When the Going Gets Tough ...

WHEN THE GOING GETS TOUGH ...

“We’re not going anywhere. We’re stuck.”

I looked around, panicked. We were surrounded by an ocean of cars and trucks and motorcycles, and not a single one was moving.

“We can’t be stuck. We have to go!”

“I know, Tilda, but there’s nothing I can do.”

“You have to do something, Jacob, because if you don’t, this is not going to turn out well.”

I threw myself back in the seat, gritting my teeth as pain racked my body.

Oh, God, I thought. I can’t stand this. Make it stop.

Ten minutes ago.

“Breathe!” said Jacob. “Nice and slow.” He looked over at me in the passenger seat. “In one-two-three, out one-two-three.  Hee!  Hee!  Hee!”

“Shut up and drive!” I yelled.

“Okay. But breathe.”

“I have been breathing on my own for the last twenty-six years. I know how to breathe. Just drive.” I squeezed my eyes shut, focussing on the pain.

He turned and looked at me, worry etched on his face.

“Stop looking at me and drive,” I said through clenched teeth. “Faster!”

He stepped on the gas.

“Owww!” I screwed her eyes shut, and gritted my teeth, and groaned. Sweat popped out on my forehead. I grabbed onto the front dash of the car, trying to breathe through the pain.

Easy, Tilda, just breathe.

Jacob was driving like a man possessed. I realized that we were heading for the highway.

“Why are we going this way?” I asked between spasms of pain.

Jacob glanced over at me, before returning his gaze to the road.

“Faster. No stop lights. We’ll get there faster.”

Not what was had planned, but I had to agree. Faster was better.

Five minutes ago.

We were in the fast lane, heading east along the highway. I was consumed with pain. Breathing exercises did not seem to help. Chee-chee-cheeing did not seem to help. Nothing seemed to help. I needed to get to the hospital ASAP.

“How long?” I asked through clenched teeth.

“Next exit. Then we’re at the hospital. Maybe five minutes.”

“I’m not sure we have —“

Pain shook my body. I wanted to scream to make it stop, but I didn’t dare. Just my luck I’d scream, scare Jacob, and he’d lose control of the car, and crash. Nope. Instead I just grunted.

Jacob stole a glance at me, surprised. I am not a grunter.

“Just drive!” I said, through gasps of air.

Two minutes ago.

“No, no, no, no!” Jacob sounded panicked, not Jacob’s usual state of mind.

I looked up.  

“Oh my God, no!” I said between panting breaths.

Ahead of us was a sea of red tail lights. Traffic was stopped in front of us. Cars and trucks immediately pressed in behind us as we all slowed to a stop. We were stuck. And I was screwed.

“Jacob, we can’t be stuck in traffic. We haven’t got time to be stuck in traffic,” I said, panic rising in my chest.

But it was true. We were good and truly trapped. We had been in the fast lane, so we were as far away from the shoulder as physically possible. Vehicles of all sizes were stopped all around us, effectively boxing us in. The next exit, the one that we needed, was a mile and a half ahead of us. The last exit that we had passed was two miles behind us. We were trapped in a sea of stopped cars.

“Jacob, we have to do something. I don’t have much time!”

Right Now

Jacob stood on the roof of the car, and looked towards the the front of the jam. As far as he could tell a tractor trailer had jackknifed to avoid an accident in front of it.  

I took out my phone and called 9-1-1.  

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?

“We’re trapped on the highway behind an accident. I’m in active labour, and we can’t move.”

“How far apart are your contractions?”

“Between two and three minutes.”

“Okay, I’m going to dispatch emergency services. Where exactly are you on the highway?”

“Between — Ohohohoh, contraction.”

I started my breathing exercises. In, out, in out. I was focusing on the dashboard in front of me — not what we had practiced in Lamaze class, but it was all I had right now.

I could hear the 9-1-1 operator talking me through it “Breath, in out, in out. Shorter breathes with the peak. In-out-in-out. That’s it. You’ve got this.”

I exhaled with the fading contraction. I took a cleansing breath.

“Sorry,” I said. “What was the question?”

“No need for sorry. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Tilda, Tilda Robinson.”

“Okay, Tilda, my name’s Candace. I’m going to send EMS to you. Where exactly are you?

“Eastbound lanes of the highway, between Bethel Street and Champion Drive exists, heading to Mercy Hospital.” I looked around. We’re at mile marker 53.”

“Okay, let’s see what we can do.”

