Out with the In Crowd

by Stephanie Morrill

  “This is it,” she said. “Every five-ish minutes for the last half hour.”

  “We’re supposed to wait an hour.”

  She looked me in the eyes. “Take me to the hospital.”

  I resisted until the next contraction came on—three-and-a-half minutes later—and Abbie’s face scrunched in pain. I pulled on jeans, grabbed our bag from under the bed, and steadied Abbie as we navigated the dark hall.

  I rapped on Mom and Dad’s closed bedroom door. “Mom, it’s time.”

  “What?” she asked, her voice sleepy and muffled.

  I nudged open the door. “Abbie’s in labor.”

  The covers rustled. “Be right there.”

  Abbie and I made it down the stairs in time for another contraction. Again, three-and-a-half minutes. “Take me. To. The hospital,” Abbie said through labored breaths.

  To. The hospital,” Abbie said I’d never been so scared.

  “Daddy.” I touched his sleeping figure on the couch. “The baby’s coming.”

  His feet hit the floor before I finished my sentence. “The seat’s in my car. Let’s take it.”

  By the time Abbie’s next contraction came, we’d hit the road. Dad drove while Mom and I encouraged Abbie through each pain.

  “They really hurt now,” Abbie whimpered to Mom. “Those ones I had early in the week . . . I kinda hoped that’s as bad as it’d get.”

  Mom smoothed Abbie’s coppery hair. “But just wait until you get your first glimpse of that baby. You won’t feel a thing but love.” With her free hand, Mom found my leg and patted it.

  As I pondered how long it had been since she’d made such a warm gesture, she blew my mind by turning and smiling at Dad in the rearview mirror. “Remember, Paul, when Skylar was born?” She turned back to me, the grin still warming her face. “We were both so stunned we could hardly speak. And I had pushed you for hours and hours. It was excruciating. I remember thinking, ‘Why couldn’t Adam have picked the fruit?’ because I’d never felt pain like that. I—”

  “Mom.” I nodded at Abbie, whose jaw had flapped open.

  “But you . . .” She resumed smoothing Abbie’s hair. “Three pushes and you popped out.”

  Abbie smiled, but she looked ghostlike under the glow of streetlights. I wanted to tell her she’d do great, that I was so proud of her, but another contraction started. Not long after it ended, we arrived at the hospital.

  “When can I get the epidural?” Abbie asked as the delivery nurse fussed with her IV. Abbie’s face glistened with sweat from her last few contractions.

  “I’ll put a call in to the anesthesiologist. First you need this bag of fluids in you.”

  Abbie frowned up at the IV pole. “How long will that take?”

  “Twenty or so minutes.”

  My sister’s head flopped onto the pillow, and she released a groan.

  “That’s not too bad,” I attempted. “Just a couple more contractions.”

  She glared at me.

  The nurse’s gaze clicked over each member of the family. “Will you all be in here for delivery?”

  Will you all be in here for delivery?”

  “No,” Dad said. “We’ll be in the—”

  “Stay,” Abbie whimpered. With one hand she reached for Mom, and with the other, Dad. “Please, I want you all in here.” She looked at the nurse. “Is that okay?”

  She shrugged. “It’s your baby.”

  Abbie blanched.

  “I’ll have the anesthesiologist come talk to you.” With a smart turn on her heel, the nurse turned to leave.

  In a couple years, that could be me. I bet working in labor and delivery was a lot of fun. Greeting all the new faces as they popped into the world.

  I evaluated the nurse’s outfit as she closed the door to Abbie’s room. The work must be rewarding, or no one would put up with those ugly white shoes and weird geometric-print outfits.

  Abbie crunched into an ice cube. “I should’ve done birthing classes.” She looked at me. “Why didn’t I listen to you?”

  Mom perched on the edge of Abbie’s bed and brushed her bangs from her face. “The nurses will tell you what to do. Don’t worry.”

  “Do people still die in childbirth?” Panic filled Abbie’s face. “What if something—”

  And then another contraction came, stealing her focus. We stood around her bed, silent as she grimaced in pain. I glanced at Mom and Dad and found their attention locked on Abbie. They certainly hadn’t made this last year easy on us, but at least now when it really counted, they could rally around her.

