by Frankie Love
“Hello?” I say. “This is Avery Sutton. And I’m ... I’m going into labor.”
I press my hand on my enormous belly, it’s ten in the morning, Tina’s at the dentist office she’s where she’s a hygienist. Since she has always lived alone, it’s just me here in her two-bedroom condo.
“Can you hold while I call a nurse?”
A few minutes later I am instructed by a familiar nurse named Jill to get to the hospital as soon as possible since my water broke.
“Do you have someone who can drive you?” she asks.
“My sister. I’ll ask my sister.”
“Okay,” the nurse says calmly. “And the doctor will meet you there shortly, okay?”
“I haven’t met him yet,” I say, nervously. “Is he nice?”
The nurse chuckles. “Very nice, very nice on the eyes.”
I scrunch my face up at the phone in my hand, not yet feeling any pangs of childbirth but certainly feeling something. I may be a pregnant virgin, but I’m not an idiot––I know this is going to get worse before it gets better.
“Is that comment really appropriate?” I ask, wondering why she’d remark on the doctor’s appearance.
“Avery,’ she says, “After you meet him, why don’t you tell me if I’m being appropriate?”
Then she hangs up as if this conversation is totally normal. When in fact, none of this is normal.
I close my eyes, trying to breathe through the reality that my life is about to change. Forever. This is happening. And while in theory, this is the fruition of everything I ever wanted for myself––to be a mother––I never in my wildest imagination thought it would happen like this. While I was so alone.
Then my contractions begin, and I drop my phone, gripping the kitchen counter as a pain worse than I’ve ever imagined rolls through me. I fall slowly to my knees, reaching for my phone and calling my sister.
“Now. The baby is coming now,” I cry.
“Oh gosh. Okay, I’ll be right there,” she assures me.
I close my eyes, my hand on my hardening belly as another contraction overtakes me.
I’m having a baby today, whether I am ready or not.
Chapter 9
Liam
It’s my first day on the new job. I’m in the office, trying to get a handle on my patient list when the receptionist calls the nurse to the phone. A few minutes later, the nurse returns looking at me with a smile on her face.
“I know it’s not what you’re expecting, but your patient who’s due in three weeks is having her baby today.”
I push my lips forward, I was prepared for this delivery when I took over Dr. Manning’s caseload, but I assumed that the expectant mother and I would have a few appointments before I delivered her child.
“Is she sure she’s in labor? It’s not a false alarm?”
The nurse looks back at me, shaking her head. “This woman, Avery, is no-nonsense. For being a first-time mom, she sure has her act together. She comes to every appointment early. Has her paperwork always filled out, always asks the right questions. And never the annoying ones. She has dog-eared every page of that book, What to Expect When You’re Expecting. And besides all that, her water broke.”
I nod. If what the nurse is saying is true, this mother is going to have a baby by the end of the day.
“Well, I guess I’m going to jump in with both feet!” I tell her. “Can you send me an electronic copy of the file so I can review it when I get to the hospital?”.
“Already have, Doc,” she tells me.
I get my car and drive the ten minutes toward the Olympic Hospital. After parking in the doctor’s space, I go through the keyless entry and get myself ready to meet my patient.
All of this happened so fast. The moment I heard about Dr. Manning wanting to sell his practice I jumped on it. I spent a few weeks reviewing the cost analysis of his practice and determined that this was the right place for me.
And then I found that waterfront home. A home that is more beautiful and pristine than I could’ve ever purchased had I stayed living in Seattle. The property value here is unreal, I feel like I found a hidden gem that no one else seems to understand yet––no one except the people who already live on this peninsula.
I wash my hands three times and put on my doctor’s coat, wanting to look as professional as possible for meeting the mother-to-be who is probably terrified over the fact that the physician she’s had for her entire pregnancy won’t be attending her birth.
I haven’t set foot in this hospital by myself before, I’ve only been here once with Dr. Manning at my side as we toured the premises so I could get a feel for my new workplace.
Not that I will be delivering too many babies. As a family physician, I will mostly care for my patients at the clinic.
The hospital, of course, tried to lure me over to their side. Offered me a substantial package to become a surgeon for them. My expertise was unprecedented, but I didn’t want to be a surgeon anymore. I moved here to start a new life, a life where I would have opportunity. An opportunity to have a family of my own.
Running a family practice will give me the time I crave. I push the nagging thought that’s constantly on my mind away as I scan my iPad before entering the patient’s birthing room.
The nagging thought that maybe someday, somehow, I will find my wife-for-a-night and I will make her my bride.
My hand pats down my pocket feeling the gold band of the ring that rests there every damn day. Maybe I’m a fool, pining after a woman that clearly isn’t mine... But for now, I still can’t let her go.
“Oh, good, you’re here, doctor,” a nurse says sticking her head out of the birthing suite. “Her baby is coming, and it’s coming soon.”
I nod, taking on another glance at the patient’s chart.
