Chapter Forty
THEIR ANGEL
Five days later, her pains began. During the night, every few hours, she woke with piercing and excruciating pain, but it subsided within seconds, and she fell back asleep before she could think too much of it. She knew they were her contractions starting, but she also knew that she was a long way away from the birth if they were still two hours apart.
She went down early for breakfast that morning, but was only able to stomach a single piece of toast. She endured another contraction before Matthew joined her.
“Good morning,” he greeted her with a sweet kiss.
“My contractions have started.” No beating around the bush, just an outright explanation.
Matthew’s eyes widened. “What? Really?”
Amy nodded nervously.
A look of wonder crossed his face, but it was soon replaced by his business-man persona. “Come on, get dressed – I have to take you to the hospital!”
Amy giggled as Matthew dashed back down the hallway. “They’re too far apart. It’s too early. If we go there now, I’ll have to endure the contractions there. I might as well do it here for a few hours.”
Matthew was dissatisfied.
“That’s what happened to Donna when she had Ziggy,” Amy continued. “With the others, she stayed home until they were about half an hour apart.”
Matthew sighed in exacerbation, but returned to the kitchen. “How far apart are they now?”
Amy shrugged. “About two hours? My last one was ten minutes ago.”
“Come, sit down,” Matthew said, holding out one of the dining chairs. “I’m just going to call the hospital, okay? Make sure they’re ready for us.”
Amy rolled her eyes as Matthew made the call, knowing that was only half his motivation – he wanted professional advice on how to proceed.
“I can’t believe it’s happening!” Matthew exclaimed with nervous excitement as he drove the car along the highway towards the hospital.
It was at that moment that Amy experienced yet another contraction, gritting her teeth and groaning as she endured the pain.
“Hang in there, sweetheart,” Matthew said soothingly. “We’re almost there.” He reached over and held her hand, and she squeezed back forcefully as the contraction began to subside.
“Hurry,” Amy pleaded, panting. Her contractions were getting closer and closer together, and were increasing in duration.
Matthew inched his foot down on the accelerator pedal.
By noon, Amy was lying on a hospital bed in a hospital gown, her legs raised, and a doctor sitting between them, nurses and the midwife bustling around him. Matthew was standing at her side, holding her hand tightly, caressing her face with his other hand.
“Almost there, Amy,” the doctor said all too calmly. “You’re just over nine centimetres – it’s almost time to push.”
Amy groaned in frustration, gritting her teeth. She wanted all of this to be over with, done and forgotten. She wanted her baby, not this pain.
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Recovering Amy (Amy, #2)
Romance“You’re mine,” it told her in her dreams, “you don’t deserve happiness”. She would wake up screaming most nights, crying, begging for forgiveness that no one dared to offer her. She was sorry – she didn’t mean for anything quite so terrible to happe...
