Page 24 of The Best Bad Decision

A contraction took hold—the first of the morning—and I leaned forward, letting the water fall onto my lower back and hips. The heat felt heavenly, relieving the ache and the pressure as I braced one hand on the tile, the other lifting the weight of my bump. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to clear my mind as my belly tightened and released.

Once it passed, I continued my shower, shampooing and conditioning my hair and shaving whatever I could reach. Then, I turned off the spray, grabbed a couple of towels and slapped my damp feet from the tiles of the bathroom to the plush carpet of my bedroom, where I padded to the dresser and chose my comfiest clothes. My only plan for the day was to wash a few loads of laundry, and I could quite happily do that in a threadbare, oversized tee.

I was perched on the edge of my bed, pulling on my leggings when another contraction hit. They’d never been this close together before, and this one was more intense than the last. I huffed out a breath through puffed-out cheeks, rubbing low on my belly with one hand. The baby was awake, shifting and kicking as best they could in what tiny space remained between my hips. When it was over, I finished dressing, fastened my watch around my wrist and headed downstairs with an armful of towels and underwear to be washed.

I loaded the laundry straight into the machine, then sipped at some peppermint tea as I prepared my breakfast. I was spreading almond butter on a slice of toast when the third contraction hit, this one even stronger than before, and I groaned out loud with the intensity of it, rocking my hips backwards and gripping the edge of the kitchen counter for support.All the air left my lungs in a whoosh and I took shaky breaths, moving one hand to press against my dancing baby as my muscles tightened harder, harder than ever before. Eventually, they released and I let out an audible sigh of relief. I glanced at my watch: twelve minutes. They were twelve minutes apart, and they’d definitely never felt like this before.

I took my toast to the living room and nibbled at a corner of the bread, but I wasn’t hungry anymore. In fact, it felt like I was swallowing a lump of concrete, and my stomach churned in rebellion. I took another sip of tea to wash it down, but it didn’t help much. I left the mug and the plate on the coffee table and sat on the edge of my favourite chair, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. I kept half an eye on the gold watch face on my wrist.

Twelve minutes after the last one, just like clockwork, another contraction gripped my belly, and I cried out as its intensity stole the breath from my lungs.

When the pain eventually subsided, I grabbed my phone and with trembling hands, typed a text into a group chat.

It’s time,I wrote.I’m scared.

Maisy shifts again and kicks out a leg, her knee colliding with my belly.

“I was only thirty-seven weeks. That’s full-term—she wasn’t considered a preemie or anything. But she was still early. And so tiny. I never thought—I never knew a person could be so small.”

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his throat works to stifle the raw emotion. It’s hard to miss the vulnerability in his greeneyes. Storms rage in those majestic jungles and I know the pain of missing out on so much is an even tougher pill to swallow now he’s met Maisy. My stomach knots and I close my eyes in a long blink, trying to stave off my tears before I continue.

I moaned as another contraction overtook my body. They were no longer confined to my belly: the pressure, the intensity, the wave of pain was all-consuming, sweeping from head to toe. I leaned forward, resting my head on my knees, and bracing my hands on Katy’s shoulders while she stroked my hair. Behind me, Paloma pressed the heel of her hand into my lower back, offering a little relief from the bone-rattling vice grip my muscles had on my lower body.

“You got this, A,” Katy whispered. “You’re doing so good.”

“I—can’t—oh—” The pain crescendoed and released, and I fell forward, knees dropping to the side and forehead resting on Katy’s shoulder.

“You can,” she promised. “You can do this.”

Paloma moved to take a seat beside Katy, and she mopped my neck with a damp washcloth. Like a needy cat, I shifted my head, desperately seeking cool relief.

“It hurts so bad, Lo,” I whispered, looking up into my best friend’s eyes.

“I know, honey, I know,” she whispered back, brushing a thumb over my cheekbone. “And it’s gonna hurt some more, but I promise, it won’t hurt forever. You’ll have that beautiful baby in your arms and all of this—all of this will be a memory. I promise.”

“I got the ice!” Ruth announced herself as she returned to the room, nudging Katy with her hip to make space. She settled in front of me and fed me an ice chip, gently tucking a curlbehind my ear and wiping away an escaped tear with her thumb. “And I stole these from the nurses’ desk.” She finished and pulled a pair of KitKats from her pocket and offered them to Lo and Katy.

“Only you, Roo,” Katy chuckled, eyes full of tears as she took the offered treat. It was immediately discarded, pocketed and forgotten as I moaned again, gripping Roo’s hands as hard I could.

“Oh—Jesus—fuck, OW!”

I was only barely aware of what happened next. Katy moved and a trio of nurses entered the room. I maintained my death grip on Ruth with my left hand and Paloma moved around to take my right. Suddenly, my calm, quiet birthing room became brighter and busier. Katy was holding my thigh, pulling my knee up towards my chest.

“Push, Amie,” a nurse commanded. I let out another cry and let my body take over.

Twenty minutes later, the room filled with cries: mine, Katy’s, Lo’s, Ruth’s, and—a baby’s. I sobbed out loud at the rush of relief as my baby finally slipped free, and my friends cried as they caught their first glimpse of their godchild. Katy caught the baby, just the way we planned, grasping the crying, wriggling form in gloved hands and placing it straight on my chest.

“It’s a girl,” she choked out, grinning widely at me with a tear-streaked face. One of the nurses used a towel to rub my baby dry before Paloma covered us both with a soft yellow blanket, the one she bought specifically for the day I gave birth to my baby. My daughter. I sobbed openly, wrapping my arms around the tiny, screeching girl on my chest, tipping my head back against the stack of pillows and scrunching my eyes closed. I hadn’teven looked at her yet, but I was so overwhelmed by how much I loved her already. My sweet girl.

“Hi, baby girl,” I choked out through tears. “I love you so much. And I know your daddy would love you too. You are so loved.”

Ruth pressed a kiss to my hairline, one hand coming to rest over the wriggling bundle on my chest. I opened my eyes to look up at her.

“You did so good, sweet thing,” she whispered through tears of her own. “You did it.”

“I hate that you had to go through it all on your own,” Cam sighs sadly. He looks away and I reach over to grasp his chin between my thumb and forefinger, turning his head back to face me.

“I was never alone, Cam,” I tell him. “I had my mum, I had Katy and Lo and Ruthy. I still have them, and more importantly, Maisy has them too. We’ve never been alone.”

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