My alarm has got to be the most annoying sound ever. Worse than the gears grinding in my favorite truck. Worse than that damn heavy metal stuff my office manager listens to. Worse than when Pedro whines about chaffing in the summer.
It probably wouldn’t be bad if it didn’t go off at four fifteen every morning.
Rolling over, I smack the clock, shutting off the noise, then reach for my wife. Unfortunately, she’s already sitting up.
“What are you doing?” I whisper and rub the sleep out of my eyes.
She sighs and rubs her back. “I haven’t been asleep in hours. I might as well do some work.”
“Legs again?”
She nods.
This pregnancy has been rough on Greer. She’s been suffering from horrible restless leg syndrome from the beginning. At first, she could get up and do a few jumping jacks to calm it down. But as her belly and boobs grew, it became more painful to jump than it did to suffer through. I feel terrible for her. She hasn’t had a full night’s sleep in several weeks.
Add onto it, she’s in a lot of pain in general. Somehow the baby is sitting low, which you would never know by how huge she is. She’s so big, we keep asking the doctor if there’s a hidden twin. Because of it, Greer complains of pain in her entire abdominal and genital areas constantly. Well, she doesn’t complain constantly, but I know her pain is non-stop. It’s to the point where sex isn’t enjoyable to her anymore.
Too bad. I would love nothing more than to help get this baby born sooner rather than later. I hate seeing Greer miserable, even if she’s a good sport about it all.
I brush my teeth, swipe on some deodorant, and throw on my work clothes before waking Oli up for his shift. He typically works mornings with me, which helps get him back in bed at an earlier time. That helps all of us. It’s all about balance these days.
Once I know he’s rolling, I make my way into the living area, passing by Greer’s new office space.
We moved in to the new house about a month ago, and it’s proving to be everything we needed. That includes the dedicated office area I made a priority when drawing up the floor plans. While the layout is very different in this house than in hers, I knew she loved her office with the custom book shelves and big window. I made sure it was almost identical here. The biggest difference is her window overlooks the lake.
I’m glad I put so much though into it. When the house was finally done, and I brought Greer out to see it for the first time, she squealed at this room. She loves being able to look out her window to the water and yet still be able to keep an eye on everything happening in the living room. Oli won’t always live here, but the new baby won’t always be sitting still either.
I couldn’t care less what direction the windows face. I’m thrilled to be back on the farm, so I can get an extra forty-five minutes of sleep at night. Living in town was a hardship I was willing to deal with so I could be with my family, but I’m grateful to be back.
“Here ya go, cowboy.” Greer holds up a travel mug of hot coffee, knowing I was headed for the coffee pot.
“You already made coffee?”
She shrugs and takes a sip of some juice she has in a mug. I think it’s weird she doesn’t use a glass, but she claims sometimes she can trick herself into believing it’s a cup of her highly-coveted joe. “I was wide awake.”
Leaning against her desk, I reach down and rub her belly. She groans at my touch and leans back, closing her eyes. I know that’s my cue to keep rubbing. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I just hurt like always. I’m ready for this baby to get here.”
“Just two more weeks, babe. Two more weeks.”
“Yeah. And then my breasts will hurt from feedings. I’ll get even less sleep than I get now. And I’ll lose my arms from holding a baby all the time.”
I laugh softly through my nose. She’s trying hard to be excited about the baby, and I know once he or she gets here, Greer will be okay. She’ll love our child no matter what. The anticipation of what life will be like is making her terribly anxious. And hormones have made her seriously grumpy. But at least she’s relaxed a bit about our chances of genetic abnormalities. No, we don’t have all information yet. Hell, we don’t even know the gender. But nothing on the ultrasounds or in the blood tests have indicated any problems so far. For that, we’re grateful.
Oli ambles through the room, also headed for the coffee maker, if I had to guess. He’s been doing a great job of going to work every day. He’s still supervised closely, and he likely always will be. But with the exception of troubleshooting, he does a pretty good job as a dairy farm hand. When he’s not working, he gets his fill playing with the animals and feeding them all their favorite treats. Plus, he gets along with the other farm hands who are really good to him.
