The Miracle
Jason knew what fear was. He knew what it was growing up without parents. He knew true fear the first time he’d ever stepped into that cage for the first time, his opponent bent on his destruction, maybe even his death. He knew fear when he’d tried to get out, when he never thought he’d see the true light of day again.
None of it compared to what he felt watching Amanda labor in their home. After a few hours of pacing, walking, doing anything she could to take her mind off the pains which were coming closer and closer together, she’d finally let her mom convince her to hop into bed.
Sweat beaded her brow, trickling down her face in tiny rivulets. She moaned and whined, grasped the pillow or the sheets, whatever she could find, to try and ride out the contractions.
They were closer together than they had been. They came every thirty seconds. It had only been four hours since he walked into the kitchen and found Amanda and her mom huddled together. It only took him a second to note the water pooled at her feet to realize their worst fears had come true.
“Is there anything I can do?” Jason sat on the edge of their bed, as useless as he would have been at the hospital, he was sure.
“No,” Amanda ground out. “Actually, try rubbing my back. It hurts. It hurts so bad there. Like I’m being branded with a hot poker or something.” She threw a hand onto her lower back, indicating the sore spot.
Jason reached out uselessly and massaged the spot as best he could over-top Amanda’s t-shirt. She curled into a tight ball a few seconds later, when her contraction hit. He felt her tense, all her muscles straining with the effort.
The blizzard showed absolutely no signs of slowing down. He could see the fear in Amanda’s eyes every time she look at him and it broke his heart.
The worst feeling in the world was needing to do something, anything, and not being able to. It was just them now. Just Amanda and Joan and himself, alone with a baby on the way.
“It’s alright, Amanda, just try to breathe,” Jason tried to soothe her.
“I am fucking breathing,” Amanda shot back.
At least she’s talking. She has enough breath for that so that’s a good thing.
“Okay. You’re doing a good job. A great job.”
“I’m doing the only thing I can,” she ground out. “Rub that spot again. It hurts even more when the contractions come.”
Jason got busy massaging her back. He didn’t stop at her lower back. He kept on going, right up to her shoulders. She lay on her side panting as another set of contractions came and went.
After coaching Amanda through the first few hours, Joan had taken a break. She was in the kitchen now, probably praying for the storm to stop and a miracle to happen. A miracle meaning help. Or maybe not. Maybe she’d resigned herself to the fact that she was going to deliver her grandchild right there in the cabin.
A hard wave of nerves twisted Jason’s stomach. Bile crept up his throat. He silently begged whatever force might be out there, anything, anyone, to spare his son. That his child would be born healthy and well without the aid of medical professionals. On his next breath he repeated that thought, begging for Amanda to be alright, for nothing to go wrong.
It was a damn good thing Joan was there. He knew he’d be useless without her.
“I’m thirsty,” Amanda whispered hoarsely.
“Alright.”
Jason shifted off the bed. He grabbed the cup of water on the nightstand. Amanda shifted up, leaning her back against the pillows. It took her a couple minutes, every single movement measured and painful. She winced as a contraction hit right as she sat up. He literally could see the muscles of her belly gripping right under her thin t-shirt.
He waited until the contraction had passed before handing over the water. She took a small sip, moistening her lips. He knew in the hospital she only would have been allowed to have ice chips, but to hell with it. We aren’t in the damn hospital.
“Do you want me to help you get into a nightgown, like your mom said would be best?”
Amanda groaned as she handed the cup back. “Dear god. I don’t know what’s worse. Facing the prospect of giving birth or having my mom have to see me do it.”
“I’ll be watching too, and helping.”
“That’s even worse. I feel like our relationship will never be the same after.”
Jason managed a small smile and Amanda’s lips turned up as well. It was good to see she still was able to joke. What else can we do?
“I promise, our relationship will be just as good. Better. How could it not after going through this together?”
“I knew this was going to happen. I said it! Just this morning. Of course it would! Life is always like that. Expect the worst since it always happens.”
“Maybe it’s not the worst. Maybe we’ll do fine.”
“Maybe?” Amanda screeched. “Maybe? Are you fucking kidding me? There is no maybe about it. You and my mom are going to deliver this baby! There is no other alternative.”
Jason nearly choked. “Of course, that’s what I meant. Now, how about a night gown?”
“You make it sound like I’m an eighty year old woman. I don’t even own a nightgown.”
“Yes you do. That pink one with the cat on the front.”
“I like that one! I don’t want to ruin it.”
“Okay, well just keep your underwear on then. I’m sure that’s fine.”
“I’ll do what I want!”
“Okay…” Jason held up his hands in surrender. Another contract twisted Amanda’s face. He put a hand on her belly and felt the taut muscles. “I wish I knew how to check to see how far along you are.”
“Don’t you dare stick your hand inside of me!”
“I was just saying… of course I wouldn’t.”
Amanda kept panting, her face turning up in a snarl. She was a fearsome creature to behold, her green eyes wild, hair tangled about her shoulders, face and t-shirt soaked with sweat. She was working so hard to bring their child into the world. And he felt absolutely useless. He didn’t know what he could actually say that would make anything better so he just slapped his mouth shut and kept quiet.
He went back to offering soothing words and coaching Amanda through her breathing until Joan came back an hour later and gave him a break.
Pacing the kitchen was no better. Amanda’s moans and then her screams of pain carried from the bedroom, filling the tiny cabin. All the while the storm raged on outside.
Finally Jason couldn’t handle it anymore. He went back into their bedroom because he couldn’t take being outside of it a second longer.
