The Birth

A sweet, salty smell, like the ocean, fills the room. A feel of giving away, tearing, letting go. A splash against the kitchen linoleum as the waters hit it. It is time.

"Is that?" he stutters out staring at the growing puddle under his wife. She smiles and nods.

"Yes. My waters have broken."

Chaos and panic from the father. Peace and acceptance from the mom. Their child is coming.

Grabbing the hospital bag and keys, before remembering his wife. He turns on a dime, utters a laugh, and takes her hand, guiding her to the car.

"I am kinda important in this whole process. You wouldn't know that we practiced this." 

He laughs. It comes out a bit shaky. "Reality is different from practice."

Fingers fumble as he snaps his seatbelt in place. She adjusts herself over the bulk of her baby bump. A small gasp as the first pain hits. Keys drop to the floor board. He bumps his head on the steering wheel and utters a curse. 

"Are you alright? Should I…?"

"Get to the hospital? Yes."

The key slips into the ignition, finally. A nervous giggle as the engine turns over. It comes from both parents.

They move through the quiet streets, the lights reflecting over the wan face of the woman as the pains start to come. Her husband ‘s driving is influenced by every pain as he slows down every time she moans only to speed up when she hits his arm encouraging him to speed up. It is a good thing the roads are fairly clear.

"For the love of God, keep moving!" She cries out at one point.  He floors it, only to skid to a stop at the sudden yellow light. He is driving like a nervous teen.

The stop and go driving continued as he headed towards the hospital. 

He breathes out in relief at seeing the hospital sign. The car whines as he makes a quick turn into the emergency entrance. The car has barely stopped, when he is out the door, running towards the sliding glass. A wheelchair is grabbed and he stops, breathless before his wife ‘s car door. 

"A minute." she groans. He sees the pain reflected in her face.

She sits, hands over her bump, panting. Her eyes are far away. He waits her contraction out. She grabs his arm and he helps her up and into the wheelchair. He pushes her into the welcoming doors of the hospital.

Even in the dead of the night, it is chaotic. The sight of a at term pregnant woman, laboring, clears it some, for them. Scooped up by an orderly, they soon find themselves in the elevator heading up. 

"Now ma'am. Please don't be having the baby here. I am just an orderly, not a doctor." the kindly old man jokes. 

She ignores the sweet old man, the ride up, and even her husband. Her focus is on riding out the increasingly strong and frequent pains.

The labor and delivery unit is also chaotic, but it is more controlled. With a whish, she is transformed into a patient while he is left to sign forms. 

"It seems you are well on your way." the admitting nurse says as she leads her into the exam room. There she changes into a hospital gown, between contractions, questions answered between the same, vitals taken, a confirmation, as if one is needed, that her waters have gone and she is in full labor.  Five centimeters is announced with a smile, well on the way.

Walking, groaning, stopping, moaning, walking. Up and down the halls, her hand tight in his. The sounds of other laboring women, a soundtrack she labors to. While the sound of newborn wails becomes the push she needs to get to the goal.

"Ugg, I can't do this!" She says, bend over the rock hard baby bump. She leans against the wall. He kneels by her.

"You can. You are." He encourages. 

"You don't," A gasp, her body bent over double under the force of it. He tries to catch her eye, to help her through. He finds her eyes tightly shut as she focuses inward, swaying and moaning. "know." She completes after it loosens its grip on her.

Talk to me. Please be quiet. Need your hand. No, don’t touch me. He struggles to do what is right, what she needs. It changes with every pain. 

"Please shut up!" She screams out at one point. He wasn't talking, "You are breathing too hard!"

Walk, stop, moan, scream, breath, walk. 

"Shit, damn!" Screamed as she fell to the floor under the force of it. He joins her. She sits, rocking to and fro, moaning and screaming. It scares him and he thinks about going after a nurse. She has a tight hold on him and he can't move.

A nurse finds them, drawn by the screams, and they are led back to their room for a check. 

"Nine almost ten. Way to go mom." 

On to the bed. No, no stirrups. Climbing down, kneeling down. Pressing down. A doctor is called. 

"This is the way." She insists. No one argues with her. The time of all women giving birth on their backs is long past. 

The energy changes, getting more intense. Her sweat filled face meets his. It is time. 

"I am here. We can do this." He says. 

A cot is wheeled in. Their child ‘s first bed. The doctor gloves up, kneeling like a catcher by his wife’s spread legs. She strains, the room smells of life. Blood, feces, sweat. He stands as a witness, awed by her strength. 

"Ahhh! Oh God! Son of a…" She groans, her face is beet red, her hands fisted.

"Let that tension out of your hands. Direct it towards your bottom." The doctor instructs as she rubs oil over the wide opening.

A rip, a tear as the baby’s head emerges. He realizes he is crying when he tastes his tears. A face, a chin, a stretching neck, shoulders, and suddenly…

"Ohhh!" She breathes out at the incredible feel of the baby slipping out. 

Their child! Covered in goo, wide eyed looking startled as his daddy feels. His mommy cries, holding him against her.  The cord that still connects them, pulses with their mingled blood. He cuts it with shaky hands. 

"There, my son. You are free." He declares.

"Oh, I love you. I love you so much." she holds her son tight, her cries mingling with his.

They are a family. Where two were, three are.