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“Just knock me out,” I whine. “Someone please just put me out of my misery.”
“That’s it,” Lucas growls. “Isaac, come hold her.”
I’m in so much pain, I don’t even care who’s holding me. So when Lucas’s familiar frame is replaced by Isaac’s more gentle, narrow build, I don’t even blink. I just hang on him and let him sway me gently to ease some tension in my back.
Then we both pause as we hear Lucas shouting through the door of my labor room. He sounds erratic and desperate, hollering at some nurse about how I’ve been in pain for hours without any relief.
“Don’t worry,” Isaac says. “If he gets kicked out, I’ll be here with you.”
“Thank you,” I mumble.
A few minutes later, a nurse comes shuffling into the room, followed by an irate-looking Lucas.
She’s grumpy about it, but suddenly stuff starts happening. She checks me, and I’m finally at six, but it’s still not enough to start pushing.
And by some miracle from God himself, the anesthesiologist comes in and gives me the sweet, sweet relief of the epidural. Within minutes, I’m drifting off to sleep, and Lucas stays stationed at my side, holding my hand and rubbing my forehead softly with a wet cloth.
He seems at ease now that my pain is gone.
“What if I can’t do it?” I whisper as I wake up with a bout of nausea.
“Of course you can do it,” he replies. “You can do anything.”
“No, I can’t,” I reply, fighting the urge to throw up all over this hospital blanket. I don’t know if it’s from fear or the medication or both.
“Sadie, you’re the strongest, smartest person I know,” he mumbles against my fingers.
“You used to think I was a mess,” I reply.
“You did show up to the first day of class without any paper to write on.” He laughs.
“And I threw up in the middle of your lecture.”
“And you still made me fall in love with you,” he says softly.
“Okay, maybe I can do anything.”
I smile at him with sleepy eyes as he grins back. There’s worry in his eyes, though. He thinks he’s hiding it, but he can’t hide anything from me. And I know that his worry is mostly from labor in general and the fear that something could go wrong, but I find it sweet that he’s trying to encourage me when he’s so obviously anxious.
The next hour passes so slowly it feels like a dream. I fall asleep and wake up to see the clock has barely moved. The nurse comes in to check me again, and when I’m still at six, I can tell there’s a new level of concern.
Now, I can’t fall back to sleep. And Lucas’s anxiety is more apparent.
Isaac does as much as he can to support us, keeping the conversation light and staying by our side even when I notice how uncomfortable he is.
I don’t even know what time it is when the doctor comes in and checks me, but when the labor hasn’t progressed, he says a lot of things that make me start to cry.
Things like how the baby’s heart rate drops with each contraction. And how his position isn’t ideal for delivery. And how we should consider a C-section.
Lucas’s grip on my hand becomes an anchor. Suddenly, I’m shaking violently, and I don’t understand why. I’ve never felt fear like this before. No matter how much the doctor assures me, I can’t shake this feeling that things are out of control.
And when I look over at the man I love and find his head bent and his eyes closed, that’s when I really start to worry.
Forty-Four
Lucas
Ihaven’t prayed since I was a child. I can’t remember the age I was when I believed there was a powerful man in the sky who would grant wishes if you hoped for them enough. Even when I was older and my mother made me bow my head in church, I recited words I never meant.
