His eyes go soft and unfocused for a second before a happy grin reveals his teeth. “They’re great. Mack is healthy and Diane’s a champ.”
“That was fast,” I say, envious their wait is over while Hailey’s contractions have stalled completely. At this rate, they might give her Pitocin, and if that doesn’t work, a C-section because her water already broke.
“We barely had time for the epidural before he was ready to come out.”
“I love the name.” Hailey’s voice breaks with emotion.
“His full name is Malcom John Day. For Diane’s father. Mack for short.”
“I can’t wait to meet him,” she says through her tears.
“Diane’s resting and trying to get him to nurse, but maybe if you’re up and walking around later you can come for a visit.”
“I’d love that.” A big fat tear rolls down her face.
“Sweetheart, our baby is going to be here soon. There’s no going back now.” I try to comfort her, but I’m not sure my words make a difference. Men are supposed to be strong and tough, but going through labor with my wife only reinforces my belief that women are far stronger and fearless than us.
“You’re doing great,” John reassures her with his calm voice. “It’ll all be over before you know it.”
Easy for him to say. I don’t think they’ve even been at the hospital four hours and they’re done with the hard part.
After he leaves, I carefully crawl into bed with Hailey and wrap my arms around her the best I can with the tubes and monitor wires attached to her.
“Let’s get some rest while we can.” I yawn into her hair.
She snuggles into my arms on her side, fighting her own yawn as she mumbles, “I’m going to be pregnant forever.”
If I could take her place, I would. If I could wave a magic wand and speed up the process, I’d wear wizard robes for the rest of my life. I hate the helpless feeling of not being in control and not being able to fix this for her.
I dim the light above the bed and pull the blanket over us as we drift off to sleep.
Voices in the hall wake me up. I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep. The room is still dark and outside the sky is as inky as it was before. It could be a half hour later or early morning.
Hailey’s still softly snoring. Easing myself off the too small for two bed, I tuck the blanket around her before tiptoeing to the open door. A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s two fifteen.
I’m not expecting to see Ros and Dan. She’s in a wheelchair being pushed down the hall by a tired nurse while he walks beside them.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I have a birth plan. We toured Harborview’s labor and delivery wing. This isn’t how we planned it.” Roslyn’s near tears. Her normally neat hair is in a messy bun and she’s wearing green plaid pajama pants and a pink sweater. Like she woke up and got halfway dressed.
Dan soothes her. “Nothing is how we planned and our lives have turned out better than I ever imagined. We have to give up control and have faith that this is how it’s meant to be. Dr. Price and her team are excellent.”
Roslyn begins to cry. “I wanted our daughter to be born in Seattle. Like me.”
“We can forge her birth certificate,” he tells her and I believe him.
“How?” she whispers.
An exhausted John appears next to me and mumbles, “Batman.”
“Pizza mafia,” I say, quietly, bringing up our old joke about Dan’s mysterious life outside of Sal’s Pizza.
The new arrivals haven’t noticed us yet.
“It’s the weirdest slumber party I’ve ever been to,” John voices what I’m thinking.
“None of them had the same due date. Was it something in the donuts?”
“Maybe, but Roslyn didn’t have any.” He foils my conspiracy theory with reality.
Dan lifts his head and stares at us with his mouth open. “Hey, what are you two doing here?”
“Having babies. All the cool kids are doing it tonight apparently. At least the Days,” I answer with an edge of snark.
Roslyn’s eyes widen. “Did Diane have the baby? Hailey, too?”
“Yes and no. Mack Baby Day is here, but Baby Donnely is being stubborn,” I say.
“Imagine a stubborn Donnely,” Roslyn replies with a smirk.
I fill them in on the highlights of the evening. The fake Olafs getting kicked out by the real one, Hailey’s water breaking by the pool table, the mad rush to get here in the storm, and now the waiting.
Dan nods and frowns in the appropriate places. “That’s why we’re here. Roslyn wasn’t feeling great at the party so we headed home. Caught the last boat and wished we drove around. I’ve never been on the ferry when waves crashed over the sides.”
