Live, Laugh, Loathe

Chapter 34: Drew

Sometime close to midnight, Patricia arrives.

"Hello, mama. How are you feeling?" She checks the notes on the whiteboard that are tracking my contractions and other vitals.

"Aside from wishing this baby was here already? Pretty good. My contractions are pretty freaking strong and hurt like a bitch." The pain is unlike anything I've ever experienced, but at this point, I still don't want any medication. Damon and I have been taking walks around the maternity ward, doing acupressure and other pain-relieving techniques.

Including one I didn't think I would be comfortable with... using a vibrator. Orgasming releases a lot of oxytocin which can help with pain. Damon and I thought it was kind of weird, but we were willing to try if it helped me stay more comfortable and have less pain. I wouldn't say it magically made all the pain disappear, but it certainly helped me relax.

"Have you had any cervical checks recently? I know we discussed keeping those to a minimum, so I'm just checking in since I haven't been able to be here."

A contraction comes on, which Damon helps me breathe through.

"We did a cervical check about an hour ago," I'm still breathing, so Damon supplies the answer. "Dr. Anderson," he pauses, almost like the guy's name leaves a sour taste in his mouth. "He measured her at nine, maybe ten centimeters. Then he tried to make her push. The asshat couldn't decide how dilated she was but felt she should push? I have half a mind to go after his medical license!"

Patricia puts her hands up like he's a charging horse that needs to be calmed. "Let's take a deep breath, papa bear. You've done a wonderful job advocating for Drew and the baby. And now I'm here to help take on some of that burden."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be worked up. The guy just rubs me the wrong way, and I don't like how he talks to Drew." He's not wrong; the guy is an ass. He had the gall to ask me how many new sexual partners I've had since he last saw me. As if that mattered at all in the delivery room.

"Ok, I understand, and I hear you. Mama, how was that contraction? It seems to have passed now."

I nod, relaxing against the bed. "It was, uh, intense. I'm not feeling the urge to push yet." She nods, going to the sink to wash her hands.

"Ok, on your next contraction, I want Damon to sit behind you and massage your lower back like we practiced. While he does that, you and I will breathe together. How does that sound?"

"That sounds good." I scoot forward as Damon climbs in, his legs on either side of me. As the next contraction comes on, I breathe with Patricia and concentrate on the feeling of Damon's hands on my lower back. I don't stop myself from a low moan that forces its way out. This is childbirth; I can be as loud as I need.

"That's it, baby, just let it all out. You're doing so good." Damon kisses my shoulder, his hands never stopping their massage. As I feel the contraction ease, I let myself relax against him.

"Very good, Drew, you're doing so well." Patricia pats my hand. It's funny; she's very soothing and encouraging but also not very good at physical comfort. But that's ok; I have Damon for the physical stuff anyways.

Another contraction comes, and Damon resumes his massage while I listen to Patricia as she coaches me through it.

Hey baby, if you can hear me. Hurry up, please; that would be great.

---

It's another hour before I feel it.

Patricia kept saying I'd know. Every book or personal story I read said I'd know.

And oh boy, do I know.

It's like my whole body is bearing down, ready to push this baby out. As much as I hate to make the comparison but it's like when you're super constipated, and your body is suddenly ready to push out the largest poop of its life. The analogy isn't that inaccurate. The thought makes me laugh, which pulls the attention of Damon, Patricia, and the nurse who happens to be checking in.

"Sorry, um, I just had a funny thought. About poop." Did I say that out loud? "Let's pretend I didn't just say that while I birth my first child."

The room stays silent, everyone watching me.

"Anyways, I am definitely feeling the urge to push now, so we should probably be ready." Everyone jumps into action immediately. The nurse leaves, probably to get asshat Dr. Anderson and the other official people we need.

Patricia and Damon help me through another contraction that is so intense, I'm shocked I didn't break something.

The official medical people, my brain can't come up with the proper words right now, come in, and there's a flurry of activity.

"Patricia?" She appears next to me. "I want to be kneeling." Some instinct within me is taking over; my body wants to be in position now. No, it needs to be in position.

Everyone swirls around me, talking and moving me. But my focus has turned inward. I'm vaguely aware of Damon next to me, supporting me as the bed gets refigured to allow me to kneel, my upper body supported by the bed. My ass will be in everyone's faces, but I don't care at this point.

The next contraction comes on, but it's different. Bigger, more pressure, more pain. I can hear people telling me how good I'm doing, that they see the baby's head. But I just bear down, letting my body do its thing. I listen when Patricia and a nurse tell me to pause; the head is out, and they want to make sure his airway is clear. Damon has shifted behind me, likely so he can get in place to catch. It was very important to him to be the first person to hold the baby.

Another wave of pain and pushing starts, and I don't stop the scream that tears out of me. It's like my body is being torn in two. And then, boom, it's done. I feel a gush of something, and all my muscles seem to relax at once.

Damon is laughing behind me, which seems incredibly out of place. Patricia and a nurse help me turn around so that I'm reclined on the bed; Damon is right there, holding the baby, cord still intact. I realize with a start that the screaming thing in his arms is our baby. He's here.

My arms shoot out, already aching to feel my baby in them. I can feel tears slip down my face as Damon comes over and rests him against my chest. This tiny screaming mad creature is our baby. "He's perfect."

Damon laughs again. "Drew, meet our baby girl." I stare blankly at the baby for a moment, my brain taking a hot second to register what he just said.

"A girl?"

"Yes, baby. A little girl. I was right." He leans over and presses a kiss to my temple before resting his head against mine. Together we watch as our baby screams at the top of her lungs.

"She's perfect."

"She's perfect."

---

It's early morning. I've slept a little bit, but mostly have spent the hours since her birth just staring at her, wondering how Damon and I could have created the most perfect baby in the world?

Damon's currently passed out on the recliner. I don't blame him; it's been a long seventeen hours. Plus, he told me that while I was focused on pushing a whole baby out, he had to nearly wrestle a scalpel out of Dr. Anderson's hand before the man could give me an episiotomy I didn't consent to. For zero reason. I didn't even tear enough to require stitches in the end. Damon ended up spending over an hour with Dr. Anderson, watching him write up his notes for the birth, making sure he put in every time he tried to go against our plan without a sound medical reason. I doubt anything will come of it, but it made Damon feel better. He was an absolute rockstar and deserves some rest.

In my arms, our daughter makes a sleepy noise and wiggles in her swaddle, eliciting a smile from me. She could probably puke directly in my face, and I wouldn't care right now. There's a soft knock at my door, and I look up to see Carly.

"Hey, you up for a quick visit? I have to get going to work but wanted to stop by."

"Yeah, absolutely. Come in, meet our daughter: Sofia Mariana."