Baby on the Way

by Lois Richer

  She heaved a sigh of relief when he finally made it inside. The telephone interrupted her musings and Caitlin absently rubbed her stomach as she answered. These Braxton-Hicks were getting really fierce.

  “It’s me, honey. Stan says this is our last chance to make it over. Are you sure you don’t want us to come?”

  “Of course not, Eliza. It’s awful outside. Besides, I’m perfectly fine and I can do whatever needs doing around here without you guys risking your lives on those roads.”

  “You’re sure? No baby yet?”

  “Of course I’m sure and that question is getting old very quick.” She paused, stuffing down frustration. “I’m just going to have some dinner, watch a little television and then head for bed. What could be simpler?”

  “And you’re not having any contractions? Your water hasn’t broken?” Eliza’s worried voice carried clearly over the line. “You’re past your date, Caitlin, so you have to monitor these things very carefully now.”

  “I know. And I have been. But there’s nothing unusual here, Eliza. Junior is just pushing a little. He thinks his momma is a football, I guess.” She drew circles on her stomach, hoping to quiet the agile baby.

  “Huh! Sounds like Jordan! He was determined not to leave without doing some damage. That boy can’t be swayed once he makes up his mind.”

  “No, I guess not. Any word from him?” She hated asking it, but Jordan hadn’t phoned her once in the past three days. She missed him, the sound of his booming voice, his capable hands, his tender glances.

  “Not a word, though he often doesn’t call when he’s away on a job. He just shows up once the work is done. I hope he’s not flying tonight!”

  Something else to worry about, Caitlin thought after hanging up the phone. Imagining Jordan in an airplane in this ice storm made her physically sick and as the bile rose she rushed into the bathroom.

  “Why is it that nothing with this pregnancy is going according to the books?” she asked herself later, having recovered enough strength to down a few more tablespoons of the lukewarm broth. “Evening sickness in the ninth month is not nice!”

  She gasped and grabbed her stomach as a fierce cramp seized her belly.

  “Now you don’t like tomato soup?” she gasped, breathing more deeply as the sensation eased, then passed. “What a fussy kid.”

  Caitlin stood carefully, rubbing her back as she inched forward toward the sofa. If she could just make it there and lie down, everything would be fine.

  “Leaving the kitchen,” she announced and then gasped as warm wet fluid gushed down her legs. “Oh, no! My water broke!” She hobbled through to the laundry room, found some clean clothes and changed as quickly as she could. She was just easing on her slippers when the lights flickered.

  “No,” she cried out, gripping the closet door. “Please not that!”

  The lights stayed on until she arrived in the living room. Then, suddenly, everything was dark. A crack outside coincided with a flesh-searing contraction that threatened to tear her insides out.

  “Oh, God!” she breathed with heartfelt appeal. “The baby’s coming and I’m all alone.”

  The Lamaze lessons that seemed so simple mere weeks ago fled her mind and it was all Caitlin could do to sink into her chair and puff her way through one contraction after another, wondering at the strength and intensity of them.

  Outside something shattered, then thundered to the ground, reminding her of the past. It had been exactly like this the night her parents had died. Her father had been outside fixing a shutter when the call came about her grandmother.

  They’d scrambled into the car and started out for the hospital, careening from left to right over the slick surface, missing cars, posts and red lights by inches. Only they hadn’t missed the last one. A semi-truck, unable to stop on the glare ice, plowed into them with a sickening crunch Caitlin could still hear today.

  How long had she lain there in the car, waiting for whatever took her parents to kill her, too? How may times had she begged God to send someone to help her mother, to stop that awful wheezing sound she made with every breath?

  She came back to reality with a thud. How long had she been lying here, panting her way through one pain after the other?

  Oh, God, please send me some help. Why didn’t I let Eliza come over? Why was I too proud to ask for help?

  The questions boiled through her mind in lucid moments when she wasn’t concentrating on her abdomen. During a particularly long lull Caitlin managed to light the big eucalyptus candle that sat on her coffee table, but the light was faint and flickering in the huge room. No streetlights shone outside.

