by Brannon, M.
I just had my forty week check up and the doctor says any day now. I am dilated to two centimeters and if I keep myself up and walking I could be popping out this thing by the end of the week. So I do the opposite and keep my ass planted in bed, allowing Drake to wait on me hand and foot. The longer it stays inside me, the longer I don’t have to face this foul situation. Of course, I promised Drake I would never deceive him again. I would always be honest with my feelings. Well, I screwed that up the day I promised I would never do it again. If he really knew I wanted to give this baby up for adoption, then our life and my comfortable bubble would burst.
Then there’s the situation of having a girl. Everyone in the house is completely over the moon that the thing is going to be a girl, but I have no excitement. That means I have to be her role model, she will learn how to be a lady by looking at me. Look how well that has turned out for me. I am a husk of a person; there’s no way I can give advice and raise a girl to be a strong, independent woman. I’m not Delilah or Darcie for hell’s sakes.
Drake has saved every penny he’s earned and even took up a second job at The Slab working Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights so we can afford to move into our own apartment. I can tell he’s tired, only getting a couple of hours of sleep Thursday and Friday nights, but is insistent it won’t last forever, just long enough to start a large savings. He is so much like Reggie sometimes it’s scary.
I don’t even know how much money we have. Drake takes care of all the bills and he gives me money whenever I need it. The apartment complex we moved into is like any complex you see in a typical, rundown neighborhood. The only difference between our building and the one across the street is ours has a security gate entrance and a pool. Neither of them work properly, but they’re there. All the entrances to each apartment are outside and face the courtyard where the broken pool is the hub. Scrubs are overgrown, blocking the view for the first floor tenants. We reside on the second floor, which is the top floor. It’s been a bitch walking up the stairs with my alien sized stomach.
I’m so glad to be out of the house, away from the baby name discussions, hands touching my belly and all the talk surrounding what’s to come. We’ve moved into the apartment a couple of weeks ago and Delilah made the fourteen hour trip to help set up the baby’s room and get everything organized. She decorated the room with presents I received from my shower, hosted by Darcie, and added a few special things of her own since she wasn’t able to make it. I missed her talking nonsense and, believe it or not, I missed hearing her fight with Jake. It helped me take my mind off everything else building inside my body.
Since moving to the apartment I met a really nice neighbor, Mrs. Fields. She is a retired school teacher and is willing to help with the baby whenever I need her. I’m glad because I don’t know if I can even enjoy any part of what’s to come.
Now moving into my forty-first week, Drake insists sit at the house instead of the apartment during the day while he’s at work. So, now, I sit and watch TV in the house I was trying to escape because I can’t upset the precious balance between Drake and myself. Our relationship has taken me away from the ledge I was ready to jump from, and I can’t remember being so happy in his arms. I know our days are numbered with the baby on its way, but it feels amazing to have a little more time with just us.
The day is a cloudy spring day. It finally stopped raining after a week long spell of constant showers. It is shaping up to be as eventful as any other day. Jake has been spending his afternoons keeping me company on the couch. I never knew he and I could have a normal conversation, but we find lots of things to talk about; sports, which I know nothing about, baby names—Axl being his favorite—and of course his favorite topic, Delilah. He’s always asking questions about her and telling me how much he thinks her boyfriend is a jackass.
“I mean…what the hell does she see in that douche?” Jake asks while scratching his manhood and downing a can of Mountain Dew.
“Delilah comes from a family of privilege and lavish ambiance. She only knows one type of guy and that type of guy is Emerson Knox. Why do you care so much?” I ask while popping a chip in my mouth.
“I don’t care. I just don’t get it. I would consider her a friend now, since we talk or text almost every day, but I get a feeling this dude is not good for her. It doesn’t seem he knows the real Delilah. The Delilah I know. And what kind of name is Emerson Knox anyway? Sounds like a fucking tool to me.”He makes no move to hide the distain in his voice.
