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A middle-aged woman over at reception gave us a patient smile. Obviously completely misunderstanding the situation. Or she was on drugs. I don't want to be judgey, but it could be either. Jean was about to push out a kid, for god's sake. Maybe the woman needed some visuals.
"She's in labor. Are you seeing this?" I pointed first to Jean's swollen middle, then to the growing puddle on the floor. Still no one started running. "Jesus. Why is she acting like this happens every day?"
"Because it does."
I just frowned. "Who should I call? Who do you want me to call?"
"Oh..." She paused. "No one. No point involving Nell, given her flu. Besides, I've got my plan. I'm okay."
"Hey, how are you doing?" A young woman in medical scrubs approached us with a smile. "Things are happening, huh?"
"Yeah," Jean said a little shakily.
"Contractions?"
"I'm not sure. I've had back pain all day."
"All right."
"It's not like I'm feeling any urge to push or anything."
The woman nodded. "I'm going to go get a couple of pads for you, okay?"
"That would be great." Jean gave the puddle she still stood in a foul look. "Thanks. Eric, can you please grab my bag out of the back of the car? I really need a change of pants."
At last, something I could do. And I did it with all due haste. Christ, my heart was still slamming around inside my chest. About a bucketful of adrenaline had to be pumping through my system. All around, the snowstorm howled. Thank fuck we'd made it here without any trouble.
I quickly collected the little but tightly packed overnight bag, slammed the back of the SUV shut, and headed back in, not caring that my car was still in the ambulance zone.
"What a mess," Jean said as I approached.
"Don't worry about it."
"Bathrooms are just over there," I heard the nurse say as she returned. "You feeling okay to walk with me around to maternity?"
"Yes, that's fine." Jean searched through her bag for fresh underwear and pants, then ambled over toward the bathrooms.
"This is your first, huh?" the nurse asked as she returned to my side. Kristen, according to her name tag.
"What?" My brows jumped. "No. I'm not the father. Jean's just ... we're friends."
"So you're her birthing partner?" asked the nurse.
I paused for a moment in the face of the official designation. But Nell was out, and in the car Jean had seemed happy enough about me being there for the event. "Yes," I said. "Yes, I am."
"Why don't you park the car then? We can't have the vehicle blocking the emergency entrance. I'll be taking her straight to maternity and you can meet us there. Annex A, level two."
I focused on the closed bathroom door. To leave Jean felt wrong, scary almost. But Nurse Kristen seemed all kinds of calm and capable. She definitely wasn't hiding a chainsaw or anything under her scrubs, so I guessed Jean would be okay with her. And medical types obviously knew shit about babies and pregnant people.
Deep breaths. "Yeah. Okay. I'll do that."
"Good," she said, wandering back to wait for Jean.
While I didn't mean to skid the wheels tearing out of the emergency zone, a little bit of smoke might have happened. Never mind. Parking the car seemed to take forever. Ditto with figuring out where they'd hidden maternity. The place wasn't a hospital so much as a giant maze. Honestly, walking into fucking Mordor would have been both faster and easier. Seemed likely the kid would be born, grown-up, and have gotten a college degree before I arrived.
I finally found the right wing and yet another reception desk. Trying to catch my breath, I said, "Hey, I'm looking for--"
"It has to be natural," insisted a loud voice from a nearby room. "I have a birth plan."
"Never mind."
The guy sitting behind the desk stood and said something, but I wasn't stopping for anybody.
Inside the big beige room, Jean lay on a bed, legs spread wide. Totally pantsless on account of the hospital gown. Thank fuck for the sheet draped over her knees. We might be friends now, but I'm pretty sure she didn't want me seeing all that. I didn't really have time to freak out further, however. Two women stood beside her, one holding a small machine to her belly. Both wore serious faces.
"Your baby's heart rate is low. We're concerned about how much oxygen she's getting," said the one holding the machine. She sounded authoritative. The doctor, maybe.
Jean's lips quivered, eyes filled with liquid.
I rushed to her side. "What's going on?"
"They want to do a cesarean," she said, grabbing hold of my hand. In her other, she held a crushed piece of paper. Her birthing plan, without a doubt. Pain creased her face, sweat beading on her forehead.
The doctor continued on, her eyes kind though her expression seemed set in stone. "As I've explained, I think it would be safest."
"You're with Miss Antal?" asked the second woman. Another nurse; this one's tag read Madelaine.
"I, ahh." My eyes drifted to Jean.
