Page 121 of Pipe Dreams
When the OB decided Lauren was ready to push, a lovely nurse came to perch at Lauren’s side. Mike’s job was to hold one of her knees for each contraction.
It was two in the morning. He and Lauren had both been up for twenty hours. She grimaced with every push, and a sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. Yet she’d never looked more beautiful to him, and he’d never been more at peace. It was pitch dark outside the hospital window. In spite of the presence of the doctor and the nurse, he felt as though he and Lauren were cocooned here together. A championship team of two.
“It burns,” Lauren panted.
“The baby is crowning,” the doctor announced. “Do you want to feel the head?”
“No,” Lauren gasped. “Let’s just finish this up.”
The doctor laughed. “Two more good pushes and you’ll hear your baby cry. Ready?”
Tears welled in her eyes during the next contraction.
“Almost, honey,” he whispered, wiping sweat off her forehead with his shirt sleeve.
But she didn’t seem to hear him. She closed her eyes and dug deep and bore down. He braced her heel in one hand and rubbed her back with the other.
“That’s it!” the doctor encouraged. “I have your baby’s head in my hand. One more push and you’ll know if it’s a boy or a girl.”
A boy. Mike thought of the blue bulldog in his duffel bag, and just knew.
Lauren made a low noise from deep in her chest and tensed her face.
A minute later the doctor said, “Baby boy, time of birth two thirty-sevenA.M.” The nurse handed him a towel. “Come and cut the cord, Dad.”
The next sound he heard was a thin little cry. Lauren closed her eyes and smiled. And the room went a little blurry.
•••
Later, Lauren wouldn’t be able to remember the next hour. She was just too tired. The moment she heard her son cry, she relaxed against the pillow and let everyone else take over.
The doctor wasn’t done with her, either. He said something about the placenta and some stitches. She put her feet in the stirrups when they asked her to and let the doctor and nurse do all the work. In the corner, Mike stood with a pediatrician, smiling over the baby scale. “Eight pounds!” her husband chuckled. “No wonder you were early.”
“Good Apgar score,” the pediatrician said, and Lauren closed her eyes.
The baby’s cry sounded angrier now. “I’ve got you,” Mike said, his low voice the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. “I know Mommy just spent a whole day squeezing your head. But that part’s over.”
She was too tired to laugh.
When she opened her eyes again she saw Mike seated in a chair under the window, the swaddled baby nestled in one arm.
The nurse patted Lauren’s hand. “Would you like to try to nurse him? He’s sucking on your husband’s fingertip like a champ.”
“Sure,” Lauren slurred.
The nurse helped her sit up.
“I have to hand him over already?” Mike complained. Then he gave her a huge smile, the kind that shook her out of her exhausted daze. “He looks just like me.”
The nurse laid the baby right across Lauren’s deflated stomach. For the first time she looked down into the red, wrinkled face of her son, who looked back at her with blinking eyes.
She didn’t realize she was crying until Mike grabbed a tissue and dabbed her face. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I’m just so happy he’s here.”
“That took a long time,” the nurse sympathized.
“Oh, you have no idea,” Mike agreed, giving Lauren a private grin.
Her new baby opened his little mouth and clamped it over her nipple when the nurse guided his head into place. Lauren watched with wonder while his little mouth began to work.
