Page 19 of Insidious

Time stops meaning anything. It’s just pain and pressure and the tired, creeping understanding that this isn’t going the way it should.

I see the consultant’s face after the midwife called her to examine me. Things are not progressing as they should.

“We think it’s best to proceed with a caesarean,” she finally said

Isaac’s hand tightens around mine. Worry draws lines around his mouth and eyes.

“Is she—”

“She’s fine. Baby’s fine. We just don’t want to prolong this and risk endangering the baby or Luna.”

I nod.

Too tired to argue.

Too tired for anything. All I can think is, this kid is the size of a watermelon and there is no way it is exiting my vagina.

The theatre is colder than I expect. Nothing like childbirth to lose all dignity.

The spinal goes in, and the pain dulls. They move me like a puppet.

I lie here, staring at the ceiling, aware of movement behind the screen. Pressure. Tugging.

And Isaac in scrubs with wide terrified eyes. I guess this is nothing like those YouTube videos he watched.

God.

Isaac.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” I murmur, my voice faintly amused. Whatever they have given me is the good stuff. I feel like talking.

He looks … green. Maybe he needs some of the good stuff. I am not opposed to sharing.

“I am staying,” he says quickly.

“Are you sure? You look like you’re about to—”

“I’m fine,” he says abruptly.

I try not to smile.

“I am absolutely fine. Fine. Fine. Fine,” I sing.

Another pregnant pause from Isaac. Pregnant pause…ha ha...I made a funny.

“Do you want to sit down?” a nurse asks gently.

“I am—”

He sways slightly.

“Yes,” I say drily. “Sit him down before he becomes the second patient. You don’t get to be the star today, Isaac.”

I don’t see everything.

But I hear it. I feel my body being moved around, and more tugging and pulling and pushing.

A loud, lusty cry of protest.