  Two contractions later, the anesthesiologist, a strong-looking man in his thirties, rolled a cart into the room. “Abigail Hoyt? I hear you’ve expressed interest in an epidural.” My sister smiled, exhausted. “Whatever you’ve got.”

  He didn’t show any surprise at my sister’s age, just laughed, loud and friendly. “Well, I’m Dan, and since we have a few minutes while we wait on those fluids”—he jabbed at the half-full baggie—“let me go ahead and explain how an epidural works.”

  “Abbie’s getting low on ice water.” Dad grabbed her cup from the bedside table. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Skylar, why don’t you text the Rosses that the baby’s on its way?” Mom motioned to her purse. “I’m sure they’d want to know.”

  I glanced at the clock. “At 2:30 in the morning?”

  “Amy doesn’t keep her cell phone on overnight. This way she’ll know as soon as she wakes up and turns it on.”

  I ventured to the small, hard couch and texted Amy. After a minute’s thought, I sent a text to Chris as well. He likely didn’t turn his phone off these days, but I doubted he’d mind the interruption.

  As I finished, I overheard Abbie saying, “My sister’s going into nursing.”

  I looked up and found her chatting with the delivery nurse, who smiled at me. “Good for you. Do you know what you want to specialize in?”

  I shrugged. “My friend’s a postpartum nurse. Oh, maybe you know her. She works here. Heather Silver?”

  The nurse’s smile widened even more. “Oh, Heather’s wonderful. She—”

  “There’s another one coming.” Abbie leaned forward, fingers spread across her stomach. “Ow, ow, ow.”

  “You’re doing great, Abbie,” the nurse said in a calm voice. She evaluated the ever-important baggie of fluids. “And not much longer until the epidural.”

  And not much longer Abbie whimpered.

  Dan, who’d stepped to the side where he fussed with vials and paperwork, said to me in a hushed voice, “Will you help me with your sister when the time comes? She needs someone calming and familiar to focus her while I insert the needle.”

  “Sure.” I hoped I sounded calm and confident, like I would as a nurse. “What do I do?”

  “Well, I’ll have Abbie sit on the edge of the bed with a pillow in her lap. Then she’ll bend forward so I can get a clean angle on her spine—”

  “Her spine?” A wave of nausea rippled through me. “Like in her back? That spine?”

  “That’s the one.” His eyes crinkled when he smiled, same as Eli. “I promise your sister will be just fine. I do this all the time.”

  Abbie collapsed back on the bed as the contraction ended, her face red like she’d just run a mile. “I can’t handle another one of those things.”

  The nurse smiled as she studied something on Abbie’s monitor. “Probably just one more and then you can have the epidural.”

  “And I won’t feel the contractions?” Abbie asked between huffs and puffs.

  “When we get real close, you’ll be able to tell you’re having them, but it’ll be nothing like this.” Something flashed on Abbie’s screen, and the nurse leaned closer. “I need to go check on another girl, but I’ll be right back.”

  “Mommy.” Abbie reached for Mom’s hand. “I can’t go to Hawaii with you.”

  “Shh.” Mom patted Abbie. “You just focus on having that baby girl. We’ll talk about it
later.”

  “I want us to be together. Everyone. We should be a family.” Giant tears rolled down Abbie’s cheeks.

  I glanced at Dan. He appeared too busy with all his gadgets to pay any attention to the unfolding family drama. I bet he heard lots of weird stuff, being a part of all these intimate moments.

  “Abbie, we’ll always be a family.” Mom looked at Dad as he entered the room, ice water in hand. “Nothing can change that.”

  Okay, was I crazy, or had I heard a tiny bit of hope in her voice? Maybe our family wasn’t lost. Maybe Mom could find a way to get over what Dad did all those years ago.

  And if Mom could forgive and the two of them found a way to be happily married, maybe it wasn’t too late for Connor and me either.

  Ten minutes and two contractions later, the nurse returned. “Abbie, it’s the time you’ve been waiting for.” She pulled the drained bag of fluids off the IV pole.

  Abbie croaked a meager cheer.

