Page 34 of Doctor Mile High
“Dove, look at me,” I order from on my knees. “Look at me, sweetheart.”
She opens her big blue watery eyes, exhausted, full of pain, hair tangled and damp from sweat, and it’s this moment I definitely know that this is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.
“I know it’s hard. I know it hurts. I know this isn’t ideal and this isn’t what you wanted your labor to be like. I’m sorry for that. I wish I could take your pain away. I wish I could make this experience better for you. You’re doing so good. I need you to give me one last push. The biggest push yet. Okay? Can you do that for me? And then, we will get you to a hospital.”
Muffin dabs her face with the rag again, then places the cloth on the back of her neck for relief.
She grunts when another contraction hits.
“Okay, this is it, Dove. Push for me. Push!”
She screams, gripping Muffin’s hands so hard his skin turns white and even the big bad biker flinches from the pain.
The shoulders show next, and I gently take the baby, pulling them free, and she groans, slouching against Muffin.
“You did it. You did it, Dove. You have a healthy baby boy!” I scoop my finger into his mouth to gather any fluid. “A beautiful boy.” In my heart of hearts, I have no doubt that this baby is mine.
Dove’s gaze locks with mine and her expression softens the longer our eyes stay connected.
“You did good, little lady! I knew you would,” Muffin praises.
I clean my son—because he is mine no matter what—and wipe him down with a damp rag. We need to birth the placenta and then she’ll officially be done. I wrap him in the blanket, loving how loud his cries are.
“Muffin, can you please take him while I help Dove birth the placenta?”
“Oh, you don’t have to tell me twice! It’s been ages since I’ve had a little one. Come here, fella. Aren’t you sweet? Look at you. Your momma is going to be with you soon.” Muffin scoops him up and presses him to his chest like a professional.
He stays close since the cord isn’t cut yet. I don’t have anything sterile to cut the cord with. Staying attached to the placenta won’t hurt him.
“You’ve done this before,” I praise him, hating the grunt of pain from Dove when the placenta comes out.
The medics can cut the cord when they get here.
My brows furrow when I see the amount of blood pouring down her legs. “Muffin! Give the baby to Nancy. I need you to helpDove lie down now!” I bellow, horrified at the scene in front of me.
We did not come this far to meet again on a damn plane for it to end like this.
Muffin does as he’s told, handing the baby to the flight attendant and helping a semi-conscious Dove to the ground.
“Winston,” she slurs, reaching for me. “Winston.”
“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m right here. You’re bleeding a lot. I have to reach inside and massage your uterus. It’s going to hurt but it’s the only way to try to slow down the bleeding, okay?”
“You’ll take care of him, right?”
I look up from between her legs, my hand buried inside her to stop the bleeding. “Don’t do that. Don’t talk like that. Not now. You’re going to be fine, okay? You’re going to be just fine.”
“Little lady, you have to hold on. Your little one needs you. You have to stay with us.” Muffin sniffles, a singular tear flowing down his cheek until it gets lost in the long gray beard.
Nancy watches, her own tears shining as she rocks my son back and forth. I hear applause from the plane when the passengers hear the baby cry. A massive jerk rocks me when we land, and I grab Dove’s knee to keep both of us settled.
Sweat burns my eyes along with emotion and fear. Never in my wildest dreams did I think this would happen. I finally have Dove right in front of me and she’s barely breathing.
“Dove, sweetheart, please stay with me, okay?” I continue to massage her uterus, but the blood won’t stop flowing. She won’tlast much longer if we don’t get her to a hospital right away. “I won’t lose you like this,” I croak, blinking away the tears.
She’s unconscious. Her eyes are closed. Blood continues to pour from her, pooling under her body.
“Come on. Come on,” I say to no one, to myself.