She’s young, only twenty-three, her first pregnancy and first child. Then my eyes hover over another line, one I’m surprised Dr. Manning hadn’t pointed out earlier. Then again, he was so ready for his European vacation, he hardly gave me a proper hand-off.
This patient, Avery Sutton, suffered a brain injury nine months ago after she was hit by a car. Short-term memory lapse the night she conceived.
I focus on the words again, shocked at that reality, not even able to imagine how horrible it would have been for her. To wake up after an accident and not remember what happened. Then a few months later, finding out you were pregnant? It would shock you to your core.
There are worse things than having a baby, of course, but this is still an overwhelming reality.
The nurse calls me again, and I force my eyes away from the iPad, knowing that my sympathy for the patient will only help me be a better doctor for her today.
I push open the door and pull back the fabric screen separating her from me.
The patient’s head is bowed deep into her lap, she’s holding her belly, her knees splayed apart on the stirrups, and she’s screaming her head off. A woman holds her hand, encouraging her, but the patient is way past any sort of encouragement. She’s barreling down and she is ready. No breathing techniques are going to help her now. Now she needs to push.
She’s still bent over so I can’t get a look at her face, and her knuckles are white as she’s gripping the woman next to her’s hand. The nurse holds her knees, telling her to push on the count of three.
I pull on a pair of gloves and take my place at the end of the bed. She’s moaning through a contraction and my eyes flick to the heart rate monitor capturing each beat of the baby. The baby’s in no distress, and neither is the mother. Whatever hardship has come her way before this, at least now she is well. The baby is well. This delivery is going to go just fine.
I clear my throat and try to get her attention, she lifts her chin, her eyes meet mine before she starts to push again to expel the child.
“Avery, I’m Dr. Liam, I’m here to help ––”
And then I stop. Everything stops.
The room is still. My eyes lock on he
rs and she looks at me without any sense of recognition.
I blink, trying to comprehend what’s happening. How is this happening?
My heart beats fast, my hand starts to shake. The nurse looks at me confused and the woman my patient is with looks at me with annoyance.
“Doctor, isn’t it time for her to push?” the woman asks, but the words don’t matter.
All I can think about in this flash of a moment is that my Lolita is here and she is looking at me as if she’s never seen me before.
Her eyes are wide, the whites are full of fear, she is so scared.
“Dr. Liam?” she says. “I’m terrified.” Her hair is a mess on her forehead, but I remember her blonde hair splayed out on the pillow at the Four Seasons. I remember everything about her because I’ve been thinking about her every day for nine months straight.
Nine months where she hasn’t remembered my existence, and my heart breaks into a million pieces over the reality of what is happening.
She is having my child and she doesn’t even know who I am.
“I’m really scared,” she says. Her hands reach for her belly as if trying to understand what is inside of her, she looks up at me, her head falling back in exhaustion, but she hasn’t finished the job. “Doctor, I can’t do this. I can’t do this alone.”
The words shake me back to reality.
I’m the doctor. She is my patient.
And Avery is carrying my baby. She must be.
Nine months ago we met, she lost her memory. That’s why she never came to find me at the bar ... she never came because she didn’t remember who I was.
This is no mere coincidence. There are such things as accidents, sure––she was in a car crash after all.
But maybe our story is being told exactly as it was meant to be.
“Have you ever had oysters?” I ask.
She shakes her head, blinking, confused. The woman next to her looks at me as if an idiot. “Oysters?” she asks. “Why aren’t you telling her push?”
I ignore her, my eyes are on Avery. Avery is beautiful and perfect and I love her. I will love her for the rest of my life.
“Have you? I ask her again. “Have you ever had oysters?”
Avery looks at me confused. “Oysters? Doctor ... I don’t ... “
“If you’re scared right now, I think I may be able to help with that. You don’t want to bring your child in the world already stressed out, right?”
“No, I don’t. But, doctor, what do oysters have to do with anything?” She grimaces, clenching her jaw and barreling through another contraction. I press my fingers to her to see how dilated she is. She is ready, the baby is crowning. I run my finger over her opening, feeling the baby’s head.
I take a mirror from a nurse standing by and angle it so Avery can see.
“There, that is your baby’s head. See all the hair?”
She starts crying, but now has the motivation she needs to continue.
“Have you ever stayed at the Four Seasons?” I ask this time the nurse is looking at me equally confused.
“Doctor, is this the time to ––”
I raise a hand, cutting her off. “Avery, look at me.” I meet her gaze, my eyes locked so tightly on hers. Our baby is coming into this world, and I want her to know the father of her child is right here when it does. “Oysters. The Four Seasons. Think about it. Have you ever read the story of Lolita?”
At this Avery’s eyes flicker over me, and then she stops. She recognizes me. I know she does.
“How? What ... Who?”
Then her body tells her to stop thinking, to only push. Push. Push.
And she does. Her baby comes from within, entering the world with a cry.
Our baby.
“It’s a boy,” I announce.
A son.
Ignoring the nurses, I take our child and place it on Avery’s chest, she sobs, and I’m crying too.
I lean down, the blood of the birth on our child, but none of that matters.
