Rocked Up

And holy fucking fuck, they aren’t any fun.

Luckily, this one ends by the time Brad comes back in the car so I’m able to be calm and collected again.

Unfortunately, we get stuck in traffic on the way to the hospital and I’m hit by two more of them.

“Ow!” Brad cries out as I dig my nails into his arm, the car nearly going off the road. We’re moving at a snail’s pace but still.

“Ow!?” I roar at him. “You call that painful? Let me show you what pain is really like.” I swear I’m seconds from putting my teeth into his arm.

“No, I believe you,” he says, shrinking away from me. “But that’s three in the last hour, what does that mean? Is this happening quickly? Do we need an ambulance?”

“It’s normal,” I tell him, trying to breathe like they teach you. It’s not really working. What a crock of shit that Lamaze stuff is. “If it’s double this, then we’re getting close.”

“Okay. Okay. You’re sure?”

“Just drive, Brad. Shut up and drive.”

“Okay.”

We get to the hospital just in time. While my contractions didn’t worsen in the car, the moment I’m sitting down in the waiting room they come at me with a vengeance. Powerful ones that make me see stars, nearly have me clawing the walls, and they’re coming five minutes apart.

Brad wrangles a nurse and I’m put into a wheelchair and wheeled off toward a room.

Everything seems to be happening fast and in a blur. I’m put on the bed, the nurses do tests and run things to me, my doctor comes by and says I’m dilated by five centimeters and things are progressing fast but smoothly.

It’s then that I realize that it’s just Brad and I against the world. He has no family. I just have my father. And ever since Brad and him split, ever since he found out I was pregnant, we haven’t been close. Just a text sent on birthdays, that’s it.

For once, I miss him. I miss having a father around, even though my father wasn’t very good at it, he was all I had.

“Are you okay?” Brad asks me as a tear spills down my cheek. “Do you want the epidural after all?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s not that. It’s just…it’s just you and me now.”

He squeezes my hand. “You have a world of supporters behind you, Lael.”

I nod. “I know, I just…”

And then I’m nearly blindsided by another contraction, the worst one yet.

Oh my god.

I thought I could be brave, I thought I could handle the pain. I thought there’s no way in hell I would ever pick getting a needle in the spine over the pain of giving birth and yet here I am yelling, “Give me the needle! Put it in my spine!”

The nurse hovers by me, peering down with a gentle look on her face.

I’d like to spit in that face.

“The anesthesiologist is busy,” the nurse says to me. “We can give you a tranquilizer that will make you sleepy and relax you. Either way, you don’t have long to go. You’re having this baby now.”

“But I want the needle in the spine!” I cry out as she brings an IV over to me. “Not in the vein, put it in my spine!”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Brad says, looking like he’s going to faint.

And then everything gets a bit hazy. I’m still aware of where I am and the pain has subsided a bit but it’s not enough to keep me from screaming with every contraction. And when the doctor starts telling me to push, I’m able to.

Everything really does happen fast or at least the drugs trick me into thinking that.

Before I know it, through the final burst of pain comes euphoria and the sound of a screaming baby.

Emma has been brought into the world.

I’m laughing, crying, overwhelmed by too many things at once. Emma is placed into my arms, her skin pressed against mine, a tiny wrinkled, red-faced little thing.

Brad is beside me, looking down at Emma and I like he’s died and gone to heaven.

I’ve never felt so much love in my life, never felt so complete.

Suddenly the world is whittled down to just the three of us.

Suddenly my heart only beats for my family.

About an hour or so later, after Emma has fallen asleep after her first (successful!) attempt at nursing, Brad leaves the room with an impish smile on his face.

When he comes back, he’s not alone.

There’s Arnie. Christy. And my father. All crowding the doorway.

I’m so shocked, so happy and touched, I burst into tears again.

My father hovers in the background while Arnie and Christy come by and congratulate me and coo over beautiful Emma.

When they’re done, only then does my father come forward.

To my surprise, the moment he looks down at his grandchild, a tear falls from his eye.

“Beautiful, just beautiful,” he says. “She has your mother’s eyes.” He leans over and kisses the top of my head. “I’m very proud of you Lael. I hope you know that now, in case you didn’t before. And I’m sorry about what happened with Brad. I do think our parting ways was for the best. But I won’t stand in the way of you being a family.”

I wouldn’t have let him stand in the way but I’m too exhausted and emotional to say anything except, “Thank you.”

Then I look down at Emma and say the same thing.

“Thank you, little one, for coming into this world. Thank you for everything.”





Chapter Twenty-Three





Brad




“Don’t wake up,” I whisper to Emma. “It’s okay. I promise you, life isn’t so hard.” I whisper so quietly, I’m barely making a sound. My beautiful daughter is curled up on my chest, we are in bed and it is the middle of the day. Her name is Emma, she’s four months old, and I’m in love.

Her tiny little hand squeezes my finger as she dreams. Other than her diaper she’s naked, and I can feel her go through a spectrum of emotions as she sleeps. Slowly, I push back her thin hair. Each time she smiles, I smile back. Her eyes open, and she leaves her little dream for a moment. Her blue eyes are bright and they shine with love. She looks deep into my eyes then closes hers and returns to her little baby dream.

My phone vibrates on the table and I silence it as quick as I can. It’s a text from Lael.

Look what came in today!!!

A picture of a large vintage mixing console in our new recording studio is below her message. It is a classic, a Neve, and it cost me almost as much as the theater. I share her excitement. It’s the final piece we’ve been waiting for, almost all the construction is nearly complete.

The theater came with the next building as a package deal and it didn’t take long for Lael to come up with the idea to build a recording studio. The theater is our base camp, our creative headquarters. It has always been a sacred place for me and I can’t think of a better venue for my family to grow. Most of the old crew still work the live shows and a few of them are helping out on the recording studio side.

I reply to her text: