by Glynis Astie
The sound of a fork clinking on a glass brought me out of my vicious thoughts. Maya’s father was standing behind his daughter, beaming with such pride I thought his heart would burst. I beamed back at him and felt my mood lighten considerably.
Following speeches given by the bride’s and groom’s fathers, my heart rate began to pick up. I was up next. Speaking in front of a group of people isn’t a big deal to me—I have to do it often for my job. But speaking in front of a group of people who have witnessed the single most horrifying moment of your life is another issue entirely. I wondered if I had the balls to do it. A cackle escaped me when I realized I technically had balls with me today. I rubbed my belly, thanking my son for providing something I was sorely in need of at this moment in time.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to find Maya handing me the microphone. “You’re up, Syd.” She smirked at me and returned to her chair.
Under strict orders not to stand unless absolutely necessary, I remained seated. All the better if people had difficulty recording my speech from their distant vantage points. Who knew what kind of ammunition I was going to give them to add to the infamous YouTube video?
I smiled, willing myself not to be embarrassed. “Good evening, everyone. My name is Sydney Durand and I’ve had the supreme honor of knowing Maya since she was eighteen years old. We met in our freshman year at Northwestern and I can honestly tell you that my life has never been the same since.” Laughter erupted throughout the ballroom. Maya’s reputation as a “colorful personality” was quite well established.
I cleared my throat before continuing. “I remember being completely fascinated by her at first. She was glamorous, intelligent, extremely sarcastic and she didn’t put up with poor behavior from anyone.” (“Crap” hardly seemed like an appropriate word to use in a wedding speech, even though it would have made my point much better.) “She always pushed me to work harder, aim higher and try new things—no matter how much the idea scared me. She has made me a better person and I will be forever grateful.” I paused, feeling my eyes glistening with tears. “Please forgive me, pregnancy has made me overly emotional. And rather gassy.” There was no point in dancing around it. My gastric expression was, after all, an elephant in the room surpassing even my generous girth. (I really crack myself up.)
Once the raucous laughter died down, I resumed speaking. “Maya’s personality is, let’s face it, larger than life and I often wondered if she would be able to find someone to match her untamed spirit.” I gestured to Devon. “But this man was able not only to see her for the amazing person that she is, but also to make her a better person.” I winked at Maya. “She’ll tell you this simply isn’t possible, but we all know the truth.”
The tears were threatening to kick things up a notch, so I decided to tie up my speech quickly. “Please join me in wishing the happy couple a lifetime of joy.” I raised my glass. “To Maya and Devon!” Everyone joined in the toast, the clinking of glasses signaling the end of my public display. Thank God!
After I handed Devon’s best man the microphone, Maya mouthed, “Well done.”
It was immensely more enjoyable to be approached by wedding guests with praise for my heartfelt toast rather than my burping prowess. My chest felt much lighter and I was finally able to relax and enjoy myself.
I happily sat in the corner with Louis, eating my sliver of cake, watching our friends and family dancing the night away. Maya and Devon couldn’t keep their hands off each other, Kate and Nick were trying out some new dance moves (following a sampling of cocktails), my dad was spinning Simone around the dance floor and Nigel and Grace tangoed their way over to the dessert buffet with great interest.
Louis leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. “You are an extraordinary woman, mon coeur.”
I shook my head. “Why, because I can live through that kind of embarrassment?”
He put his finger under my chin, forcing me to relinquish my last bite of cake. It takes a brave man to get between his wife and slice of cake, so it had to be important. I returned my fork to the plate and focused my attention on my adoring husband.
He gazed into my eyes. “Because you conducted yourself with humor and grace in a very difficult situation.”
Since he was having such a proud moment, I elected not to tell him I had tried to hide in the bathroom first. I merely chuckled and said, “I guess I’m growing up.”
“Promise me you will give yourself credit for all your hard work.”