"Yes," she said, almost impatiently. She had bigger things going on than my status, after all. "He's my partner here."
And they could take that however they liked. If she wanted me there, then there I'd be. No way she should be going through this alone. I squeezed her hand.
"I realize you'd hoped for a natural birth," said the doctor. "And I understand this is a shock to you, but it's my recommendation that we proceed with a cesarean. As I said, if you agree, we'll have the anesthesiologist in shortly to do a spinal block."
Christ, it was all happening so fast.
Jean was shaking her head against the doctor's words, but her eyes were full of doubt. She looked up at me, pain and indecision wrinkling her forehead. Jesus. Things were bad if she was looking to me for advice. I wished I'd read every one of those damn pregnancy books five times, cover to cover.
It was all I could do just to meet her eyes in what I hoped was a supportive way, but I felt totally useless. Jean's fingers squeezed tighter and tighter. She could break my hand for all I cared. Grind my bones down to dust. At least then I'd be doing something.
Finally, she nodded. "All right."
"I'm assuming you want Mr...." The nurse nodded in my direction.
"Eric," said Jean. "His name is Eric and yes, I want him to come in."
"Come with me, please," directed the nurse. "We'll get you prepped."
She took me into another room and gave me a hair cover and a white coverall thing to wear. A few ties and it was covering up my existing apparel. This was a good thing--the designer jeans and flashy shirt I had been wearing behind the bar really didn't fit the occasion. I got it all done as quickly as possible. Away from Jean, I almost wanted to hurl. It was easier to be brave when she was right there needing someone to be strong and keep their shit together.
"Eric, if you're ready I'll take you in," said the nurse, reappearing.
Frankly, if we were going to wait until I was genuinely ready for something like this, it would be another twenty years or so. And involve Joe buying me another dozen books on the subject. And me getting a couple of shots of liquid courage for good measure. That last was a particularly good idea. Where was a barkeep when I needed one?
But there was no alternative, so I simply nodded, and off we went.
A green sheet hung halfway across Jean's body, blocking our view of everything from her chest down. She too w
ore one of the hairnets, along with a hospital gown. A heart monitor thing had been clipped onto one finger and a drip inserted into the back of her hand. I stood beside her, still not vomiting despite all the busy medical people, the sight of syringes and blades, and the smell of antiseptic. Yay me.
"Don't touch anything green," directed the nurse. I'm not sure what her name was. In fact, I don't even think I was seeing straight.
I grasped Jean's hand, my palm maybe slightly sweaty. "Can you feel anything?"
"Nothing down below," she said. "Everything's going to be fine."
"Yes."
"You don't look so good." Concerned eyes gazed up at me. "Are you going to faint?"
The doctor chuckled. "We're not picking you up if you do."
"Some hospital this is," I mumbled, before saying in a firmer voice, "I'm fine. Are they getting your baby out for you, or what?"
"Don't you worry about us," said the doctor, giving me a quick look. She wore a surgical mask, but I think a smile was happening beneath it. "You just concentrate on staying upright."
Christ. "I'm fine, really."
Jean gave my fingers a squeeze. Dammit. I was meant to be comforting her, not the other way around.
"You still haven't given me your final decision on her name." I forced a smile. "It's not too late, you can still use one of my extraordinarily helpful suggestions."
"Very kind." Her pretty face had relaxed since the anesthetics had kicked in, but worry still filled her hazy gaze. The woman seemed sort of stoned. "Can you see anything?"
"No."
Beyond that sheet, things were happening. Things I did not want to know about and definitely didn't want to see. Whatever they were talking about and doing, I blocked out. Only Jean mattered.
"You'll look after her, right? When she comes out?"
"Absolutely. Didn't I tell you about those books I read on this? I'm probably better qualified than the doctor."
Her smile was only fleeting, but it was better than nothing. "I can't move."
"I'll look after her."
She took a deep breath, eyes liquid. "Okay."
"You're going to be fine."
"Everything's going well," confirmed the nurse. "Keep her calm, Eric."
"Right, sure," I said. "Ah, how about Wilhelmena?"
"W-what?" asked Jean.
"Or Henrietta. That's a good one."
Her face creased. "Where are you even getting these?"
"Not a fan of the classics? Something more hippy, maybe?" I rubbed her knuckles with the pad of my thumb. "Like Rainbow or Sparrow or River."
No reply.
"I know! How about Moon Unit or Diva?"