  Please God, send me someone. I’m sorry I haven’t trusted You. I know I was wrong. I just couldn’t shake off the past. But I never really stopped believing in You. Not really. Please forgive me?

  The next contraction was the most painful yet and she whimpered in agony, wondering how she would get out of this fix. The telephone! She reached for it, dialed 911 and found the line dead.

  Caitlin wanted to light the fire to ward off some of the chill that was seeping through her thin blouse, but she couldn’t seem to make it to the fireplace before yet another contraction hit. She breathed it through, reminding herself of the two techniques she could recall. Breathe deeply and relax.

  The minutes dragged past, counted off by the mantel clock. Caitlin lost track of everything but the fact that she and the baby were in trouble.

  Call upon Me and I will hear you in the day of trouble.

  The old Sunday school verse her father had recited so often popped into her mind.

  “Okay, God. I’m calling. Please help me in this awful time of trouble. I’m afraid for the baby. Please don’t take him. Please God.”

  She huffed and puffed her way through another pain and then froze as a noise at the front door caught her attention.

  Burglars! Looting homes and shops while there was no one to catch them. What would happen when they saw the place wasn’t empty?

  Caitlin prayed harder, breathed deeper, and counted longer as the contractions dragged out. She strained to hear what was going on at the front door, but her attention strayed, her mind revisiting the terrifying looting scenes she’d seen on television just last week.

  I’m here. I’ve always been here. Call on Me.

  “Please, God,” she whispered, shrinking as far back into the chair as she could. “Please help me. Send me someone. Please.”

  The front door creaked open and a shadow inched its way froward. Caitlin could see it all from her chair. Belatedly she wished she’d closed her apartment door. But she’d wanted to waylay anyone who could help her.

  The person headed into her living room, carefully edging around the furniture with tentative groping hands. He was big, far too big for her to overpower. As he came closer, Caitlin prayed harder and refused to give in to the agony that racked her body. She bit her lip, closed her eyes and counted to twenty.

  “Ouch!” A thud, a crash, and then a voice that was loud and unmistakable. “Good grief!”

  “Jordan?” Caitlin could have wept with relief when his face, finally lit by that one flickering candle, swam into her tear-filled view.

  He lit the three candles clenched in his hand and stood them on the table, eyes narrowing as he studied her. “Are you all right? I’ve been phoning for ages, but the line isn’t working. Mom said she’d talked to you earlier, but I thought I’d check anyway.”

  Caitlin couldn’t answer, she couldn’t move. The best she could manage were short shallow puffs that kept the oxygen moving through her body.

  “Caitlin? What’s wrong?” He was there, beside her, holding her hands as she let the crest of it roll over her.

  “I have to go to the hospital, Jordan. Now. Ooh, here comes another one!” She held on to his hand like a lifeline, refusing to let go until sanity returned.

  “You chose tonight to go into labor? Honestly, Caitlin!” A ghost of a grin spread across his pale face. “Y
ou are the most stubborn woman I have ever known. I suppose you thought you’d do this alone, too!”

  He stopped, winced, flexed his fingers and then held them out again. “Come on, kiddo. Hang on to me. Just keep breathing.”

  Caitlin renewed her grip on him and prepared for the next wave of unwavering pain. “As if I could stop breathing. I’m beginning to wonder if Robyn was right about you.” She closed her eyes, concentrated on the searing agony going on inside her body and puffed her way through the contraction.

  “Don’t you start with me,” she heard him mutter in a warning that belied his tender touch as he lifted her up and carried her slowly but surely to the front door.

  “It’s the lousiest night of the year to be driving, you know.” Jordan’s voice was quiet, conversational, with just a hint of steel running through it. “There are lines down everywhere because of the ice. For a woman who doesn’t like to live dangerously you sure chose a funny time to have this baby.”

  “He chose it. Not me. Ow!”

  “But we’ll make it, Lyn. We’ll make it just fine. You keep hanging on to me.”

