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Now we were all on the second floor and had plenty of space. The nursery was big and full of natural light. Every room had top of the line fire safety ladders we could deploy from the windowsill at a moment’s notice as well as well-secured fire extinguishers and smoke alarms. Rory was obsessed even for a fireman, and I didn’t mind at all since I barely survived the blaze at my old apartment.
Jeremy was making it his job to babyproof everything months before we needed to. The stairs had gates at top and bottom, and all of the cleaning chemicals were in a high cabinet with a lock on it. I told him that I appreciated his caution but if he put that lock back on the toilet seat while I was still pregnant I would pee on the carpet for revenge.
Meanwhile, I had no complaints at all. They were all over the moon excited about the baby and took the best care of me. I’d reduced my schedule to part time at seven months and officially started a nice long maternity leave once I entered my ninth month. My ankles had started to swell, and I had the luxury of staying home to put my feet up and read parenting books while I drank lots of water.
At the moment I was propped up on the couch with Jeremy rubbing my swollen feet while Rory massaged my shoulders. Darren brought me a cup of tea.
“You know, this might make me miss being pregnant after all,” I said teasingly. “You’re spoiling me too much.”
“Don’t you worry. You’ll still get plenty of attention after this baby is born,” Rory said archly.
I grinned, not even embarrassed that I was still horny at nine months pregnant. I sipped my tea. “This is the life, boys.”
Darren kissed me lightly on the lips, and as my arm went around his neck, I felt a pop and a gush of water.
I struggled to sit up, “Dammit! Not on the new couch!” I groaned. “My water broke!”
They stood in stunned silence for about half a minute and then sprang into action.
“We’ll get the upholstery cleaned, I swear,” Jeremy said as he went for my hospital bag.
Rory grabbed my phone and charger while I stepped into my shoes with Darren steadying me. We made the journey to the hospital as quickly as possible, and I was settled in a birthing room. I shifted in the narrow bed. I was restless and uncomfortable between contractions. Rory rubbed my lower back and Jeremy brought me ice chips. Darren got a blanket from the warmer in the hallway to put across my icy toes. It was his arm around my back holding me up, Jeremy’s hand crushed in mine as I rode out a contraction, breathless and wrung out from pain. Rory helped me onto my side and leaned on the edge of the bed so I could rest my head against his shoulder and try to catch my breath. The time dragged on, and always there were my three loves, bringing me a wet washcloth for my face, rubbing my feet or back, holding me while I wept in exhaustion from the pain.
Jeremy pulled up the most recent 4-d ultrasound images on his phone for me to focus on, and Darren promised me a week in the Hamptons with the baby as soon as I was feeling up to it. We’d have the big beach house to ourselves and maybe invite Kendall along to spend a day or two of quality time with her niece. She’d already bought the most adorable bathing suit for the baby, a nautical blue and white stripe with a matching sun hat and ruffles on the butt. It had a matching cover up. She was determined to be the baby’s stylist, and true to her word, had made sure my maternity wardrobe was something more stylish than elastic waist shorts and an oversized t-shirt. I was always remarkably chic in floaty sundresses at my doctor’s appointments and even the gown and robe I had for labor and delivery was the softest knit, from a supposedly cooling material that would wick moisture and be far more comfortable than the cotton monstrosity the hospital offered. I knew she’d be here to see the baby once I delivered, but the truth was, I wanted it to be just the four of us when our daughter came into the world.
Weak and tired, I begged for my epidural, but wasn’t dilated enough yet. I was pretty sure Jeremy tried to threaten them with negligence charges for ignoring my pain, but the nurses were no-nonsense and told him that when I was ready, I’d get the epidural and not before. In the meantime, they encouraged me, told me I was beautiful and a badass and so incredibly brave. I shook my head, told them I couldn’t do it. I should’ve known better than to doubt my personal hype squad. They started listing all the ways I was amazing and that they were proud of me. I was laughing and begging them to stop in between contractions that left me clinging to them. We’d taken birthing classes together so they were all great coaches and took turns pumping up my confidence, rubbing my back, offering the ice chips and cradling me close when I needed comfort.