“It’s a family name. It’s very common for the rich upper class families, especially in the south. I’m sure he will be taking over some kind of family business, doing the brandy and cigars thing with all the other rich old assholes.” I am finding this conversation rather funny. Jake is undeniably preoccupied with Delilah, and yet, they can barely speak to one another without fighting. It’s so weird.
“How the hell did the two of you become friends anyway? From what you’ve told me, your parents were never rich or anything.” The mention of my parents sends a pang of heartache throughout my body. I miss them every day, especially my mother. She was the best.
“For the same reason she’s friends with you. Delilah doesn’t judge people and can make friends with just about anyone. She stood up for me when we were six and we’ve been close ever since.” Never mind the fact that she can read me like a book and has been by my side for every struggle throughout my life. However, I purposely kept her at a distance with this one. I don’t want anyone knowing how much I hate my baby.
I kick my leg up to help give myself some leverage to get off the couch and Jake just laughs at me. “Help me up, jerk!” I shout over his laughter.
I take his hand then stretch my aching back when a trickle of pee leaks from my bladder. That’s fucking great! Not only do I pee my pants, but I do it in front of Jake. He will never let me hear the end of this one. Before he catches on, I waddle as fast as I can down the hallway and into the bathroom, but I soon realize this is not pee, it’s water constantly dripping from my crotch. What the hell?
“HOLY.SHIT!” I shout from the bathroom. Water is leaking from my body, which means this is really happening. The doctor has been preparing me for this and now the day is finally here. Tears start to leak from my eyes. I don’t want this to happen. Not now, not ever.
Jake is shouting down the hallway as he walks toward the bathroom. He doesn’t bother to knock as he pushes open the door and takes one look at me. “Holy. Shit. Are you having this fucking baby now?” His voice is short and loud as he stares down at the puddle collecting on the floor.
“Yes!” I snap. “Call Drake!” I hear Jake shouting on his phone and yelling at me to get the hell to the hospital. What he neglects to realize is Drake is my ride to the hospital and I doubt he wants to drive me.
I slide my back down the wall, planting myself on the floor while feelings of overwhelming dread start flooding my body. I try to shut down the gloom building in my heart.
God, I can’t do this. I can’t be a mother. What will happen once this baby is born? How will Drake love me and her at the same time? He’s my lifeline, and if I don’t have all of him, I will surely drown; won’t I? I lay my head back and try to make myself forget the invading doubts. I have to have faith in him like he has faith in me.
Drake
“Come on Jake! Jesus…fuck we’re leaving now!” I shout down the basement stairs waiting for him to get his stupid ass in the car. My nerves are on end and we need to get to the hospital, like right now. I received Jake’s frantic phone call ten minutes ago, and Darcie and I flew home from the bar to take Presley to the hospital. Now he’s taking his sweet ass time getting dressed, knowing it’s bothering the hell out of me.
When we got to the house I found Presley crumpled on the bathroom floor clutching her stomach. She said the pain was starting to get intense, but the contractions were not consistent. I help her off the floor and guide her into the kitchen. Snapping my fingers, Darcie jogs up the stairs
to help Presley down and put her in the car. I can hear Darcie screaming at me to get my ass in gear, however for some reason, Jake is in no rush to leave.
“Sorry, man. Slow your role! It’s not like she’s squeezing the kid out now.” Jake pushes past me and we head down the back stairs.
“I’m about to leave your ass!” Darcie yells in frustration as she slides into the driver’s seat of Reggie’s Camaro. Presley’s overnight bag has been packed and sitting in the backseat of the Chevelle for the last month. Luckily, I was smart enough in my frenzied state to grab it. Being the planner that I am, I pull out my to-do list so I don’t forget to get something or call someone. I know there is someone I’m suppose to call, but for the life of me I can’t think of who.
Darcie snaps, “Drake, stop looking at that damn piece of paper and get your ass in this car, time’s running out, bud. Did you call that awful girl and tell her we are on our way?”
Breathing through the pain Presley shouts, “Hey! Delilah is my friend!”