I stayed on the phone with Candace. She coached me through two more contractions. Unless I was mistaken, they were getting closer together, and more intense. I was feeling uncomfortable in the front seat, even with the seat all the way back.

“Candace, my back is aching.”   

“Tilda, open the door and put your feet outside the car. That will give you a little more room. Now bend over, and stretch out your back.” 

I opened the passenger side door, and bent over my knees — well as far over as my ginormous belly would allow me. Bending over seemed to help — a bit. I wished that Jacob would rub it. I looked around for for Jacob. He was no where to be seen.

I slowly stood up and yelled, “JACOB!”

I scanned the area around me. 

“JACOB!”

Nothing. Where was he? I started pacing the length of the car and back.  

A sudden gushing sensation caused me to look down.

“Candace, my water just broke.”

“That is perfectly normal, Tilda. Nothing to worry about.”

Okay, nothing to worry about, but eww. It was like I’d peed my pants, but so much more. Just then I was seized with another contraction, the strongest one so far.

“This is really hard, Candace. It really hurts,” I grunted.

“Breathe, Tilda, breathe.”

Why was a 9-1-1- operator walking me through my labour, when my husband should have been here? And where the hell was he, anyway? I bent over the hood of the car, panting and huffing through a doozy of a contraction.

“Oh, God! Where is Jacob?” I said. I didn’t expect Candace to answer, but she did.

“What’s his phone number? I’ll call him and tell him you need him.”

I recited the number from memory, mentally patting myself on the back for taking the time to memorize the number in case of emergency. This, I was certain, would classify as an emergency.

Another contraction.  

“Oh, God, Candace! I have to push.”

“Okay Tilda, hold on. Try not to push. I know it’s going to be hard, but don’t push. Help is on the way.”

I tried not to push, but it was so difficult. I was as if my body was possessed. I moaned.

“Let me help you,” said a woman’s voice behind me. “I’m a nurse. My name is Katerina. My friends call me Kat. What’s your name?”

“Tilda,” I said between panting breaths. I silently thanked the patron saint of nursing for sending Kat my way.

“Hey, Tilda, everything’s going to be fine. I’ve done this hundreds of times.”

“Oh, no,” I said, between grunts. “I think it’s time.”

“Okay, let’s get you in back of the car. Do you have a blanket?”

“No,” I said, leaning over the hood.

“Okay, hang on a sec,” said Kat. Standing on the running board of the car, she yelled. “I need a blanket. I have a woman here in active labour. Does anyone have a blanket?”

Almost instantly three people came running up with blankets. I half watched as she threw one of the blankets over the back seat. She took my arm just as another contraction struck.

“Need to push!”

“Hold on, Tilda. Don’t push.”

‘It's really, really hard not to, Kat.”

“I know, sweetie, but hold on.” She held my hand.

After the contraction, she helped lay me in the back seat. She removed my underwear, and hiked up my dress, and covered my lower body with another blanket. She had my phone and was talking to Candace.  

“Help’s on the way, Tilda. About seven minutes out.”

“I’m not sure I have seven minutes. Where’s Jacob?”

Kat relayed my question. Pause.

“His phone’s off, Tilda. Sorry.”

I started panting. "Jacob's the one who needs to be sorry, not you!” Pant, pant, pant.  

“I’ve got to push.”

Kat had a look under the blanket. “You’re good to go, Tilda. Give a big push.”

I did. I braced my feet on either side of the door frame, and pushed like I had never pushed before. It hurt, and the contraction was extremely painful, but it felt right to push, like I had accomplished something important.

“I can see the head, Tilda. Lots and lots of dark hair, just like yours.”

I took a big breath in, and smiled. Just like mine.  

“Ohohoh, gotta push again!”

“Okay, Tilda, big push, really big push.”

I did.

“PUSH!’

I did.

“Head’s out, Tilda. Another big push.”

“I’m her husband.” Jacob’s face popped into my view. Thank God. At least he’d be here for the birth. We’d have a conversation about where he was, later.  

He came around the car, and cradled my head and held my hand.

I pushed with all my might.

Jacob said nothing. No encouragement. Nothing. Apparently, Kat was my coach, not Jacob.

“Harder, Tilda, harder! You’re almost there!” she urged.

I was exhausted, but I pushed with the last of my strength.

“Baby’s coming, Tilda. Push, push, push!”

I did. Really hard. Then almost immediately, I didn’t have to push any more. I looked towards Kat. She was wiping out the baby’s mouth out with her finger.”

