glaring up at her from the place I was beached on the couch. “You’re a funny one, Jen Campbell.”

  “I’m not joking,” she said firmly, walking around the room and collecting the dirty dishes I had let pile up. “This house smells. You are starting to smell. We need to get out.”

  “Jen, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I weigh about seven hundred pounds right now. My clothes don’t fit—not even the maternity ones. The only thing I can fit into is this fucking bathing suit cover up.”

  “Eff word!” Annie yelled, pointing at me. “You owe me a dollar.”

  I scowled at her.

  “Ginny, who knows the next time you’re going to get out of this house? We need a last night out!” Jen pleaded.

  “Yeah, pretty soon your entire life is going to be poopie diapers and midnight feedings,” Annie said, sounding way too gleeful for my liking.

  “Careful,” I warned. “I have about fifty pounds on you right now.”

  “And masses of dexterity and flexibility,” she shot back.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer,” Jen said firmly, ignoring us both. “We’re going out. All three of us. We’re putting on cute clothes and doing our makeup and getting out of this house. Let’s go.”

  I looked at Annie. “Jen’s got her scary face on,” I sighed.

  “Yeah, maybe we should listen to her,” she said mock-sadly.

  “Oh God,” I moaned. “How am I going to go out when I can’t even get my ass up off the couch?”

  “A-word!” Annie shouted. “You owe me fifty cents!”

  Jen rolled her eyes and grabbed my arm, beginning to pull. “We’ll help you. Now let’s go.”

  * * *

  We ended up at Pronto, my favorite restaurant in Royal Oak. Pronto was known for its amazing sandwiches and pasta. It had a great atmosphere; there were always interesting people, they played good music, and they housed a lively bar right next door. They also had the absolute best baked goods I have ever tasted in my life. Plus, it was well-known as a gay hangout—which we loved, as it meant cute boys to look at with no pressure to try to impress them. In other words, the perfect night out for a nine-months pregnant lady.

  “Would it be rude if I drink in front of you?” Annie asked, pulling the cocktail menu to her side of the table.

  “Would it stop you if I said yes?” I asked.

  “Probably not,” she admitted, as our waiter approached. An expert at avoiding our bickering, Jen took matters into her own hands, ordering us three identical cocktails (virgin for me). After we had placed our food orders, Jen peered at me closely.

  “You know, you look pretty good tonight,” she said.

  “Yeah, right,” I laughed. “I look like a sow.”

  “No really, you’re pretty. Your skin is clear, your eyes are all bright. Maybe this is what they mean when they talk about a pregnant woman’s glow.”

  “Or it just means that I live with a girl who has lots of experience in applying stage make-up,” I replied.

  After Jen had hauled me up off the couch they had both attacked my closet, rifling through the clothes there until they agreed on a red empire waist dress—whose hemline was, it must be said, much shorter than usual as it stretched over my gigantic belly. In fact, I had to add a pair of black leggings underneath just to make it decent to wear in public. Jen assured me it looked cute that way, and Annie pointed out that the cut accentuated my newly enhanced cleavage.

  I had to admit, it had felt great to get dressed up, to have Annie do my make-up. It had been a while since we had done something fun together, just the three of us. Most of our activities and conversation now related to baby. I decided right then that tonight would be a baby-free zone.

  The waiter (Jonathon, definitely gay, totally gorgeous) brought our cocktails over and Annie started telling us all about Hot Theater Tech Guy. His name was Adam, apparently, and she was pretty sure she was in love. “He’s so pretty,” she said dreamily. “I swear to God, exactly my type.”

  “Greasy and pale?” Jen asked cheerfully, making me laugh and Annie roll her eyes.

  “That was one guy, God. Are you ever going to forget that?”

  “No,” Jen and I said in unison.

  In a good mood, I decided to be nice. “What’s he really like?” I asked.

  She started a long monologue, detailing everything from his wiry build (“And so tall, too, mmm.”) to his opinion on David Mamet plays. I tried to keep up, but I was finding that the non-alcoholic cocktail wasn’t agreeing with my stomach. I pushed it aside and decided to stick with water.

  “You would not believe it, guys,” Annie was continuing, “he told me he felt the exact same way! I never find people in theater who think Mamet it overrated. It was like total—”

  “Shit!” I interrupted, grabbing my stomach.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Annie was so concerned she forgot to mention the dollar penalty.

  “Nothing, just some heartburn,” I explained, rubbing my stomach, where the sharp pain was already dissipating.

  “Are you sure?” Jen asked. They were both looking at me worriedly.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I mean, what else would it be?”

  They both stared at me. “Um, well, you know, you are pregnant,” Annie said.

  “Oh come on, I’m not due for two weeks.”

  I was saved continuing this conversation by the arrival of our food. I tucked into my pasta—a gooey, cheesy penne concoction with grilled chicken—and ate with gusto. “Seriously,” I said, almost whimpering, “this tastes even better now that I’m preg. This baby is gonna be a cheese lover, I can tell.”

