by Sarah Havan
After Conrad’s morning classes, he came home for lunch.
“Let me make you something,” I said when he walked in the door.
“You’re already baking our babies. I can make myself some lunch. Want a sandwich?”
“Sure, let me.” I tried to push myself up, but I didn’t achieve much besides a bunch of huffing. Conrad smiled at me as I rocked back and forth, trying for some momentum. He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “You are so damn cute.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I said, wincing. Another contraction. I only had a few so far that morning, so I was pretty sure they weren’t the real deal.
“Woah, you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, blowing out a breath. Maybe it wasn’t a Braxton-hicks.
“I think I should call in to work. Your due date is in two days, and most people don’t deliver exactly on the date.” Conrad put his hand on my shoulder and turned me back in the direction of the couch.
“You won’t be far. I’ll be okay. Nothing major yet.”
“Yet? Are you saying that you just had a for real contraction?” His eyes went wide, and his mouth dropped open.
“Not sure on that one, but they’ve been quite far apart if they’re the real deal.”
“Are they consistent?” He asked a good question because I kind of forgot to keep track.
“I’ll start timing them now.”
“Oh my gosh, sit down, put your feet up. What do you need?” He grabbed my elbow and sat down with me on the couch.
“For you to go to work.”
“Mason.”
“While I can, I want some time alone with this. Nice and peaceful.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
I looked into his eyes. “There are these things called cell phones.”
“Grr, fine. But I’m telling everyone what’s going on.”
“That’s okay. I guess it’s good to be safe.”
Conrad rubbed my stomach and kissed me. “I’m too nervous to work. What if the babies are coming?”
“Go to work Conrad.”
I finally got him to leave the house, and I sat on the couch with the sandwich he made me and a bowl of ice cream and the TV remote. For the next couple of hours, my contractions kept coming, but they weren’t anything I couldn’t easily breathe my way through. But then, in what seemed like just a matter of minutes, they turned into full-on pain where I had to grip something and try not to scream. It was time to call Conrad.
He came busting through the front door about five minutes later with my mom in tow.
“This is so exciting, Mason,” my mom said, smiling from ear to ear.
Conrad came and pulled me up.
I held my back and then I felt a sort of popping sensation. “Oh,” I said.
“Oh, what?” Conrad asked.
“Oh,” I said as I felt a warm sensation run down my backside. “My water just broke.”
“Holy crap. What do we do? What do we do? Lie down. The babies are coming.” Conrad tried to usher me back to the couch.
“Conrad, calm down. We should probably call Dr. Garcia.” A contraction hit, and I focused on my breathing, holding the bottom of my belly and rocking back and forth. Conrad rubbed my arms and stayed with me until it finished. I blew out a breath. “Call him, Conrad.”
As he called the doctor’s on-call number, I wanted to clean up my mess, so I waddled across the front room. The babies dropped so low and pressed down so hard inside me, there was no way around the waddling.
“Mason, baby,” my mom said. “Sit, I’ll get a towel. Do you have your bag and everything ready?”
I nodded as my mom helped me sit down. I rubbed my stomach and closed my eyes.
“No, no. They said go to the hospital. We’re going. Why are you sitting?” Conrad asked, running back into the living room with no pants on.
“Conrad,” I said, pointing to the obvious.
“Where are my pants? I can’t wear my work pants. Is that unsanitary?” Conrad took in a deep breath.
“Breathe, Conrad.”
“Okay. Okay. My pants. I’m putting them on, and we’re leaving.”
“That sounds good.” I nodded and inhaled, slowly letting it out, my stomach tightening up. Conrad kneeled down in front me.
“Go … put … on … pants.”
My mom came back with a towel and raised an eyebrow.
I blew out one last long breath. “Mom, help him get ready.”
My mom had a big goofy grin on her face. “C’mon, honey. We need to get some clothes on you.”
My mom sent us on our way and said she’d catch up. She wanted to make sure everything was tied up at the house. I think she really wanted to clean up the wet spot I left on the floor. I waddled out to the car, stopping in the middle of our front walkway, focusing on my breathing and waiting for the contraction to pass. Conrad came running to my side with his eyes wide. I was waiting for him to pass out. He was really worked up.
“I’m okay.”
“Okay,” he said, placing one hand on my lower back and leading me to the car.
He started the car and peeled out onto the main road.
“Conrad, try not to kill us before we get there,” I said, pressing my head back into the seat.
“Yeah. My hands are shaking so bad.”
“Well, it feels like I have a vice grip somebody is turning tighter and tighter inside me.”
“I know. I know. I’m just trying not to freak out here.”
“You kind of are,” I said.
“What if the babies are born in the car?”
“The average length of labor for a first-time pregnancy is fourteen hours. We have some time. The hospital is seriously like two minutes away.”
“But your labor started hours ago.”
“We’re going to be fine.” I closed my eyes and held the underside of my belly, doing my breathing. My contractions were definitely getting more intense.
“Mason, baby.”
The contraction passed, and I looked at him. “They’re still five minutes apart. Some people don’t go to the hospital until they’re four minutes apart.”
