I started panting without even wanting to. God, this was ridiculous. Then all my thoughts sort of got erased as the pain took over. A long guttural wail came out of me. I’d normally be humiliated at my lack of control over myself, but whatever. I had no choice but to succumb to whatever the hell my body wanted to do.
Somewhere among all the bludgeoning of my midsection, I felt a deep heavy spreading sensation. I pictured literal jaws opening down below, a big metal mouth groaning in protest, rusted or something, refusing to budge. The image was traumatizing and I had to scream to make it go away.
“You’re doing great, honey,” the nurse said. “Dad, help her sit up and give her some support.”
Chance tried to maneuver me into the position we’d practiced in class, but I elbowed him in the gut. Serves him right for getting me in this damn mess. One damn condom. Who only carries one damn condom?
I might have said that out loud. I wasn’t super sure what was real anymore. Everything was hazy, pain making all the edges fuzzy.
“WHERE ARE THE DRUGS?!!!” I shouted.
The nurse peered under the sheet again. I wanted to kick her. Hell, we might as well have the Google car do a drive-by and snap a shot for the satellite feed. I had a bad feeling my privates were about to rival the Grand Canyon.
“Time to push,” the nurse said. “Push to ten. Count with me. One, two, three, four…”
I couldn’t pay attention to numbers. The pain I felt before was nothing compared to the sharp, burning sensation down below. Now I wanted to go BACK to just the contractions. That was paradise compared to this.
I couldn’t push anymore, because that made the burning worse. “I can’t,” I said. “It’s like a million firecrackers going off down there!”
I don’t think anyone understood what I said. Chance sat behind me, helping me stay in position, one hand squeezing mine. My hair was everywhere. I had a concert ’do, not something for birthing babies. Sweat was making my styling products run down my face. I could taste hair spray and chalk.
This had to be the worst day ever.
The contraction slowed down, but before I could even catch my breath or complain about something, it started up again. “This suuuuucks!” I managed to get out. Who was supposed to handle this? I was never having another baby. Never never never.
Darion popped into the room. Between gasps, I managed to say, “Pleeeease handle this instead of the Evil Overlord.” I could tell nobody knew what I was talking about. I wanted to hit something in frustration, but instead kept one fist full of sheet and the other in a death grip on Chance.
“Are we crowning?” Darion asked the nurse.
I had no idea what he meant.
“Almost,” she said. “I’ll call Dr. Schlock in a moment.”
I saw Darion smirk at the doctor’s name and felt a little better for like a nanosecond.
“Let’s push, Jenny,” the nurse said. “To ten. One, two…” She faded out faster this time, the pain blasting out everything else.
I felt so exhausted. The contraction slowed, then came right back again.
“Now we’re getting there,” the nurse said.
“You want me to page him?” Darion asked.
“Sure,” she said.
“No!” I shouted, although it sounded like a strangled gasp.
They looked at me. “I want Darion,” I said.
The nurse shook her head. “Dr. Marks isn’t authorized to deliver except in emergencies,” she said.
I wanted to say, “This is an emergency,” but the nurse started counting again. Darion backed off and typed something on his phone.
But in seconds, the most amazing, wonderful face in the world showed up. Dr. Jamison. He wore dark blue scrubs and a light blue cap. His kind eyes lit on me and Chance and he smiled.
I started crying. Big huge tears. Snot bubbled from my nose.
“You’re doing great, baby,” Chance said. “It’ll be better now that Dr. Jamison is here.”
“I see you decided to speed things along, Jenny,” Dr. Jamison said. “Always trying to be more efficient.”
I couldn’t answer, just boohooed through the pain.
“Where are we?” he asked the nurse.
She rattled off centimeters and other stuff I couldn’t pay attention to. I was just glad she wasn’t counting, wasn’t making me push.
“Breathe, baby,” Chance said. He wiped my face with a tissue.
“Why…didn’t…I…get…drugs?” I blubbered.
Dr. Jamison reached over and took my hand, squeezing it. “I’m so sorry you went into labor so quickly. After a certain point we turn down the medication so you can push, and you were already almost there when you arrived.”
Finally, someone who was willing to actually explain things. Still, huge, hot tears slid down my face. I felt three years old.
“You’re doing great,” Dr. Jamison said, and took the nurse’s position between my knees. He glanced down, then back up at the nurse. “Bring in the team. We’re crowning.”
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and gripped Chance again.
Dr. Jamison pushed the sheets back so I could see my own knees. Behind him, the doors opened and two female nurses pushed a contraption inside, a crib with something over the top.