  “Of course he is,” Jen replied. “His mother is the only person I’ve ever known who puts cheese on apples.”

  “Cheese and apples,” I said sternly, pointing my fork at her, “is a wonderful snack—”

  Before I could finish my thought my stomach was clenched by another sharp pain. I tried not to cry out, not wanting to draw attention, but I knew the girls had
noticed.

  “Alright, I’m timing these now,” Jen said briskly, looking down at her watch.

  “Gin, were you having any of these pains earlier today?” Annie asked. “Is that part of why you were so uncomfortable?”

  “I was having some heartburn,” I said distinctly. “But it wasn’t in regular intervals or anything…”

  “Early contractions usually aren’t regular,” Jen said. “Didn’t you read the baby books?”

  “Yes!” I said, offended. “…Well, most of them anyhow.” Annie groaned. “What? I have like two weeks left to learn everything I need to know about labor. I’m fine!” No sooner had I said this than I felt another clenching pain.

  “Alright, that’s it,” Jen said, reaching for her purse as I clenched the table rim until my knuckles turned white. “You’re having contractions and they’re less than five minutes apart. That means we need to get to the hospital.”

  “What?” I cried, feeling panicked. “That’s ridiculous! We’re having dinner.”

  “No, Gin,” Annie said, pulling her wallet out and laying down some cash. “We’re having a baby. We need to go now.”

  They both stood, Jen reaching out to grab my hand. I pulled away from her roughly. “No!” I cried. Most of the other diners turned in our direction. “I’m not going to the hospital! I didn’t bring my hospital bag! I don’t even have my trashy magazines.”

  “Sweetie,” Jen said, crouching so she was at my eye level. “We can get you all those things. It’s going to be fine.” Our waiter, clearly noticing the attention we were drawing, approached our table.

  “Is everything okay, ladies?” he asked.

  “Oh yeah, we’re fine. Our friend here is just going into labor and experiencing some denial about it,” Annie said.

  “I am not going into labor,” I snarled.

  “You see?” Annie asked the waiter, who looked downright terrified.

  “Ginny,” Jen tried again. “I doubt this nice man wants you to go into labor in his restaurant. How about we take off and get you to the hospital?”

  “Yeah, think of the panic you’ll cause the gay boys at the bar next door if you show your vagina in here,” Annie added.

  “Do you have to make jokes right now?” Jen hissed. “Can’t you see how terrified she is?” Jen again leaned down to my level, squeezing my hands as she moved her face closer to mine and spoke to me in a voice you might use to talk a crazy person down from the ledge. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s not time for the baby. But I still think we should go see your doctor and make sure, okay?”

  My heart was racing by now and I could feel my breathing coming in sharp gasps. I couldn’t be having the baby yet, I just couldn’t. I wasn’t ready. “Ginny,” Jen said quietly, and I looked into her calm, familiar eyes.

  “Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  My first impression of the hospital was noise. Noise and light.

  Jen, for all her calm in the restaurant, drove like a maniac to get us to the emergency room. In the car, Annie kept up a steady stream of ill-timed jokes, which I assumed were meant to mask her nerves. For my part, I tried to pretend I was anywhere else. Talk about denial.

  Annie’s cool, jokey demeanor wore out the second we walked through the glass double doors. “My friend’s having a baby!” she shouted. “Someone help us!”

  “Oh God,” I muttered. “You’re mortifying me.”

  After managing to get us both calmed down, Jen gave my information to the intake nurse. I was now settled in a bed in the maternity ward, trying my damndest not to hyperventilate as an older nurse named Tammy took my vitals and hooked me up to various monitors.

  “I really don’t think I’m having the baby yet,” I tried to explain to her. “I’m not due for another two weeks.”

  “This monitor right here will track your contractions, if that’s what you’re having,” she replied. “And when the doctor gets here he’ll measure to see if you’re dilated. Then we’ll know where we are, okay?”

  “Sounds peachy,” I muttered. Just then, another pain hit, the worst one so far. I grabbed Tammy’s hand—it was the closest thing to me—and swore.

  “You owe—” Annie started to say, but Jen cut her off with a shake of the head.

  “We’re suspending the cursing charges for the rest of the evening,” she said firmly. “Ginny gets to say whatever she wants while she’s in labor.”

  “I—am—not—in—labor!” I gasped, still clutching Tammy’s hand.

  “Sweetie,” she murmured, brushing back my hair. “I hate to break it to you, but that was definitely a contraction. I’ve been doing this for thirty years. You’re having a baby. Tonight.”

  * * *

  Six hours later, I was pretty sure I was going to die.

  “Annie, I think I’m going to die!” I moaned, as she wiped my forehead with a wet washcloth.