“I thought I was going to puke,” Roslyn says. “When we got back to the house, I still was feeling nauseated and crampy. Dan decided to call our OB and he told us to come to the hospital in spite of the storm. It’s icy and miserable out there.”
“Maybe you have the stomach flu like Ashley. She yakked in the ladies’ room at the Dog.” I forgot to mention that detail in my recap.
“I hope not.” Roslyn frowns. “I’m confident it’s Braxton Hicks contractions. But Dan wouldn’t listen.”
He gives her a loving smile. “Better to be here than stuck at home if it’s not a false alarm. The doctor agreed.”
“Hmmph,” Roslyn responds.
“Tom?” Hailey’s sleepy voice calls to me from her room.
“Gotta go.”
“We’ll be down the hall.” Dan points to the door two down from where we’re standing.
I enter the room to the sound of beeping from the baby monitor. Before I reach Hailey, Betty the nurse rushes past me.
“Is everything okay?” I stand at the foot of the bed, touching Hailey’s foot just to make contact with her. Her face crumples in pain.
“Contractions have resumed,” the nurse states the obvious in her monotone.
“It woke me up,” Hailey says through gritted teeth.
“On a scale of one to ten?” Betty studies the monitor’s lines and numbers.
“Eleven.” The word comes out on an exhale once the contraction ends. “Much worse than the earlier ones.”
“I’m going to check to see if you’ve dilated more.” Betty snaps on a pair of purple latex gloves.
I step out of the way as Betty has Hailey open her legs underneath the sheet.
“Looks like we’re having a baby this morning,” Betty tells us while removing her gloves. Her tone lacks the excitement this statement should require.
A wave of emotion crashes into me as salty tears prick at my eyes. “We are?”
“Kid’s going to come out one way or another.” She gives me a comforting pat to my forearm. “I’ll get Dr. Price.”
Seeking out Hailey’s hand, I gently sit on the side of the bed near her head. With our fingers entwined, I raise our hands to my mouth. I kiss the side of her thumb and meet her eyes. “Ready?”
“No,” she says, her chin wobbling.
“You could try crossing your legs,” I tease.
“Should’ve thought of that thirty-eight weeks ago.” She grimaces.
“Another one?” It’s soon. I didn’t time this one, but it’s only been a couple of minutes. If that.
She nods and grips my hand with impressive strength. Like her, I breathe through the pain as each contraction comes and goes.
Dr. Price arrives and greets us with her typical warm smile. In spite of it being four in the morning, she’s bright eyed and friendly.
“I think we’re ready for an epidural,” she says after her exam. “If you want one.”
Hailey nods her head vigorously.
A short man in a rumpled white coat helps Hailey roll to her side and then sticks a needle into my wife’s spine like it’s no big deal.
What follows is a blur.
There’s more snapping purple gloves, more equipment being whee
led into the room, and more nurses. Betty is back along with a nurse named Jenny for the baby. Soon, or hours later, I’ve lost track of time, Hailey shifts to the end of the bed to begin pushing.
For some reason, I focus on the Santa oven mitts Betty slips over the cold metal of the stirrups. They’re weirdly festive and out of place for the seriousness of the moment.
Hailey’s parents arrive. I don’t remember calling them, but someone must’ve. I’m grateful they’re here as backup. Hailey cries when her mom hugs her. Her dad excuses himself shortly after they arrive.
“He doesn’t do well with blood,” her mom explains.
Mrs. King flanks Hailey on the other side of the bed when things get serious. I try to focus on Hailey and this moment, committing everything to memory as she pushes.
The helpless feeling returns. I hold her hand, brace her back, murmur words of encouragement, but this is all her. Her strength, her ability to endure the pain amaze me. There’s no way I could do this.
“Want to see the head crowning?” Dr. Price asks from where she’s sitting between my wife’s legs.