“You’re right, sorry, Pres. I will try to get used to her. Maybe I need to ask Jake for advice because he seems to get along with her well.” Darcie smiles in the rearview at Jake who’s frantically texting on his cell.
It’s no mystery Delilah and Darcie don’t get along. They are two completely different people who love the same person. After Darcie’s prediction of Jake and Delilah’s relationship fell flat and seeing them actually getting along—well, for the most part—she holds resentment toward her for ruining her summer entertainment. It’s all very confusing and chick related. I don’t pretend to understand. The short three months they spent together was enough for anyone to pull their hair out. Granted, they never rolled around in a mud wrestling pit, but they constantly nitpicked at each other, and by the end of August, I was ready to kill them both.
I pull out my phone and scroll through the contacts. Then I come to Delilah St. James. Presley’s birthing coach, or some shit. I tried not to be offended when Presley asked if she could be in the room to support her, like I was useless. Okay, so a woman pushing a person from their body is a little weird, but this is different. This is my child we are talking about, not some stranger on a thirty-year-old child birthing video with the woman sporting a 1970’s porn bush between her legs. It won’t be too gross… will it?
“Hello?” Delilah answers with a deep southern drawl.
“We’re heading to the hospital. How soon can you get here?” I ask while allowing Presley to squeeze my hand.
“Oh, my Lord! It’s happening now?” She releases a frantic sigh and shouts to a person to get out of her way. I try to restrain laughter because Delilah couldn’t hurt a fly. “I checked the flights to Detroit this morning. Something I’ve been doing everyday for the past week and I can book a non-stop flight to Detroit leaving in one hour. The flight is approximately two hours, and the drive is another two. I should be there in less than five hours.” Delilah hangs up the phone and I’m thinking there is no why she can make it from Detroit in less than two hours, it’s at least a two and a half hour drive and that’s when I’m driving almost ten miles over the speed limit.
Darcie peels out of the driveway and flies down the street at the same time I shoot a quick text to Jeremy, letting him know we are on our way to the hospital.
My hands are shaking as the reality of my life hits me like a thousand pound brick. My life is about to change forever. Today, I become a father. At that thought, I start to panic. I have no idea how to be a father. My dad abandoned me before I was born and my mother sold me for heroin when I was three, so the parent role model department is a little sparse. Reggie has been my father figure and I gauge everything I do from him, but I know he’s not perfect. Then there’s Darcie, and well, she’s as motherly as Darcie can be, which isn’t much. I’m only nineteen-fucking-years-old. You would think the ‘oh shit’ moment would have happened sooner, like when I read that damn pregnancy test, or when Presley’s belly started to grow, or seeing the little one on the ultrasound screen. But no, my reality is catching up to me and I feel like freaking out. I look over to Presley and she looks like I do. Completely scared shitless. Okay, at least we’re in this together.
Presley is rushed to the maternity ward and suited up ready to give birth to our child. Hours pass by and the progress is slow, but the time is almost here. She’s breathing and squeezing my hand. I kick Jake and Darcie out to have a few silent moments with her. She squeezes her eyes shut while breathing through the contractions. The doctor steps out after checking her progress and informs us she is dilated to eight centimeters and it won’t be too much longer. “I can’t do this, Drake,” she whispers through her tears.
I caress her hand and kiss her palm. “You’re doing great, baby. It won’t be long and the hard part will be over, okay.” I have no idea what I’m saying because I didn’t know what she is going through, but I’m trying to be as comforting as possible.
“That’s not… not what I mean,” she sputters. “I can’t do this, be a mother. I won’t be good at it; I can’t even take care of myself. How am I supposed to raise a baby?” The tears pour down her cheeks and she wipes them off with the back of her hand. She’s having cold feet, but when Presley holds our newborn in her arms, love is all she’ll feel.
