Page 145 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
Dr. Beaver patted Georgie’s leg. “All right, Georgie, we’re going to countdown from ten, and then I want you to give me a big push.”
“Can we count from eight?” she asked.
“Um…sure. The number is arbitrary,” the doctor replied, a little confused.
“It’s not arbitrary to me and Jordan, is it?” she answered, turning to him.
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Georgiana Jensen, owning the eights even while giving birth.”
“Okay, here we go. Start counting. After this contraction, you’re going to push,” Dr. Beaver instructed.
Jordan held his wife’s gaze.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
“Big push, Georgie!”
Georgie squeezed his hand, bearing down. He watched his wife in utter amazement as the image of a little girl flashed in his mind. Bubbling with sunshine, skinned knees, and aread-one-more-chapter-daddysmile, this mini Georgie gazed up at him with blue-green eyes.
He blinked, then focused on his wife as she gritted her teeth.
Dr. Beaver glanced up. “Keep going, Georgie. The head’s out. One more push, and you’ll get to meet your baby.”
Georgie fell back, breathless. “Next time, we’re doing this at a hospital, and I’m getting all the drugs.”
He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “Deal—all the drugs. But you can do this, babe. Think of it as the final mile of a 5K where we get to meet our little girl at the finish line.”
She stared at him. “You think it’s a girl?”
He nodded with tears in his eyes, overcome with emotion. “I do.”
“Now, Georgie! This is it. Push!” the doctor called.
He held his wife’s hand as the fast-forward mode switched to slow-mo.
People clambered around them as he caught a flurry of movement in his peripheral vision. He could hear the wheels of the stretcher coming. But all that was white noise—a blurry background bringing this moment with Georgie into sharp focus when the piercing cries of a baby cut through the air, and tears streamed down his cheeks.
“It’s a girl. A healthy baby girl.”
Jordan glanced down and saw two EMTs crouched beside the doctor and couldn’t even remember when they’d arrived. All he saw was his wife—his strong, beautiful, warrior of a wife.
“Can I hold her?” Georgie asked.
Dr. Beaver looked up and waved him over. “After Dad cuts the cord.”
