Page 52 of It Must Be Fate

I stop her before she can walk away.

“I’m going with her. I’m not leaving her alone in there.” My voice brooks no disagreements, no arguments.

She smiles. “Of course you are.”

The doctor leaves and I turn back towards Six. She’s crying silently, so tired the tears just slip from her eyes without a change in her expression.

“I couldn’t do it,” she whispers quietly, her voice breaking. “Why couldn’t I do it?”

I get in the bed beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against me.

“No, baby,” I comfort her. “That’s not what happened. You created such a great home in your belly that the baby just doesn’t want to come out, that’s all. I get it; I wouldn’t want to leave either. We just have to show the baby the world out here is going to be even more amazing than the one you built in there.”

Six lifts her head and looks up at me. Tears pearl on her lashes. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

The nurse walks back in and smiles at us. “We’re ready for you now.”

I hold Six’s hand as she’s rolled into the operating theater and stay steadfastly by her head as they anesthetize her and set up the caesarean.

“Alright, Six, we’re getting started now,” the doctor calls. “Are you ready to be a mum?”

“Yes,” she answers breathlessly, turning her head to look at me.

I hum at her soothingly, continuing to hold her hand and stroke her forehead as they get to work. The repetitive beeping of the machinery around me lulls me into a false sense of security. I’m comforted by the fact that Six’s vital signs are stable.

“You’re doing so well,” I repeat for what feels like the thousandth time.

“So are you.”

I chuckle softly. “Me? What am I doing?”

Six squeezes my hand. “Calming me down. Making me feel safe.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, wild girl.” I lean over and kiss her forehead.

Her skin is clammy and pale, a far cry from the usual healthy flush that lives in her cheeks.

Taking the doctor’s words to heart, I don’t let my anxiety spin me into a downward spiral.

What do I know about childbirth? This must be part of the process.

“You’re going to be such a great dad,” she whispers. “Do you still think it’s a girl?”

We’ve purposefully held back from finding out the sex of the baby, preferring to discover it when he or she was born. From the jump though, I’ve thought it was a girl.

Nodding, I ask, “And you still think it’s a boy?”

“Yes,” she smiles.

“I look forward to being right.”

She rolls her eyes, the first sign I’ve had in hours of my feisty Six. Something like relief bursts to life and nestles its way comfortably into my chest.

“And we both know how much you love being right.”

I laugh, cupping her cheek. “It’s one of the few simple pleasures I get in life.”

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