I snagged the gift from the bar and handed it to her, standing slightly to the side, so I could see her face. Now I really felt like a sap with this gift.
She unwrapped it slowly, tugging the corners gently, not wanting to rip the paper. As she opened the box and saw what was in it, she froze. Her face was completely still and I was uncertain what she was feeling. I didn’t know if she was upset or overwhelmed, and I hesitated to break the silence.
She looked up at me and swallowed, “I know I said the tree was the most perfect gift, but you topped yourself,” she smiled, and reached into the box, pulling out the ornament I’d carved. Very gently, she placed it front and center on our first Christmas tree.
I’d used a piece of cypress and shaped it into an ornament, carving Our First Christmas into it with the year. On the back I’d carved Ford and Hannah.
“Next year, I’ll make an ornament for the baby’s first Christmas,” I promised.
“It’ll be perfect,” she whispered with a catch in her voice. I wrapped my arms around her, relieved she liked my gift and feeling a warm hum of contentment. She settled back against me, and we looked at the glow of the Christmas lights reflecting off the ornaments I’d hung.
Christmas was a whirlwind of activity. We started the day with pancakes and exchanged the gifts we’d gotten for each other before heading to Martha and Joe’s house. Hannah gave me a new set of carving tools, but my favorite gift was a set of handkerchiefs she’d embroidered with my initials. Her embarrassment over the uneven stitches forming my initials charmed me.
“I’m not sure if the handkerchiefs are more for you or me,” Hannah admitted, as I opened the box. The handkerchiefs were varying shades of blue, with my initials embroidered in black. I traced the letters of my initials, the thread silky against my thumb. I smiled, because the letters were crooked and uneven.
“I’m not that great at embroidery. In fact, the letters are a mess,” she told me, forlorn. I heard her soft sigh, as she saw me trace the letters.
“They look perfect to me,” I told her truthfully. She’d given me a gift she knew I used, and then worked to make it mine. I couldn’t imagine a better gift. “I love it,” I declared, grabbing one and shoving it in my pocket.
I saw Hannah cock her eyebrow disbelievingly. “I’m telling the truth!” I exclaimed, giving her a big smile. “They suit me. Crooked letters and all,” I finished, with a wink. She relaxed back with a laugh and grabbed a gift from Olivia to us.
“I can only imagine,” Hannah said, wide eyed, as she shook the little box.
“Probably expensive,” I replied, curious as to what she’d got us jointly. Hannah popped the lid of the box and looked in disbelief at the stack of gift cards set in it. She spilled them out onto the table, and we sorted through them.
“Six restaurant gift cards, no amounts,” I told her, counting.
“A Target gift card, no amount. Plus, a couple of clothing stores with notes that say I can’t use them without her,” Hannah said, shaking her head with two gift cards in one hand. “Classic Olivia.”
“The restaurant gift cards will come in handy after the baby comes. They all deliver,” I told her. “I’ll hand it to her, she gave useful gifts.”
“She was generous,” Hannah replied.
“What did we give her?” I asked, knowing Hannah had put money aside for the gifts we were getting, but I had no idea what she’d actually bought.
“Oh, I found this gorgeous painting at one of the shops y’all sell furniture at. You know the little shop right next to the antique district? They had some art on display by an unknown artist. It’s right up Olivia’s alley,” she chattered, excited about the gift she’d bought.
“Good to know,” I told her, a sheepish smile on my face. She punched me lightly on the arm.
“You have other uses,” she told me with a mischievous smile.
When we got to the house, it was crowded and loud with laughter. Kids were running around shrieking and playing with their new toys. I got caught up in a conversation about college football with some of the guys. I looked around for Hannah, and saw she was sitting in the kitchen with Martha and a few other women. She looked content, her hand rubbing her stomach, as someone asked her a question.
“How much longer?” Thomas asked me, seeing where my gaze was. Thomas was Joe’s son in law. He was in his early thirties with two kids.
“Two weeks. But I don’t think she’s going to make it that long,” I told him, with a rueful shake of my head.
“You ready?” he asked, with a knowing laugh. All I could do was shake my head in denial. The guys around us laughed at my answer. I saw Hannah’s head come up, and she looked over at us. I gave her a quick smile, reassuring her. Her answering smile lit up her face. I saw the dimple flash in her cheek, as her eyes crinkled at the corners. She smiled with her entire face, and I couldn’t help smiling back at her.
We must look like two fools grinning at each other. She’d swept her hair up in some type of bun before we’d come over. Tendrils of hair escaped and lay against her exposed neck and around her face and I wished my lips were as lucky. I broke our gaze at that thought and looked back at the other guys. They were smiling like they knew what I was thinking.
“I remember those days, one of them said with a grin.
“Oh please … remember? You still live them.” another guy ribbed him.
I must look confused, because Thomas explained, “Love. You can’t help but notice it with you two.” I was dumbfounded at his answer, not because I didn’t love her, but at how apparent it was to everyone else.
“Let’s go play some football,” Thomas said, knocking me out of my reverie. We all agreed and headed outside to escape from our discussion. Playing football with the guys reminded me of all the times I’d played with Colt at our family gatherings.
It’s a bittersweet feeling. My relationship with Colt was still there, at least for now. I knew the time was coming that we’d have to tell him the truth, and I wondered if we’d ever play football together again at a family function. I intercepted a long pass and darted down the field for the touchdown.
“Man, I swear you could have gone pro,” one of the guys gasped after trying to tackle me. I laughed and told him, “Not my dream. That’s my brother. You’re going to see his name in the NFL Hall of Fame.”
“What’s his name?” he asked me, curious.
“Colt Anderson. Remember it,” I stated proudly, completely confident he’d see my brother play one day.
Exactly one week later, we were driving back from the hospital, with Hannah sitting silently in the car next to me.
“It’s okay,” I tried reassuring her. “We didn’t know.” She hadn’t said a peep, since the doctor came in to talk to us. I was getting concerned. It wasn’t like Hannah to be silent for so long.
“I should have known,” she suddenly wailed next to me. I jumped at the sound, my heart beating fast. I was relieved she was finally talking.
“You couldn’t have known. You heard the doctor say even experienced moms aren’t sure,” I said, attempting for a calm voice.
“I know what he said, but I still should have realized. I dragged us to the hospital for a false alarm,” she muttered, embarrassed.
“They were Braxton Hicks, and according to the doctor, they feel like real contractions. It’s better safe than sorry. Especially so close to your due date,” I soothed, reaching over for her hand.
“It felt real,” she said, her head plopping back against the headrest, “which was completely scary, because it hurt like hell.” I glanced over at her when I stopped at a red light. Her face was a mixture of embarrassment and fear. It dawned on me that she didn’t know what to expect, and the Braxton Hicks contractions had given her a good idea. I had no idea what it felt like, and I was afraid anything I said would sound condescending, but I had to try.
“I don’t want you to be in pain. I can’t bear thinking about you in that kind of pain. When you woke me up
this morning crying, holding your stomach,” I paused and shook my head to disperse the fear that had come back with the memory. “I thought the worst, even after you reassured me they were contractions. I can’t imagine enduring that kind of pain, and I don’t want you to have to experience it either. But you’re stronger than me.” My voice grew more confident with the admission. “I know you’re scared, but I’ll be there every step of the way. I know you can do this.”
I pulled into the parking space in front of the apartment and glanced over at her hesitantly, unsure of her response to my speech. She was staring at me, tears running down her face. She gave me a slight smile, “You think I’m stronger than you?”
“I know you are.” My voice cracked slightly, so I cleared my throat. “You’re the strongest person I know.”
She leaned over and kissed my cheek, her lips soft against the stubble on my chin. We’d left in a rush, and I hadn’t had time to shave.
“Thank you.”
Hannah
Chapter Fourteen
Ford asked me if I want to watch the ball drop, and I agreed. I’d woken up early with the Braxton Hicks contractions and we’d rushed to the hospital. I’d been positive we’d be ringing in the New Year with a new baby. I was relieved that wasn’t the case. As tired as I was of being pregnant, a part of me still wanted to wait and keep my baby safe in my belly.
The day had been stressful., My blood pressure spiked while we were at the hospital, and they didn’t want to release me, until it went back down. The strength of the contractions had taken me by surprise. I really had no idea what to expect. I knew labor was painful, but I didn’t think anyone could be prepared, until they actually experienced it.
The doctor assured us it was my body’s way of practicing for the real thing. Those words scared me into silence. If this pain was just practice for the real thing, I wasn’t sure if I was ready for the real thing.
Hearing Ford admit that he was scared, but I was stronger than him, gave me confidence. The fear was still there, but wrapped around it was the knowledge that I could and would do this. Somehow, Ford had tapped into the heart of me and found what I needed most.
He was bashful about what he said when I brought it up, so I dropped it and settled onto the couch next to him.
I was exhausted, as we watched the different artists performing during the countdown. My eyes got heavy to the point that I couldn’t keep them open. I told myself that I’d rest them for a minute. I felt myself being carried at some point, popping sounds in the background, but I was safe in Ford’s arms, so I drifted off again.
The next morning, I woke up, Ford settled firmly against my back. The sun was streaming in through the window, hitting the cradle setup next to the bed, waiting for its next occupant. I saw the edge of the quilt Martha made for the baby peeking up. It was her Christmas gift to me. I hadn’t known that the quilt she’d been piecing together, while teaching me, was for our baby. I smiled at the realization that she’d started the quilt, long before I’d decided to keep her.
I really had to pee, but I was comfortable for once and didn’t want to move. My thoughts drifted, and I remembered Ford carrying me to bed. The popping must have been fireworks. I’d missed the start of a new year.