I kissed him tenderly before saying, “I’m almost there, Bluey. Almost there.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Maya’s honeymoon extravaganza was everything she dreamed it would be. And how was I privy to this knowledge? Aside from her numerous text messages over the past week, the hundreds of photos she had already posted online were a small clue to the smashing success of her trip. I was in awe of her efficiency in image uploading and wondered why in the hell she was more engrossed in the world of social media than in her gorgeous, thoughtful, and, um, HOT new husband. This girl had to get her priorities in check.
After liking Maya’s latest bikini shot on her Facebook page, I laid my phone down on the nightstand and closed my eyes. I felt particularly weary today and hoped a little rest might ease my discomfort. I turned on my left side and snuggled into my body pillow, beckoning sleep with all my might. Unfortunately, Luc’s mid-day exercise routine and the tell-tale signs of indigestion following lunch were not allowing any slumbering to take place.
I massaged my abdomen gently, wondering what I had eaten to cause me so much gastric distress. My diet was so boring, it was almost a chore to eat. Seriously, I thought a side benefit to these types of diets was less stomach upset. Ouch! That stomach cramp hurt. What the fuck? (The profanity curbing hasn’t been going well lately.)
I put on a movie to distract myself from the churning of my stomach, but thirty minutes into Sabrina, I realized that even Audrey Hepburn couldn’t help me out of my funk. What was the deal with these pains? They were persistent and intense and…coming at regular intervals. Holy crap!
I dialed Louis’ number as quickly as I could. My panicked state caused my fingers to repeatedly dial the wrong numbers, but on the sixth try I finally got it right.
I heard his laugh before he spoke. “Hey, mon coeur, may I call you back? I am in the middle—”
“No, you may not call me back!” I yelled. “I’m in labor! Get your ass down here now!”
Yikes! Rein yourself in Sydney. You have to stay calm for the baby’s sake.
I exhaled slowly. “Bluey? I’m sorry for shouting. I’m kind of scared. Did you hear me?” He couldn’t freak out right now. I held the monopoly on that privilege. I was the one who was about to be in a world of pain. I got to be as crazy as I wanted to! (Within reason, of course. Although your definition of reason may not coincide with mine.)
Louis finally found his voice. “I am on my way.”
“Please be care—”
Click. Nice Louis. Way to hang up on your labor-ridden wife mid-sentence!
I took a deep breath and calmly dialed Kate, determined to handle this phone call better. “Syd? Hey! Can I call you back? I’m taking Sam to—”
I worked hard to keep my voice steady. “Kate, I’m in labor. Will you please call Mom and Dad for me? I’m too busy panicking right now.”
Silence.
“Kate?”
I heard a crash and a stream of profanity. Uh oh. You know the drill. Kate only curses when under extreme duress.
“Don’t worry, Syd! I’m going to drop Sam off with Sally and I’ll meet you at the hospital. How far apart are your contractions?”
“Seven minutes apart? I think?” In truth, I had no clue, but I had to give her something. My mind was too focused on surviving the pain to be able to measure the time between the onslaughts.
“OK.” She sounded breathless. “Call your doctor’s office now. Do NOT get distracted and forget. Where is Louis?”
&nbs
p; Biting back the sarcastic response to her flippant “forgetting” comment, I said, “If I had to guess, I would say barrel-assing down the freeway on his crotch rocket.” My, my, but I sound like quite the lady.
Kate snorted. “Say good luck to Auntie Syd, Sam!”
I heard my niece’s giggles, followed by, “Dood wuck!”
Kate came back on the line. “Keep practicing your Lamaze breathing. Hee hee hoo! Hee hee hoo! I’ll see you soon! I love you!”
I hung up the phone just in time to squeeze my eyes shut through another contraction. Hee hee hoo! Hee hee—son of a bitch! That HURT! And no amount of heeing and hooing was going to help!
