by Carol Devine
"Remember what happened when we learned Cassie was on the way? You were so excited, you rammed my head into the ceiling."
He scrubbed the back of his neck, a bit embarrassed at the memory. "That's because you wouldn't let me hold the stick. And since you continue to insist on holding it yourself, I guarantee your head is not immune to hitting the ceiling again."
Finished, Mariah laid the stick on the counter, trying to position it in the exact same spot it had been when they found out Cassie had been conceived.
She needed to feel like what they were doing was going to work. The shots of extra hormones from the fertility treatments she was undergoing made her feel like a jackhammer, hammering every possible thing in her path, Shane included.
"I don't know why you tolerate me," she said, glad to have him here but somehow unable to tell him. It seemed bad luck to tempt fate, bad luck to complain about this process, this horrible and hope-stealing process of making a baby from a body which might feel the same as it always did but was clearly being affected by the inevitability of middle age.
Shane stared at the little stick, praying for it to say yes this time. Yes, after months and months and months of seeing it with a red line down the middle. The manufacturers were right not to have it say no when the test was negative. As it was, each negative result visited pain and failure on Mariah that neither he nor four year-old Cassie could overcome, no matter how hard they tried.
The worst thing about fertility treatments was watching Mariah's hopes get dashed on a weekly basis. Between checking her temperature to determine ovulation and constant pregnancy tests, making love had lost magic for her. Him by extension, too. Half the time, they had to perform on schedule and in specific positions. It robbed spontaneity, stripping away the intimacy of the act, reducing it down to mindless biology.
His old insecurities flared up and he was rendered impotent more than once. In the state that she was, Mariah took it personally. She'd claim that it was her fault, not his. She felt less desirable as a woman because she was having such trouble conceiving.
Worse, though, was the occasional accusation she leveled at him, that his lack of response meant he really didn't want another child. Or, at least another child with her, bringing to full circle her growing belief that her attractiveness and her fertility was one and the same.
She slumped, hands over her eyes. "You need to read it this time. I can't bring myself to do it."
He was having a hard time bringing himself to do it, too. He checked his watch, seeing time was crawling along, and sighed. "Promise me you won't immediately go to bed if the answer is no."
"I can't make promises. The disappointment feels awful. I want to give in to the hopelessness because if I don't, it's like I deserve to be punished for the time I wasted in my twenties and thirties when it would have been easy to have a child."
"Except you didn't know me then."
"What about the two years I did know you? I fizzled them away on a bunch of insecure nonsense about whether I loved you or not. What was that about? Proving what a monster idiot I really am?"
"This is the extra hormones talking. God isn't trying to punish you, Mariah. He's not trying to punish us. He wants us to have another child. If He didn't, the possibility would have been taken off the table."
"Maybe it is off the table and I haven't accepted it yet. Maybe He's putting us through this because I needed a big lesson in waiting too long and taking you for granted and using birth control."
"There's nothing wrong with using birth control."
"Maybe God didn't want us to use birth control. Maybe He wanted us to be fruitful and populate the earth. Maybe He wanted me to have another baby right after Cassie and that's why my milk dried up, so I would become fertile right away and I blew the plan sky high by going back to work and being mean to you and made the accident happen to you."
"Shhh, Mariah. You caused none of those things."
"I hope you're right, Shane. These days I feel wrong. My life feels wrong."
"Time's up. I'll look. This is us, together, making a baby." Shane picked up the stick and was silent.
Mariah started to cry. She buried her face in the crook between his shoulder and neck, sobbing in despair. Like Shane predicted, she wanted to run into their bedroom and hide in their bed, castigating herself with stupid regrets, as though it would help anything. But she promised she wouldn't, and she clung to him because of her promise.
He used his booted foot to close the lid on the toilet. Holding her tightly, he sat on the lid and cradled her in his lap, making it easier to hide her face in his shoulder.
Angry at herself, she tore off some toilet tissue to blow her nose, hoping it would help to bring her emotions under control. Neither her brain nor her body seemed able to make heads or tails about anything anymore.
"I didn't want to take any chances this time," he said.
Since she was continuing to cry after blowing her nose, she didn't respond, but it did register what he'd said made little sense.
"Did you hear me, Mariah?"
She lifted her head, trying to control her wobbly voice. "Half the stuff you say is nonsense."
"You told me once I was pretty articulate for a guy. Do you remember?"
"I must have had PMS that day."
He tweaked her stuffy nose. "Cracking wise like the best of PI's. That's my girl."
He brushed away her tears, helping her gain a modicum of self control. She smiled at him even though her facial muscles weren't responding well.
"I have a confession to make," he said. "It ain't gonna be easy to take in, so I'm asking you to be prepared. I need you to steel yourself."
He was trying to make her feel better, except it wasn't working. She focused on copying his jocular manner, but the tears kept welling. She swiped at them, annoyed with herself. "What else could you possibly have done that you haven't told me about before now?"
"We're going to have a baby. You're pregnant and you're going to have another baby."
Seated as she was on his lap, it was hard to look at his face straight on. She froze, unable to believe. "What did you say?"
