Coda Books 06 - Fear, Hope, and Bread Pudding (MM)

She patted her knee. “Good. Next contraction, I want you to bear down and push as hard as you can, just like you practiced in childbirth class.”
    Oh shit! This was what I’d been waiting for—the pushing. I fumbled for my phone, positive that I’d waited too long and my dad was going to miss it.
    “Hello?” His voice was heavy and thick with sleep. I’d obviously woken him. Not surprising given the time.
    “She’s pushing. I think it will be soon?”
    “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
    I hung up the phone. Taylor had just finished her first push.
    No baby.
    I sighed. I would have felt like an ass if I’d missed the birth because I was on the phone.
    A minute later, she was pushing again. I waited, literally holding my breath while she strained to deliver the child.
    No baby.
    Okay, I thought. Everybody’s calm. Nobody seems to be panicking. I kept my mouth shut and waited for the next contraction. Taylor pushed again. And then again. And then again.
    Still, no baby.
    I began to worry. In the movies, it generally only took three or four pushes, right? Something had to be wrong. Maybe the doctor was only playing it cool for Taylor’s sake.
    More pushing. My anxiety at expecting the baby to appear any moment began to be replaced by sympathy for Taylor. The reality of childbirth was far longer and far more exhausting than it appeared on TV. She was sweating, her normally neat hair damp and frizzy. Her lips were dry and bloodless, her eyes bloodshot. “I can’t,” she panted between contractions. “I can’t.”
    The doctor and the nurses weren’t fazed by it one bit. They kept smiling and patting her hands and her knees. “You can. Not much longer now.”
    Not much longer now.
    They said that over and over again. Not much longer now. As the pushing went on and the minutes ticked by, I began to realize the words meant something different to them than they did to us. What they really meant was, “You’ve got a long way to go, but we don’t want to discourage you.”
    A nurse informed me that my father had arrived, and I followed her into the hallway to see him. I hugged him hard, suddenly feeling like a kid. I’d never been so glad to see him in my life. I wished I had a way to borrow his strength. Grace stood a bit to the side, looking scared but hopeful.
    “This has to be the longest night I’ve ever lived through,” I said to my dad, still holding him tight.
    “It feels like an eternity right now, but it’ll be over before you know it.”
    “I wish mom was here so I could tell her how sorry I am for putting her through this.”
    He laughed. “You were worth it, son. And she will be too.”
    The door behind me opened, and a nurse said, “Dad! You better get in here!”
    It took me a second to realize she was talking to me.
    Back inside the birthing room, it was immediately apparent something had changed. Before, the nurses had been quietly encouraging and consistently gentle. Now, they seemed more excited. Not anxious or worried. More like cheerleaders turned up to eleven.
    “This is it,” one of them said. “You’re almost there!”
    “You’ve been saying that for an hour now!” Taylor cried.
    The nurse laughed. “I know, sweetie, but this time I mean it. One or two more pushes is all that’s left. I promise.”
    The nurse who’d called me into the room grabbed my arm. “Come up here, Dad. You need to be ready.”
    “I’m not the father,” I said stupidly.
    “You’re the one cutting the cord, right? Here. Hold her leg. Right there. Just like that.”
    It was all too soon and too fast. I had a view of Taylor I’d never expected to see, and I hoped to never see again. On her other side, Cole was holding her hand, but his eyes were on me.
    “See that?” the doctor asked, pointing to a circle of hairy, pink flesh in the midst of a whole fucking lot of hairy, pink flesh. “That’s the top of the baby’s head.”
    I hadn’t wanted to see poor Taylor with her legs spread so wide, but suddenly the view went from obscene to magical. “Oh my God,” I breathed, overwhelmed. “Taylor, the baby really is right there. We can see her.”
    Cole squeezed her hand. “You can do it.”
    She started to tense, and I knew another contraction was coming.
    “Make it count, girl!” the nurse said.
    Taylor screamed. Larissa pushed her forward through the contraction, helping her bear down. “That’s it, that’s it, that’s it!” the doctor cried. “Push push push push