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“What else does the internet say?” I ask, so far none of the techniques are working.
“Breathing, massage, pressure points, taking a bath, getting an epidural,” Beckett says.
“Yes, I want the epidural,” Kai says.
Beckett and I both laugh.
Somehow Kai and I ended up sitting on the floor of the kitchen, my legs are spread, and she is sitting between them resting against my chest.
“I’m sorry, baby. I wish I could get you the epidural.”
She sighs. “I know, it’s not your fault. It’s probably better for the babies not to get one anyway.”
I kiss her cheek. “You’re strong. The strongest I know.”
“Let’s try the tub, before another contraction hits,” she says.
“Wave,” both Beckett and I say in unison.
She just rolls her eyes.
Beckett races downstairs to start a bath, while I slowly help Kai stand and walk down the stairs.
We get to the small bathroom of the yacht, and I curse for not creating bigger bathrooms on this ship. The next one I build will have plenty of room in the bathroom.
“I’ll just be right outside researching birth things,” Becketts says, scooting past us.
I help Kai undress and get into the tub. I take off my pants, but the tub is too small for both of us, so I sit on the edge of the tub behind her, putting my feet in the tub next to her as I rub her back through each wave.
But after thirty more minutes of waves, I no longer call them waves—they are fucking contractions. They are hell. I’m happy I’m sitting behind her because she can’t see how much pain I’m in watching her in pain and not being able to do anything about it.
The door opens slowly, and Beckett sticks his head in. His eyes are also puffy and red. He’s been crying too. It's impossible not to while listening to Kai’s deep groans, panting, and crying.
He looks at me, asking how he can help.
I shrug. I have no idea.
He stands in the doorway, staring at his watch during her contraction. “I think the babies are coming,” he says.
“What? No, we still have hours left to wait until the doctor can come,” I say.
He nods. “I know, but her contractions are basically on top of each other, and they are strong. Everything I read says that means it’s time to start pushing.”
I stroke Kai’s head, but before I can respond another contraction comes. She squeezes my hand hard until I can no longer feel my fingers.
“I can’t do this,” she cries loudly.
“And everything I read said women almost always go through an I can’t do this stage right before they give birth.”
I frown. “She’s been saying that for the last ten minutes.”
“It’s time.”
Kai barely acknowledges either of us. She’s in her own little world. But the bathroom is too small to give birth in. She needs to get into the bedroom.
I break the silence. “Kai, we are going to move to the bedroom.”
She just growls and grips my hand roughly.