“But you’re not some people.”
“Don’t I know it.” I rubbed my tummy. “We get to meet you soon, Elizabeth and Reid.”
“Our daughter and son are on their way. My God, this is all so fucking amazing.”
I smiled at Conrad. “You’ll meet your babies soon, Dad.”
His eyes welled up. “I don’t know if I ever said it, but I can’t thank you enough for making me become a dad.” Half the time, Conrad was more emotional than me.
“I’m sure you have about five hundred times.” I blew out a breath.
With Conrad almost killing us a few times in such a short drive, we got to the hospital. He pulled up to the front entrance and almost jumped out of the car before he got it into park. He whipped open the car door and helped scoop me out. I held onto his shoulder as my stomach tightened again.
“He he hoooo,” Conrad said. “He he hoooo.”
I breathed in rhythm with him.
“I’ll go get you a wheelchair.”
“I can walk.”
“Sure?”
“Yes, love. Walking is good for labor.”
Conrad guided me inside as I bobbled along. He left the car running.
“Go park the car. I’ll wait right here,” I said, pointing to a big chair in The Health Center’s front lobby.
“I don’t want to leave you.”
“Go,” I said, making my way to the chair.
“Okay, it’ll only be a few minutes,” he said. He gave me a quick kiss on the lips. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He squeezed my hand and took off to park the car. I breathed through my next contraction.
My mom and Conrad came walking in. My mom had such a huge smile on her face, and she clapped her hands. “Let’s go get you checked in.”
“How did you get here, Mom?” The
two of them hoisted me off the chair. “Ow,” I moaned.
“He he hoooo,” Conrad said.
My mom joined in. “He he hoooo. Mr. Jones gave me a ride. He’s a really nice guy. Conrad gave me his number earlier.”
After the three of us made it through my contraction, Conrad asked, “Can I get you that wheelchair now?”
“Yes, please.”
Chapter Forty-One
Mason
I lay reclined back into a bunch of pillows and had a fetal heart rate monitor wrapped around my gargantuan belly. With my feet flat on the bed and spread and Dr. Garcia's fingers in me, my stomach tightened. It all felt horrible.
“Ah. Ooh.”
“Breathe, Mason.”
I shook my head.
“You’ve made it this far. I know you can do it.”
I scrunched up my face. “It hurts so much more with you sticking your fingers in there. Jesus.”
Dr. Garcia slid them out and smiled. “I’m not going to check you internally much more, but right now you’re dilated three centimeters.”
“So seven more to go. Will that go quick?”
“It varies from person to person, but this is your first pregnancy, so you probably have some time before delivery. It might be a while. Take a nap now while you can and while your contractions aren’t that strong.”
“Shoot me now. They’re going to feel worse than this?” I was already in so much pain and tired. Dear God, what did I get myself into?
“They will become intense, so that’s why I suggest resting now if you can.”
“How am I supposed to rest when I’m in pain?” His logic was quite flawed.
“Just try to relax and rest. Okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”
Conrad petted my hair off my forehead. “Close your eyes for a bit.”
“Fine.” I held his hand and did start to doze off, but that lasted about a minute. My contracting stomach woke me. I put my hand on my belly and breathed through it. Conrad stood there smiling at me like an idiot.
“You wouldn’t be smiling if this was you.”
“I love you so much.”
“Yeah, you’re saying that because every time we have kids, it’s going to be me in here in pain, not you.” I wanted to reach out and shake him until the smile fell from his face.
“Every time and not the next time, so that means we’ll have multiple pregnancies in the future.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“I want to have all the babies in the world with you.”
“Can somebody else magically birth them all? This sucks.”
“You’re doing great, though.” Conrad kissed me on the forehead.
“You are doing great,” my mom said, walking into the room.
“I think I’m going to get tired of people saying that really quick. How long were you in labor with me?”
“Seventeen hours.”
“Please don’t let that be my case.” I was done, so ready for the babies to come out.
“However long it takes, we’ll help you through it,” my mom said.
After I had gotten up and walked some, I made my way back to the room. My mom and Conrad in tow.
“I have to pee.” I held my mom’s shoulder with one hand and my stomach with the other. “Did you hear, Mom? My fiancé here thinks I’m a breeding machine and wants to have like fifty children.”
“No,” he said, rubbing my abdomen as I waddled toward the bathroom. “Fifty-one.”
“You just like me pregnant.”
“I like the miracle that is you and what you can do.”
“Mason, you got a good one here,” my mom said.
I went and did my business, and when I got back out, Conrad still carried on.
“So if we have kids every two years, you being twenty now, we might not be able to have that fifty-one, but I’d say a good, ten to fourteen.”
“You think you’re so funny.” I pointed to the giant purple ball across the room.
“We’ll start with the two,” Conrad said, rolling the ball under my butt so I could sit on it.
“Oh God,” I said, closing my eyes, gripping my stomach.
My mom and Conrad both started in with the he he hoooos.
I moaned and rocked back and forth on the ball. “How many hours has it been?”
“We’ve been here six hours,” Conrad told me.
“Nine hours so far. Three at home, the six here. Get them out of me.”
