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“Yes.”
“You never told me—you know how to—deliver a baby,” she panted.
“Well, I do,” I lied. “It was part of my police training.”
The relief on her face was evident and made me feel better about the fib. I rolled up my sleeves. “I’m just going to wash my hands.”
“I’ll give you some light,” said Chloe, following me into the bathroom with a lighted candle.
At the sink, I scrubbed my hands from fingertips to elbows. When I met Chloe’s eyes in the mirror, I could see the question there. “Don’t ask,” I begged.
“I wasn’t going to.”
I dried my hands, taking deep breaths. I could do this, couldn’t I? I looked at my reflection and willed myself to find the confidence and skill somewhere. Then I took a second to close my eyes and talk with God.
Okay, I get it, I shouldn’t have tempted fate by braving this storm. I’m an asshole. But please don’t punish Meg for it. She deserves a real doctor to deliver our baby. Or the EMTs. If you’ll just let the ambulance get here, I promise to be a much better person. I’ll donate to charity. I’ll stop letting Renzo pee on Mrs. Koslowski’s lawn. I’ll even call my mother more often. But please let my son be brought into this world by a qualified professional.
I gave it five seconds, praying to hear someone yell, “EMS is here!”
But it didn’t happen.
I turned to Chloe. “This is fucked up,” I told her.
“I know,” she said nervously. “But you can do it, right?”
Meg cried out again from the bed, and I shouldered around her sister. “Right.”
MEG
This couldn’t be happening.
I wanted the baby out, yes, but not like this!
“Everything is going to be okay, sweetheart.” My dad leaned over and kissed my sweaty forehead. “I’m going to go down and wait for the ambulance.”
I watched him leave, wishing more than anything I could be his little girl again, crying over a scraped knee. He’d bring me a Band-Aid and dry my tears, making everything better with a hug. Where had time gone? How was it possible I was now on the precipice of being the Band-Aid-getter and the tear-dryer? I wasn’t ready! I wasn’t qualified! This was some sort of time-warp mistake!
I closed my eyes as pain gripped me again, positive something was wrong because there wasno fucking waypeople would have more than one baby if this was how it felt.
“Hang in there, honey.” My mom squeezed my hand.
“Okay if we stay with you?” Sylvia asked. “Whit is going to run up here when she sees the ambulance lights.”
“Where’s Noah?” I asked, desperate to know my husband was there.
“I’m here.” His deep, confident voice was reassuring. I picked up my head and saw him at the foot of the bed. The room was dim, and tears were blurring my vision—or maybe it was the pain—but the silhouette of his wide shoulders and chest made me feel safer. Noah wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me. He never had.
“I need to push,” I told him. “But I’m scared.”
“Don’t be.” Noah removed my underwear and my mom helped him arrange a blanket over my lower body. Sylvia sat on one side of me and April on the other, each of them taking a hand. Frannie and Chloe stood to either side of the bed, each holding two candles.
“You’ve got this, Meg,” said Chloe. “There has never beenonething you couldn’t do if you set your mind to it.”
“But this isn’t like a track meet or the LSAT,” I whimpered. “This is literally a life or death thing.”
“Thousands of women give birth every single day,” April said. “Our bodies aremadeto do this.”
“But what if I’m the one woman who can’t?” I cried. “What if I have the one vagina that’s shaped wrong? Or not big enough? I don’t think it’s big enough!”
