Page 57 of The Beat of My Heart
“Rosa!” my mother scolds.
If something wasn’t splitting my insides wide open, I’d probably laugh.
“Well, don’t just be standing there, Pete, go call Dr. Foley and let her know we’ll be on our way,” GG tells my dad.
I’m not surprised when he follows her directions without question, but I am amazed by the intense pain that has me cussing out every person in the room.
“I read about this, they are coming pretty close together though, aren’t they? Didn’t she just have one?” Lanie asks, panicked.
“Lanes, I love you but shut the fuck up and get my bag,” I tell her.
“Oh, right, your bag. Okay. You got her, Mimi?” she asks my mom.
“Just get movin’, Lanes,” GG scolds, taking my other arm. Looking at her, I’m shocked by how strong she is in her old age.
Winking at me, GG says, “Come on, ya sinner, let's get ya to the hospital.” She’d taken to calling me Sinner or Sinny since I got home from Boston. You learn quickly with GG that you’ll never win, so it's best to just go with it.
We arrive at the hospital twenty minutes later, thanks in no part to my father’s crazy driving. Once I’m checked in, I sit up waiting for the epidural when, suddenly, I need to stand up. I yell, “I think I’m going to shit myself, get me out of this bed,” I’m starting to hyperventilate, and it’s getting ugly.
“Julia,” Dr. Foley says authoritatively, catching my attention. “You’re going to be just fine, honey, but you have to calm down. I’ll have the nurses help you to the bathroom, then we need to get you hooked up to the monitors, someone wants to make you a mom in a hurry.”
“A mom?” I repeat stupidly.Holy fuck. I miss Charlie. I can’t help it, the tears come. I’ve tried to shield Lanie from it, but in this moment, it all comes out.
“Charlie will never get to know he is a dad. I’m never going to get to tell him I loved him, and I need to shit,” I sob as the nurses help me to the toilet. Once I’m seated, I cry. I cry for Charlie, I cry for my baby that won’t know their dad, I cry for myself, and then I cry because it fucking hurts.
Looking around the room frantically, I see a window. It’s a little high, but I can make it. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I know I’m not making any sense, but until you have had your uterus squeezed by some torture device, you don’t get to judge. I’m going to make a break for it and come back tomorrow. “You hear that, little angel? You have to wait and come tomorrow. Mommy is not ready today.”
Grabbing a wad of toilet paper, I go to wipe and almost pass out.
“H-help me, I think it’s escaping,” I scream at the top of my lungs, which sends the nurses and my family running. Busting through the door, I’m sitting on the toilet with my legs spread eagle as I point in the toilet. “I think there’s an arm sticking out, hurry up and grab it, make sure the baby is ok.”
The nurse, thoroughly confused but nervous, rushes to my side and looks in, “Oh, dear, that is just your mucous plug. Reach in there and give it a good pull and it’ll come right out.”
“Fuck you, I’m not doing that. I didn’t come to the hospital to deliver my own kid. If I wanted to do that, I’d have some hippie-dippy doula sitting in a bathtub with me,” I scream hysterically.
“Jules,” my mother tries to calm me. “That’s not the baby, you just need to pull it out.”
“No, it looks like a bloodbath; I’m not fucking doing it,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest just as another contraction hits, making me sway on the toilet.
“Holy shit, this hurts. It hurts so goddamn much. Am I being punished? Is this me being punished for something?” I scream. Poor Lanie is standing off to the side, looking like she might pass out.
“Oh my God, I need to shit again,” I screech, but the nurses are already lifting me off the toilet and carrying me back to the bed. “No, I have to shit,” I scream.
“Julia, your baby is coming. You feel the urge to poop because your body is telling you to push,” the nurse explains.
“What? Noooo, I’m having an epidural, I told you that,” I say stubbornly just as Dr. Foley walks back into the room.
“Hi, Jules, let's take a look, okay?”
“Ah, no, I’m getting the epidural first, remember?” I inform her.
“Yes, I remember. You’ve told us all at every appointment, and we all got your lists every day this week,” she teases. “But I still have to look. How long have you been having contractions?” she asks.
“Um, I’m not really sure. My back has been killing me since yesterday, but I guess I felt the first real one a couple of hours ago. Where is that guy with the epidural, anyway?” I ask. “Ugh,” I moan, “what the hell was that?”
“Sorry, I was checking your cervix,” Dr. Foley tells me. “Honey, it seems like you’ve been in labor for a while. Let's get you strapped up to a fetal monitor, but I’m not sure you will have time for an epidural,” she tells me.
“Get the fuck outta here,” I tell her. “I am having that epidural, or I’m going home. I’ll come back tomorrow. Actually, maybe that’s better anyway. I’m kind of tired. I think I’ll just go home and come back later,” I move to unhook the IV as the mother of all contractions hits and I’m left screaming obscenities at everyone in the room.
