Page 136 of Everything But Mine

We don’t move for a few seconds, my mind processing what she said. It’s another thunder that brings me out of it. It’s happening.

Her hand goes to her belly. “Shit,” she says. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?!” My voice comes out high-pitched.

“I-I think that was a real contraction. No Braxton Hicks. Preparation for the real thing, my ass.”

I bolt upright, heart in my throat. “Okay. Okay, okay. We—okay.” I go to the closet and grab the hospital bag, wrap it around my shoulder. “Car seat is installed. I just need… towels. And then we go.”

Amanda laughs, but it’s breathless, a little panicked. “Eric, you’re still naked, and so am I. Let’s take a breather, yeah? We have time.”

“Right. Shit. You’re right.” I breathe, sit back on the bed next to her, hold her hands. “Okay. Okay. We’re having a baby.”

“Yeah.” She blinks fast, fingers wrapping tightly around mine. “We are.”

I run a hand through my hair, looking at her. Fear threatens to take hold of me through a thousand scenarios. My own voice tells a horror story about Beckett’s birth, the way Sandro tells it about Amanda’s. I lose myself in her green eyes and press a lid on it tightly.

“I’m scared,” she whispers.

I lean and roll my forehead against hers. Everything else quiets but the woman in front of me. Her hair is a mess, and she’s damp from her water breaking. She’s mine, and I’m hers. I pull her in for a kiss.

“I know.” I nod. “You can be scared. I’ve got this.”

At the hospital, things were slow for hours. They put a fetal monitor on Amanda’s belly right away and checked her dilation. Then, nothing. Amanda felt the contractions, in good spirits, insisting I didn’t tell anyone we were at the hospital until there was actually a baby.

By early morning, her breathing changed, and the humor was gone. Every contraction, she left half-moons on my arms and screamed. No amount of yoga ball bouncing or hip rubbing did anything to soothe her. Then, she threw up all over me as another contraction hit. She cried, apologized, and threw up again, breath hitching with pain.

We showered in the birthing suite, riding out another hour of contractions under the warm water. Once she’s in a fresh gown and I’m in scrubs, the nurse checks her again.

“She’s at six.” Her face lights up. “We’re solidly in active labor!”

Amanda reached for my hand without looking, cold sweat trickling down her forehead. What were those last three hours if not active fucking labor?

Now, she’s at ten centimeters, fully effaced. Amanda breathes slowly and raggedly. She’s been pushing for ninety minutes, after hours of labor.

“You’re doing so fucking good,” I tell her, wiping her forehead. “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be such a great mom.”

The nurse adjusts something at the foot of the bed. Amanda cries out as another contraction tears through her.

“Fuck!” she pants out. “I can’t⁠—”

“You can,” I say, grounding my voice. “You are. Look at me.”

She does. Her eyes are wild and exhausted, but they lock on mine.

“We’re doing this,” she whispers, giving me a weak smile before crying out again. “I need to push. Now.”

The nurse gives a tight smile when the doctor arrives, ready to save the day. I’m still pissed she missed the epidural window. They kept checking her dilation, saying she wasn’t progressing fast enough to call anesthesia, and then suddenly she was too far along. Too fast. Too late.

The doctor tells Amanda to push, and she tries so hard, but it’s not working. She’s too exhausted. Her hair plastered to her forehead, eyes glassy with tears she can’t wipe away. The team exchanges looks I don’t like. I hold Amanda’s face and kiss her forehead. It kills me to see her like this, but it’s not my turn to crumble. Right this second, I’m all she has.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I say, as she struggles to keep her eyes open. “I need you with me a little longer.”

Amanda nods just as another contraction hits.

“She’s too tired. This isn’t working,” I tell the team. “We need to try something different.” The nurse looks at me with understanding. The doctor purses her lips. I’m overstepping, and I couldn’t care less. “Let her labor in a different position.”

The doctor checks the monitor, then Amanda, then me. For a moment, all I hear is the beep of her heart rate and the baby’s.