I do and I don’t. The desire to witness the very second I become a dad wins out. I nod, unable to speak because a thousand emotions jam my throat.
I blink and try to comprehend the impossibility of this moment. There’s blood and fluids and Hailey groaning, almost screaming. And the doctor speaking, encouraging me to hold Hailey’s thighs. I breathe and blink and try not to cry. Or pass out.
“One more push,” Dr. Price commands. “Give me one good push.”
Lifting my gaze to Hailey’s face, I feel tears streak down my face. We’re not alone, but when our eyes lock, the rest of the room disappears. I whisper, “I love you.”
“I know.” She closes her eyes and her body clenches as she pushes.
“Here we go,” someone says as I focus on Hailey. “The baby’s almost out.”
And in that moment of love, in our bubble, our baby is born.
“It’s a boy,” Dr. Price says.
Gawking at the tiny, white-goo and blood covered, howling human she’s holding, I try to absorb her words.
“A boy,” Mrs. King whispers, emotion thickening her voice. She’s holding up her phone, recording this moment. I’m grateful because it never occurred to me to pull out my phone.
Tears run down my cheeks into my beard. “Shit, look how big his balls are.”
Yes, these are the first words I say as a father.
Hailey laughs, soft and exhausted, but it turns into a guffaw that ends in a snort.
“They’re really huge.” I meet her eyes, moving closer so I can kiss her. “He’s definitely a Donnely.”
“Want to cut the cord, Daddy?” Dr. Price asks as our baby squawks and squirms at the rudeness of being born.
Awed, I nod and make the snip between the clamps.
The nurse lays him on Hailey’s chest. “Meet your son.”
And now we’re all crying. Well, not Betty, but she does crack a smile.
A few moments later, she tells us she needs to measure and weigh him.
My son continues to announce his arrival with impressive wails as he’s weighed, measured, foot and finger printed, and given his tiny baby ID bracelet matching Hailey’s.
“Want to hold your son?” Betty asks, stepping to my side with a tiny burrito in her arms. At least he’s no longer screaming.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I imagine my arms losing their ability to follow my brain and the baby dropping to the ground or being flung across the room.
“He’s sturdier than you think. Come sit down.” She gets me set up in the chair next to the bed and shows me how to position myself before placing him in my arms.
“You’re a natural,” she encourages me.
I feel wooden and anything but comfortable, but I put on a brave face.
Once the rest of the delivery is over and all messy evidence is cleaned up, Mr. King returns, my parents following behind him.
“Congrats, Dad,” my own father tells me as he peers down at my son.
More tears fall and I don’t try to hide them. The moment is surreal.
“Thanks.”
The room turns into a lovefest with the “I love yous” bouncing from person to person. Hailey holds our son, looking more beautiful than ever.
John shows up and we hug. Another first.
“Congratulations,” he says. “Do you have a name picked out?”
Hailey clears her throat. “Shaw Clifford Donnely.”
The log jam of emotion bursts in my throat. This is real.
Dad takes a shaky inhale. “Your grandfather would be proud of you.”
Mom’s full out crying on Mrs. King’s shoulder. “This is the best first anniversary gift ever.”
Oh shit. Amid all the baby prep, I completely forgot our first wedding anniversary. Sneaking a peek at Hailey, her surprised expression, all wide eyes and parted lips, tells me she forgot too.
“Paper is the first year, right? Does a birth certificate count?” she gives me an apologetic smile.
“Best gift ever. And we don’t need to build a new house to store it.” With a kiss to the crown of Hailey’s head, I say thank you.
“Let’s give the new parents and baby some quiet time to rest. They’ve been up most of the night.” Betty herds our family out of the room.
Hailey holds Shaw in her arms and I curl around her on the bed.
“You amaze me. I thought I loved you with everything I could, but I was wrong.”
Sighing, she twists her head so she can see my face.
I place my hand on Shaw’s tiny back where he’s snuggled against her chest. “I love you more. You’ve never been more beautiful than in this moment, holding our son.”
