HAWK SHAKES my shoulder brusquely saying. “Helicopter ride’s over, you bum. Now, get out of here and go become a dad.”
I jump, disoriented by sleep and look around wildly for a moment. Sure enough, we’re on the Ophir City Hospital landing pad. Hopping out, I hug Hawk, thanking him.
He says, “I’ve got to figure out where to put my ride, and then I’ll be back to check on everyone.” I nod, thanking him one more time before turning to make my way inside.
I’m greeted by a nurse on the tarmac. Her face tells me everything I need to know about the way I look. The grubby, soot-covered image is confirmed as we walk quickly down hospital corridors, and I catch my reflection in the room windows of the ER. I’m unrecognizable, even to myself.
I’ve still got my helmet in my hand and my firefighter’s jacket on, and I feel like I’m floatingdown the hallways, thanks to days without sleeping and the anxiety building as I hope to make it to Faith’s side in time. I call out to the nurse, “How far along is my wife? Is she fully dilated?”
The nurse replies, “She’s in active labor at this point. As for how long, it’ll depend on the progress of her contractions and when she goes into transition. You know, after she’s fully dilated. But I know the doctor’s starting to hang out near her room more, so that’s a good sign.”
My heart races at her words. There’s no way I’ll ever appreciate all Faith is going through to bring our baby into this world, stoking the immense love I feel for her even more. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. We reach an elevator, and the nurse presses the button to go up. We wait and wait until I’m strumming my helmet impatiently with my fingertips and seriously thinking about rushing the stairs.
Ding! The button lights up, and the door comes open. I start to rush in when a crowd of people hedges me back. Sighing loudly, I wait for the elevator to clear before claiming it. The nurse smiles sympathetically, pressing the button to take us up to labor and delivery.
Once out of the elevator, we pass through security doors, and I’m breathless and ready to break into a sprint to get to Faith in time. We pass by a waiting room, and I hear a soft baby cry.
Looking inside, I see Alex and Maksim trying to calm their two-month-old boy, Dmitri. Zane’s leaning against the wall fidgeting, and Dad is staring at the little crier adoringly.
I poke my head in, “Hey, everyone!” Now, I see Logan seated with his arm around Jess who smiles widely, and Cricket and Christian next to the Keurig getting coffee.
“Hi, son,” Wyatt hollers with a huge smile on his face. “You ready to be a daddy?”
Before I can answer, Chris pipes in. “You look like shit.”
“I’ve kind of been fighting one of the worst wildfires in modern California history.”
“Hardly an excuse,” he replies, trying hard to suppress the proud older brother smile lighting up his face.
Cricket lightly swats him on the chest, saying “Shh.” The gesture and command only silence the blond-haired, tanned sheriff because he grabs his hazelnut-haired, gray-eyed beauty around the waist, planting a big kiss on her lips.
Dmitri’s still crying, and Alex brushes past, congratulating me with an exhausted smile. She’s got a mane of black, curly hair and piercing crystal-blue eyes. My youngest brother, Maksim, follows hot on her heels.
It’s funny seeing the grumpy blond-haired, bearded mountain man holding a periwinkle-hued diaper bag. “Get ready for no sleep,” he grumbles. But I can tell by the smile on his face, he’s never been happier.
Wolfe sits in the corner with his two kids, Matt and Stasia. They’re seven and five. Matt immediately recognizes me, despite the soot and gear and runs over, exclaiming, “Uncle Travis!” I lean down to hug him. But Stasia hangs back, pouting and staring at me.
Wolfe reassures, “Sweetie, it’s just Travis.”
She shakes her head, clutching her doll tighter and saying, “He looks scary.”
Before I can respond to my niece, Logan pipes up, “What are you waiting for, bro? Go welcome this baby into the world.” Next to him, Jess nods reassuringly before sneaking a love-filled look at my brother.
The nurse and I continue hurriedly to Faith’s room, and I’m comforted by the thought of my family here to support us. As if reading my mind, the nurse says, “We’re already working on getting you the biggest room we can when you and your wife transfer to the maternity ward. We know how big your family is.”
“That’s not even half of them.” Her eyebrows raise in surprise, and I realize how lucky I am to have so many people who love and support Faith and me. “But thank you, ma’am, the big room will help,” I reply, rushing into Faith’s room.
Birdie stands on the right side of Faith’s bed, and there’s a doctor sticking his head between my girl’s bent, parted legs. Under any other circumstances, I’d beat the shit out of him, but now he’s my lifeline to make sure our baby arrives safely.
Faith’s face contorts with pain. Her cheeks are flushed and dappled with perspiration, and I rush to her side, handing my helmet to the nurse as I take my wife’s hand. She looks up at me with a huge smile, exclaiming, “You made it.” But then another contraction grips her, and Faith screams, crushing the blood out of my hand.
“How’s she doing?” I call across the bed to Birdie.
My ebony-haired sister-in-law replies, “We’re getting there. Thank God you’re here. She needs you, Trav.”
The doctor pipes in, “She’s in active labor and almost fully dilated. But I don’t want you pushing yet,” he cautions Faith. “Normally, transition takes anywhere between fifteen to sixty minutes. So, we’re nearly there. With a first birth, it usually falls on the longer side of that range, though.”
My heart races as I hold Faith’s hand and talk her through another contraction. She’s beyond words at this point. All I can do is try to remember what we did in the hypnobirthing class and walk her through the breathing.
