by Shay Savage
“She really hasn’t made any progress, and she’s still only about two centimeters dilated.”
“She’s supposed to be at ten to have the baby, right?”
“That’s right,” he said with a nod. “But the baby’s head isn’t in the right place.”
“What do you mean, not in the right place?” I bellowed.
Julianne was suddenly at my side, and she put a hand on my shoulder.
“You have to stay calm, Liam,” Mom said. “For Tria’s sake, remember?”
I restrained a growl but glared at the doctor as he tried to explain.
“She’s turned face up, and her head is pushing against Tria’s pubic bone, not her cervix.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means your wife has been in some seriously rough labor for a long time, and I’m concerned it won’t matter how long she does this. The baby’s not going to come out that way.”
My head tried to find some kind of frame of reference for what he was saying, but I couldn’t figure it out. What did he mean, she wasn’t going to come out? She had to come out eventually, didn’t she? She couldn’t just stay there!
“It sounds like you are suggesting a cesarean,” Mom said.
I turned quickly to my mother’s concerned eyes.
“I think it’s best for both Tria and the baby.”
“She doesn’t want one,” I told him. “There’s no way—she doesn’t even want an epidural.”
“We may not have a choice, Liam,” the doctor said.
I tried to ignore his words. I couldn’t even get over the tone. I looked to Mom for some kind of magic answer, but the look on her face made it clear she didn’t have one.
“She said she…she wanted all natural…you know?” I tried to explain. “That’s about as far from natural as you can get.”
The doctor looked from me to Julianne and then took a long, deep breath.
“Liam, if Tria doesn’t agree to a C-section, you’re going to have to sign a waiver for me.”
“A waiver?”
“Yes,” he said with a stern look. “If you are going to go against my recommendation, the hospital can’t be held liable if your wife and baby die.”
My mind and body froze, and I fought against the images that tried to force their way into my head. There were too many, too fast, and every one of the faces was Tria’s. I felt my throat close as I tried to take a breath, and I felt sweat beginning to gather at the back of my neck.
“No,” I whispered.
Mom’s arms were around my shoulders, and she held me a moment before pushing me back and looking me right in the eyes.
“We’ll go talk to her together,” she said. “It will all work out, but you have to listen, Liam. You have to do what the doctor says. I won’t let anything bad happen again—not as long as I’m here.”
As soon as the doctor told Tria, her eyes went wide, and she turned toward me.
“No,” she whispered. “That’s not right. That’s not the way it’s supposed to happen!”
“Tria, I think we have to—”
“No! I can do this!”
With burning eyes, I gripped her hand and refused to let go. I rested my other hand against the side of her face.
“Please, Tria,” I begged as hot tears started to run down my face. “If something happened to you…to the baby…God, Tria…I can’t…I can’t…”
She reached out and grabbed me, pulled me to her, and started sobbing.
“I didn’t want it to be this way!” she cried.
“I know,” I said against her neck. “I know baby, I know...I know…”
She sobbed. I sobbed. Though there were at least a half dozen other people in the room, they were completely invisible.
“It’s all about sacrifice,” I whispered. “Right? It’s not what we want anymore but what she needs.”
“Uh huh,” Tria blubbered.
“I love you,” I told her. “We have to do this…we have to.”
“I know,” she replied.
As soon as we agreed, Tria was quickly transferred to one of those rolling beds and hauled away as I tried not to let my heart tear straight out of my chest to follow her. Chelsea and Julianne tried to calm me as we headed down the hall to the surgery preparation area.
In a daze, I let them pull a blue gown up over my arms and tie it in the back. A matching hat made its way onto my head, and some foot coverings were put over my shoes. By the time they covered up my face with one of those paper masks, it all came crashing down on me.
None of it was going right—not at all.
This was dangerous—far, far more dangerous for Tria and the baby than just having a natural birth.
What if it the doctor made a mistake? What if something happened to the baby? What if…?
I was driving myself insane.
“She needs me,” I whispered to myself.
“Mr. Teague?” a nurse called out.
She smiled and pointed to a doorway. I followed her blindly.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Teague,” she said. “We’re going to take really good care of your wife and the baby.”
I nodded and walked heel-toe behind her until we reached another room with bright lights and lots of people. Tria was up on a high table with her arms stretched out from her sides and secured to some kind of crossbeam on the bed.
She looked crucified, and the very idea made me cringe.
I swallowed hard and made my way to the side of her that didn’t have the IV in her arm. She turned toward me, and her eyes were almost as red as the rest of her face, but at least she wasn’t screaming anymore.
“Hey, babe,” I said quietly.
Tria blinked.
“I didn’t want this,” she whispered.
“I know,” I replied. “But we’re going to get through it—just like we always do, right?”
Tria’s head flopped away from me. She sniffed, and then turned back with a more determined look on her face.
“It will all be okay,” she said. “It has to be.”
I could only agree with her.
The doctor poked at Tria’s stomach with a straight pin, and it took me a second to realize she couldn’t feel it. Thankfully, I realized it before I punched the dude.