  “You’re not going to die,” she soothed. “You’re just in labor. We’ve discussed this. This is how it’s supposed to feel.”

  “Then I call bullshit,” I said. “I want my money back.”

  “Well, the next time an ex-boyfriend shows up and tries to get into your pants, remember to tell him ‘no glove, no love.’”

  “Words cannot begin to express to you how much I hate your guts right now,” I told her as Jen entered the room from the hallway, carrying more ice chips, which I had been sucking down all night.

  “How’s it going?” Jen asked.

  “Roughly the same as it was going five minutes ago, Jennifer,” I snapped. “In other words, pretty fucking god-awful. Thanks for asking, though.”

  “Don’t call me Jennifer,” she said simply as she handed me the ice chips. “Listen, I really think you should reconsider calling Catherine.”

  “I’ve told you, I will call Catherine when the baby is here. If I call Catherine right now, the amount of swearing she will hear will cause her to have a stroke. My baby doesn’t need that on his conscience.”

  “Won’t she be upset though, when she finds out you had him without telling her?”

  “Jen, the conversations I have had with my mother relating to this pregnancy are infuriating and depressing. I would prefer not to discuss her any more tonight, okay? This is supposed to be a joyous night and—fuck!” Another contraction, more pain. God, would this ever end?

  Annie came over and squeezed my hand. “It’s okay, Gin; it’s gonna be okay,” she soothed.

  “Girls,” I gasped, as the pain began to recede, “when it’s your turn to do this, screw what anyone says about what’s best for the baby. Take the drugs. Believe me, you want the drugs.”

  * * *

  Another three hours, countless more contractions.

  I had finally started pushing about an hour ago. I had moved beyond the incessant swearing: I was now too tired to do much talking at all. The girls were amazing, somehow never losing their energy, consistently sitting with me, encouraging me, taking my abuse.

  “There’s a reason why this is supposed to happen with a person you’re married to,” I whimpered to Annie once Dr. Beldkin told me he was going to let me have a short break from pushing.

  “Why’s that, hon?” Annie asked, as she wiped my forehead yet again with a fresh washcloth.

  “So at least you’re promised to get some from the crazy pregnant lady someday when it’s all over,” I answered.

  “Well I don’t usually go that way, but if you’re offering…”

  I laughed in spite of myself. “God, Annie, what would I do if the two of you weren’t here?”

  “I don’t know. Luckily, none of us will ever find out.”

  “God, cheese it up much, Ann?”

  “Nice,” she said, slapping me gently on the shoulder. “Last time I try and tell you how I feel.”

  “Ginny?” Tammy interrupted. “Ready to push again? We should be getting pretty close now.”

  I felt like crying. I couldn’t believe my break was
over already. I was so, so tired—how on earth was I going to be able to do this?

  “Ginny?” Jen asked, coming over and grabbing my other hand. “You ready?”

  “No!” I cried. I could feel myself panicking and tears started to spill over onto my cheeks. “You guys, I seriously don’t think I can do this. Like, for real. It’s too hard!” I was really crying now, my breath coming in great hiccupping gasps.

  Over the last few months I had become fairly proficient at banishing Josh from my every thought—with a few notable exceptions. But suddenly, there in the delivery room, as I attempted to do the hardest thing I had ever imagined, all I could see was his face in my mind. And I wanted him. I wanted him there with me.

  “Ginny,” Annie said loudly. “Look at me. Right now.”

  I did as she asked, gulping and trying to wipe at my eyes.

  “You are the strongest person I know—you always have been. You can do this. You can. I know it.”

  “She’s right,” Jen said, leaning down to kiss my sweaty, tear-stained cheek. “You can. And when this is over, there’s going to be a baby. Our baby, Gin!” Jen was starting to cry now too. “You can do this. And then we’ll have our baby boy.” She wiped her eyes, then grabbed a tissue and wiped mine too. “So come on,” she urged, her voice strong now, unwavering. “Let’s go, right now!”

  I nodded, and Dr. Beldkin and Tammy moved into position. “Okay, Ginny!” Dr. Beldkin said. “On my count, I want you to push as hard as you can. Ready? Three, two, one, push!”

  It was agony. Absolute agony. And terrifying. I felt so weak, and this job felt so, so big. And, worst of all, Josh wasn’t there to help me, to pull me through.

  But Annie was, and so was Jen, both holding my hands, whispering that they loved me, that they knew I could do it. They were there giving me their strength, and love, as I pushed, and pushed. And they were there when it was finally over, when I could finally rest, there to help me welcome my son into the world.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Day One: You did it! You have delivered your healthy, beautiful baby! This is one of the most special times of your life—enjoy it! You may be tempted to keep the baby with you at all times. Let me urge you to take advantage of the hospital’s nursery. It’s probably the last bit of uninterrupted sleep you’ll get for a long time!—Dr. Rebecca Carr, A Fabulous First Year with Baby!