  Dan rolled his cart to Abbie’s bedside. “Okay, Abbie. Remember how I showed you?” As Abbie grabbed her pillow, he motioned to me. “Skylar, my RN-in-training, ready to come help?”

  I nodded, suddenly unable to speak, and shuffled toward the bed. That seasick feeling returned—same as I always felt the first day on a cruise—and my mouth felt gauzy.

  “You okay?” Dad asked.

  “I don’t know why there’d be anything wrong with you.” Abbie curled her body over the pillow. “I’m the one getting a needle jammed in my spine.”

  As she said it, the needle glinted in the light. It was long. Oh so long. And the idea of where Dan would stick . . .

  My stomach pitched again. I tried to blink away the black dots, tried to crouch in front of my sister and be supportive.

  “Grab her!” Mom screamed.

  My eyes closed, and somewhere in the distance, something crashed.

  25

  My head ached, and I could hear a lot of fussing. Was the baby coming? Had I missed it?

  “Are you okay?” Dad’s voice cut through the fog.

  I cracked open my eyes to see Mom and Dad crouched in front of me, panic lining their faces. Behind them, Abbie sat curled on the bed. Dreamy Dan stood next to her.

  “Did I miss it?” I asked, sounding like a feeble old lady. “Skylar, you hit the floor about fifteen seconds ago,” Dad said as he helped me to my feet.

  “How about if you take Skylar out of the room, sir?” Dan said. “I’d like to get Abbie taken care of before the next contraction comes.” He raised his eyebrows at Mom. “You okay to stay?”

  I touched the end of Abbie’s bed because I couldn’t reach her. “Sorry.”

  She grinned at me. “Always trying to steal my show, huh?”

  I managed a weak smile and let Dad lead me out the door.

  “I can’t believe that happened. I just kept looking at that big needle and—” I shuddered.

  “Not a fan myself.” Dad smiled kindly. “We’ll take in some fresh air while they get Abbie situated. Then we’ll come back.”

  The freezing midnight air did just the trick. We strolled along the sidewalk, the moonlight bright on our faces.

  “I can’t believe my baby girl is about to have a baby girl,” Dad said. In a husky voice he added, “I wanted so much more for her.”

  I’d never heard Dad say anything even slightly negative about the baby. Mom had been all doom and gloom. Dad seemed to have taken on the task of balancing her out.

  I didn’t know how to answer him. Of course we wouldn’t have wished this for Abbie, yet if the nurse had walked out right then and told us it had been a mistake—that Abbie wasn’t really pregnant—we’d all be disappointed. We’d all feel like a death had occurred. Regardless of the circumstances, we wanted this baby.

  “What do you think life will be like for her?” I asked.

  “Her, the baby, or her, Abbie?”

  “Her, the baby, “Abbie.”

  Dad frowned. “I think it largely depends on her. Even though your mom and I had each other, it was still so overwhelming at times. And we were so immature. We’d both been raised by Christian families, but we were early in our own journeys of faith.”

  He rested a hand on my shoulder, Dad-style. “As a kid, I thought God made rules just to have them. Just to make our lives difficult and suck the fun out of everything. But as I’ve aged, I’ve come to see that God’s way makes so much sense. Think of all the problems in our lives, in our world, that exist because of sex happening outside of the marriage relationship. Diseases, abortions . . .” He swallowed. “Divorces.” He squeezed me. “But no matter the circumstances, a new baby is something to be celebrated. Your mother and I felt that with you, and we feel it about the little one coming tonight.”

  I leaned against him. I loved my dad.

  “It’ll be a tough, lonely road for your sister. Especially if she goes to Hawaii.”

  I swallowed. “I don’t think Abbie’s going.”

  Dad blinked at me. “She told you that?”

  “Chris Ross kinda talked her out of it.” I kicked at a stray bit of gravel. “But the thing is, recently I’ve been feeling like I want to go.”

  Dad didn’t show any emotion right away. Or maybe I just couldn’t see it because we were between streetlamps. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t want to tell my dad about the dreams, about the bathing suit. Those weren’t the kinds of things he understood. “I just need to be away from here for a little bit. I don’t want to go permanently. Maybe just for the summer, then come back here for school.”

  Dad didn’t say anything.