Her hair is a mess, her eyes are bloodshot with exhaustion, and dark circles hollow out her face above her cheekbones, but I speak the truth.
“I love you, even when you lie.” She softly laughs, her focus on Shaw. “We have a baby.”
I rest my hand over hers on his back. “I suppose it’s too soon to talk about having more.”
Hailey blows out a breath through her mouth. “Way too soon.”
* * *
Later in the morning, Hailey’s sitting up in bed, inhaling a piece of coffee cake and I’m drinking a quadruple latte from Whidbey Joe’s when Dan makes an appearance.
“Hey, I hear congratulations are needed.” Shaking my hand, he grins at both Hailey and me.
“This is Shaw.” Hailey proudly points at her exposed breast where our boy is nursing like a champ.
Yep, he’s a Donnely.
“He’s perfect,” Dan says, his voice full of awe. Not even commenting on seeing Hailey’s boob, Dan jabs his finger at my cup. “You have coffee?”
He sounds jealous.
“Erik brought a whole tray.” I point at the windowsill. “There’s a macchiato and another latte, if you want to claim them.”
“How’s Roslyn?” Hailey asks, sprinkling crumbs on her robe.
“She’s sleeping. False alarm last night, but with the weather, we stayed over. Room was already paid for.”
Like money’s a concern for them.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him because I am.
“Thanks.” He sips from the large paper cup. “We’ll induce if nothing happens by Christmas.”
“Is this where the party is?” Carter pokes his head through the door.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, accepting his half body hug.
“Right now, visiting all the babies.” Waving, he tries to peer at Shaw. Or check out Hailey’s boob.
“Aren’t the roads a mess?” I ask, feeling like we’ve been here for weeks. So long that I’m sure we live here now.
“Not too bad. Sun’s supposed to come out this afternoon and warm up the ice.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way up here to see us. Baby’s not going anywhere.” I’m touched by the fact he showed up, but it’s une
xpected. We’re not close.
“Ashley woke up sick again, so I told her enough is enough. She’s waiting on some tests in the ER.” His brows pull together. “Might not be food poisoning.”
His phone chirps with a text notification. Glancing at it, his brows relax. “Jonah’s on his way. Said he got stuck over in town last night but he’s driving around.”
“Is it serious?” Hailey says, shifting the baby to her other breast.
Hopping up, I cover her exposed nipple. I mean, this is a natural mothering moment, but I don’t need every guy I know getting a gander.
She scoffs at me. “No one cares.”
“I do.” I kiss her cheek and Shaw’s cap covered head.
“Tests results are in,” Carter says. “I’ll be back as soon as we know something.”
“Wear a hazmat suit. Don’t come back if you’re contagious,” I advise him. “Or at all.”
I say that part after he’s left.
Dan eyes Hailey’s coffee cake. “Are there more pastries? I’m starved.”
“You should always travel with garlic knots. I’ve told you this more than once.” I hand him the bag of baked goods. “Bring some to Roslyn, too.”
After he leaves, the morning is a revolving circus of family and friends visiting. The women sniff Shaw’s head like witches inhaling bits of his soul while the men stand around and feel awkward. At least I do.
Roslyn and Dan stop by on their way out, but don’t linger. Not that I can blame them.
Diane and Mack visit for a while with John hovering over both. Our babies don’t share a birthdate, but close enough. I imagine our sons growing up together, being best friends and wingmen.
Jonah shows up after our families leave. He brings a fresh round of coffees and more food. His white shirt and black jeans are rumpled and overall, he looks worse for wear. His dark hair is a rat’s nest on top of his head and it looks like someone drew a lightning bolt on his forehead with a sharpie.
“Rough night?” I point to my own forehead.
Embarrassment colors his cheeks. “Uh, yeah. Mind if I use the bathroom?”
“Not at all,” Hailey replies.
“Any word about Ashley?” I ask him when he returns with a clean face.
Very Merry Wingmen Holiday Collection Page 15