“How’s it going?” He asked Joan, who was bent over Amanda. She was curled into a little ball on her side again and her mother was wiping her forehead with a wet cloth and clutching her hand.
Joan turned to face him. Amanda seemed too far gone to even notice he was there. Her eyes were closed, her face screwed up in pain and concentration, her hair drenched and even more tangled than before. The sheets were thrown off the bed and a thin coat of blood covered her thighs.
He leaned against the door frame for support, praying he didn’t fall over. He was pretty sure everything happening was normal so far.
“I think we’re getting close,” Joan whispered. She motioned for Jason to join her at the side of the bed and he did, taking a seat at the foot.
Amanda moaned and screamed in turns like they weren’t even there.
“Her contractions are one on top the other. She keeps saying that she feels like she needs to push, but I want her to be sure. I don’t want her pushing for hours and hours and being too exhausted to deliver when the time comes. I have no way of helping her if she can’t do it on her own.”
Jason swallowed hard. That same black fear curled around the edges of his mind, nearly blacking everything else out.
“Do you think she should push now? Should we help her onto her knees like those videos she watched? I think it’s better than being on her back.”
“Yes, I think so. We’re probably going to need to support her though. Why don’t you get the water heated and ready and some clean sheets to put under her. I’ll keep coaching her through this until you get back.”
Jason couldn’t even form a coherent answer. He did as Joan asked, aware dimly that he was walking around, heating water yet again, boiling it for fifteen minutes to be sure it was sterile, grabbing sheets. Amanda’s screams grew worse, hoarse, like she was running out of breath to even make a sound. It was horrible, animal in nature and it tore at Jason’s heart.
By the time he made it back into the bedroom, Joan already had Amanda up on her knees. She was supporting her, whispering comforting words.
Amanda actually turned her head when she saw Jason come in. He set down the bucket of hot water and edged the clean sheets between Amanda’s spread legs.
“I feel like I’m being torn in half,” Amanda sobbed. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She cried out and clutched at her belly as another violent contraction hit. “I need to push,” she moaned. “I can’t hold back any longer.”
“Alright, sweetie, push then,” Joan encouraged. “Count to ten, keep pushing and then relax and take a breath.”
Jason came around and took Amanda’s other hand. He wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her, letting her lean on his strength.
She bore down, like her mother said. He watched her face, watched her turn red until she took a raspy breath.
“That’s it, honey. That’s the way,” Joan encouraged. “Now take a deep breath and push again.”
Amanda did as her mother asked. This time Joan counted to ten out loud and Amanda pushed. She screamed and pushed, breathed, screamed, pushed, breathed in a horrible rhythm that seemed to be tearing her apart, like she said.
Jason couldn’t look. He couldn’t look at Amanda any longer and see her suffering. He stared straight ahead at the wall and offered her his strength. She was soaking wet, her sweat soaking into his own plaid shirt. He felt her straining, leaning on him, drawing on reserves of strength that were utterly remarkable.
“I can see the head,” Joan’s triumphant shout shattered the pattern of screams and moans and hard breaths. “Keep pushing honey.”
She moved around Amanda, letting Jason support her. He felt her tense and bear down, heard her teeth grind together as she gave it everything she had. A few more hard pushes and then it was over.
The shrill cry of his son filled the room. Joan moved quickly, tying the cord with a length of sanitized twine and snipping it with the sanitized scissors. She quickly wrapped the baby in the brand new, soft blanket that they’d purchased that day they’d gone to pick up the furniture they needed. Jason never imagined it would be used for such a purpose.
Amanda’s belly contracted again and his eyes were torn back to her.
“Jason, come hold your son,” Joan instructed. “I’ll help her deliver the placenta and clean up.”
He moved, hardly aware that he’d done so. Joan handed over a tiny, red bundle. The baby’s head was downy with dark fuzz, still covered in blood and what Jason could only describe was white stuff. He didn’t care. His son’s eyes were scrunched shut, his features pinched, his tiny mouth working hard as though trying to summon up the nerve to protest at being thrust into the world so abruptly.
He was absolutely perfect and utterly amazing.
Jason stumbled over to the kitchen chair he’d dragged into the room earlier. He sat down hard, cradling the baby protectively against his chest.
My son. My son is here. What a miracle.
His entire attention was held rapt by the small infant in his arms. He barely registered everything that went on around him until Joan was bundling up sheets and clearing them away and Amanda was settled back against their pillows, utterly exhausted. A smile turned up her lips and never left her face.
“Can I hold him now?”
“Yes,” Jason whispered.
He was aware then, as he moved, that he was crying. Sobbing like a baby. He handed over their perfect bundle, the son that they’d spent so many months hoping for, fearing for, loving before he was even born. He was finally there and what a story his birth was.
“He’s so perfect!” Amanda traced his little cheek delicately.
Their son never woke. He slept soundly, tucked against his mother’s chest, wrapped in the warm cocoon of his blanket, safe and well against all the odds against them.
“Look,” Joan said, entering the room once more.
Both heads swiveled to her at the same time. Jason’s eyes followed the path of her pointed finger towards the window. The snow was letting up. It was still swirling, the wind still howling, but it was definitely giving way.
“I’ll call for the ambulance,” he said, rising slowly, still in shock. His legs felt like water and threatened to give way. His hands shook along with the rest of his body. “It will probably be a while yet, maybe even overnight.”
“That’s okay,” Amanda whispered. Her eyes never left their child’s face. “It’s all going to be okay.” She looked at him then and her eyes held all the hope and promise in the world.
Jason believed her. He believed in that love shining in those emerald depths. He believed in all their tomorrows. For the first time in his life he believed miracles were possible.