  I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Are you mad?”

  He turned to me, his forehead wrinkled. “No.”

  He turned to me, his “Disappointed?”

  Now a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Honey, you’re eighteen. While I’ve never looked forward to your moving out of the house, that time’s approaching. Even if you do all your schooling here in the city, I imagine you’ll get your own place before too long.” He ruffled my hair. “I trust you to do what’s best for you. To do what God’s asking.”

  I leaned against him again. “Thanks, Daddy.”

  We’d circled the maternity wing and reached the main entrance. Dad looked toward the doors. “How you feeling? Better?”

  I touched the bump on the side of my head and winced. “I’m still in some pain, but I guess I shouldn’t complain to Abbie, huh?”

  Dad chuckled as we started up the ramp. “Probably not.” The doors into the waiting room glided open. “Have you talked to Connor about the Hawaii thing?”

  I opened my mouth to respond when I spotted him. “Connor.”

  He and Chris turned to look at us. They both wore baseball hats and wrinkled clothes they’d obviously grabbed off the floor.

  “How is she?” Chris asked as Connor said, “What happened to your head?”

  I touched my forehead. “I apparently don’t do well with needles.”

  “She’s fine,” Dad answered Chris.

  I forced my gaze away from Connor and smiled at Chris. “She’s doing great. They just gave her the epidural.”

  “What happened?” Connor asked.

  “Oh, it’s totally normal,” Dad said. “It’s just a procedure to deaden Abbie’s nerves so she doesn’t feel the pain.”

  Connor reddened. “I, um, I actually meant Skylar’s head.”

  “Oh.” I blushed as well. “I was supposed to help keep Abbie calm during the epidural, but I saw the needle and sorta fainted instead.”

  Chris bit his lower lip. “It was that bad?”

  “Are you okay?” Connor’s fingertips hovered around my bump, like he wanted to touch me but couldn’t bring himself to.

  “Dad took me outside for a walk.” I glanced at the double doors leading into the ward. “We should get back there, but . . .” I stared at Connor. I wanted to say something to make everything go back to the way it had been those first few
weeks. When everything was new and perfect.

  Connor lowered his hand without touching me. “We’ll be here.”

  “We’ll keep you updated,” Dad said.

  He nodded at the receptionist, and she buzzed us into the wing. As the door swung closed, my gaze never strayed from Connor’s face, and his never left mine. I hoped it meant he felt as willing to forgive as I did.

  Childbirth, though miraculous, also turned out to be disgusting.

  I kinda suspected it from TV, but it was different to be in there. To hear Abbie crying, and to see . . . well, stuff. I’ll leave it at that.

  “I can’t do it anymore.” Abbie collapsed onto her pillow, face sweaty and tomato red. Dad dabbed her with a cloth.

  “Good job, Abbie,” Mom said.

  “You’re doing great.” It seemed like the millionth time I’d said it. There were only so many words available to encourage a girl in labor. I sometimes peppered in “not much longer,” although that felt less and less true. Even to me.

  Dr. Ridgway had been surveying Abbie’s monitor. “Alright, Abbie,” she said, her voice somehow both warm and commanding. “We’ve got another contraction coming. Get ready to push.”

  Abbie whimpered.

  I glanced at the clock. She’d been pushing for thirty minutes, but it seemed longer. I could only imagine how she felt.

  “Deep breath,” Dr. Ridgway said, “and push!”

  We dove into the routine we’d perfected over the last half hour—Dad supported Abbie’s back, Mom and I each took a leg, and all three of us said over and over, “Good job, Abbie. You’re doing great. Almost there.”

  “Another breath,” Dr. Ridgway instructed.

  Abbie rested long enough to gather another lungful of air, then struggled back up.

  “Come on, Abbie,” we chanted. “You’re doing great. Push. Push.”

  “Great job, Abbie,” Dr. Ridgway said. “And one more breath before the big, baby-moving push.”

  Abbie collapsed and seemed unwilling to resume pushing.

  “You can do it, honey,” I heard Dad whispering as he struggled to prop her up.

  Dr. Ridgway turned on her motivational voice. “This is the baby-moving push, Abbie. You’re almost there.”