Why do people insist on perpetuating the idea of breathing as a magical cure for pain? How many times has someone told you to “breathe through the pain”? If anyone is dumb enough to say anything resembling this lovely phrase to me today, we will see how easy it will be to breathe through the pain of my fist making contact with this person’s face. Although performing such an action might make me feel better…
I debated alerting Simone to my condition but was fairly certain it would be easier to suffer alone than with her staring at me like a science experiment. She was rather keen to experience labor up close and personal, since she was out cold for the delivery of her one and only son. Given my current, um, emotional sensitivity and her inability to keep a respectable distance, keeping her in the dark was honestly the best option for both of us.
Twenty minutes and a phone call to Dr. Bauer’s office later, Louis flew through the door of the bedroom with Simone hot on his heels. I found myself unable to form words since my brain was busy calculating how he made a forty-five minute ride in twenty-five minutes.
Louis knelt on the floor next to me while Simone hovered behind him. “Are you alright? Is it time to go to the hospital?”
“How did you—? What? How?” I looked back and forth between the clock and his face so many times I became dizzy.
He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I was, uh, eager to get home to you, so I drove about two hundred miles per hour.”
I felt the blood drain from my face at his last statement. Oblivious to my concern, Louis grinned and said, “At one point I passed a cop, but I was going so fast, he did not even try to stop me. He knew he had no chance of catching up!”
Before I could reprimand him for his recklessness, I was seized by another contraction. Louis held my hand and talked me through my breathing exercises, while Simone placed a cool washcloth on my forehead. Once the pain had passed, Louis helped me to a sitting position.
Deciding to skip the lecture about nearly killing himself and orphaning his soon-to-be-born child, I said, “I think it’s time to head the hospital. My contractions are about five minutes apart now.” At least it certainly felt that way.
Louis nodded frantically, closely resembling the Yoda bobblehead he had purchased for me as my focal point during labor. Focal point, you ask? We were advised during our Lamaze class to bring an object of comfort with us to the hospital so I would have something to concentrate on when the pain got really bad. I find Yoda not only adorable, but inspirational. “Do or do not. There is no try.” Where else would this idea be as appropriate as in labor?
After a stressful car ride featuring Louis hurling obscenities at every driver in front of him and Simone calling everyone she knew from the back seat, we arrived at the hospital. As I carefully lowered myself into the wheelchair, I felt a small pop followed by rush of fluid and promptly landed in a large puddle.
“Gah!” I screamed. “Gross!” I had no idea the deluge to expect when one’s water broke. I was suddenly very grateful I hadn’t been inside the car when this momentous event occurred. I love my baby very much, but I had a sneaking suspicion his protective layer wouldn’t have left the best smell in its wake. Ugh.
Following my very public display of readiness, I was whisked up to Labor and Delivery, while Simone and Louis went to park the car. After being cleaned up, answering the nurse’s questions, having a quick pelvic exam and my vitals taken, I was told to “rest” until Dr. Bauer came. Uh-huh. My question, “When do I get the drugs?” was met with a knowing smile and the very unsatisfying answer, “Once your doctor examines you.”
While I was hee-hee-hooing my way through another contraction (breathe through the pain, my ASS!), I heard Kate’s voice. Where—hee—was—hee—she—hoo?
The pain had just subsided when Kate came into the room followed by Louis and Simone. Hold the phone! Was Simone wearing hospital booties? Where were her shoes? She loved her shoes as much as she loved her family. What happened to them?
Before I could ask this burning question, Kate sat at the edge of the bed and took my hand. “Are you OK, sweetie?”
My eyes must have been the size of saucers. “The pain! There is SO MUCH pain, Kate!”
She stroked my hair gently. “I know, Syd, and I’m so sorry. I spoke with the nurse and Dr. Bauer will be here in ten minutes. You only need to hold on for a little bit longer.”
I nodded, breathing slowly in through my nose and out through my mouth. Louis sat on the other side of the bed, carefully avoiding the nest of wires connected to me. “Do you need anything, mon coeur?”
Kate and I said in unison, “Drugs.”
For the next ten minutes, Kate filled me in on Sam’s latest adventures, with three breaks to breathe through contractions. (They were getting closer and closer together! Where the fuck was Dr. Bauer?!?)
