I’m moving fast, knowing contractions are on their way.
“It’s happening,” I tell Dimitri nervously when we board the elevator. He smiles kindly, already knowing what my next words will be.
“I called Benjamin. He was on his way out of his office before we got off the phone.”
“Good.”
“You’re going to have a baby!” Doris cries, wrapping her arms around me. I’m too frightened to hug her back, feeling movement within me, a sharp tightening, growing in intensity. Right when we exit the elevator into the lobby, I’m hit by the first contraction, which honestly feels stronger than I thought it should.
I keel over, blowing out a breath, grimacing at the uncomfortable cramping in my stomach. “I don’t like this. Ooh, I don’t like it.”
“Just breathe through it. Breathe and it will pass.”
“Just think, when we reach the hospital, they can give you drugs,” Dimitri says.
I look at him, shocked enough at his statement that I manage to laugh. “I told them I didn’t want drugs. They…advised against it due to my condition,” I admit.
“Oh, well…you may want to rethink that.”
***
“Fuck!”
I tighten my fingers around the side of the bed as I stand, momentarily blinded from the contractions that are now only minutes apart. Doris is rubbing my back, cooing to me softly, reminding me to breathe through it. By the time I made it to the hospital, my contractions were too close. Drugs are now a distant dream.
“Find out where Benjamin is,” I plead breathlessly as soon as it subsides.
“Okay, honey. Okay.”
She opens the door as Dimitri is coming in. He is probably whiter than me.
“Where is he?”
“In traffic. Construction blocked off the intersection.”
“Fuck,” I groan. “How far?”
“I’m not sure. He…was running when we got off the phone.”
Both Doris and I look toward the window, uttering the same thing at the same time. “It’s raining.”
I momentarily become calm enough to picture my husband, Benjamin Scott, racing through vehicles in a storm in order to make it to the birth of his child.
“Oh, Christ.” I feel another one coming on. “They’re real close now.”
Doctor Trigiani enters the room, followed by another nurse. I’m punched in the stomach, slammed by another contraction.
“How far apart are they?” she asks the nurse.
“Minutes now.”
“And the husband?”
“On his way,” Doris says. I deflate into the bed, my legs wobbling when it subsides, and Doctor Trigiani wastes no time getting me onto the bed to check my cervix.
She places her hand on my leg reassuringly. “Okay, Darcy, it’s time.”
I shake my head, glancing at the door. “N-No, he has to be here.”
