“I can’t believe that in the first sign of any kind of hardship you’re just going to abandon me.”
“That’s not right,” inserts the nurse.
I glare at the woman in the shapeless blue scrubs. She is not helping.
“I will touch you everywhere as soon as the doctor says I can,” I hurriedly reassure her.
“What if I don’t want you to touch me?”
“You shouldn’t touch anyone who doesn’t want to be touched,” adds the nurse.
She’s fucking with me. I know it, but I can’t do anything about it.
“I won’t touch you. Unless you want it. Then I’m touching you everywhere.”
“If you’re just touching me because I want you to touch me, then you should keep itttttttt.”
The next contraction hits so I don’t have to answer which is a good thing because I don’t know what to say at this point. When the pain passes, she’s moved on.
“Do you love me?” She demands. Her lips are dry and her eyes are glassy and she’s never looked more beautiful.
“With everything I’ve got.”
“Good. I want you to get rid of the doctor and reach in and pull the baby out. Like a calf.”
“You’re not a cow, babe.”
“Did you just say I’m a cow?” She says, her voice perilously high.
The nurse snickers and even the sober doctor’s face twitches slightly.
“No, but, Slick, I cannot pull our child out of your womb. I’m fairly sure that every medical journal says that that is not the way to birth a child.”
“All those fucking manuals are written by men, that’s why,” Hayden yells. “Get this baby out of me before the next contraction hits or I’m going to—“ She pushes herself up on her elbows and glares at the doc. “Rip it out,” she orders.
The doctor laughs. “No, I’m sorry but your husband is right. We can’t remove the baby like that, but I have good news. I can see the crown of the baby’s head so a few more pushes and you’ll be done.”
“Can I kill my husband? Is that allowed in the birthing room?” Hayden asks sarcastically. At least I hope she’s being sarcastic.
“Absolutely,” the doctor replies. “Do you need some tools or just want to choke him?”
Hayden grabs my shirt. “I’ll choke him.”
All the women in the birthing suite wear varying expressions of approval. We are definitely only having one child.
“All right, time for you to push,” announces the doctor.
“I can’t,” Hayden moans. The fight seems to have been drained out of her.
“Yeah, you can. You can do anything, even this.”
Tears roll out of the corners of her eyes. Maybe she would protest more, but the contraction comes again. She alternates between screams and cries, threats of violence and pleas for help. It’s a pleading that gets me. I won’t touch her again. I can’t put her through this.
I pass the cloth across her forehead, let her squeeze my fingers so hard they might break off, whisper words of encouragement. What a warrior she is, how strong she is, how no one but her can do this. I’ve never been so worthless in my entire life.
“It’s coming! It’s coming!” announces the nurse.
“One last push,” instructs the doctor.