Page 94 of Kicking Up Dust

With the doctor gone, I return to her bedside, running my fingers through her hair. “You want me to put it up in a ponytail, baby?” I keep my voice low because it seems to be the thing to do.

She doesn’t answer right away but when she does, it’s also quiet. “Yeah.”

The nurses start quietly bustling around—turning on the light for the little bed they’ll put the baby in after she’s born and setting out a bunch of scary-looking tools I try hard not to stare too long at.

Everything feels incredibly real all of a sudden, even more so when Blair whimpers out a “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” and Mama’s head snaps up.

FIFTY-ONE

BLAIR

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” I whimper. At first, the pain was something I could breathe through. It took everything in me to do it, but I could logically understand that there was a light at the end of this tunnel.

Now, the light is growing dimmer and dimmer with each contraction that passes. The nurses get the room ready for my baby to arrive, but it still feels endless. No urges to push, nothing telling me we’re close to her being in my arms and this pain being over.

June is at my side a moment later, pushing back my hair.

“Shh, sweetheart. You can do this. Women have been doing this for years and years and years, remember?” she says, trying to soothe me with my own words. “In less time than you think, you’re going to have a pretty little girl lying on your chest and this will all feel worth it.”

I shake my head as she calls Colt over to put pressure on my lower back for me again. I’d waved him away earlier, so overstimulated I could barely breathe, and I feel a little bad about it now as I turn my head to the side to look at her with tears in my eyes.

“I don’t know how, Mama,” I whine and she smiles gently at me.

“Your body does, Blair. I promise you.”

That doesn’t help either, but I think I’m at the point where nothing will. I feel inconsolable, restless.

“You can cuss the whole time,” Colt says and I know he’s trying to be genuine with the family motto, but it doesn’t come across that way right now.

“I don’t like to curse,” I say, even as I start to pull myself out of the bed again. The hands-and-elbows position doesn’t feel right anymore.

“I think a little cussing is probably warranted, sweetheart,” Mama says as she helps me up. “What do you need?”

“I want my ball again.” I’ve got the oddest urge for it all of a sudden. It hadn’t helped me much when we first got here, so Colt just sort of tossed it over to the corner of the room, but I want it now.

Mama hesitates. “Let’s get the doctor in here to check on you again first.”

I shake my head with a whimper as another contraction hits and with it, an urge that feels both oddly familiar and entirely unique. “I have to push,” I say, probably louder than I mean to.

There’s a sudden flurry of attention as a nurse helps the doctor into his coat and gloves.

“Hold off for me, Blair.”

Colt’s at my side and everything gets hazy. I need to push. That’s the only thing I know for sure. Mama tells the nurses that I was going for the birthing ball and they ask if I want to try the squatted position.

“I need to push,” is the only way I can answer them.

They take that as a “yes” and set up the squatting bar on the bed, removing the bottom half of it as Colt holds me up when I start getting into position on my own.

“You’re doing so good, Blair. I love you so much. I’m so proud of you,” Colt’s whispering in my ear as I lean forward against the bar, but I’m too hot for that.

“Can she take the gown off?” Colt’s asking the doctor, having noticed somehow, but I don’t hear the response before it’s being removed. Any shame I’d normally have about being butt naked in front of my boyfriend’s mother and a bunch of strangers is nowhere to be found.

“When the next contraction hits, I want you to listen to your body and bear down when you need to.”

It feels like I’m two different people. The one pushing during contractions is so incredibly focused, with all of the strength in the world, and a sole purpose. And then between contractions, I feel barely human, leaning against Colt as he whispers praises in my ear and pushes my hair away from my face.

“You’re doing so good, Blair. She’s crowning. Do you want to feel her?” the doctor says after several contractions, reaching for my hand. I smile deliriously as he leads me down to touch the slick, fuzziness of my daughter’s hair.