Conrad massaged my shoulders. “You’ll get them out soon enough.”
“It could be hours. Ow,” I said, resting my head on the edge of the bed. I focused on my breathing, but the contractions started getting so much worse and lasting way longer.
Five hours later and at the brink of exhaustion, Dr. Garcia walked into the room. “I hear we’re going to have some babies soon?”
I grabbed fistfuls of the sheets and closed my eyes, blowing out my breaths, but they didn’t seem to help much anymore. The contractions came so quick and close together, it was like riding a giant wavering wave of pain. I blew out a breath, whimpered, and blew out another. As it tapered off I squeaked out, “It hurts so much.”
Conrad dabbed at my forehead with a towel. “You’re so close to pushing. Almost there.”
I squeezed his hand as another contraction started. I threw myself back into the pillows and moaned. Pain surging through, the contraction so tight and intense, and then I felt an incredible pressure below. “Oh God. Oh God. I have to push.”
“Hold on a little bit longer,” a nurse who was in the midst of checking my vitals said.
“No, I can’t. Oh my God,” I screamed as another contraction hit. The urge growing, the pain unbelievable. Such an incredible pressure on my anus.
“Breathe, Mason. Breathe,” Dr. Garcia said, snapping on some gloves.
“I can’t, no,” I said, tossing my head back and forth.”
“All right, we’re getting you ready to push. Can you scoot down a bit here?”
I didn’t answer because I was too busy breathing through the urge, trying to hold on a little longer.
“The contraction is almost done,” Dr. Garcia said, looking at the squiggly lines on the computer screen next to my hospital bed.
I blew out a shaky breath and scooted down the bed. The nurse pulled out the stirrups and adjusted them. There were five nurses in the room, plus Dr. Garcia, my mom, and Conrad, so many people watching as I got ready to deliver my babies.
“We’re going to have you put your feet up in here,” the nurse named Jose said.
“Or do you want to try to hold your legs, Mason?” Dr. Garcia asked.
I nodded my head, and I concentrated on breathing and then shook my head.
“Was that a yes to holding your legs?” he asked.
I shook my head no.
“Do you need help getting your feet in the stirrups?”
I nodded. The contractions were so strong they stole my ability to speak. Jose helped me move the one leg, and Conrad helped with the other. Dr. Garcia took away the bottom of the bed and handed it to another nurse. My mom stood in the corner, smiling and taking pictures.
Conrad kissed my forehead. “We’re about to have our babies.”
I grabbed his T-shirt as a contraction hit.
“Push. Push, Mason,” Dr. Garcia said, sitting on a stool at the end of the bed.
I rolled up and bore down, but I was so shaky, and it was so painful, I mostly just screamed and choked Conrad with his shirt.
“Good first push. Next one, we’ll go bigger. Really bear down and concentrate.” Dr. Garcia looked up at me and smiled.
I collapsed back. “I can’t stop shaking.”
“That’s just your body reacting to what you’re going through. Totally normal.”
“You amaze me,” Conrad said.
“Oh God, shut up,” I screamed, my stomach growing tight.
“Here comes another one,” Dr. Garcia said in a voice that
sounded like we were having so much fricking fun. I was being ripped open alive, and he was happy. I wanted to punch him in the throat.
I curled up again and pushed with all my might, screaming, sweat dripping down my forehead. Felt like my head was going to pop off.
“Wow, good job, but let your breath go. Breathe through it,” Dr. Garcia said so calmly.
“Jesus, shut up. Oh my God. Why did I do this?”
“Because you want to be a dad and you love your babies.” Conrad petted my sweaty hair.
“Conrad, I swear to God.” I lay back, panting and shaking.
“Let’s adjust the bed a bit more for him,” Dr. Garcia said.
Jose nodded and pushed a button on the bed, and it felt like I was getting folded in half.
“Here we go. And push. You got this, Mason. You’re doing great.”
I bore down and focused, thinking how I needed to get those babies out of me. I let my breath go and pushed.
“There we go. Good. Good.”
“Are we done? Can I stop now?”
Dr. Garcia shoved his fingers in me. “You’re working that baby down.”
“So, I’m almost through.”
“Oh, no. They still have quite the way.”
And another one hit. I didn’t know how much more I could take. “Fuck,” I screamed. “How much longer?”
“Depends on the progress with each push and how your contractions go. You’re doing great, though.”
“But how long?” I needed to know a definite amount of time.
“First births for omegas, on average, are two to three hours of pushing. But it varies.”
“Oh God.” And I pushed and pushed again. Each time becoming more tired than the next. I was in so much pain that I stopped talking even between contractions. The between time not being much time at all.
“Baby one is really coming down. I can see the head,” Dr. Garcia said from between my legs.
Conrad wiped my forehead with a towel. I kept my eyes closed, breathing, prepping for the next one, which I screamed through.
“Next one, give me all you got,” Dr. Garcia said.
I nodded and pushed, grabbing the back of my thighs and bearing down, working that baby down and pushed as long as I could.
“Fantastic. Rest for a moment. Wait maybe not, and push.”