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“What’s wrong, Rain? Are you OK?”
“I think I’m in labor. I’ve had a few pains this afternoon, but I thought they were just cramps or those fake contractions, but I think this might be the real deal,” she groaned once the pain had passed. She was clutching my arm tightly as she spoke.
“Oh god. Let’s get you to the hospital,” I gasped, feeling like a nervous wreck already.
Everyone around us began clearing a path back through the streets so that we could get back to the car. I wanted to pull up and pick her up, but there was no way to get here with everything blocked off by barriers and the booths themselves. It seemed to take three times as long to get back to the car as it had taken to get out of it and make our way to the booths. Once we were inside the car, I pointed it toward Moseley, where the baby was to be delivered at the regional hospital.
Rain called her doctor to meet us there as we drove. He lived in Moseley and would most likely get to the hospital before us if he wasn’t already on duty there. Rolling up to the emergency room doors, I helped Rain out of the car, and an attendant brought her a wheelchair.
“We’ll get her in. Just park your car, and we’ll meet you in the waiting area in a moment.”
I hurriedly kissed her on the top of the head and went to park in the nearby parking lot, my nerves already shot before even stepping foot back in the hospital. I rushed inside and panicked when I didn’t see her anywhere, but the attendant spotted me and led me down a nearby hallway to the maternity center where Rain was already being put into a hospital gown and helped onto a bed.
Things seemed to happen in a fog after that, with nurses coming and going to check on her and the doctor coming in to greet us after they got everything set up.
“Well, it looks like we are in full-blown labor with contractions already at three minutes apart. I’m going to check and see how we are doing on dilation,” he said, putting on a fresh pair of gloves with the help of a nearby nurse.
I looked away, feeling incredibly strange about someone, even a doctor, roaming latex fingers around my wife’s private area. I was relieved it was over in a matter of seconds and he was stepping away to speak to both of us.
“All right, we’re halfway there. If we keep moving forward at this rate, we’ll have us a baby in no time. Just keep doing your breathing you learned in your classes, and I’ll be back in to check on you in a bit. Everything looks great so far,” he told us. “Any questions?”
“Not right now,” I managed to say with a lump in my throat.
He looked at me and laughed, gesturing toward Rain. “I meant Raintree, but that’s OK. You’re not the first jittery father in our delivery room.”
“I don’t have any questions either,” Rain said.
The room cleared for a bit, leaving just me and her to wait for the next round of nurses to come in and check her progress. I fed her ice chips and held her hand as she breathed her way through contractions until they seemed like one was starting as the other one ended. Several times the nurses came in and checked her progress, and then the doctor returned, this time already gloved up and with a mask on.
“All right, Raintree. It looks like it’s time to do this,” he said, positioning himself at the foot of the delivery bed.
Watching her scream in pain as she began to alternately push and breathe through the pain was almost unbearable. It seemed like it went on forever, though it was only about ten minutes once she was positioned and ready to deliver. At first, I stood beside her, holding her hand, though her grip on mine felt like she was going to break every bone in it if she squeezed much harder.
“Oh, we have a head. This one has a head full of hair already!” the doctor said, drawing me toward the foot of the bed. I watched, mesmerized as the baby emerged, bit by bit, until he was in full view. A quick count revealed ten fingers, ten toes, and one penis.
“It’s a boy!” I squealed before the doctor had a chance to say so.
“So it is,” he chuckled, as a nurse handed me a pair of long scissors. I stared at her blankly, completely bewildered as to why I would need scissors.
“Do you want to cut the umbilical cord?” she asked.
“Oh. Yes!” I said, realizing how stupid I must seem, but I decided they probably dealt with idiot fathers like me all the time.