He held up the stick in front of her face. "Read me what this says."
She squinted but was too frightened to speak. She whispered instead. "I'm going to jinx it if I say it out loud."
"Well, I said it. Nothing bad has happened so far."
"It's been, like, one minute."
"One minute going on two. I guess there's worse places to wait out a pregnancy. At least we have a toilet and shower."
"Don't make jokes!"
He laced his hands around her waist. "We're going to enjoy this, Mariah. Why shouldn't we? What's the worst that can happen?"
"There are some terrible things, Shane. You know as well as I. Why would you even mention it?"
"Because we've lived through them and we've come out on the other side. Yeah, it's been rough at times but we always get through it, Mariah. You are not your mother. I am not your father. We have our own lives to lead, our own destiny, one that God has gifted to us. I believe it with every ounce of my being. Will you believe it with me?"
She studied him, this husband of hers who understood her better than she understood herself. "I believe in you, Kellen Shane Youngblood. How could I not? I love you."
"We love each other. Don't ever forget."
"Which do you want, a boy or a girl?"
"The only thing that matters is you come out of this feeling fine, Mariah. This is going to be tough on me. You have to promise you'll make life as easy as possible on yourself. And there can't be disagreements in the birthing room like there were last time. It was nearly the death of me. In fact, when the time comes, maybe we can go in together on the epidural. Skip the pain part totally. Deal?"
"You are such a wuss."
"Yeah, I am. Deal?"
"I'll think about it. But as usual, there's a 99% chance you've convinced me."
"Close enough for me. Meanwhile, l
et's give the doctor a call. Daylight's burning and we only have a few more months of daylights to go. We gotta get crackin'."
"Let me kiss you first. From this point forward, you're going to have to tolerate my dadgum foolishness. My new goal in life is to give you everything you want before you possibly know you want it."
"These blessed decisions you make are an amazing blend of slavish devotion and queenly expectations. I'll try to live up to both."
"You know I love you, right? Know it from your head to your toes?"
"It's a good thing you love me, cause I love you, and it would be a piss-poor way to go through life, pining after each other."
* * * * *
"Got everything?"
Hearing his impatience, Mariah could tell Shane was irritated with her. But she'd spent the entire day ensuring nothing of importance would be left behind, and she refused to let his constant rushing prevent her from going through the rest of her checklist. "You try moving fast carrying 30 extra pounds in front of you every moment of every day like a sack of horse feed."
"I'm just trying to get this show on the road. What else do you want in the pickup?"
Knuckling her lower back, Mariah consulted her list. "I should have had you take Cassie to the Wainwright's. If Ana wasn't busy doing that, she'd be helping me rather than you nagging me to get everything done ahead of schedule. You're giving me a headache."
"I'm nagging cause I have a horse that's been standing in a trailer for an hour while you look like you're moving an army. The Wainwrights are going to think we're staying for a year. How much stuff do we really need?"
"Most of it is for Cassie. Keeping her occupied for six weeks takes more organization than you might imagine." She pointed at a cardboard box she'd packed with the remainder of Cassie's toys. "This box needs to go in the back of the pickup. I'll put the stroller in myself."
Shane lifted the so-called last box and headed for the truck. Mariah rifled through her purse one last time, checking her various electronic devices and making sure she had her last version of her birth plan in the inner pocket, ready to be turned over to the doctor and birthing center tomorrow at the 34 week checkup. Shouldering her purse, she winced at the extra weight and dragged the folded stroller to the door. She paused on the porch and locked the door of the house.
The next time she came back, she'd have a newborn baby boy in her arms.
"You should let me get that," Shane said, taking the stroller.
"My purse weighs more."
"Hand it over."
Mariah did, deciding that giving in to Shane at this point seemed like the wiser course. Before climbing into the pickup, she stretched her back. As usual, it had been achy most of the day. She hadn't had any time to sit down and rest. Those pesky Braxton Hicks contractions dogging her weren't helping her achy head or her mood, either. Stepping up into the cab of the pickup turned out to be an awkward exercise. She sat down heavily.
"Ow," she said.
"You okay?"
"Don't worry about me," she said, checking the contents of her purse one last time. "This show is ready to get on the road."
Shane jumped in and shut his door. "You should have waited for me to help you into the cab."
"Despite being 34 weeks pregnant, I am still capable of getting my body into a pickup truck, thank you very much."
Shane started the engine and they rolled out onto Main Street, heading for the highway to Aspen. It was mid-afternoon and, fortunately, traffic was light.
Half an hour into the journey, Mariah turned down the radio and cast a sidelong glance at Shane. "I know you're not going to believe this, but I think my water just broke."
He did a double take. "Water water? Like baby water?"
"It feels like I peed my pants. But I think I would have noticed if I had to pee before I peed my pants."
"I'm pulling over." He started braking and steering to the side of the highway.
Mariah tried not to sound panicked. "No, keep driving. If I'm in labor, we need to go straight to the hospital."
"It's too early for you to be in labor."
"Babies do come early, Shane. We may not have a choice."
"Can't you tell if you're in labor or not? You have done this before."
