Page 93 of Never Really Mine
Marissa is ushered in, camera in hand. She comes to the head of the bed, and Marley reaches out. Marissa squeezes her hand, offering her a smile. She has a few kids of her own if I remember correctly, so she’s been on this end of things before. I wave at her, and watch as she steps back, allowing us to focus back on the nurses in the room. I notice that Mallory has entered the room now too, and is helping Dr. Ness get gowned and gloved up.
“There’s a lot of pressure happening down there,” Marley squeaks, her brows arched in confusion.
Peyton glances down, and Dr. Ness hops into action. “You would be right, Marley,” she says. “Baby is coming, so once you have another contraction, you’re going to start pushing, just like you practiced.”
My heart is thumping hard, because holy crap this is really happening. Marley nods, taking a deep breath. I kiss her forehead, taking her hand in both of mine, and I watch the monitor behind us spike, something I know now signifies a contraction. She bears down, tucking her chin to her chest and starts to push.
I’m completely in awe at this beautiful woman, the one who owns me, heart, body, and soul. She squeezes my hand at the same time, and I feel my knuckles crack, the muscles tightening,but I ignore the discomfort, because it’s nothing compared to her pain right now.
Marley lets out a low guttural moan as Peyton reaches ten, taking a deep breath before pushing again. Dr. Ness praises her, marveling at how well she’s doing.
This isn’t like the movies or shows I’ve seen. Marley isn’t screaming bloody murder, or crying out for drugs. She’s focused, bearing the pain with an insane amount of grit and tenacity. The only noise coming from her is the low groans that almost seem to be aiding in her ability to push.
“Good, the first baby’s head is out, Marley. Shoulders are next, then the baby will be out. You’ve got this,” Dr. Ness says with awe.
“I can’t believe I have to do this twice,” Marley groans. The contraction ceases, giving her a moment to catch her breath.
Peyton softly laughs. “You’re doing so good. Most people take a long time to get to this point.”
“I don’t know whether to smack you or thank you,” Marley says.
“You can do both, I don’t mind,” Peyton says.
I run my thumb over her hand, leaning down to rest my head on her shoulder. “You’re incredible, I can’t believe you’re doing this,” I tell her. “I love you so much, butterfly.”
Marley’s eyes soften, and she turns her head so our eyes meet. “I can’t believe this is real life. Are you sure this isn’t a dream?”
“Positive,” I say. She tilts her chin, searching for a kiss. When I press our lips together, her body relaxes. As we pull apart, Dr. Ness grabs my attention.
“Dad, do you want to see?” she asks from between Marley’s legs. I’m about to say yes, when Marley pinches my hand.
“Don’t. Even. Think. About. It,” she mutters, her voice murderous.
“Please?” I ask. “I won’t look at anything else, I just want to see the baby.”
She sighs. “Fine, but you can’t tell me anything about how it looks.”
I chuckle, kissing her again. I decide to look quickly so she doesn’t think I’m staring at her bits.
I glance quickly, seeing blood and goop covering the head of dark, thick hair. “It’s got our hair,” I tell her.
“Dark and thick?” Marley asks with a chuckle.
“Yep,” I reply. Another contraction starts as settle back in at the head of the bed, and she starts to push. This one is accompanied by another low moan, and my hand being squeezed into oblivion.
“Good, good,” Dr. Ness says. “Shoulders are out.”
And then our first baby is being placed on Marley’s chest, bright red and covered in white gunk, but screaming like no other.
“Baby boy!” Peyton says with glee, wiping him down and suctioning out his mouth. He screams, lungs clearly working. His hair is so dark, sticking down to his head, and his eyes are squeezed tightly shut, mouth open wide as he adjusts to life on the outside. “Congratulations, Mom and Dad!”
My eyes lift to Marley’s, tears streaming down my cheeks, as her hands fret over our son. “Oh my god,” she murmurs over and over again. “I made you. Hi, baby, oh hi. It’s okay, I know, baby. It’s so hard, you’re okay. You’re okay.” Both of us are crying.
“You look just like your daddy,” she cries. “Beau, he looks like you.” I nod, looking between our son, and this beautiful woman.
“He looks like us,” I say. “You’re so amazing.”
I kiss her quickly, almost unwilling to take my eyes off either of them for more than a second. “Want to cut the cord?” Mallory asks.
