‘Hurry, Nan!’ he shouts, hanging up and stuffing my phone in my pocket for me.
‘I love you,’ Ava tells Maddie while she secures the tie, feeling at her startled face. ‘You’re beautiful, smart and sassy, and I love you.’
‘Love you, too, Mum.’
If she wasn’t in labour, I would think Ava was drunk. What’s got into her? It’s a stupid question. I know what. It’s that whole replacement thing. ‘Come on, lady,’ I say, breaking up their moment. ‘Let’s get you to the car.’
Her answer is an epic scream, her body unmoving when it solidifies in a natural attempt to stem the pain. ‘Oh my fucking God!’ Pant, pant, pant. ‘Sorry, kids.’ She fists the front of my T-shirt and hauls me forward with a power Wonder Woman would be envious of. Her eyes are wild. ‘This baby is coming out now, Ward.’ Yet another scream pierces the air immediately after her statement.
And following that, my panic. ‘What?’ No. No, no, no. ‘Ava, we just need to get you in the car and I’ll have you at the hospital in no time at all.’
She starts to fold to the floor, moaning on her way down. I have no choice but to scoop her up and carry her through to the lounge where it’s more comfortable. ‘There is no time,’ she wails as I lay her on the couch. ‘Not on the couch! It’ll be ruined.’
‘For fuck’s sake.’ I can’t help it. ‘Sorry, kids.’ I lay her on the carpet and get her head comfy on a pillow. ‘Baby, I need to get you to the hospital.’
She shakes her head. ‘It’s coming.’
‘Jacob, Maddie, hold your mum’s hands,’ I order, sending them to the top end. Once they’re in position, I reach under Ava’s long skirt and pull her knickers down; the material is drenched. ‘I’m just going to check what’s going on down there,’ I tell her, to appease Ava more than myself. ‘Then we’ll get you to the hospital.’ I help her legs to bend, ensuring I keep her covered as best I can as the kids look on.
‘I need to push,’ she pants.
‘You do not need to push,’ I assure her as I take a peek between her legs. It’s way too soon. ‘Oh, fuck!’ I blurt, seeing the crown of a head breaching her vagina. ‘Shit, Ava!’
‘I fucking told you I need to push!’
‘Dad?’ Jacob’s unsure voice lifts my hollow head, and I find two sets of very worried eyes. This wasn’t part of the plan. They’re panicking.
I need to take control. ‘Maddie, go and get towels and a cool flannel. Jacob, I want you to get the duvet off our bed and open the front door.’ I grab my phone as they shoot off like obedient bullets. ‘Ava, baby, no pushing yet, okay?’ I dial for an ambulance as she nods, blowing out short, sharp shots of breath. ‘I need an ambulance. My wife is in labour, and she most definitely isn’t going to hold out until I can get her to the hospital.’
‘What’s your wife’s name, sir?’
‘Ava. Ava Ward.’
‘And your address?’
I reel it off as the kids dart into the lounge simultaneously, both their arms full of my requests. ‘The baby’s head is crowning,’ I tell the operator, trying to push back the urgency I’m feeling and remain calm for Ava. She’s huffing and puffing, cheeks blowing out, eyes clenching shut.
‘Okay, Mr Ward, first things first, don’t panic.’
I laugh. If she’d said that to me when Ava’s waters broke with the twins, I would have verbally ripped her head off. ‘I’m not panicking,’ I assure her coolly. ‘But I am going to need someone to walk me through this.’ I take another quick peek under Ava’s dress. ‘This chap is in a rush.’ Fucking hell, he’s stalled making his entrance, and now he’s decided he’s got jet propellers in his feet. I watch as Jacob plumps pillows and Maddie flaps the duvet out.
‘An ambulance has been dispatched and the midwife called.’
‘Thank you.’ They’d better hurry.
‘Okay. Now who is there, Mr Ward?’ the operator asks.
‘Me, my son and daughter.’
‘How old are they?’