I start to tell her she’s crazy when I hear the southern drawl of Delilah down the hallway. The clicking of her heels collides with the tile floor and she’s telling someone to get a life; Jake I’m sure. The door pushes open and in walks Presley’s childhood friend. I shake my head because only Delilah would wear a dress and high heels to a birthing. She has her hair secured in a bun on top of her head and not a single hair is out of place, looking just as she always does, perfectly put together. Sometimes I wonder how she and Presley have stayed friends for so long. She is completely opposite of Presley in every way, but then I remind myself she’s actually friends with Jake and I change my initial thought of Delilah, she’s got to be a saint.
I look at the clock and realize she really did make it to the hospital in less than five hours. “How fast did you drive from Detroit?” I ask while Delilah sets down her stuff and makes her way over to the bed, grabbing Presley’s hand.
“Now, don’t you worry about that, honey. I’m here and that’s all that matters.” She looks over to Presley and rubs the back of her hand. “How you doing, sweetheart? Can I get you anything?”
Presley shakes her head no then closes her eyes through another contraction. She’s being so brave. I know she’s scared like the rest of us, but she will be an amazing mother because she’s amazing herself.
Thirty minutes later, her feet are propped and she’s pushing life from her body. I can’t look. I’m feeling a little light-headed and it’s hard to swallow. I keep my entire focus on Presley and then the most amazing sound fills the room. I turn to look and the doctor is holding up a beautiful little person covered in goo. He lays the baby on Presley’s stomach while nurses rub the slime off her body. “It’s a girl. Congratulations.”
Delilah releases a giggle and kisses Presley’s hand. Then I kiss her salty lips and tell her how proud of her I am. The nurse hands me a weird looking pair of scissors and tells me exactly where to cut the umbilical cord and then my baby girl is wrapped in a blanket and placed in Presley’s arms. She looks at her with astonishment. “I can’t believe she’s here,” she whispers as she stares at our child.
“Okay, get together,” Delilah says, holding up her phone to snap a picture.
I squeeze on the bed and Presley snuggles to my side, holding our beautiful baby girl. She’s tired and ready to sleep.
Lying here with Presley is a moment I will never forget because it’s the three of us now and I know this was meant for us. We were meant to be a family.
***
It’s been hours since our little girl was born. She is a healthy baby, weighing eight pounds nine ounces and twenty-four inches long. The nurses say she is a good sized baby and definitely gets her height from he
r daddy. To me she seems so tiny; I couldn’t imagine her being smaller.
The room is filled with everyone I love. Reggie is standing in the corner with his arms protectively wrapped around Darcie while wearing a proud grin on his face and I can’t help feeling emotional. Reggie is one of the best guys I know, and if he’s proud of me, then dammit, I’m proud of me, too. Jake and Delilah have been going back and forth for the last hour about naming our little girl.
“Her name needs to be Axl. The day I found out she was a girl “Sweet Child of Mine” blasted on the radio and it was fate for her to have a rock star name that kicks ass,” Jake disputes to the rest of us in the room. He’s trying to make his argument concrete, but there is no way I will name my daughter Axl. He has issues.
“Jake, don’t be stupid,” Delilah snaps. “You don’t understand the importance of a name and how it can make or break their social status in school and we should avoid names that are easily mocked. Roselyn is traditional, perfect and timeless, where Axl is not.”
“Roselyn? Really? Now that sounds pretty fucking stupid to me. Let’s just tattoo kick me on her forehead because, with a name like Roselyn, she will surely get the crap kicked out of her. Maybe in your princess cupcake land Roselyn is a great name, but here, not so much.”
Darcie chimes in just to be difficult. “I like Axl. It’s unique and it sounds like no one will fuck with her, just like Axl Rose.”
“Hell, yeah!” Jake cheers. I need to stop this train wreck before it gets worse. I look over to Presley, who has this overwhelming look on her face. She is holding our baby and looking tired and terrified all with the same look. I can’t help worrying. However, everything I’ve read says new mothers will experience bouts of sadness and feel overwhelmed the first few weeks after giving birth, something to do with their hormones.