Her face contorted with pain and Alan’s heart twisted in agony. His beautiful wife was lying in abject misery, and he couldn’t even get close enough to the hospital bed to practice the Lamaze they had learned together.
“Do you have your focus point, sweetie?” he called, inching closer.
She lay back, panting, then pinned him with a deadly look. “I’m focusing on a life of celibacy!”
“Honey, you don’t mean that,” he said in his most cajoling voice, but stopped when she held up the makeshift dagger. “Celibacy is good,” he assured her with a nervous laugh. “We can make it work.” Alan retreated the few inches he’d advanced. “How about an ice chip?” he asked.
“How about I chip your tooth?” she offered, smiling sweetly.
The door swung open and Dr. Campbell strode in with a smile. “How’re we doing?”
Alan, weak with relief to have an ally, smiled broadly. “Just great,” he said, then glanced at Pam’s murderous expression. “I mean, not very well at all.”
“Let’s see where you are, Pam.” To Alan’s alarm, the doctor eased Pam’s swollen feet and ankles into the stirrups, giving him a bird’s-eye view beneath her hospital gown. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “I think I’ll wait outside.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Pam said, ominously. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Alan nodded obediently and wiped his sweaty hands on his slacks. “Right — wild horses couldn’t drag me out of here.”
The doctor glanced at the monitor. “Here comes another contraction, Pam. Just try to relax.”
“Remember to breathe, sweetie,” Alan called. “Heehee—”
“Shut up!” she shouted.
“I’m shutting up,” he said, nodding vigorously.
“If the pain’s getting to be too much,” the doctor said to Pam, “I can go ahead and give you an epidural.”
“Thanks anyway, Dr. Campbell,” Alan said from the wall. “We decided from the beginning to go for natural childbir—”
“Give me the needle, Dr. C.,” Pam cut in, “and I’ll give it to myself.”
“Oh my,” the doctor said, moving her hands beneath the gown.
Alan glanced over, then squeezed his eyes shut, muttering thanks to the heavens for the thousandth time today that he was not a woman.
“Forget the epidural,” the doctor said, depressing the nurse call button with her elbow. “You’re ready to start pushing.”
Alan’s eyes popped open. “Already?”
“Already?” Pam shrieked. “It’s been nine hours!”
But I’m not ready, I’m not wise enough yet to be a father. Perspiration popped out on his hairline and panic rose in his chest, suffocating him.
The nurses rushed in and dressed him in sanitary garb as if he were a kid going out in the snow. He was relegated, happily, to a corner as they prepared Pam for the final stages of labor. Alan had never felt so guilty and helpless in his life. She agonized through two more contractions before the doctor said, “Daddy, you come jump in anytime.”
Alan glanced to Pam for affirmation, but her eyes were squeezed shut to ward off the pain. Her hands were on the bed railing, so at least her weapon had been confiscated.
“Pam?” he said weakly, stepping closer. “Sweetie?”
She didn’t open her eyes, but she lifted a hand toward him, and he went to her side with Relief.
“Alan,” she whispered, lolling her head toward him.
“Yes, dear?”
“What does the ‘P’ stand for?”
“Pam, now doesn’t seem like the time—”
She twisted a handful of his shirt and pulled him close to her. “I said, what does the ‘P’ stand for?”
“Pam, you need to push,” Dr. Campbell said. “On the count of three.”
“Alan—” Pam said through clenched teeth.
“One—”
“—what does—” Her face reddened.
“—two—”
“—the ‘P’ stand for?”
“—three—push!”
Her face contorted in pain and she screamed. Alan, scared half out of his wits, yelled, “Presley! The ‘P’ stands for ‘Presley!’”
She grunted, bearing down for several seconds, then relaxed on the pillow and opened her eyes. “Presley?” she panted.
He nodded miserably. “My mom was a huge fan.”
She laughed between gasping for air, readying herself for another push at the doctor’s urging. He held her hand tight and whispered loving words in her ear.
“Here comes the head,” said the doctor.
She bore down and squeezed his hand until he was sure she’d broken several bones. His heart thrashed in his chest and he looked around to see what he would hit when he passed out.
“One more push, Pam,” the doctor urged.
She took a deep breath and screamed loud enough to rattle the windows. Alan held on, wondering if his hearing would return.
“Here we are,” the doctor said triumphantly. “It’s a big boy.”
Relief and elation flooded his chest and he kissed Pam’s face, whispering, “It’s a boy. It’s a boy.”
Pam, exhausted but beaming, held her hands out to accept the wrinkled, outraged infant. Alan’s heart filled to bursting as he looked down at his son, whose lusty cries filled the air.
“Do you have a name?” the doctor asked.
“Not yet—” he said.
“Of course we do,” Pam said as she raised her moist gaze to her husband. “His name is Presley.”
ISBN : 978-1-4592-7445-7
WIFE IS A 4-LETTER WORD
Copyright © 1998 by Stephanie Hauck
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Wife Is A 4-Letter Word Page 17