It’s been nice seeing him blossom, and I can only imagine he’ll do even better once he gets used to living in the bunk house.
“Don’t forget your medicine,” I call out to him. He holds up the medication bottle and flashes it at me in response.
Looking at Greer, who might be dozing off while I make circles on her stomach, I can’t help but think how beautiful she is like this. I can’t believe a year ago we were getting ready to meet for the first time. Talk about a whirlwind romance.
I wouldn’t do anything differently, though. Not one single thing.
Leaning over, I whisper, “Gotta go, baby. Why don’t you get back in bed?”
She shakes her head and opens her eyes. “You know I won’t sleep. Afternoon naps seem to work best these days.”
“Okay. But promise me you’ll rest today.” She nods, and I kiss her gently on the lips before leaving for the day.
~ ~ ~
Several hours go by, and it’s turning out to be a normal day. Milk cows, muck stalls, fix fences. It’s all fairly redundant.
The most interesting part is the phone call I got from Mrs. Johnson regarding the new school year which starts next week and how many students we can expect. We only have three so far. I’m surprised by how few will be coming out, but it seems to come in waves. We had a few kids roll out of the program last year, so I’m not shocked.
The other fun has been watching the temperature gauge hit one hundred seven for the fourth day. We’ve been taking bets on how many days in a row it’ll be this hot before a “cool front” knocks it back to ninety.
I’m glad to be going home for lunch just to get out of this heat. I’m also glad to be checking on my wife. The closer we get to “go time” the more worried I get. And for some reason, this morning didn’t sit well with me.
Closing the door behind me when I walk in, I take a split second to stop and enjoy the air conditioning. It’s this moment that I hear her on the phone.
“I can’t really tell if they’re consistent or not,” Greer says. “I’ll have a mild pain for about a minute, then another one three minutes later, then I’ll have a big one three minutes after that. That cycle has been going on for several hours.”
She’s been timing contractions for hours?
Racing into her office, I find her sitting straight up in her chair, rubbing her back while she talks. She looks up briefly when she sees me walk in but doesn’t address me.
“Uh huh. How soon do you want to see me?” Her eyes widen, I assume at the answer she’s given. “Oh. Okay. Well it’s going to be a little bit. I need my sister-in-law to come out to stay with the kids.”
That’s my cue to start texting people, starting with Pedro.
Me: Baby time. Take over.
Pedro: What? Right now? She’s not due for two weeks!
Me: You think babies care about that? Take over! And watch Oli for me!
“Julie!” I yell and race to the staircase leading to her room. “Julie! I have to take your mom to the hospital!”
The only response I hear is her racing down the stairs. “Is it time?” Her eyes are wide, and I can tell she’s trying to balance excitement with fear.
“I think so. Pedro is going to watch after Oli, but can you hang out until your aunt and uncle get here? I could drop you at the main house and you can stay with Brittany for a while.”
“Yeah sure,” she says quietly, then adds, “She’s gonna be okay, right?”
I tamper down my desire to race back to Greer and throw her in the car, instead focusing on my step-daughter who is battling her own emotions. “She’s going to be fine. She’s probably calmer than I am right now. In fact, maybe we should be worried about me passing out. I’ve never done this before. At least she knows what to expect.”
That rewards me with a smile, and I know I said exactly what she needed to hear.
“Well before you go, you may want to shower,” Julie advises. “You stink like cows, and I doubt the first thing my new sibling wants to smell when he or she is born is farm crud.”
Taking a whiff of myself, I realize she’s right. If we’re going to be at the hospital for the rest of the day and all night, I need to clean up.
Racing to the shower, I refuse to stop and enjoy the three shower heads I had installed as an over-the-top luxury for myself. It does wonders to help relieve my muscles after a fourteen-hour day, but this time, I take the world’s fastest shower instead. We have somewhere to be.
