Page 24 of Damon

“Like bad period pain, but it comes and goes. I thought I was imagining it.”

The door opens, and a different nurse walks in. She’s younger with long brown hair tied back in a high ponytail, but she wears the standard white uniform. “How are you, Emma?” she says, her voice calm. “Is there something you need?”

“I think I may have started having contractions,” I tell her. “But I don’t know.”

“Okay, I’ll take a look and we can go from there,” she says as another twisting pain takes hold, this one stronger than the last in my lower back.

“Ouch,” I whimper. Damon’s hand moves to my back, and he strokes up and down my spine. “That one hurt.”

The nurse starts rummaging around in my nether regions. “Yes. It looks like the baby has decided it is time to make an appearance. Are you planning to use the pool?” She signals to the bath in the corner.

“Does it help?”

“With the pain, it can,” she tells me. “I’ll prepare it in case you do want to use it. Things are beginning, but I expect we could be here awhile. All options will be available to you, Emma. This is your day, and you need to feel most comfortable.”

Damon leans down, whispering in my ear, “What can I do?”

“Just be here.”

My labor progresses well for a first-time mother according to the nurse. Personally, it feels as though my insides are being ripped apart piece by piece. She tells me things are moving along as they should and that it’s not time to start pushing yet. I need to give my body time to prepare.

“Would you like to try the water bath now?” she asks. “Some ladies find it helps a lot with the pain and for relaxation.”

“I think that would be a good idea,” I agree. I’ve been putting off using the pool, nervous of being naked in front of Damon. He’s about to see me at my most vulnerable, and after my outburst earlier, I’m not sure I can handle more emotion. I turn to him. “Please, could you give us a moment to get me in the bath?” He blinks at me as the dots connect. “A little privacy.”

“Of course, I’ll go for a walk for ten minutes.” He lets go of my hand and leaves the room.

“He’s not my partner,” I tell the nurse.

“I know,” she says with a kind smile. “But he is a really good support. I’ve seen men walk out and not come back. He’ll be back.” She helps me off the bed, and I waddle over to the bath, stopping each time a contraction vibrates through me. Finally, we arrive at the side of the tub, and I slip out of my gown. Underneath, I’m still wearing a thin white tank top.

“Can I leave this on?”

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, Damon reappears when I am settled in the water. He comes to my side and crouches down. His eyes hold mine for a beat; his expression is one of concern. He retakes my hand, and we move forward in the process of bringing his daughter into the world.

The next time someone tells me birthing a child is the most excruciating pain they’ve ever experienced, I will believe them. The four hours I have labored are the rawest of my life. Each contraction surges through me, my whole body pulsating under the pressure. The midwife coaches diligently as I try to breathe as instructed, but it’s so hard to concentrate with the pain. Sweat runs down my brow, and all I want is for it to be over.

Damon strokes my hair and speaks calmly of random topics as I feel myself ripping in two. I remain in the bath until my body finally decides to release her into the world. Eventually, she slides out, and the nurse lifts her above the water line.

“Do you want to cut the cord?” she asks Damon, offering him a pair of scissors. He’s still crouched beside me, holding my hand. When his baby appeared, he dropped a kiss on my forehead. He takes the scissors from her and cuts the bloody cord where they point, then the nurse whisks the baby away. He focuses on me with intense eyes that feel as though they’d burn my skin.

“Is she all right?” I splutter, aware she’s not made a sound. Just then, the room fills with the cries of a newborn. My heart fills and shatters in one swift motion. It’s both the joy of knowing she’s here warring with the pain of understanding she’ll never be mine.

“She’s perfect,” he says. The look on his face is one I’ve never seen. He appears both elated and terrified. “Thank you. You were amazing. So brave.”

“Go get your daughter,” I tell him, not wanting to hear any endearments from him. My sanity can’t take it. I don’t want to say something I’ll regret or that he will hate me for.

“Are you sure you don’t want to hold her?”

“No, please.” My voice breaks. The enormity of the situation taking hold. Panic at the reality of being left alone hitting me with full force. “Please go, both of you.”

“Emma, I don’t want to leave you on your own after everything you’ve done.”

“Damon, fucking go, will you? I don’t want you here.”

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