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He held me as the contraction zapped through my body. I squeezed his hand, breathing through the pain. This one lasted longer, and I was afraid we didn’t have much time. I was told we’d have plenty of time as first time births took longer.
I hurried my pace to the house, and had another one on my way up the stairs. Hunter helped me to the bed, removed my underwear, propped up a pillow, and got in touch with the village on a shortwave radio.
“Abuela’s on her way. We need water. I’ll go down to the river.”
I felt pressure between my legs and the urge to push grew.
“The river?”
“No, you’re right. We need hot water. The river’s a bad idea.”
Oh, God. He was running around the room like a confused chicken. A chicken with a bear’s body, and I’d never seen him this scattered. I started laughing so hard at the image that I was crying, and Hunter finally stopped.
“Are you okay?”
A fresh contraction tore through my abdomen. I rose to my knees, bent over like a dog, and took a position on all fours. The urgency to push forced me into a squat.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but it feels right. The baby’s coming.”
“What?”
“It’s coommiiing right nooow,” I cried, feeling the stress around my belly compress my organs.
Hunter positioned himself underneath my legs. Thankfully, he’d had the mind to find fresh swaddling cloths and held them ready. I pushed, my face tense and hot. Sweat streamed down my face and body. I panted at the moment of relief, but then the pressure surged again and I pushed harder.
“Catch it,” I said to Hunter.
“It’s not a football.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“No, but I’m not a football player either. I watched YouTube and read some books.”
“When?”
“Push, Grace. Push.”
I gripped his shoulders for support, released my breath, and tightened my jaw, giving into the pain and ache.
“It’s gonna pop!” I screamed.
“Genies do it all the time.”
“What?” My head flew up.
“The head’s almost out. Give me a strong push on the next contraction.”
The last push flushed the pain away. Relief and a need to hear a cry surged through me. Hunter removed the baby and wrapped a cloth around her—or him.
“What is it? Is it okay?” I lowered to the bed with my legs spread wide, watching him maneuver not like Tarzan or a caveman. He looked like a doctor.
“Give me a sec.”
He clamped the umbilical chord, cleared the baby’s nose with an aspirator we had ready, and passed me the swaddled bundle. The baby finally cried.
“Congratulations, Mamma. We have a daughter.”