"It's been five years. There's more discomfort than real pain. But my back's been bothering me a lot today and if my water broke, then I'm officially in labor."
"I told you at breakfast to park your butt in a chair instead of loading the truck with me."
"You kept pushing me to hurry. I thought my back was hurting because of the stress."
"There's a difference between stress and labor pains. If you're in labor, you'd be having contractions."
"Well… maybe I am. Maybe I have been today."
"What do you mean 'maybe'?"
"It didn't seem like they were hurting that much until I got into the truck and sat down. I thought they were the fake kind."
"Dammit, Mariah!"
"Don't dammit me, Shane. The last couple of weeks, my back's been killing me, my feet hurt constantly, I'm peeing every other minute and now I'm leaking. You try being this pregnant and knowing what normal is!"
Shane took one look at Mariah's pale face and, this time, he pulled all the way over to the side of the road. "We're calling the doctor."
He knew they were in trouble when Mariah didn't protest. She extracted her phone and made immediate contact. By the time the doctor came on, Shane had the passenger door open, draped a horse blanket around her and was helping her out of her wet jeans and underwear. "Yes," she said, "I think my husband can confirm that my water definitely broke. He breeds horses, you see, and he deals with pregnant mares all the time."
"Quit talking about that! Ask if we should call an ambulance."
Mariah covered the mouthpiece on her phone. "I'm just trying to tell her you have some experience."
"Ask her!"
Mariah asked. The doctor said, given the time between contractions and the fact they were already on the way to Aspen, calling an ambulance would save little time, and they should go straight to the hospital.
Shane used the horse blanket from the trailer to clean the truck's seat and fetched Mariah's robe from her suitcase so she would have something covering her legs.
Meanwhile, Mariah was timing her contractions. They had become increasingly painful. It finally dawned on her that her labor may have started not right before they left home, but earlier in the day.
Shane jumped into the driver's seat, started the engine and pulled onto the highway again.
"How far apart are they?"
Mariah was focused on her phone's stopwatch. "They're not regular. That's a good sign."
"How not regular are they?"
Mariah winced as another pain gripped her. Holding her side, she worked to speak calmly. "Well, these latest ones are two minutes apart. But the last three were between three and seven minutes." She started panting.
Shane swore, accelerating. "I'm hauling a trailer. I can only go so fast."
"There's no cause for panic."
"I'm not panicking!"
"Good, cause if you start panicking, I'll start panicking."
"Maybe we should call an ambulance anyway. We're still a good forty-five minutes away."
"Even if Kellen is coming early, Cassie's labor took 19 hours. I'm sure I'm nowhere close to delivering."
"The second baby is supposed to come faster. How long have the fake ones been going on?"
Mariah didn't answer.
"Mariah?"
"Most of the day, okay? But I'm sure there's time. There has to be." She braced herself against the dashboard as another contraction hit her.
Shane started timing them in his own head as he watched Mariah brace herself at intervals against the dashboard. "It's more like every two minutes than five minutes," he said.
"Can you drive any faster?"
"I'm hauling a damned trailer. What do you think?"
Mariah br
aced herself, lowered her head and held her side, panting. "Oh, my God."
Shane answered by stabbing his Bluetooth device. "911," he said and heard the distinctive dialing then ringing before the dispatcher came on the line.
"This is 911. What is your emergency?"
"My wife's in labor. The baby's early and we're still a half hour out of town. I might have to pull over. I want an ambulance to meet us."
"What is your location?"
"I'm on Highway 61, heading to Aspen. Can you pick up my GPS signal?"
"We're working on it. Is she about to deliver?"
Shane glanced at Mariah, who was fidgety and sweaty. Her paleness made him more than a little concerned. She was not a person who exaggerated. If anything, she played her ills down.
Tears smeared her face, tears of considerable pain. "I'm trying not to push," she gasped.
He addressed the operator. "We're in a white pickup towing a horse trailer with the initials KSY on the side. I'll leave my phone on so you can track the signal but I'm going to help my wife now."
When Mariah didn't argue, Shane knew they were in really big trouble. She was leaning forward in her seat, clinging to the seatbelt strap over her shoulder, breathing like a freight train. He stopped the truck, unbuckled their seat belts, ran around to her side and opened the door.
"What should I do?"
"I don't know!"
"Maybe I should take a look."
"First get out my suitcase again. I have a couple of baby blankets in there."
He rushed to comply. "We're not going to need them, though, because you're going to hold off pushing until the ambulance gets here."
"I'm trying, Shane. I really am. It hurts bad."
Swearing under his breath, he left the suitcase open on the ground and ran to the trailer for his vet first aid kit. By the time he returned to truck's cab, Mariah was sitting sideways in her seat, her legs dangling outside. He threw the blankets and kit on the floor. "Let me see."
"This is humiliating," she panted. "I hate for you to see me like this."
"Don't worry. I'll pretend you're a mare."
"Don't make jokes!"
He didn't mean it as one but Shane wasn't going to tell Mariah that. He opened the first aid kit and squeezed antiseptic all over his hands. She was trying to hold back, groaning, her knees tightly clenched.
