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Her mom nods with a smirk.
“Once you get a little further along, we can call for an epidural. Dr. Griffin should be here by then.” Dr. Porter starts to leave the room, and I pull him back by the collar of his white jacket.
“Excuse me, you can’t give her anything now? Didn’t you just see how much pain she’s in?”
He steps away to remove my hand from him. “This is called having a baby. I know it’s her first one, but what did you both think it involved?”
“We don’t need your sarcasm, and yes, this isbothof our firsts.” I emphasize both, so he knows it’s my first baby too. “Some guidance would be nice. Like when can she get the epidural? How long will it take for her to dilate before she can start pushing?”
Her mom feeds Adeline ice chips. There’s a line of sweat along Adeline’s hairline now.
“If you’re looking for specifics, I can’t give them to you. Every birth is different. It’s like a playbook. It doesn’t execute the same way every time.” He walks out of the room, and I follow, stopping the nurse in the hallway.
“Excuse me,” I say, gently taking her elbow.
She swivels back around. “Do you need something else?”
“How do I help her?” I ask. “I can’t just sit there, hold her hand, and feed her ice chips. There has to be something else I can do.”
She smiles and even laughs a little. “Unfortunately, everything you just mentioned is exactly what you can do. If you want, she can try a hot shower or a bath, too. She’ll have to deal with some pain, but try distracting her and make sure you encourage her. You’ll get through it.”
I nod, but I’m not really satisfied with her answer. “Thanks.”
The whole time leading up to this point, there’s always been something I can do—go to the appointments with her, paint the baby’s room, drive her to and from work, make sure she’s fed. Now the big moment is here, and I feel useless.
I head back into the room, and Adeline’s head is listed to the side while her mom places a washcloth on her forehead.
How did I get here? Three months ago, I was single, carefree, and able to go anywhere I wanted. And now I’m begging some woman to tell me how to take the pain away from the woman I had a one-night stand with nine months ago so she can give birth to our child.
My thoughts travel to Greta. If things had been different, would I already be in this stage of life? Would we be married and have kids, living in some suburban home?
“I don’t like him,” Adeline says, drawing my attention. “I want Dr. Griffin. I do not want him to deliver our baby. The baby will feel all the tension in me, and he or she should only feel love.”
“He said she should be on her way. I’ll call her.”
I grab my cell phone off the floor and dial Dr. Griffin as I walk into the hallway. She answers, but it’s clear from the background noise that she’s driving.
“Hello, Damon, I’m on my way. Just a little traffic to deal with. I was in the city at a play with my husband. But I talked to Dr. Porter, and he assured me that she’s early in the process. She’ll probably deliver sometime in the morning.”
Morning? I search out a clock to see that it’s only seven o’clock at night. “Are you serious?”
She laughs. “Yes. Childbirth isn’t usually a fast process, but we’ll get there.”
A horn honks in the background. “I’ll let you concentrate on the road. Adeline will be happy you’ll be here.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I walk back into the room to find Adeline in the middle of a contraction.
“She’s on her way.” I take her small hand, and she squeezes tightly. Holy shit, she’s got some grip.
“OHHHHH… AHHHH…” She moans before switching to some breathing technique.
“Shouldn’t we have done Lamaze?” I ask, and her mom gives me an expression like why bother asking about it now.
“I did… ah… videos online.”
“And you didn’t include me? I’m your partner. How am I supposed to keep you on track, be your coach?”
