Page 140 of The Last Man on Earth
“Car,” I grit. “Back of the car.”
“Okay.”
He opens the back door and positions me in front of the backseat, halfway inside. I suffer through another contraction before he’s able to get my pants and underwear off.
He gets me seated on his peanut butter leather seats, but it feels worse.
“I need to squat,” I say. “This hurts too much.”
His pained look lasts just a minute before he says, “I got you.”
He looks around, waving somebody away. “Nah, just call 911 for me.”
Then, he helps me get back in my squat.
“Pants off,” he says to the phone. “She’s squatting. Now what?”
“If you can,” Dr. Ellery says, “look and see if you see the head.”
He gets down low as I scream from another contraction.
“Fuck!” He scrambles back to the phone. “I see it.”
“Okay, good. Ariana, when you feel the urge to push, do it. Don’t fight it. Take deep breaths. Vincent, keep your hands under her so you can catch the baby. She’ll probably come out slow. Support the baby’s head, but don’t pull.”
Vincent yanks his shirt over his head and crouches down, his eyes on me. “You pushin’ yet?”
I shake my head.
“Whenever you feel it. I got you, baby. I’m here.”
Another contraction hits. The pain and pressure are so intense, I can barely see anything. Maybe I’m blacking out, I don’t know, but I bear down and scream, clutching Vincent’s forearms.
“You doin’ good,” he says, his voice cracking. “I know it hurts, baby. I know. But you got this.”
“Oh God. I can’t…” I cry as another contraction hits.
“You can. That’s our baby. She’s ready. Let’s get her out.”
I bear down again, but I forget to breathe. It’s too late, though, I have to push. By the time the contraction subsides, I’m gasping for breath.
“I have her head!” Vincent says. “What do I do?”
He sounds so desperate, I wanna reassure him. I don’t even have the energy to speak, though, much less be his support.
“Perfect,” Dr. Ellery says. “Just support the head. The shoulders will turn on their own.”
“Nooooooo…” I moan as another contraction comes. “Please…”
That’s to God, I think. He’s the only one who can make this end.
“One more,” Vincent says. “One big push and you’re done. Let’s do it.”
That gives me a second wind. I take a deep breathe and push, and within seconds, the pain rushes out of me and I can hear Vincent crying.
“She’s out!” he yells. “She’s out. What do I do?”
“Wipe her nose and mouth. Is she crying?”
