“Phone Alex,” I told Oliver through clenched teeth as I leaned against the wall and contracted violently, “I want him to be here. For a minute. Let him know he’s not staying. I want him to leave when I say and come back when I want him around again.”
“I will, Love.” Oliver rubbed the small of my back, “I will the moment you're settled.”
By the time we got to the Obstetrics floor I was in serious distress. The contractions were coming hard and fast. I handled them by taking quick steps between them and then falling against the nearest wall when they'd hit. A fat nurse saw me from down the hall and rushed up with a wheelchair. She popped me in and took me to a room where she stuck me on to a bed. Oliver was rushed in a different direction to have me registered.
“I'll be right back,” He promised as he quickly kissed me.
“Ollie, I'm afraid.” I clung to his hand. I was, too. Horribly afraid. I don't know if it was the fact that he was leaving me or that the realisation that I was about to give birth was setting in, but I was suddenly terrified. My heart was pounding. I felt tears rise into my eyes and spill down my cheeks.
“I know, Sweetie,” He eased my hair back, “I'll only be a minute.”
“No need to be afraid,” The nurse assured me without any sort of smile. She gave Oliver a sort of shove toward the door, “Women have been doing this since the beginning of time.”
She sounded like my dad. Dismissive of my thoughts and concerns. I was just a silly girl. She may as well have said it. A silly girl without a choice who shouldn't be feeling what I was.
Oliver recognised the look on my face, because he sort of snapped at her, “Well, women may have, but Sil never has, so let's try to make her feel better instead of stupid, shall we?”
The nurse's mouth fell open. She clamped it shut, “Right!” She said, suddenly smiling at me, “I'm sorry. All I meant was that your body's built for this! You can do it! And you have a great staff here as well! Who's your doctor, Sweetie?”
She and I made bogus, pleasant chit chat for another few minutes before she excused herself. I appreciated her effort, but I still didn't like her much. It was obvious that under the false exterior of giving a shit about me that she'd rather be someplace else.
I waited there in that room, contracting like a quilt drying on line during a windy day, for a bit longer before I realised there was another woman with me. She had been quiet when I'd come in, but it wasn't long before her husband arrived and she began moaning and carrying on as if Death had her in his grip.
I found it telling that she'd been perfectly peaceful until he'd come. Some women will do anything for attention, even in a situation where all the attention is on them anyway. It's always bothered me, the drama they perform. I took it as long as I could before my own discomfort and wanting of my husband made me lose my grip. “Shut your noise!” I growled at her, “You’re not making it any better for the rest of us having to hear you carry on while we’re suffering the same pains!” Another contraction hit and I clenched my teeth.
“Oh, Daniel! It hurts!” She cried.
“I SAID SHUT IT!” I growled.
The nurse pulled a curtain shut between us. Seconds later Oliver appeared and I immediately felt much better.
“You doing all right?” He asked softly as he took my hand.
“My back hurts. The whole thing's in knots,” I felt the tears well up in my eyes again, “This sucks, Ollie, and I want it to end quickly. I know it'll get worse, too.”
“It'll take its course,” He promised, “Sit up and let me get behind you.”
I said nothing, but moved forward on to the bed and allowed him to slip behind me, one leg on either side of my body. He pressed me forward with his palms and skilfully massaged every muscle from my shoulders to my lower back. “Deep breaths,” He coached, “In through the nose and out through the mouth. Close your eyes and go with the pain. You can't fight it, you can only survive it. Deep breaths...”
He'd really done his homework on reading what to do to help me through my labour and I wished even then that any of it was working, but the tension in my body and mind were impossible to shake. Between the pain of the contractions and the relentless cramping of the muscles in my back complied with the drama queen in the bed across the room from me and my own anxiety, I was ready to demolish buildings with my bare hands.
“Relax, Sil.”
I sobbed, but not because of the pain. I sobbed because I was still afraid. I was afraid because I was helpless and the pain only made that more clear. But soon enough the pain did its job and intensified to the point where I wasn't frightened anymore. I was just angry. I was angry and I wanted to get the whole thing done with. It was taking too long.
I took the blanket into my hands and squeezed it with all my might as Oliver continued to rub and press along my spine.
About twenty minutes later the nurse returned, bursting through the curtain as if I should be excited she had arrived. She sang, “How are you feeling?”
“Murderous.”
“Let me check your cervix,” She slipped on a glove. “Off the bed, You!” She waved a hand at Oliver, who dutifully slid out from behind me. “Lay back, Silvia.”
“Do you really have to?” I asked, hesitantly moving back to the head of the bed and lying down. Over the last few days I'd had my cervix checked a couple of times and it was not my favourite experience.
“Yes, I have to.”
“Can’t he do it?” I motioned to Oliver. “He is a doctor, you know?”
“I’m a doctor of paediatrics, not obstetrics, Love.”
“Afraid not, Dear,” She said as she shoved her fist up my twat and then removed it promptly, “Good news! You’re ready to go to delivery!”
Another contraction mowed over me like a dozer. “I want drugs!” I said as soon as it had passed. “And I want them now!”
She wheeled me into a different room without another word. The new nurse there was much younger and smaller than the first, a blonde with dark green eyes and a nice smile, but I decided she wasn’t worth a damn when she told me that it was too late for an epidural.
“What?” I nearly screamed, turning on to my side to endure yet another blinding contraction, “You are so full of shit!”
Oliver laughed out loud.
“Don't despair,” The little nurse told me, “We have other drugs!”
She hooked me up to an IV with deft skill and shot something not nearly as good as an epidural into my IV that numbed my brain, but not so much my contractions. It did, however, dull my sense of fear and I felt quite comfortable and confident in the idea that I was about to pass an object that weighed at least seven pounds out of a passage that I'd felt violated for having a fist inside just a moment before.
I don’t remember much about the birth other than it felt like I had the stomach flu, a heated screwdriver tearing at my guts, and my privates were aflame. I remember Oliver holding my hand and telling me I was doing great. I remember, too, the doctor wandering by at the exact moment I was certain that the baby would never come out and I would die.
“You're ready to deliver!” He announced as if I should be surprised, “I'm here to help!”
“Oh? Are you going to yank it out for me?” I asked.
He looked at me as if I were mad.
Oliver chuckled.
“She's feisty,” Said the nurse.
I continued to labour for I don't know how much longer. I was so tired I thought I'd never make it through, but right at the end I suddenly felt extremely strong. I pulled myself to a near sitting position on the end of the bed, “Just get away from me!” I commanded, “Let me do this!”
They all three backed off immediately.