“Twenty minutes,” Zoe repeated. Two or three contractions. Then three hours on the plane, then two to four hours drive time… “Maybe you should have come to those birthing classes with us,” she grumbled.
“Pops right behind us, and Finn and Haley are on the way, after they drop Emerson off with Trace. You have any or all of us there to be with you, if Ryder doesn’t… you know.”
Just thinking about the next one even her nod was tense. “He’ll be here,” she said, both of them looking pitifully at each other.
“Of course,” Evan said quickly.
Finally, they pulled into the hospital lot, and straight back to the labor and delivery entrance. At least the birthing class had walked them through all this, so she didn’t have to wander the hospital until someone would admit her. As she started to move, she felt another small gush of fluid. “Ugh. It just keeps coming,” she grumbled as she shifted off the many towels that had hopefully saved the upholstery.
One foot out of the car, and the wave of it threatened. “Fuck,” she growled, and quickly stepped out and turned to lean on the seat to brace herself.
Evan yelped and ran over. Helplessly, he said, “What can I do?”
“Nothing, argh,” she growled, and buried her face in her hands.
Evan rubbed her mid back, and she focused on the distraction. “Progress,” he said softly. “Almost done with this one.”
As it started to let up, she slowly stood, and reached for her bag.
“I got it,” he said quickly, and plucked up the bag.
Zoe waddled next to her brother, and a truck came roaring up and parked next to them.
Pops jumped out and halted when he saw her already looking haggard, and slowed his hug to more of a pat. “Still ten minutes apart?”
“We had a seven, but that was back up to nine,” Evan offered, and they both fell in line walking next to Zoe.
Zoe pouted over the numbers, and kept walking, knowing they were with her.
At the desk, the receptionist requested her insurance card—ignoring that she’d already done all this stuff online, and her driver’s license, and took her sweet time doing whatever she did. She looked again at Zoe, and asked, “Do you want a wheelchair?”
“No,” Zoe growled, then followed the woman’s eyes down to the puddle.
“Because… you probably need a wheelchair…”
Gooey wetness had long ago overflowed the useless pad she wore, and Zoe nodded pitifully. “Okay.”
Taking even longer to get checked in, she was now in a damn wheelchair with a pile of towels under her butt.
As soon as they wheeled into triage, the nurse calmly welcomed her and looked back and forth between Evan and Pops. “The triage rooms are pretty small…”
“They both stay,” Zoe growled. Wow, she was feisty. “Sorry. I’m gooey.”
“You are gooey,” the nurse said sweetly. “They can stay. Just warning you. Do you need to pee? I could use a sample. And, I need to check for… although, I think it’s safe to say that is definitely amniotic fluid.”
“It gushed. And it keeps gushing.”
“It happens,” the nurse said with kind reassurance, and handed a cup for Zoe. “I’m Olive. We’ll see how everything looks and get things moving.”
Zoe nodded pitifully. She filled her sample cup, already used to the procedure from the doctor appointments, and she changed into the pitifully unsexy hospital gown and robe. At least there was a robe, so her bare ass wasn’t flapping out the back.
Olive had a bunch of gear already and started strapping straps around Zoe and getting monitors going. “We made introductions without you. Sounds like a party coming?”
“Youch,” Zoe growled as this one hit hard and fast, and she gripped the rails.
Evan was on alert, but Pops was next to her and rubbed her back. “Sounds like a first down,” he said, teasing her unremorsefully.
“Feels like unsportsmanlike conduct,” she grumbled as it started to ease.
