Page 74 of Sin Wagon
I squeeze her hand. “Always. We’ve got this.” I try to sound more confident than I feel, but the reality of the situation is sinking in. I’m nervous, but I want to be strong for her.
We turn on the TV, the muted chatter of the Thanksgiving specials creating a soft background hum. We sit in silence for a while, occasionally breaking it to breathe through the contractions that come and go. I watch her face closely, noting each shift in her expression, trying to offer comfort in my touch and presence.
The room is filled with the sounds of the TV and Delilah’s occasional sighs and gasps. Every contraction seems to pull her deeper into the moment, and I can’t help but feel a mixture of awe and helplessness. I rub her back gently, trying to ease the tension that knots up with each wave of pain.
Time seems to blur as we wait. I keep glancing at the clock, my nerves making it difficult to concentrate. I’m so focused on her that I hardly notice when the door opens again, but the sight of Dr. Maud stepping in pulls me from my thoughts.
“Alright, Delilah,” Dr. Maud says with a reassuring smile. “Let’s see how you’re progressing.” Dr. Maud’s hands move beneath the sheet and gown, and a moment later, she removes her gloves. “We’re at seven centimeters. How are you feeling?”
“I want the epidural,” Delilah says, her voice steady. I can see the pain etched in her features, and it tears at my heart.
“Okay.” Dr. Maud smiles. “I’ll get anesthesia up here right away.”
“Thank you,” Delilah says, leaning back against the pillows, her hand gripping mine.
I lean in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, murmuring words of encouragement. “You’re doing amazing. I’m so proud of you.”
Not ten minutes later, a man with a cart steps in, his expression serious but kind. “I’m here to administer anesthesia.”
He gloves up, helping Delilah to sit on the edge of the bed. I stand in front of her, holding her hands as he cleans the area and administers the epidural. Delilah hisses, her body tensing, but she doesn’t complain. The anesthesiologist finishes quickly and leaves, only to be replaced by a nurse.
“Okay, things are moving right along. You can push this button here if you need more juice,” she says with a smile. “Now I’m going to insert a catheter, since everything down there will be numb.”
She inserts the catheter and leaves the room. My phone starts beeping again, but I ignore it, as Delilah has another contraction. It’s not as intense as before, but she’s still uncomfortable.
The phone continues to alert me to incoming texts, and Delilah glares at me. “Shut that damn thing off or put it on silent.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a grin, quickly silencing the device and sliding it into my pocket. I take her hand in mine, squeezing gently. “You’re doing great, Delilah. We’re almost there.”
Time seems to stretch on forever. We talk in low voices, trying to distract ourselves as we wait for the next phase.
Dr. Maud returns and checks Delilah again, her expression turning serious.
“I’m seeing some meconium in the amniotic fluid. Don’t be nervous, but I’ll have the NICU team come up just to suction out the baby’s airways. It’s common and a normal practice for us.”
“Okay,” Delilah says quietly, her eyes wide. I can see the fear creeping into them, and I squeeze her hand reassuringly.
The NICU team arrives a short time later with a little baby bassinet and sets up in the corner. Dr. Maud looks at Delilah and smiles, checking her one more time. “Alright, Mom. It’s time to push.”
I stand up and move to Delilah’s side, holding her hand as a nurse lifts her left leg. Dr. Maud rolls a stool between her thighs. “Okay, on this next contraction, we’re going to push. I want you to push down like you’re going to the bathroom. Dad, hold her other leg.”
I grab her leg with one hand, mirroring the nurse, while my other hand remains wrapped around Delilah’s. “Okay, and push.”
Delilah pushes, her hand squeezing mine tightly. “Good, that was good.”
We repeat this for what feels like an eternity, but it actuality is only thirty minutes full of effort and encouragement. Finally, Dr. Maud frowns. “The head just doesn’t want to come out. I’m going to do an episiotomy.”
She’s handed a pair of scissors, and I wince at the thought of what’s happening to Delilah. “Okay, the next contraction is the one.”
Delilah nods, her face pale but resolute. “Okay, push, Delilah. Push hard. That’s it. Keep going.”
The baby slips out, and Dr. Maud immediately hands off our baby to the NICU nurse. My heart races as the seconds tick by in silence. I don’t hear crying.
Isn’t the baby supposed to cry?
Delilah looks over at the NICU team, then back at me, panicked. “Why isn’t there crying?”
Suddenly, a loud wail pierces the air, and relief floods through me. Delilah smiles, tears streaming down her cheeks. It’s the most amazing sound I’ve ever heard.