Faster than I clean up, I throw clean clothes on and race out the bedroom door, still pulling my T-shirt over my head. Somehow, in the thirty seconds it took to shower, my house has become a hub of activity.
Julie is eyeing Greer curiously, while Oli is asking all kinds of questions about what’s going to happen at the hospital. And Pedro is tracking dirt on my floor, pacing the room.
I try to ignore all of them, instead going straight to my wife. “You ready to go or do you need to do anything first?”
Surprise is written all over her face. “Oh. I didn’t realize you knew they said to come in.”
“I overheard you on the phone. Three minutes apart, right?”
She smiles at me and grabs my hand. “Yeah, but it’s weird. It’s definitely a pattern, but it’s not the kind of pattern they tell you to watch for. I’d honestly think it was Braxton-Hicks except for the fact that it’s been going on for so long. Maybe we should wait.”
I shake my head vehemently. “No. No way. Babe, you are pale and something feels different. I can’t put my finger on it, but I really think they’re right.”
She sighs heavily. “Okay. Let’s get checked out. But Ace”—she looks me dead in the eye as I pull her to a stand—“if Pedro even thinks he’s coming with us, I will drive a stake through his heart. I’m not doing another delivery with him there.”
A hearty laugh breaks free from my chest. “I’ll get rid of him. Why don’t you start waddling to the car?”
“Har, har, very funny.” But she complies and once again, I’m glad this is almost over. One hand is under her belly, holding it up to alleviate some of the pressure from her back. The other is running against the wall, like she can hardly stand up. I gesture for Julie to walk with her while I approach the men standing around doing nothing.
“Pedro.”
He rushes to me. “What do you need. Water? Towels? A car seat?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, we’re not doing this again. What I need is for you to head back to the barn with Oli and run things.”
“Are you sure? I’m here to support you, brother, just like you did me.”
I clap my hand on his shoulder. “I know. And I appreciate it. But after last time, I’m pretty sure my wife wants nothing to do with you. Oli, however, really needs you to stay calm and help him finish up all his work. Besides, the hospital might send us home.”
I know deep down in my gut there’s no way we’re coming home without a baby, but I’m not about to share that information with the two guys that are likely to freak out. Shuffling them out the front door with a wave goodbye, I watch until they safely drive away, then clamor into my own vehicle.
Greer’s eyes are closed and she’s breathing deeply, obviously in the middle of a contraction. Grabbing her hand, I encourage her to squeeze as tight as she can.
“I got you, babe. I got you.”
Within seconds, her eyes are open and she’s smiling at me. “It’s painful, but not as painful as labor should be. I’m telling you, it would not surprise me at all if they send us home.”
I disagree, but I’m not going to tell her that. I may not have a ton of experience with this kind of thing, but I’d also be a fool to have any form of opinion at all right now. She’s already threatened Pedro’s life. I’m sure mine is next.
We drop Julie off at the main house where Brittany is doing all her daily cooking for the staff, then head straight to the hospital. Fortunately, the drive is only about twenty minutes, but I swear Greer’s pain level increases ten-fold in that time. By the time we park and get to triage, she’s stopping every few minutes to grip my hand. All I can do is rub her back and not scream out in my own pain when it feels like my fingers are breaking.
And this is only the beginning.
“Name?” a bubbly nurse asks. She’s too bubbly in my opinion. Can’t she see my wife is in pain?
“Greer Whitman.” Greer leans against the counter, not actually looking at the nurse. “I think my doctor’s office called and gave you a heads-up.”
“Oh yes. They did. You know Dr. Haam is on vacation, right?”
Greer nods, while I bellow, “What?”
She blows out a breath, still shifting around from discomfort. “I didn’t tell you?”
“Uh, no.”
“They told me a couple weeks ago when I made my last appointment. We actually joked that baby would come this week because, isn’t that always the way?”
“What do we do now?” Honestly, I have no idea. Any time our vet has been on vacation when one of the bessies give birth, we just do our best and hope for a good outcome. Somewhere in my brain, I know that’s not what’s going to happen here, but it still doesn’t keep me from wondering what the hell we’re going to do instead.
