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Walking around the open side of the glassed-in desk, I call for Eloise, one of my favorite nurses to work with, and we follow the man out to the ambulance bay, where he’s parked a white pickup with some kind of construction logo on the door featuring a beaver. Something about him feels familiar. Even without getting a good look at him, I can see the guy is fucking gorgeous: tall and lean, with thick, rumpled-looking dark hair that appears to be a few weeks overdue for a cut. His sweatpants cling in all the right places, and under his Gore-Tex jacket and white T-shirt is a hint of some sexy AF chest hair. Normally I’d allow myself a minute to fantasize about that, but now is definitely not the time. God, it might be time for me to hit up Grindr again—I’m not usually so prone to getting horny over my ER patients. Clearly, it’s been too long since I’ve gotten laid.
When Eloise and I get to the white pickup, it’s clear that this guy might not have been exaggerating. The woman in the passenger seat is in clear distress. Tears running down her face, she’s sprawled across the truck’s bench seat in an awkward half-sitting, half-lying-down position.
“I can’t sit down. Something’s happening.” Her voice is hoarse, and her eyes are as big as saucers, while her husband looks just as terrified.
I turn to Eloise, but she’s already running back to the ER at a full sprint, shouting for a gurney.
I lean down so I’m at eye level with the woman.
“Hey.” I reach for her hand. She’s a tiny little thing with curly, blonde hair, and she grips my fingers so tightly I’m actually scared they might crack. “Hey,” I say again to get her attention. “You’re going to be fine, okay? Eloise just ran back for a gurney, and we’ll get you inside in just a minute, so hang on for me, okay?” I flash her a smile. Both she and her husband seem familiar, but I can’t place them. I meet thousands of people a year though, so it’s no surprise I can’t remember. I keep trying to sneak looks at the husband, but with no luck. While the guy seems to be in full nervous-father-to-be mode, he’s not doing much to comfort his wife as he stands off to the side, staring at his feet. Something in my brain keeps telling me I know him, and it’s going to drive me crazy until I figure it out. “I’m Dr. Morrow, but you can call me Reed,” I say to the woman with a smile. “What’s your name?”
“Grace,” she grunts out through gritted teeth.
“Okay, Grace.” My voice is calm and steady after years of practice dealing with scared and hurting people in the ER. “When’s your due date, Grace? And have you had any complications with your pregnancy?”
She whimpers as another contraction rips through her body. They appear to be coming right on top of each other, and I’m thankful to see Eloise and another nurse are back with the gurney. I straighten up and start to move out of the way, but she’s still clutching my hand.
“Due date is in three weeks. No complications,” she pants. “This is too early—why is this happening right now?”
“Sometimes our bodies follow their own schedule, but you’re going to be okay,” I say. “Grace, can you help us get you onto the gurney?” I ask her, and she nods. Her husband and I each take an arm, gently guiding her out of the truck and onto her feet.
“I can’t sit down,” she gasps, so we manage to position her on the gurney on her hands and knees. While not exactly a routine way to transfer someone, she’ll be safe since there are four of us surrounding her. I value my life enough that I’m not about to try and force a woman in active labor to sit down when she says she can’t. We head back into the ER at a quick pace, and thankfully, there’s a bed open as we get through the doors. The doctor taking over for me is on the floor now, but since I’ve already started with this case, I’ll see it through until Grace can be transferred up to Labor and Delivery. “I’m just going to check on you really fast, and then we’ll get you upstairs to Maternity, okay, Grace?”
Once we’re inside, the nurses get her out of her maternity jeans. As soon as I check her, I realize Grace and her husband aren’t kidding around: this baby is coming right now.
“I need to push, I have to, I can’t stop it,” she gasps in a strangled voice.
Realizing there’s no time to get her upstairs to Labor and Delivery, I turn to Eloise while heading for the sink to wash my hands and glove up. “Call upstairs and get them to send someone down. There’s no time to get her there.”
I haven’t been around for a ton of full-term, normal-risk births, since there’s usually time to get the moms up to L&D before the little one arrives, but every birth I’ve attended leaves me impressed with how women’s bodies work. I wouldn’t call it pretty, but it is impressive how nature takes over and things just happen.
Grace moans again. “I have to push, I can’t stop it…” Her voice trails off on a high-pitched note as her body tenses with another contraction.
“Okay, Grace, it’s okay. You’re doing really well. We’re here to help you now, okay?”
Tears are still falling from her eyes as she nods her response. I snap my gaze to her husband—or the guy I assume is her husband, who’s standing by her head, looking about as uncomfortable as I’ve ever seen anyone as he shifts from one foot to the other, cracking his knuckles and chewing on his bottom lip, his anxious gaze flitting from Grace to me, to the exit, and back again.
“Are you the dad?” I ask, and he shakes his head, eyes wide.
“No, she’s my sister,” he says as Grace lets out another cry, accompanied by a string of curses that would make a sailor blush.
“My husband’s in… in Portland.” She grits her teeth around a sharp moan, trying to get the words out between gasps.
I’ve met these two before. Last fall, they were here with a guy who fell off a ladder and messed up his back—I think maybe he was their brother. I definitely remember them. Dylan, I think that’s his name. He and his family were nice enough to send the ER staff a huge gift basket to thank us for taking care of the brother. I also remember thinking this guy was a total smokeshow, and I’d been hoping he might try to pick me up after I patched up his brother, but no such luck.
“Oh my god, it hurts,” Grace shouts as her body tightens again, effectively bringing my focus back to her—where it should be. “I need something for the pain, please.”
Shit. Even though it happens all the time, I hate having to tell people they can’t have anything to dull their pain. “I’m so sorry, Grace. We don’t have anything we can give you right now. It’s too dangerous for you and your little one. But you’re almost through the worst part—it’s going to get better soon.”
“Oh my god, I can’t do this…” Grace whimpers when she realizes relief in the form of chemicals isn’t coming. She sobs as her body tenses up with another contraction. “Fuck, it hurts,” she yells, following this up immediately with “Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for swearing, it’s just… Ugh, oh, god, oh fuuuck…”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek hard so I don’t laugh. I’m absolutelynotlaughing at her. I know she’s in a ton of pain and scared as hell, but the way she’s swearing like a truck driver and then apologizing all over the place is priceless. I want to be friends with this woman in her normal life. I bet she’s hilarious.
Her poor brother looks like he’s about to hit the deck. His face is pale with a green tinge, and he seems to be wobbling just a little. Eloise and I exchange glances, and I give her a nod. She’s completely unflappable, great with terror-stricken patients. She steps away from the foot of the bed, where I’m beginning to see the top of baby’s head, and I know things are about to get worse for Grace before they get better. Hopefully for her sake, things will continue to move quickly, but since every other part of the delivery has happened at lightning speed, I’m optimistic.
Eloise leads Dylan to the uncomfortable plastic chair that’s sitting in the corner of the room, and the look of relief on his face almost causes me to break out in laughter again. Something about this family really tickles my funny bone, apparently.
“Okay, Grace,” Eloise says. “This is it. You’re going to be fine, and you’re doing so well. Youcando this, I know you can. We just need a few good pushes from you, okay? Look at me, sweetie. You’re going to be fine.”