  “As if,” she puffed, tightening her hand on his shoulder, “I could do…puff, puff…anything else.”

  He set her carefully inside his car, did up the seat belt and raced around to climb in the other side. She saw him fumble in his jacket for a moment before his cell phone appeared.

  Another contraction hit and Caitlin heard little except Jordan’s fierce order to have a doctor standing by.

  “Jordan?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?” He revved the engine and slowly backed out of her drive. “What is it?”

  “I’m scared, Jordan. Really scared. The contractions came awfully fast after my water broke.” She swallowed and looked him straight in the eye. “Do you think my baby is all right?”

  “I think your baby is just fine, darlin’. A little pushy, maybe, but hey, I’m in favor of pushiness.” He grinned, his eyes glittering. “Still, we’ve got to get you to the hospital now. Couldn’t hurt to get a second opinion. Will you trust me to do that?”

  Trust him? Of course she trusted him. Jordan was a man of his word. But what if the streets were too icy? What if they had an accident? What if they couldn’t get through? The worries swirled around her, sucking her in like an eddy of current.

  “Lyn? Sweetheart, if you were thinking about letting God back inside, now would be a really good time. If you trust in Him, ask Him to help us, I know He won’t let us down. Can you do that?”

  Caitlin stiffened, preparing herself for whatever lay ahead. And then something tweaked at her brain.

  “I did pray,” she mumbled. “I prayed that God would send someone and He sent you.” The very thought of it held her speechless for long tense moments. It was amazing! It was wonderful. It was… God. Talking to her!

  He’d answered. She’d called and He’d answered her prayer.

  “Just keep praying, honey. Your track record can only get better.” Jordan patted her hand, shifted gears and started slowly down the glassy street, steering first left, then right to avoid the downed power lines that littered the area. “Trust God, Lyn. He won’t disappoint you.”

  But Caitlin heard him only vaguely. For some reason the contractions had slowed. Her eyes took in the ravaged streets, the cars that slipped and slid across the road into other cars, smashing metal and grinding bumper to bumper. As Jordan fishtailed his car out of a skid, she was back to the night her parents had died.

  “Ice storms are killers,” she whispered, mesmerized by the flicker of sparks that shot out from a live wire just fifty feet ahead.

  Jordan spared her one quick glance before he jerked the wheel to the right to turn down a different street. “You let God worry about the storm. You just keep praying.”

  “Watch out,” she said as a car in front of them spun on a slick spot.

  “It’s all right, Caitlin. We’re fine. God will take care of us.”

  “He didn’t take care of me. Not at all.” She peered out through the windshield, nodding as streetlight after streetlight flickered, then died.

  “When my mother was in the car, dying, she told me, ‘Be a good girl, Caitlin. Be strong.’” She nodded. “I’ll be strong. I will be. I have to be.”

  Jordan fought to grasp the thread of what she was saying. She’d been in the car with her parents when they’d died? Why hadn’t anyone ever told him? Caitlin had heard her mother take her last breath. She’d listened to the last bit of advice her mother had to give.

  Be strong.

  It was an awful lot to ask of a ten-year-old child. And yet Caitlin had been strong, far stronger than anyone should have to be. Bit by bit understanding flowed into his brain.

  This was why she was so determined to go through life alone. It was what she’d always done when life threw a curveball. Be strong. He smiled grimly. Caitlin Andrews was the strongest woman he’d ever met. But it was time for her to learn to lean on someone else.

  “Caitlin? Listen sweetheart, we’re almost there. The hospital’s right ahead. Can you hear me, darling?”

  “Hurts,” she whispered. “Hurts bad.”

  “I know, darlin’.” He swallowed, carefully edging past the cars and trucks that lined the hospital entrance. He’d have to go around.

  “If we trust God, He will always come through for us. Your mom and dad trusted God to take care of you and here you are, getting ready to be a mommy. Just trust a little bit more now. Just a little more. God will take care of you.”