“Don’t worry,” the nurse says, as she lays some paperwork on the counter for us to fill out. “Dr. Ruiz is here today. He’s covering all of Dr. Haam’s patients. Now fill this out please.”
The good news is, we have a doctor. The bad news is, they won’t give us a room until all the paperwork is filled out and processed, because of course our due date isn’t for a couple weeks so we haven’t pre-registered yet.
So we wait. And wait. And wait some more.
Some of the time, Greer is pacing, holding her hand on her back. Some of the time, she’s standing, leaning on my shoulders for support as I encourage her to breathe. Just when I think we’re about to have this baby on the floor of the hallway, they shuffle us into a room. I don’t know if it’s to triage her or for delivery. Hell, it could be both. Either way, I’m grateful she finally has a bed to lie down on, even if the first thing they do is check her cervix and declare her officially in labor, which doesn’t help her pain levels at all.
“You okay?” I ask, when everyone finally leaves the room, satisfied they have a few minutes to get ready. I hold her hand and kiss her knuckles. She looks tired, and I wish more than anything I could trade places with her. I feel helpless.
She runs her fingers through my hair and closes her eyes. “It’s weird because it hurts, but it doesn’t hurt much more than it has for the last two months. Just more localized, maybe? You know, I’m still not sure about getting an epidural because I don’t think the drugs are the best for the baby, and if this is as bad as it’s going to get, I think I’ll be okay without it.”
“Whatever you want, baby. Whatever you need.”
We rest like this for a while, me holding her hand, only knowing contractions are happening when she squeezes my hand tightly. Finally, the door opens and a couple people, including the first nurse we spoke to come in.
“There’s our patient!” A tall man with dark, curly hair swaggers forward. He’s got a slight accent and a big smile on his face. “I’m Dr. Ruiz, and if these contractions keep happening, I’m going to be delivering your baby today.” He shakes both our hands then washes them and grabs gloves. “I know the nurse checked you when you first got here and you were dilated to about a three.”
Sitting down, he situates the blankets around Greer’s legs and pushes his hand between them. She grimaces but doesn’t make a sound.
“Oh wow. You’re already at a six in what, about thirty minutes? If you want an epidural, we need to get one right now before it’s too late.”
Greer’s eyes widen, and I can tell she’s bewildered by how fast this is happening. “I was thinking about going without it. Especially if I’m already a six. Is there any reason I need one? Since I’m having a vbac?”
“That’s totally up to you.” Dr. Ruiz snaps off the gloves and tosses them into the trash. “There really is no medical reason why an epidural would make it safer to delivery vaginally after a cesarean. Especially since it was so many years ago. Really, the epidural is up to you.”
“I, um.” She looks at me but I don’t have any answers for her. It’s her body. I can’t decide this. I can only support her. “I really am afraid it’s going to get worse, and I’ll be stuck without it.”
Tucking her hair behind her ears I give her the only answer I can think of. “Babe, it’s fine if you want the epidural. If you’ll be able to get a couple hours of sleep, it might be worth it.”
She relaxes, like a load has been lifted off her shoulders. Then turning to Dr. Ruiz she says, “I haven’t slept in weeks. I think I need the epidural.”
He nods and the nurse immediately picks up a phone and makes a call. I assume to have the anesthesiologist paged.
“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Whitman, settle in,” he says, as he turns toward the door. “Looks like you’re about to add a new member to your family.”
His words hit me harder than I anticipated they would. I’ve had months to prepare for this. Months to get used to it. But suddenly the crib set up in the little nursery and the swing in her office have new meaning. The high chair in the corner of the kitchen has a real purpose. The car seat still in the box in the back seat of my truck is about to be installed.
August nineteenth is about to be the best day of my life.
Well, second best.
Okay fine. Top two.
I look at my wife, my beautiful, exhausted wife, and whisper, “We’re gonna have a baby.”
She laughs and then grimaces, squeezing my hand tightly.