I look at Avery, and she looks at me.
“Husband?” she asks in disbelief.
Chapter 10
Avery
My baby cries, with eyes squeezed shut, then they open, and he looks at me and I look at him and I never want to look away. The doctor is crying, and I’m crying too. I’m breathing with him, knowing he is a stranger.
I breathe him in.
He isn’t a stranger at all.
The sterile room around us disappears.
All I smell is cinnamon and pine trees and leather. My eyes flash as memories return.
Cocktails. Him calling me his wife. His hand on the small of my back. His body filling me up.
His body filling me.
His body.
This baby.
Ours.
“Husband? This baby ... it’s ours.” I start sobbing, the tears flooding my face so quickly that I’m left wondering how this magic could be conjured up.
You can’t fake real, you can’t fake this.
What are the odds?
All I see is my baby and this man who is my child’s father. Family.
How did I find so much goodness?
The nurse though, tells me to keep pushing, to deliver the placenta. My sister looks at me with strange curiosity. She looks at the baby, his dark hair, his steel eyes.
“Our son,” I say to Doctor Liam. “This is our child,” I say, disbelief and belief all mixed into one.
My sister interjects, “What in the world are you talking about?”
The room goes still again. The nurses and my sister are all confused, all thinking I’m crazy.
“I remember,” I say. “I remember everything.”
Tina covers her mouth with understanding... But she doesn’t understand everything.
“Dr. Liam, he’s my baby’s father.”
Liam looks at me.
Liam.
I didn’t know his name till now, but now I know, and I’ll never forget.
He takes off his gloves and cups my face, he kisses me on the lips, then smooths the baby’s dark hair with the tenderness of a father. Of course, this is his son.
“I’m a father,” he says.
I nod, gasping for breath, the tears streaking my cheeks in ways that you only read about in novels. But this is no make-believe story. This is my dream come true.
“You are my baby-daddy.”
It’s a miracle, a baby in my arms, his father at my side. How did this happen? There’s no time to figure it all out right now. And none of it matters anyways. Because it did happen. Because we are here together. A family.
A nurse leans over us, still not quite understanding, but she wipes the afterbirth from the baby, another nurse is between my legs stopping the bleeding and then she says it’s time to cut the umbilical cord.
I look at Liam and he looks at me and it’s like those nine months have not been a loss at all. They brought us to this moment. This moment in time.
“Liam, that’s what the father does,” I say watching his mouth fall open in shock at how quickly his life has changed. But the shock is quickly replaced with joy and pride.
He does as a nurse asks, he takes the scissors and with the steady hand of a surgeon, he cuts the umbilical cord. The bright fluorescent lights of the delivery room are shining down on us, and my birthing plan and playlist seem so ridiculous in light of this moment––so full of unpredictable perfection.
“Congratulations,” the nurse says, looking between the doctor and me.
“Yes. Congratulations,” I say lifting our son to his father. Liam takes him in his arms, cradling our boy with tender loving care.
He kisses the forehead of our child and everything within me that was broken is remade.
All I ever wanted was a family.
And now a memory that was lost has been found.
Epilogue
Liam
5 Years Later...
Avery’s hair is piled on top of her head and wrap
ped in a bandana. She’s in a tank top and cut-off jean shorts. She looks like summer. She looks like mine.
“Is he okay?” Avery asks, peering at our four-month-old baby nestled in a sling around my body.
“He’s out cold,” I tell you.
It the middle of June, and the kids needed a chance to come out and be in the great outdoors. We rented a little cabin in the woods on Orcas Island. It’s only a ferry ride away from our place on the Olympic Peninsula, but it still feels like a getaway.
My practice is booming, and it’s important to take a week off every now and then and spend time as a family.
Avery touches her breasts without embarrassment, assessing how full they are. “I think he can go another hour before I need feed him again.”
I cock an eyebrow her way and offer a smirk. “You know I like it when you touch yourself.”
She rolls her eyes at me, smacking my ass playfully. “You may be a sexy doctor, but your lines...” She shakes her head, laughing. “Sometimes I wonder about you. Sometimes I wonder how exactly you picked me up in the first place.”
I pull her toward me, the baby between us, and I kiss her. Her lips part and her tongue finds mine. We were made for one another. And every time our mouths collide, I’m reminded of that fact. We’re the luckiest people on the goddamn planet.
“You know I could take you right here right now,” I tell her. “Bend you over this picnic table and have my way with you.”
I know she likes the idea because she bites her bottom lip, her eyes full of desire.
“Right, and our other children, would they wonder what we were doing?”
I grin, watching our five-year-old and three-year-old playing in the grass around us. We’re at an outdoor oyster bar, where you can buy freshly harvested oysters and shuck them yourself, squeezing lemon juice and Tabasco sauce on top, and letting them slide down your throats.
I crack open a can of beer and relish my view.
“This is a good way to celebrate Father’s Day isn’t it?” she asks.
“The best. I get to take a break from my job and spend time with the only people on the earth who matter to me? It doesn’t get better than this.”