“Sydney Durand!” She made it! Thank God! Crazy Sydney had been waiting in the wings. I couldn’t have held her back for much longer.
I gave her my best approximation of a smile. “Hi, Dr. Bauer.”
Louis and Kate cleared out of the way, allowing the good doctor to perform a quick exam. She snapped off her gloves and smiled at me. “Are you ready, Sydney? Because it won’t be long now.”
I felt like a deer caught in headlights. I mean, I wasn’t stupid, it was clear what was going to happen today, but I didn’t think it would happen so fast.
I gulped. “Is there time for…”
She squeezed my hand. “Yes, Sydney, Dr. Jones is on his way to administer your epidural.” She turned to Louis. “It’s a very delicate procedure, so only one of you may stay in the room with Sydney.”
Kate put her hand on Simone’s shoulder. “I’ll take Simone down to the cafeteria for a snack. I think we could both use one, even if it is hospital food.”
Dr. Bauer made a note in my chart and closed it quickly. “Good plan. The nurses will continue to monitor your progress, Sydney, and I’ll be back when it’s time to push.”
When no intelligent response came to mind, I simply pressed my lips together, willing my body not to shake. A knock at the door announced the arrival of the highly sought after Dr. Jones. My hero! (Any person who rescues people from pain of this magnitude is a hero in my book.)
Kate blew me a kiss and left the room with Simone and Dr. Bauer.
Dr. Jones was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. His cocoa colored skin and deep brown eyes only accentuated the scrub cap covered with tiny pastel hippos resting on his head. I was drawn to him instantly. He quickly explained the procedure, inserting jokes along the way and warned me how important it was that I keep still while he inserted the needle. How in the world I could keep still during contractions which could easily reduce big, burly football players to their knees, I had no idea. I just had to trust that he would time the insertion of the needle well.
Following his informative speech, I regarded Dr. Jones with both awe and fear. I knew I desperately wanted the pain relief he could offer, but I also knew the size of the needle it took to do it. I had a deep hatred of needles, but I would have to get over it, since I had an even deeper hatred of the pain which was currently ravaging my mid-section.
Dr. Jones perused my chart one final time, finished setting up his equipment and had just given me instructions on how to position myself, when I heard a familiar voice. “Sorry to keep
you waiting, Dr. Jones. I was wrapping up a birth—”
My eyes tore from Dr. Jones’ scary needle to the face of a woman I had hoped to never set eyes on again. My eyes narrowed and my nostrils flared as I hissed her name with venom, “Bertha.”
Dr. Jones stopped. “Do you two know each other?”
Bertha’s lip curled. “You might say that. The Dudleys took my Lamaze class.”
Louis drew himself up to his full height. “It seems your memory is about as good as your treatment of the couples in your Lamaze class. Our last name is Durand.”
I continued to stare at her intently, as though my piercing gaze would cause her to wither on the spot. Vanquishing evil spirits was always my desired superhero power. Alas, Bertha was unmoved.
Dr. Jones pursed his lips. “Bertha, would you please ask Sandra if she’s free to assist me?”
Bertha’s embarrassment showed for a split second before her usual expression of disdain reappeared on her face. “Of course, Dr. Jones.” With one final glare in my direction, she was gone.
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Dr. Jones. Bertha is so…”
Louis said, “Evil” at the same moment Dr. Jones said, “Unpleasant.”
Dr. Jones laughed. “Most of the women in here seem to think that. I’m sorry for her behavior. She’s kind of an institution in this place.”
Once Sandra arrived, Dr. Jones finalized his setup for the procedure and was about to insert the needle when I gasped. “Bluey! Who’s going to pick up my mom from the airport? We’re all here!”
Louis blanched. “Syd, don’t worry about that now. You must stay still for Dr. Jones.”
I whimpered. “But she can’t be stranded…” Another contraction started and I squeezed Louis’ hand as hard as I could.