I thought about the past year and the turns it had taken that I’d never expected. It was truly amazing how much could change in the span of a year. I rested my hand over Ford’s, laying on my stomach. As unexpected as the last year had been, I couldn’t wait for this year. I didn’t know what would happen, but I was looking forward to it.
A few days later, I felt the Braxton Hicks start again. I did what the doctor told me and breathed through them, but they continued throughout the day.
By the time Ford got home, I was grumpy and out of sorts. When he came in and said he was going to change, I burst into tears and snapped at him. He says this every day, but the contractions seemed closer together and the pain was making me irritable.
He came back out after changing and looked at me standing in the middle of the living room, sniffling. He immediately pulled me into a hug, his hand rubbing my back. His touch relaxed tension I didn’t know I had. I was comforted being in his arms.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I blubbered, right before a contraction came and I doubled over. He kept a grip on me and pushed his hand against my lower back, as I breathed through it.
“How long have these been going on?” he demanded, his voice sounding loud and angry to me.
“All day. It’s just Braxton Hicks again,” I answered sharply, his tone grating on my nerves. The pain that had wrapped around me released and I pulled myself up.
“This seems a little more intense than before,” he mentioned, supporting me as I walked around the living room.
“The doctor said that can happen,” I answered, clinging to him. The rush of relief I’d felt when he’d gathered me in his arms hadn’t dissipated. I realized I’d been scared before he’d come home.
“Ok, good, you’ve talked to the doctor.” I heard tension in his voice and it registered that I’d scared him. He’d taken my fear and apparently made it his own.
“I talked to him this morning,” I admitted and, feeling another contraction, I paused. Ford braced himself, as we rode through it.
“We need to go to the hospital,” Ford declared, walking me towards the door. He reached into the closet and grabbed our hospital bags.
“I don’t want to show up and it be Braxton Hicks,” I told him with the sudden thought that maybe it wasn’t actually Braxton Hicks this time.
“I don’t care. These are too strong and frequent. I want them to look at you,” Ford said, as we reached the bottom of the stairs. I paused for a breath, feeling relaxed for a minute, and then I felt the trickle of fluid between my legs. I looked down and saw a small puddle forming at my feet. I was wearing a loose maternity dress, because it was comfortable, but it didn’t soak up the liquid running down my leg. Ford followed my gaze and said, “Oh shit.”
“I either peed on myself, or my water broke,” I admitted. “We should probably go to the hospital.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, pulling me toward the car. Right before I got in, another contraction hit, this one more painful than any of the others. A scream ripped from my throat, as the pain wrapped from my spine to my stomach. It felt like I was being ripped in two. Ford held me up during the contraction, and I gasped, as the pain finally relented.
“Hurry,” I gasped, tears threatening to fall, as I collapsed into the seat of the car.
We made it through two more contractions before pulling into the hospital. He stopped at the entrance of the maternity area, and a nurse met us with a wheelchair. Ford had called them on the way, letting them know we were coming. We headed inside the building, my hand clinging to Ford’s, as he jogged next to the wheelchair, our bags thrown over his shoulder.
Another contraction hit me, as they attempted to get me onto the bed. I wanted to push desperately, but they shouted for me not to when I told them. They pulled my legs apart, once I was on the table, and I heard a nurse shouted, “She’s crowning.” She shoved my legs back together and told me to, ‘Hang on’ before shouting for a doctor.
The pain seemed to come in constant waves, and I wanted to snarl at her, but I didn’t have the energy. The only thing I could focus on, through the haze of pain, was Ford’s hand. I hadn’t let go, and I didn’t plan to. People were running in and out of the room, but he didn’t budge.
Finally, a doctor came in joking, “Looks like we have a baby in a rush today.” I glared at him, as my body curled into itself with another contraction. The need to push was blinding me at this point, and then I heard him say, “Go ahead and push.” Ford was firm against my back, and I bore down, pushing with everything I had. “Good job!” the doctor shouted and then said, “Take a breather, and get ready to do it again.”
I gasped, collapsing back against Ford. Sweat was running into my eyes, and I was thirsty. I felt ice
pressing against my lips and Ford’s sleeve wiped across my face. I sucked on the ice, as another contraction started. Tears pricked my eyes, as I pushed through the contraction and collapsed again.
I was exhausted. There was nothing but the pain anymore. Ford pulled me up, as another contraction came. I wanted to give up, but I heard him whisper, “You can do this. You’re strong enough.” I bore down again, focusing on him. I was breathing heavily, but I could hear him encouraging me.
“We’ve got a head, one more time,” I heard through my daze, and suddenly energy flooded me. She was almost here. One more. I could do one more. When the pain came rushing back, I gave everything, pushing until I felt her slip out. “It’s a girl!” The doctor shouted, as I collapsed back, relieved laughter spilling from my lips.
I looked over and saw tears running down Ford’s face, as he looked at the messy baby in the doctor’s hands. They took her to the other side of the room to clean her and weigh her. I pushed Ford toward her, “Go, watch,” I told him, exhaustion creeping over me.
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