“Just breathe, baby. Just breathe—”
“I am breathing! This is me breathing! AHHH.” She gritted her teeth, reaching out and grabbing my thigh as I pulled the car out.
Biting my lip as her nails dug into my skin kept me focused on the road, hitting the Bluetooth to dial our doctor.
“Levi, how is everything—”
“He’s coming!” Thea hollered into the phone.
I nodded. “We’re on our way to the hospital now, Doc—shit!”
“What?” they both said.
Thea simply looked up and out into the traffic, and then repeated after me, “Shit.”
“We’re getting stuck in traffic—”
“How far apart are the contractions?”
“I don’t know … like four or five—”
“Three! Three minutes ... ahh … ahh…” Thea started crying, gripping on to the dashboard.
“I want you both to be calm but…
“Ohhh! AHHH!! I need to push!”
“What?” I yelled at her. “We aren’t that far—”
“I need to push!” she cried out.
“Quick, Labor and Delivery,” Dr. Cohen stated on the phone. “Levi, pull over on to the shoulder.”
“You’ve got to be—”
“Pull over!” she screamed, already yanking down her sweats.
Doing as they said, I pulled onto the shoulder lane.
“Do you see the head?”
“The head—”
“Yeah ... yes…” Thea laughed and cried and looked up to me, but I could barely see her through my blurred vision.
“Okay, breathe slowly. Levi, support her. Thea, reach down, support him.” I grabbed her shoulders, as she cried out.
“Okay, Thea, push with the contractions. As the baby's head begins to emerge, support his head, but do not pull on it. Hold the head in a slightly downward position, okay? Levi, check her hands.”
I did, and I saw him. My son, the dark brown wisps of his hair.
Thea cried out again, and I held on. “That’s it, baby. Come on … push.”
“He’s coming!” I yelled out.
“Check … the umbilical cord … it’s not around his neck.”
“No!” I called out as Thea gasped.