8
Hannah
“It hurts!” I scream. “OMG, owwww!”
Sweat drips down my face as I cling to the edge of the inflatable tub. It seems like every hair on my head is either plastered to my forehead or sticking to my back and my eyes sting from exhaustion although there’s no chlorine in the water. I can feel every single muscle in my body, and they ache.
“I’m right here, baby,” Rick reassures me, clutching my hand tightly. “You’re doing great.”
“I can’t do this,” I whisper, doubt welling up inside of me as tears spring to my eyes once more. “It’s too hard.”
“Yes, you can,” he says in a low, steady voice, reaching an arm around and holding me tightly. “Breathe, Hannah.”
After all, we’ve set up an inflatable birthing tub in Rick’s living room. It looks funny because it’s light pink and covered with ducks, while his living room is the epitome of chic, stark modernity. But my man doesn’t care. When we discussed birthing plans, he was all for it because he wants me to do what makes me happy.
“A water birth sounds great,” he growled, squeezing my hand. “I’ll be with you the entire way.”
So here we are now, in the middle of labor, as I scream bloody murder while splashing about in a big pink pool. There’s a mid-wife with us, of course, and she tries to encourage me as well.
“You’re doing great, Hannah. Breathe through the contraction,” Stephanie the midwife says. She rubs my back in a soothing, downward motion, pushing against it firmly as I work through the pain. Meanwhile, Rick stands on my other side, already soaked to the shirtsleeves, but my man doesn’t care.
“You look beautiful,” he whispers. “You’re so gorgeous giving birth.”
I know he’s exaggerating because I look like a wet, swollen pig at the moment, but then another contraction rips through me, and I scream aloud again, practically breaking the bones in his hand. After the pain passes, I drop my head to the side of the tub, letting my forehead rest on the vinyl material.
“It’s too much, Rick,” I tell him, my voice cracking. “I can’t do this.” I’ve never been so scared in my life, and Rick comforts me, stroking a big hand through my tangled curls.
“No baby, you are strong and brave, and this little kiddo is going to do just fine,” he soothes, pushing my damp locks off of my forehead. I look up at him with a pleading gaze.
“Am I crazy for wanting to do a water birth in the middle of your living room?” I ask him, looking around the makeshift delivery space.
Rick throws back his head and laughs. “No way, I’m not going to tell a woman who’s in the middle of giving birth that she’s crazy. Nuh-uh.”
I laugh at the break in this terrifying experience, and then wince with discomfort. “You spoil me too much,” I whisper. My man leans in low.
“Hannah, I’m not sure I could ever spoil you enough,” he growls into my ear.
With that, I relax a little, the tepid water lapping against my huge belly. My limbs are exhausted and my brain feels totally fried after forty weeks of carrying this child. But finally, we’re in the final stages and my eyes open slightly to stare at my lover once more.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I whisper in a faint voice. “I couldn’t do this alone.”
Rick shakes his head, his blue eyes penetrating yet supportive. “You could have, baby girl, but you don’t need to,” he corrects me. “I’m here and I’ll always be here.”
But I cut him off, my expression going tense.
“Oh, another one is coming,” I groan. “Ow, ow, ow, owwwww!”
Rick, Stephanie, and I work through the contraction and it’s like surfing on a pain wave. Was I nuts to do an unmedicated birth? At this point, I’d give anything for IV narcotics.
I slump into the water once more after it passes, but then sit up, suddenly distraught.
“Oh no, Rick!”
“What is it baby?” He looks alarmed, his blue eyes flashing.
“I thought you had a meeting with a potential client today!” I look at him worriedly. “You know, that billionaire from Kazakhstan who was interested in the Fleming penthouse. You shouldn’t be here, oh no.”
To my surprise, Rick lets out a long, full laugh. “You are in the middle of delivering a child and you’re still thinking about everyone else,” he chides me gently.
“I didn’t mean to disrupt your day,” I mumble, the beginning of another contraction already beginning to make my back arch. My man squeezes my hand.
“Well, first off, I don’t think you intended to go into labor this morning. And second, you’re the most important thing in my life, Hannah. Everyone else, including any Kazakh billionaires, can wait.”
My heart thuds at these words, but I don’t let myself obsess over them too much because I can’t think about anything right now. The present moment is just too overwhelming, and I squeeze my eyes shut while trying to breathe. Then I let my mind drift, grateful for a distraction from the pain of the last few hours.