“It’s a girl,” she said, smiling.

All of a sudden, applause. I looked around. There were at least ten people standing around the car, clapping.  

Oh, God.

Some had cameras.  

Kat started to rub the baby’s back. She rubbed a little faster.

“Why’s she not crying?” I asked.  

I was terrified. Why was there was no crying. A panic like nothing I had ever known gripped me. Why was my baby not crying?

“Hang on, just a couple of more rubs …”

The baby’s first cry filled the air. I started to cry.  Kat started to cry.  Jacob said nothing. Cheers went up from my audience.

“A beautiful baby girl.” She handed her to me, and put her on my chest. I looked at my daughter. She was covered in mucus with streaks of blood covering her body. Her face was all scrunched up, like a little old man. She was perfect.

It was at that point that I heard the sirens. I tried to sit up and Jacob slid in behind me to support my back, while I held the baby close. 

The police were escorting the ambulance down the other side of the highway, towards us. Traffic was stopped, allowing the paramedics to back-in perpendicular to the highway divider. The baby and I were loaded onto a backboard, and the paramedics and the police hauled us over the highway divider, to the waiting stretcher, then into the ambulance. My audience waved good-bye and wished us luck. My first adventure with the baby was an ambulance ride.

The baby and I arrived in the hospital in no time. Jacob, not so much. He was still stuck in the traffic jam. After about two hours, he finally made it to our room. Baby and I were both cleaned up — me in a hospital gown, the baby swaddled, and peacefully sleeping after I had nursed her. Despite her untimely arrival, she had been given a clean bill of health — eight pounds, thirteen ounces, twenty-one inches long. Baby Girl Robinson was healthy.

My first question to Jacob was, “Where did you disappear to?”

“I … I … I freaked out. I went looking for some help — a doctor, or police officer, or firefighter. Someone to help. I wasn’t sure that I could have done it by myself.”

I looked at him, not believing what I had just heard.

“So, your way of dealing with the stress of me giving birth while stuck in traffic, was to leave? While I was in active labour?”

“But I came back. Once I saw that you had help, I ran back” He looked contrite. But how could I ever trust him again? He had left me alone, during labour, knowing that I could give birth at any time. He had endangered both of us.

“What if I didn’t have any help?” My voice was dead calm.

“But you did. And I came back. So, it’s all good, right?”

Before I could answer him, my door opened a bit, and Kat stuck her head in.

“Hey! We just wanted to see how you are.”

She stepped aside and another woman entered the room with her. 

“Hi Tilda. I’m Candace.”

“Candace! So nice to meet you!” I was gushing.  

My saviours!

I looked at both women with tears in my eyes. “Thank you! Thank you both! Together you helped me when I needed it the most.”

Kat smiled. “That’s what we get paid the big bucks for.”

Candace came over and looked in the baby’s bassinet. “She’s beautiful.”

I looked at the two women, and made up my mind.  

“The baby’s name is Katerina Candace.”

Both women gasped, smiling. Jacob, not so much. He looked shocked.

“I thought that we agreed on Bethany, after my mom,” he whined.

“Neither you nor your mother was here to help me when I needed it. Kat and Candace were. So we are naming the baby Katerina Candace Robinson.”

“But—“

“No buts. This is my decision.” He didn’t argue.  

“Well, hello there, Katerina,” said Kat. “A mighty fine name that has served me well!” Both women laughed. Jacob did not.

“Uh,” said Candace. “There’s something else.”

I looked up at the women. They looked mildly embarrassed.  Candace handed me her phone.  

“There’s a video.”

Damn. Someone had uploaded the video to YouTube. I looked at the “likes.” It looked like we were going viral. Sure, who wouldn’t want to watch a woman give birth on the side of the road?

“So, it looks like Katerina and I are famous,” I said, studying the video while it played. The video started just after Kat yelled for blankets. Jacob was right there in the crowd the entire time. Not helping. Not looking for help. Just standing there, watching. Like it wasn’t his daughter being born.

“Send that to me, will you?”

Kat and Candace didn’t stay long after that. We exchanged contact information and they promised to stay in touch.

Once they left, an awkward silence filled the room. Jacob just stared down at Katerina.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“To who? Me or Katerina?”

“Both,” he said.

Ding

I picked up my phone. There was a text message from my sister, with a link to the video.

“Uh oh!” was all the text message said.

Yeah, uh oh.