  “Hard to trust, Jordan. So hard. Hurts to love.” She sounded weak, her breathing short, gasping.

  Jordan’s heart thundered in his chest, but he refused to give up. His brain kept up a steady petition to heaven as he negotiated around the various vehicles that littered the area.

  He parked in front of the emergency door. “Here we are, Lyn.”

  “Don’t leave me,” she whimpered as he stepped outside of the car.

  Jordan hurried around to the other side, opened the door and lifted her into his arms. “I’m not going anywhere, Lyn. I’ll be right here beside you all the way.”

  “Ooh! Here we go again,” she groaned, her fingers twisting in his hair as she wrapped one arm around his neck.

  Jordan wanted to groan himself. He wondered if he’d be bald at the end of all this. When her other fist twisted up a handful of his shirt, Jordan lengthened his stride. He had to get her inside, and fast. Thank goodness for the portico that sheltered the driveway from the ice.

  He set her down in a wheelchair and gave the doctors the pertinent information, watching as they wheeled her off into a labor room.

  “I’ll be right there, Lyn,” he called to her. “As soon as you get into that bed properly. Just keep trusting.”

  She blinked, peering up at him as the door closed shut between them. Jordan winced at the sad hurt look in her eyes. She needed her faith now more than ever.

  “Please help her,” he whispered as he waited for her to reappear. “Please renew her faith and trust and help her to believe. She needs You now more than ever.”

  He opened his eyes when someone’s hand pressed his arm. A nurse, stern but with kindly eyes stood peering up at him.

  “She’s in hard labor, son. And she’s going to need someone to keep her spirits up. It won’t be easy, so if you can’t do it, you’d better say so right now.”

  “I can do it,” he told her. “I can do whatever needs to be done. There’s no way you’re getting rid of me now.” He visually dared her to try.

  To his surprise she smiled.

  “Good,” she nodded. “Then hang on for the ride.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “If you even think of uttering one more chicken joke, I’m going to rearrange that handsome face. Ooh!” Caitlin’s meager grin twisted into a grimace as she braced herself, hands closing around Jordan’s arm.

  “Breathe,” he told her. “In and out, just let it go. That’s good, darlin’. Very good.” He
kept murmuring compliments until she finally relaxed, her face drained and white.

  “I am breathing, you know,” Caitlin complained, her fingers unwrapping from his forearm. “It’s not as if I can just stop!”

  Jordan wondered if he’d have any skin left there when this baby finally arrived.

  “Okay, sweetheart. Okay. You’re doing fine. Everything’s fine.” He repeated the phrase as much to reassure himself as her.

  “Stop telling me the same thing over and over.” She didn’t look like she was joking. “I know what’s fine and this isn’t it!”

  “All right.” He kept his voice amiable. “What would you like me to say instead?”

  “Caitlin Andrews is the smartest woman I know,” she gasped, and returned her fingers to the permanent indentations in his arm. “Here we go again!”

  “Caitlin Andrews is the smartest, most beautiful, least stubborn, most caring, forgiving and absolutely amazing woman I know,” he whispered, brushing her hair back and dabbing at her forehead with a washcloth. He pressed a kiss there for good measure.

  “That’s more like it,” she grunted.

  Jordan could see her tiring little by little with each contraction. It had been hours and nothing seemed to be happening.

  “Okay, darlin’. I’m here. Hang on. Here we go again.” He brushed his hand over her tummy in circles, just the way the nurse had told him to. “Okay, Lyn. That’s right. You’re doing great! Junior’s coming right along.”

  “He’s sure taking his time.” She puffed, face taut with tiredness. “Can I have an ice chip?”

  “You’ve already had…”

  “Andrews, give me that ice!”

  She definitely wasn’t joking now. Jordan slipped the chip between her teeth and watched as she sucked at it greedily.

  “I’m just going to check you again, Caitlin. Try not to tense up.” Dr. Warren smiled, her eyes sparkling above her mask. “You’ve certainly got a good helper in this guy. He doesn’t complain at all.”