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The obstetrician looks at Gabriel. “You, moral support, want to get some practice at back rubbing?”
Gabriel stares at the midwife with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. “I’m not sure it’d be appropriate… That Marissa would want me to—”
“If it’s going to make me feel better, it’s appropriate,” my best friend interrupts, then looking at me she adds, “Right?”
I smirk at Gabriel. “Fine by me.”
He dons a heroic I-gotta-do-what-I-gotta-do expression and goes to stand by Marissa. While the obstetrician helps Marissa get on all fours and shows Gabriel what to do, I sit on a Pilates ball, working on some hip stretches.
Half an hour later, Gabriel is getting sweaty and Marissa is in no better shape than when they started. I begin to worry. Childbirth is starting to look like too much of an uncivilized business for my taste.
“Excuse me,” I ask. “Are you sure you can’t give her anything for the pain?”
The midwife, more exasperated than ever, is about to reply when the door bursts open and the baby’s father barges into the room, still wearing scrubs and a surgical cap. “Am I on time?”
“Doctor!” the obstetrician exclaims. “What are you doing here?”
He goes by Marissa’s side, while Gabriel, looking more than a little relieved, steps back.
“I’m the father,” he says, while Marissa accuses, “He’s the one who did this to me.”
The world-class neonatal surgeon lets out an amiable smile. “Technically speaking, I didn’t.”
“You really think it’s wise to pick this moment to argue with—aaargh.” Another contraction seizes her. “I want the epidural,” Marissa whines once it’s over.
“How far along is she?” Marissa’s fiancé asks with an air of competence.
“She was at two centimeters an hour ago, must be at three by now.”
“Let’s call for the epidural; we can add some oxytocin to her IV to speed things along.”
Marissa throws her arms around him. “Oh, thank goodness. That’s why I agreed to marry you.”
“Unconditional love?”
“No, unconditional access to drugs.”
I stand up from the ball. “Well, guys, if you have everything covered, we’ll go wait outside.”
Marissa waves me out while grinding through another contraction.
Outside the room, Gabriel circles a hand on my lower back. “How are you?”
“That was brutal,” I say, still slightly in shock.
“I thought you and Marissa watched the video in birthing class?”
Marissa stayed single for a good chunk of her pregnancy, so we went to birthing classes together. I didn’t want her to have to go alone, and Gabriel didn’t mind skipping the birthing videos. Now I wish I had, too.
“Yeah-ah, not even close.” I feel a brief pang in my belly and wince.
“Are you okay?” Gabriel asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
He still looks concerned, but lets it slide. “You want to wait here, or go see if the cafeteria is open?”
“The cafeteria? I could use a walk, mmmfh.” Another small spasm goes through me.
