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“Of course. And I plan on being with you through the rest of it too.”
Because of course, there was the birth and then the baby to think about. I knew that it would require all of my support and attention, but I was willing to give it to her. She was the best thing that had ever happened to me and I wanted to give her a life worthy of that.
* * *
On the night of Bernadette giving birth, the five of us were gathered yet again, this time at our place. Because Bernadette wasn’t feeling well and had started having more frequent contractions, we had opted to go with takeout and a movie for this night.
All the while I was measuring the time between and the length of her contractions so I could gauge when we needed to get her to the hospital.
They were getting closer, and longer, and I could tell that she was getting nervous.
“It’s okay honey, just breathe,” her mother said, massaging her back. “You’re going to be just fine, the doctors said so. We’ll get you to the hospital when you need to be there.”
“I know, it’s just painful,” Bernadette said, pacing around the room. “It hurts, ahhh, here’s another one. And…over.”
I looked down at my notes. We were around the times now that the doctor said we should probably leave for the hospital.
“We should go now,” I said. “It’s time.”
The five of us all got loaded up into my car, then we drove Bernadette to the hospital. She sat in the backseat with her mother, who held her hand throughout the car ride, squeezing it tightly and telling her everything was going to be okay.
When we arrived we were escorted to a private room. A nurse came to check up on Bernadette’s vitals and take the times from me.
It wasn’t much longer before Bernadette’s water broke, which surprised her quite a bit.
“I don’t like this at all,” she said, getting up so the nurse could change out the hospital bed pad and sheets.
“I know honey, but it’s going to be worth it,” her mother said.
Her mother and I were the two people who were with her in the room the whole time. My parents had opted to sit in the waiting room as they didn’t want to crowd the hospital room, but they came to check in on her every so often.
A nurse came too, checking the dilation of Bernadette’s cervix and guiding her through the contractions.
When it was time for the baby to be delivered several hours later, there were several doctors and nurses ready to attend.
They said it would be an easier birth because the baby was in the correct position and Bernadette had been doing very well at listening to directions, but she said a sarcastic comment under her breath at that, which I laughed at.
“If this is an easy birth, I don’t want to know what a hard one is,” she gasped several minutes later, trying to push to get the baby’s head out.
The nurses and doctors were guiding her through it, and I held her hand tightly throughout the entire process. I knew there was a very low risk of any health complications, but I couldn’t help but be worried. I didn’t like to see her in such pain.
Then, finally, the baby’s head popped through and it was a matter of getting the shoulders in the right position and guiding Bernadette through that painful step before the baby slid out easily, right into the doctor’s hands.
They cut the umbilical cord, tied it off, and cooed at the screaming, wailing child as they measured vital signs.
“You can hold him in a moment,” one of the nurses said to Bernadette. “You should be proud; you’ve given birth to a healthy baby boy. What are you going to name him?”
Bernadette and I exchanged a look, then I finally said, “Reese. We’re going to name him Reese.”
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Epilogue: Bernadette
My wedding dress was the most beautiful thing that I had ever beheld in my life.
It was now one year after our son, baby Reese, had been born, and Lucas and I were finally getting married.
He had had a custom dress made for me for the occasion. It was a mixture of soft baby pink and white, all flowing vintage lace and hand-hemmed chiffon. The sleeves floated around me like wings and the train was spotted with hundreds upon thousands of tiny freshwater pearls.