“Okay, you might feel a little bit of tugging,” the surgeon told Tria, “but nothing should hurt. You make sure to speak up if you feel anything else, okay?”
“Okay.”
Tria’s voice sounded muted and half asleep. I squeezed her fingers gently as I glanced quickly between her face and the doctor’s working hands. Even when the red of her blood covered the pale skin of her bloated stomach, I couldn’t let myself think of it for what it was. Everything was happening too quickly, and all I could do was beg and beg silently to whoever might have been listening.
Please don’t let her die…please don’t let her die…
“Her uterus is very thin,” the doctor said quietly. “We’re just in time.”
Part of me wanted to ask him what he meant but decided I really didn’t want to know. Tria’s finger gripped mine, and when I turned my eyes to her, there were tears on her face.
“It’s all okay,” I whispered as I tried to smile. It probably didn’t end up looking very comforting.
“The baby…” Tria’s voice cracked and fresh tears flowed from her eyes.
“It’s okay,” I said again, and I looked back to see the red flow turn to a small hole. The doctor’s hand moved inside, and I felt my stomach try to revolt.
Don’t you fucking dare!
I swallowed hard and looked back, prepared to force myself into remaining in the present with my wife, no matter what it all looked like.
Then I saw her.
Just a tiny blob covered in red at first, but as the doctor’s hand moved, her face turned upwards toward the light. Her eyes squeezed shut against the brightness, and her face scrunched up. She looked so much like Tria whenever she tried to eat the cheap vege
tarian burgers, I almost laughed.
“Beautiful girl you have here,” the doctor said as he handed her to the nurse beside him. “Why don’t you give me a hand here, Liam?”
The next thing I knew, I had a tiny pair of scissors in my hand, and I was cutting the cord in between two little knots of thread. As soon as I did, her tiny mouth opened and she let out a wail.
“Fuck!” I cried. “Did I hurt her?”
“Not at all,” the doctor said. “She sounds good.”
“She’s okay?” Tria yelled out.
“She’s perfectly fine,” the nurse responded with a big smile. She brought the baby over to my wife and held her tiny head up close to Tria’s cheek. The nurse moved the little girl up and down, so that mom and daughter were cheek to cheek as Tria began to sob.
“She’s okay?” Tria asked again. Her eyes moved rapidly between me and the nurse holding our child. I could only nod since my tongue felt thick and was completely unwilling to move in any sort of controllable fashion.
“Your daughter looks great, Mrs. Teague. I’m just going to take her right over there and check her out, okay?”
Tria nodded, but she wouldn’t move her eyes from the baby. Actually, I wouldn’t either. She looked exactly like Tria, and when her little eyelids parted, there were deep brown orbs staring back at me.
“Let’s let the doctor take care of Tria for a moment,” the nurse said to me. “I could really use some help cleaning up your daughter a little. Could you help me with that?”
Her voice was kind of mesmerizing, as was my daughter’s face. I couldn’t quite figure out what her expression was—if she hated the bright lights or was just mad about being out in the cold, cruel world. She wasn’t happy, that was for sure.
The nurse wiped some of the gunk off her, checked her eyes, tickled her foot, and then handed me a soft little sponge to do the rest. Mentally, I counted fingers and toes and checked her out all over as I cleaned her off. The nurse wrapped her in a little blanket and then held her out to me.
My throat constricted as she was placed in my arms. I expected to feel uneasy about holding her for the first time, but I didn’t. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world. She was soft, warm, and stopped squirming as I cradled her against my chest.
While I held her, the nurse suctioned out her nose and she let out another tiny wail.
“My baby!” Tria called out.
“I got her!” I replied. “She’s okay! Pissed off, but okay.”
I heard myself laugh, but the sound seemed detached and distant. The nurse wiped her down once more with a soft little scrap of cloth, and I just stared at her face.
“She’s beautiful,” I said.
“She is,” the nurse replied. “One of the prettiest I’ve seen.”
Deep inside, I knew it was a line of bullshit she told every new father, but I didn’t care. I was completely sure it was the truth. She was the most beautiful baby in the world. Once she was cleaned off, there was no doubt about it in my mind.
“Is she okay?” Tria asked as I carried the tiny, wrapped up bundle over to her.
“She’s great,” I said. “Better than great. She got a ten on some scale, which is the best you can get, so she’s obviously awesome. Even the nurse said she was the best. She’ll probably get a full ride to whatever Ivy League school she wants.”
Tria nodded, but she didn’t seem convinced.
“She’s fantastic,” I said again. I tightened my arms a little—terrified of holding her either too tightly or too loosely.
“I can’t hold her,” Tria whispered. Fresh tears pooled in the corners of her eyes.
“Soon,” I told her. I tried to look to where the doctor was working on her, but when I realized he was stapling her stomach, I had to look away. “I think he’s almost done.”
“We’re going to get you to the recovery room in just a few minutes,” he said. “Once we get you all settled in there and make sure you are doing as well as your daughter, then you’ll be able to hold her yourself.”
“You have her?” Tria asked, her voice still a little cloudy.
“I got her, babe,” I assured her. “I got her, and she’s great…she’s doing great. She’s not even crying or anything.”
