In and out.
I finish getting dressed, throw my hair into a bun, and go to brush my teeth. When I’m finished, I’m relieved to see Cecelia’s headlights in our driveway.
Nick opens the door as she rushes in, and she runs to me, pulling me into a tight embrace.
“I can’t wait to meet him,” she says, her eyes twinkling. Frank passed away last year, and in the aftermath, Cecelia moved just down the street. I love having her around.
“I’ll call you,” Nick says to Cecelia. He smiles widely, and he looks nervous and excited.
Bria runs over to me, and even though I’m sure another contraction will hit soon, I lift her up onto me. She’s almost eight, but I can’t help but love carrying her in my arms.
“I’ll see you soon, baby girl. You can come meet your brother very soon.”
Just as I set her down, I feel another contraction, and I grip the stairwell as I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate on breathing. Once it’s over, Nick leads me to the door. I see him bend down and hug Bria.
The drive to the hospital feels like it takes years. I have four contractions in the car, and even though I tell him to, Nick doesn’t speed or run any lights. We pull into the guest parking lot, and I waddle next to him, stopping once to breathe through a contraction.
When we get all settled in, I’m informed that I’m already eight centimeters dilated, so I’ll have to start pushing soon. I silently thank my mother for her Puerto Rican, quick-labor genes. She had both Elijah and I in less than two hours.
Nick is quiet next to me, and even though we’ve been married for two years, I’m sure being here, watching me give birth to our son is a little weird for him. I reach out and squeeze his hand, and he gives me a heart-stopping grin. His smile still makes my heart go pitter-patter.
“You okay?” I ask, and he nods lovingly. He brushes my face with his hands.
“I’m just thinking about how proud I am to be your husband. And even though I’ve done this twice before, it still amazes me that I was blessed with not one, but two beautiful women who have had my babies. And on top of it, I was blessed with not one, not two, but three babies.”
His words bring tears to my eyes, and I suddenly feel very emotional.
“Nick…”
“Shh,” he says. “Focus on birthing our son. I just wanted you to know that you are amazing.”
The doctor comes in shortly after that and reads through my chart, spouting off medical terms to Nick. She checks me so see how far along I am. She looks at me, and I feel a sudden pressure in my lower abdomen.
“Umm…” I sit up, and I have the urge to push.
“Okay, Evianna. It’s time. You’re ten centimeters.”
It’s time.
I look at Nick, and his face remains happy and upbeat. I am so grateful that he’s here with me. He reaches his hand out, and I hold it tightly as I try to push.
Nothing happens.
“This doesn’t happen like it does in movies, Evianna. You have to keep pushing. More than once or twice. Try to hold each push for ten seconds. Put your all into those ten seconds. Okay?”
“Okay!” I yell. I feel the sweat dripping from my forehead.
“You’re doing great,” Nick says, brushing the hair away from my face. “You can do it. Come on. Let’s meet our son.”
Our son.
His words are motivating, and during the next push, I feel the pressure ease slightly. I can feel him—our son. He’s almost out.
“One more big push, Evianna,” the doctor shouts. “His head is almost out. He has brown hair, just like his father.”
What happens next can only be described as something animalistic and primal. I yell, using my “birthing yowl,” and suddenly, I know he’s out. I feel empty physically, but also so fulfilled emotionally.