by Olivia Rigal
I laugh again. Oliver has the strangest sense of humor.
"Tell me, Lyv, how do you feel?"
"Not bad but I'm concerned because I have no contractions. Since my water broke shouldn't the delivery process have started?" I ask.
"Not necessarily. If we were in the hospital I would just monitor you like we did for Alexandra but since we're at home I'm inducing you."
I notice there's an i.v. tube in my arm that is attached to a bottle hooked to one of our dining room chairs with some masking tape. Next to me there's this large first aid kit similar to the one the EMTs usually run out of the ambulances with. I'm sure it weighs a ton.
"Did you carry this for twelve blocks in the storm?" I ask.
"Nah" he says. "I have a friend who's a motocross nut, I called him up and he came to pick me up. He was so happy to have a reason to cross Manhattan at full speed tonight that he asked me to thank you for the opportunity."
I breathe deeply and say, "I think the contractions are starting."
"Good. It's the oxytocin I just gave you. It's normal."
I wait until the contractions subside and I ask, "Did you look at the amniotic fuid? Ten said it was bloody."
Oliver rolls his eyes and says, "He mopped it up with a navy blue towel so I can't tell." He shrugs when he adds, "but even if it was, pink is no big deal."
I feel a little better knowing pink can be okay. I'm exhausted. I think I like daytime deliveries better. I fall asleep between each contraction until Oliver asks me to stay awake. This is it. At the next one I'll have to push. Ten is kneeling behind me and supporting my back. He's got a wet towel and wipes my brow while whispering silly things in my ear. He says I'm so courageous he's in awe of me, that if I don't want to have other kids he'll be fine with it ...
"Oh please shut up!" I yell as I push forward for what I hope is the last time.
But he just can't stop, "I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to upset you."
Not a second too soon, the baby's out and I laugh as I hear a wail. "It's a boy," Oliver says as he clamps the cord and then wraps the baby in a clean towel.
"Welcome home Oliver," I say.
Both Olivers are looking at me. There's my little baby who's a few seconds old and seems to be taking in the world very seriously and then there's my sweet doctor who's taken a few seconds to register that the baby was going to be named after him.
"Oh, right. Oliver. Cool choice," Oliver is hiding his emotion behind his professional facade but I can see he's happy.
Ten is teary eyed again and kissing my forehead. "I love you, Lyv," he says.
"I love you too," I answer.
Oliver puts my baby boy in my arms with the cord still attached and he's the most handsome baby ever. I think he looks like his dad. I realize I'm probably delirious but it's a good thing since I'm deliriously happy.
Life is so full of surprises, I never would have thought this would be what my happy ever after would look like.
To be continued.
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About the Author
Born in Manhattan, Olivia Rigal spent her youth going back and forth between the United States and France.
She lived and studied law in both countries.
While studying she kept herself busy with a variety of jobs.
She worked in the Clignancourt Flea Market as well as in a Parisian recording studio.
In Manhattan, she was a dog groomer and then an administrative assistant in a famous English auction house.
Olivia settled in France to raise her family. She travelled throughout South East Asia and has a special fondness for Laos and Thailand.
When her law practice does not keep her busy in Paris, she runs away to write novels in her Florida home next to MacArthur Beach State Park.
In December 2012 she started publishing short novels in English as an independent. Early 2014, she began translating them into French.
The story she tells stand alone. However her characters often meet so you can run into them again in several stories.
She loves to chat with readers so please feel free to
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