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“You said you wanted to do it natural.”
“I know what I fucking said, Jason, and I changed my mind. Stop trying to convince me otherwise. Get a nurse in here. Now!” Her shout cut off with a hiss of pain, and her complexion turned beet red once again as another contraction blipped on the monitor next to the bed. She exhaled and shifted onto her side toward me, her face racked with pain. “Jason.”
“I’m here, I’m here,” I said, not knowing what to do first, completely helpless.
After nine rough months of Gemma struggling with severe morning sickness for the first half and then being so exhausted and swollen at the end, it was apparent this baby did not want to leave its home. The OB/GYN waited a week and a half at Gemma’s insistence to see if the baby would make their way into the world on their own, but eventually, the doctor said Gemma needed to be induced.
She wasn’t happy about it but agreed, and she’d spent the first few hours of the day stoically taking each contraction in stride as the nurse pumped up the Pitocin little by little. She had taken a walk, tried to bounce on a ball, and even spent some time on all fours—anything to ease her discomfort. But once the shaking set in, my anxiety skyrocketed. The nurse assured me it was totally normal, simply Gemma’s body’s reaction to the adrenaline, but I couldn’t stand it anymore. Between her increasing temper and pain, I wanted to avoid being murdered so I could actually meet my baby.
“Uh, excuse me,” I said, jogging out to the nurses station. “My girlfriend’s in a lot of pain, and she’d like the epidural now. Please. As quickly as you could get it to her.”
The nurse—a pleasant-enough woman who surely had a name, though I’d long forgotten it—smiled congenially and said, “I’ll let the doctor know.”
“Okay, great. Thanks.”
“Gem, they’re coming,” I said, back at her side. “Pretty soon, you won’t feel anything.”
“Great, because right now, it feels—” She gritted her teeth, holding back half a scream as another contraction hit, and I yanked at my hair.
After witnessing this, I had no idea why people had babies at all. I didn’t know whether to get down on my knees in appreciation for Gemma or to apologize for putting her through this.
“Fuck!” she yelled at the end of the contraction, breathing slightly easier. “It feels like a watermelon is trying to come out of my ass. Stop laughing, you asshole, and get over here.”
I dropped to the bed. “What do you need?”
“I’m so hot. Take my socks off.”
I did. “What else?”
She frowned, looking wholly spent. “Have this baby for me.”
I took her hand in mine, finding it warm and clammy, and kissed the back of it. “I wish I could. I really, really, really wish I could.”
“Is my mom here?”
I nodded, but another contraction took hold—they were coming so fast now—and this time, she let out a primal bellow to get through it.
“Do you want me to go get her?” I asked when it was over, but she could only shake her head. I ran back out to the nurses station. “Is the doctor coming soon?”
The nurse pointed to the female doctor coming around the corner. “Right now.”
“Great. Good. Perfect.” I led the way for the doctor like a flower girl at a wedding. “She wants an epidural now, please.”
The doctor smiled. “How are you feeling, Dad?”
“Terrible.”
She laughed. “Not uncommon.”
Gemma moaned, so did I, and the doctor slid on gloves. “Let’s see if you’ve progressed any further, and then we’ll assess if you’re able to get the epidural or not.”
“If?” I repeated, and the doctor nodded, positioning herself at the foot of the bed, her face changing almost immediately when her hand disappeared under the hospital gown, between Gemma’s legs. “What? What is it?”
“That’s ten centimeters. Plus one station.”
“What does—” My question was cut short by Gemma’s guttural wail, and the doctor said something to the nurse, setting a flurry of activity into motion. More nurses and medical students entered the room, introducing themselves, but Gemma didn’t pay attention and I plumb didn’t give a shit.
“Gemma, there is no time for an epidural anymore. Your baby is ready, so we’re going to start pushing, okay?”