‘Twelve. They’re twins.’ Ava’s eyes spring wide open, her head shaking furiously from side to side. Sweat is dripping from her. ‘Just hold one moment while I get her comfortable.’
‘No problem.’
I drop the phone and slide my arms under Ava’s body, lifting her from the floor. ‘Pull the duvet under,’ I tell Maddie. ‘And the pillows there.’ The two of them work efficiently and calmly, and I know for sure that my coolness is the reason why. I just need to maintain it. But, fuck, this was not part of my plan when I’ve mentally walked through Ava’s labour dozens of times. ‘Guys, I need your help,’ I tell them, lowering Ava back to the soft duvet. ‘Can you do that?’
Both nod, eyes passing back and forth between me and Ava. ‘Is she all right, Dad?’ Jacob asks, the shock not masked in his voice as well as it is on his face.
‘She’s fine,’ I assure him, stroking back Ava’s hair from her wet face, dropping a kiss onto her forehead. ‘Aren’t you, baby?’
She groans but tries to nod, too, her head jerks uncontrolled and erratic. I smile, grabbing her hand and squeezing. ‘You ready?’
Blowing out air through her pursed lips, she constricts my hand. ‘Don’t leave me.’
‘None of us are leaving.’
She looks up towards the kids, who are on either side of her head, straining a smile. ‘This is nothing compared to when I had you two,’ she assures them.
I laugh when the kids’ eyes bug, glancing at each other.
‘Maddie, put that damp cloth on Mum’s forehead,’ I order, moving back down Ava’s body. ‘Jacob, hold Mum’s hand. She’s going to squeeze it really hard, mate, so get those muscles flexing.’
‘I don’t want to hurt him,’ Ava wails, her back bowing violently when another contraction hits her.
Jacob quickly snatches up her hand with both of his, moving in closer to her head on his knees. ‘It’s okay, Mum. Squeeze as hard as you need to.’
My fucking heart melts as I grab the phone and put it on loudspeaker, resting it on the floor next to me. ‘Okay. We’re ready.’
‘Okay, Mr Ward. How far apart are the contractions?’
‘One minute, maybe two.’ I encourage Ava to bend her knees more and spread her legs further, taking a towel and laying it over her knees.
‘On the next contraction, I want Ava to push and you to apply pressure on her vagina.’
My eyes widen, and I look at the kids, who, as I expected, are cringing terribly. I’m not cringing. I am, however, fucking confused. ‘You want me to push the head back in?’ Surely not.
Ava screams as I utter my question, her face going red. ‘You’re not pushing it back in, Jesse! I want it out! Now!’
Fucking hell, the pressure. ‘Okay, baby. Calm down.’
‘Mr Ward.’ The operator isn’t laughing, but she’s not far off. ‘I want you to apply pressure at the top of Ava’s vagina.’ That word again, and the kids both grimace. ‘The angle will help the baby’s head pass through easier.’
I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to focus on the part of my wife that I love the most, the part that looks nothing like I remember. ‘Right,’ I breathe, reaching forward. ‘How hard?’
‘Firmly, Mr Ward.’
‘It’s coming!’ Ava starts panting, her cheeks inflating. ‘Now!’
‘Okay, push, baby!’ I do as instructed, applying as much pressure as I’m comfortable with.
‘Go on, Mum!’ the twins chant together. ‘You can do it!’
She grunts, she wails, she cries. It’s all so familiar, but no less easy to hear. ‘Jesse!’ My name is a drawn-out, high-pitched howl, her head tossed back, her back arched. ‘Oh my God, it hurts!’
I wince, keeping my eyes rooted between her legs. A head, smeared with blood and goo, emerges slowly but surely, my spare hand resting on the underside. ‘Come on, Ava,’ I yell, cheering her on. ‘He’s coming.’
She slumps, exhaling raggedly, and the baby’s head slowly retreats. I reach to my brow and wipe away the sheen of sweat. ‘The head came out a bit, but it’s gone back in again,’ I tell the operative.
‘Perfectly normal, Mr Ward. We’ll wait for the next contraction and encourage a big push.’