Page 27 of Frosty in Flannel
Then Libby went rigid in my arms.
“Libby?”
“I—” She gasped, hand flying to her belly. “Oh.”
My heart stopped. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” But her voice was tight. “I think—I think that was a contraction.”
“Okay.” I forced myself to stay calm. “Okay, that’s normal. We have time. The doctor said first babies take—”
Another gasp cut me off, and she doubled over slightly.
“Beckett—that was another one.”
I glanced at the clock. “That was less than two minutes apart.”
“I know. This is happening fast.” She looked at me, smiling through her pain. “I think maybe you’re going to have to put those foaling skills of yours to good use.”
“What the fuck?” The breath left my lungs as I stared at my wife as if she’d grown two heads.
“I said, you’re going to have to deliver our baby.”
“No way in hell, Libby. I’m taking you to the hospital. What if something happens?”
“Oh, something is going to happen alright.” She grabbed my arm and squeezed it as another contraction hit. “This baby is coming right now. Congratulations, cowboy. You’re promoted to midwife.”
The pain on her face got through to me faster than anything else could. I picked her up and carried her to our bed. “Let’s get you out of these clothes.”
I undressed her quickly. I barely got one of my t-shirts over her head before she cried out again, her face contorting with pain. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”
And I did. I would never let anything happen to her, or our baby.
She nodded her head as the contraction eased. I squeezed her hand before going to gather what I needed. The first thing Idid was call an ambulance. The next thing I did was grab the first aid kit. “Okay, let’s have a look.”
My breath caught as I saw my baby’s head crowning. I rubbed Libby’s leg. “When the next contraction comes, sweetheart, I need you to push.”
Libby was crying, her head back on the pillows I had stacked behind her. “I can’t do this—”
“Yes, you can. You’re the strongest person I know. You can do anything.”
“Easy for you to say—”
The contraction hit, and she bore down with a guttural sound that made my chest ache.
“That’s it,” I said, watching the baby’s head emerge a little more. “That’s perfect. You’re doing so good.”
“You are never touching me again,” she said as the contraction eased off.
I laughed. I’d promise her the moon right now. “That’s what you say now. But when I’m cooking you pancakes without my shirt on, you’ll cave.”
“Asshole.” But she was smiling now—until the next contraction hit.
And after that, it didn’t take long before I was catching my baby—my baby girl—in my hands. Libby and I both had tears in our eyes as she gave a healthy cry. “Look baby. Look what you did.”
I wrapped her in one of my t-shirts and laid her on Libby’s chest.
“Look whatwedid.” She smiled at me as if Ihadhanded the moon and stars. I breathed a sigh of relief as I heard the sirens outside, then the firm knock on the door as two paramedics entered our house.