Remembering what the nurse had done, I held our daughter’s cheek up against Tria’s. Tria closed her eyes and calmed a little.
“Are you sure she’s okay?”
I looked at the nurse, who came over and touched the baby’s cheek. She squirmed slightly in the bundle of blue and pink striped blankets but didn’t make a noise.
“She’s just fine,” the nurse said again.
After a little convincing, I went with the baby, and Chelsea stayed with Tria while Mom went to call the world. As soon as Tria was ready, they were going to move her back to the birthing room where we had started.
I went with the baby to the nursery, where they did a couple more tests and decided she was just as I had already told them—absolutely perfect. I wouldn’t put her down while they checked her out. I just held her to me. She was so tiny at barely over six pounds, and I just wanted to keep her as safe as possible.
“You’re going to spoil her,” a matronly nurse scolded me.
I managed to withhold actually speaking the words fuck you but tried to at least say them with my eyes. She squared her shoulders and stomped off.
“Do you have a name picked out?” the younger nurse asked. She touched my daughter’s cheek, which made her squirm.
“Katie,” I responded.
“Wonderful choice!” I was still quite sure she said the same shit to all the new parents, but she really was damn convincing, so I smiled. Actually, that made me realize that I hadn’t stopped smiling in so long, my face was starting to hurt.
That made me smile some more.
“We’ll need to put her in here before we take her to the recovery room.” The nurse indicated a rolling version of a bassinet. It looked ok, I guess, but I wasn’t about to put my daughter down.
“I got her,” I said.
“We need to have her in the bassinet when we move her—”
“I said, I got her,” I repeated.
She continued to try to argue with me, so I just ignored her and started looking around until I figured out which direction Tria’s room was. I headed off down the hall, and the nurse chased me with a raised, plastic baby bed on wheels.
Both of my parents were right by the door, which made it easy to find.
It was about four in the morning, and Michael had gone home to get a few hours’ sleep and prepare for an executive meeting or something. Dad stayed, as did Mom and Chelsea. They came into the room when I got there with Baby Katie, and I let them all have a minute with her while I made sure Tria was all good. She looked like she had been in a fight with me in the cage, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.
I liked my balls attached.
Tria assured me that she was fine, and she just wanted her baby, so I took her away from Grandma and brought her to the side of the bed. The little plastic bassinet had been delivered by the nurse, but I bypassed it again and held her close to Tria.
“See?” I said to her. “I told you—she’s perfect.”
With the help of another nurse, we got a pillow and placed it across Tria’s stomach to protect the incision, and then lay Baby Katie on top of it so Tria could hold her. She stared into her face for a long, long time before she spoke quietly enough that only I could hear.
“Liam?”
“Yeah?”
“I need to make something absolutely clear to you.”
I tensed a little.
“What’s that?”
“I am not going to do that again. This is it. Only child. You got that?”
I tucked my forehead into her neck to hide my smile as I relaxed again.
“Got it.”
“You realize what that means, right?”
“Um…I don’t know.” The tension came back.
“We are never having sex again,” Tria stated. “Never.”
“Oh, really?” I replied.
“Really.”
“Seems…unlikely.”
“I’m completely serious.”
I bit down on my lip to keep from laughing. Actually, the whole conversation was making me horny, but I wasn’t going to push it that far, especially knowing I wasn’t about to get any for the next few weeks.
“You won’t last,” I informed her. “Within two weeks, you’ll be going nuts for my cock.”
She tried to hold it in, but she still giggled, then cringed and pressed her hand against her belly.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“It’s okay,” she said with a sigh. “Like they say, it hurts to laugh.”
Baby Katie must have shared the discomfort because she let out a tiny cry. I jumped up and looked over at the nurse to see if she knew what was wrong. All I got was a patronizing smile and a word of reassurance as she walked out to get someone to help with nursing.
“Do you think she’s hungry?” I asked.
Tria shrugged.
“I don’t know. I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
Taking her from Tria for a moment, I held Baby Katie like a loaf of bread and rocked a little, but she didn’t stop crying. I checked the diaper, but the thing was so hi-tech, I couldn’t tell if it was wet or not.
“I think she is,” I said.
“Let’s give it a shot.”
Breastfeeding a baby has got to be one of the most natural things in the whole world. It’s absolutely beautiful and perfect and as magical as people tell say. If I hadn’t believed in a god, watching my baby’s mother feed my child was enough to make me a believer.
Why the fuck no one ever tells a new mother how hard it is to get the hang of it is beyond me.
Tria and Baby Katie spent the next two hours with various nurses, lactation consultants, La Leche League reps, and tears before they finally managed to get two tits worth of milk into our new baby. Then another nurse came in and asked how many ounces Baby Katie had, and the look Tria gave her was enough to send her running.
By the end of our stay, we were going to alienate the entire hospital staff.
The next nursing session wasn’t a whole lot better but only lasted about half as long. Unfortunately, it came about twenty minutes after the first one. Tria was exhausted, and the nurses were driving her nuts. With tears in her eyes, she turned to me, and I lost it.
