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Chapter 8
RACHEL
Sethshouldbecoming home soon, I think while looking out the small window in the bathroom. Water drips from my hair and down my back, quickly swallowed by the big, fluffy robe wrapped around my portly frame. I sigh while rubbing my lotion into my face, loving the way the moisture seeps into my skin. Nights like these are the best, when I’m alone and can have quiet time all to myself. Of course, it’s still not quite the same with Lucas typing away in the room next door, but still, one can pretend. I will never get nights like this again and part of me is kinda sad at the idea. Sure, I’m excited about giving birth in the next few days, but I also feel like I am mourning the life I once had. I wonder if it’s okay for me to feel this way. Do most mother’s go through this?
A sharp pain stabs through me and I gasp. I pitch forward and grab the sink with both hands, holding tight while the pain ebbs. Breathing helps, and I inhale deeply, counting to ten before releasing it. Dr. Adams said I might experience Braxton Hicks around this time of my pregnancy. It’s completely natural, yet I hate it. It’s been coming and going for the past hour and I’m too scared to say anything to Lucas about it. He will probably freak out and drag me to the hospital only to have them send me home. I really don’t want to waste the effort, and what’s the point in worrying him over something so silly?
“Hey, Rachel,” I hear Lucas say while knocking on the bathroom. “Are you in there?”
I open the door and smile brightly when I see his concerned face. “What’s up, buttercup?” I ask with a giggle.
“I was just invited to a poetry reading,” Lucas says hesitantly, his brows pinching together. “I came to ask if you would be okay if I step out for a couple hours, but now that I’m thinking about it, I should stay home.”
He begins to turn around, but I grab his hand and yank him back to me. “And why can’t you go?” I ask sternly.
Lucas winces. “I can’t leave you alone, Rachel.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “I’m with child,” I say while patting my belly, “I’m not a child. You should go.”
“No,” Lucas says while vigorously shaking his head, “I should stay. Who knows what could happen while I’m gone.”
“Nothing will happen.” It takes everything inside me not to combust into a fiery rage. I am a grown woman. I can take care of myself. I don’t need the bros around me at all hours of the day, especially when I spend most my time resting. “Seth will be home in about an hour. I doubt anything will happen during that time. But,” I add quickly when Lucas opens his mouth, “if something does, Seth will be here. You have nothing to worry about.”
“But—”
“I’ve already made up my mind,” I say before reaching up onto my tiptoes and giving Lucas a chaste kiss on the mouth. “You’re going. Have fun while you still can. You’re going to be too busy for things like this for a while.”
Lucas shifts from foot to foot, looking uneasy, until finally he says, “Fine. I will leave Seth a note. Call me if anything happens, all right?”
I give him a thumbs up sign. “You got it.”
I can’t stop myself from smiling as I stride toward my room, throwing open the door in dramatic emphasis. Alone at last. Yep, this is definitely my night. I hear Lucas walk down the stairs while I take a seat in front of my easel. I have so many projects to finish. There’s no way I can get them all done before the baby arrives, but I have been trying my best. Most of my bed sheets are stained with paint or oil pastels from working in bed. I doubt they will ever come out.
As I dip the brush in bright red paint, I feel another stab of pain come on. I inhale deeply while stroking the brush against the portrait, trying to remain in control and ignore the sharp stab. It’s fine, I tell myself. It’s nothing. My hand quivers as I stroke the brush upward. It’s a good thing I don’t need to create any fine lines, or else this painting would be screwed. The strokes come out shaky. The pain drifts away when I put the brush in some purple paint and I continue painting, enjoying the silence of the house and the creativity blooming within me.
It’s when the stabbing pain increases to a fiery pitch that I cry out and drop my brush. It clanks on the wooden floor, staining the finish in purple. I attempt to reach for it, but my big belly gets in the way. The pain grows, lasting longer this time. I cup my belly, biting back the scream ripping at my throat.
What the hell is this?I wonder while slowly rising, deciding I should get into bed and lay on my left side. I push away dark thoughts, wondering if my preeclampsia is suddenly worsening. I breathe in and out, focusing on my breath as I roll onto my side in bed. I grab a pillow and clutch it close to me. Sweat beads at my temple. This is different from the pain I experienced before. It comes on strong and fades. And each time it comes on, the intensity worsens. Lucas has already left, so I can’t call for his help.
“Phone,” I mumble while looking around the bed. “Where is my phone?”
It’s not on the nightstand. Did I leave it downstairs? I need to call Seth. I can’t bother Lucas. He’s already left. Sure, I promised I would call him if there were any issues, but this is his last night and Seth should be nearly home. So where the fuck is my phone?
I push myself off the bed, whimpering when another bout of pain comes on. I clutch my belly while waddling around the bed. It better not be under my bed. I swear to God, if it fell, I’m going to scream.
I stop looking when I hear dripping. First, I look upward at the ceiling, wondering if there’s somehow a crack there, but nothing is dripping down. I look around myself, stepping in a circle and stopping when my naked foot steps into a very small puddle. Looking down, I realize it’s coming from me.
“Fuck,” I whisper, my eyes widening as I claw at my robe.
My water just broke.
I’m going into labor, but I’m early. Is it too early? Will the baby be all right?
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper while looking around for something to wipe up the mess.
I come up with nothing. My mind is filling with everything I need to do, with everything I need to pack. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m supposed to have my c-section in four days. Alex isn’t here. No one is. I’m all alone and I have no clue what to do. And where the fuck is my phone? I need to get a cab to the hospital at the very least.
I lurch forward, but my foot catches on a sheet and I go pitching forward. I land on my side. Pain surges through me as another contraction rips through my insides. I feel like I’m being hacked open from the inside. My ribcage hurts from falling, but it’s nothing compared to the contractions.
