One Hot Doctor by Sarah J. Brooks

Chapter 36

Cora

There are ten of us in the parental classes, all in various stages of pregnancy. It feels like every female in the country is pregnant, being in a room full of pregnant women. It’s my fourth class, and I’m enjoying it. Thomas was right. Learning about what to expect during labor and after is dispelling my fear. Now I feel as if I can do it. I can take care of a baby.

After class, I head to Riley’s to see her baby girl. She’s two weeks old and has a mass of blonde hair on her little head. It seems like the baby season is on us now, first Fran and then Riley. I have several weeks to go, and to be honest, I can’t wait. I’m tired of being pregnant, and I’m looking forward to seeing my baby.

Riley gave birth with no pain medication. That’s Riley for you. I have no intentions of going that route. Whatever they can give me for pain, I’ll have it. I’m a wimp when it comes to pain, and I don’t even bother to pretend otherwise.

I get to Riley’s and ring the bell. A minute later, she opens the door and stands there holding her baby against her chest as if she’s been doing it for years.

“You’re a natural,” I tell her after we exchange greetings.

“It might look that way, but I’m a mess inside sometimes. Leo is awesome, though,” she says.

Before following her to the living room, I pop into the bathroom to wash my hands. Then I sit down, and she brings baby Sophia to me and places her gently in my arms.

“Is she always asleep?” I swing by Riley’s at least three times a week.

“Pretty much during the day, and then at night, she’s fully awake. I can’t wait for her to adjust her schedule. It’s a killer trying to stay awake at night,” Riley says. “Can I get you a coffee?”

“Yeah, that would be great, thanks.”

I raise Sophia to me and inhale her. She smells edible. I do this every time I come to see her. Babies have this sweet scent that makes you melt inside.

“How was class?” Riley says, returning with two mugs of coffee.

“Good, but I still can’t get over the fact that some women, a lot of them actually, want to give birth at home. I mean, that’s why we call it modern medicine, with hospitals and equipment and so forth.” I shake my head.

“It’s comforting to be home,” Riley says, but I’m not even listening to her.

I’m on a roll. Before the prenatal class starts, we all say our names as well as our planned place to give birth. I always say hospital, in a tone that suggests wanting a home birth is some form of madness.

“I think it’s crazy to want a home birth,” I say hotly.

“Knowing you, I’m sure that you state your views openly in class,” Riley says.

“Yes, of course. If I can get one of them to change their minds, I’ll be a happy camper.” I’m smug about it, but I can’t help it because I know that I’m right.

“I also bet you’ve made tons of friends in your class,” she says, her tone heavy with sarcasm.

I ignore her. From where I’m standing, giving birth seems so bloody, and anything can go wrong at any time.

“Hey, drink your coffee, it’s getting cold. Have you had enough baby love? I can take her to her crib.”

I haven’t, but she’ll be more comfortable in her own bed. “Sure.” Riley carries her upstairs, and when she comes back, she has a baby monitor.

“When is Doctor Sexy coming back?” Riley says.

I frown at her. “You should stop calling Thomas that. It’s weird. Anyway, he comes back tomorrow. That house is too quiet.”

We chat over this and that. Riley and I never run out of things to talk about. An hour later, I’m ready to go home. I’m tired, and I need to stretch my body.

I’m surprised that I’m not hungry when I get home. I’d saved some chili from last night’s leftovers, but I head straight upstairs to lie on the bed. I think the coffee reacted badly with my system. I don’t feel good, but I can’t pinpoint which part of my body is not well. I strip off, pull on my nightshirt, and then slip between the cool sheets. I feel too shitty to check my phone for messages from Thomas. I promise to check as soon as I wake up from napping.

I manage to doze off, but I wake up later to a crushing pain in my belly. I let out a groan as it reverberates throughout my body. When it’s over, I lie back in bed with sweat trickling down my face.

It’s definitely not labor. First of all, I have three weeks to go, and secondly, the first sign of labor is water breaking. I move my hips, but everything down there feels dry.

So what the fuck was that pain?

I start to doze off again, and minutes later, I wake up with another searing pain. This one is immediately followed by a gush of water. I push myself off the bed, and most of the water drips to the floor.

I’m officially in labor now, but from my parental classes, I know that first babies take hours to show up. Most likely, my munchkin will show up sometime tomorrow. I make the bed with fresh sheets and clean myself up, after which I slip into bed again.

The pains come at regular intervals, and I forget to time them, or rather, I don’t see a need to as I still have hours to go. I snuggle into bed and fall into a pattern of dozing, waking up from the contractions and falling back asleep. I do this until I realize that the intervals have grown shorter, and I’m not managing to sleep before another pain shoots through me. That’s when it hits me that I need to get to the hospital. I swing my legs off the bed, and another pain shoots through me.

This one is a notch higher, and it leaves me feeling as though I’ve been hit by a truck. When it’s over, I sit on the bed to catch my breath. I get up, and as soon as I do, I want to sit back down. The action of getting dressed, going downstairs, getting into my car, and then driving to the hospital feels insurmountable.

I have no concept of time, and it feels as if I’m locked up in this world by myself. I reach for my phone inside the bag. Guilt floods me when I see six missed calls from Thomas. It’s only ten at night, and it feels like midnight.

I call him back, and he answers on the first ring. Hearing his voice is such a relief, and to my shame, I burst into tears.

“Cora, what is it? Talk to me,” Thomas says.

“I think I’m in labor.” The second the words are out, a contraction comes over me, and it spreads over my back and to my ass.

I hold the phone away as I try and breathe through it as we were taught in prenatal classes. When it’s over, I bring the phone to my ear again.

“I don’t think I can drive myself to the hospital,” I tell Thomas.

“No, you can’t.” His voice is terse. “I’m going to disconnect the call now and get an ambulance for you. Don’t worry about the front door. I’ll tell them where to find the spare key.”

Another contraction comes, and this one comes with triple the pain. I scream.

“Fuck, Cora, I think the baby is on the way. Oh, God. If you can, grab some clean towels and lie on them.” He disconnects the call.

The pain fades away, and I rouse myself and do as he says. I grab some towels and arrange them on the bed and lie back down. Another pain comes, and my phone vibrates. I manage to grab it before the pain becomes unbearable.

“The ambulance is on the way.” Thomas’s voice sounds like it’s coming from far. “Breathe, Cora. You’ll be okay.”

Then something in my body changes, and an overwhelming urge to push comes over me. A deep guttural moan leaves my mouth.

“Are you pushing?” Thomas shouts. “Listen, sweetheart, don’t push. Breathe through it.”

“I can’t ...” Thomas has no fucking idea what he’s talking about. I don’t care whether he’s a doctor. He has never experienced what I’m going through now. Asking me not to push is like telling me to hold back a poop when it’s halfway out.

Two more pushes, and something soft and slippery lands on the towels. I glance between my legs. “Oh my God.” She has a full head of dark silky hair. “Hello, sweetheart.”

I lift her gently onto my stomach while taking a quick peek to verify that she’s indeed a girl. I’m wrapped up in a world of my own as I cuddle my baby.

“Cora, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

I remember Thomas and pick up my phone. “We have a beautiful baby girl,” I tell him. I can barely see her as tears stream down my eyes.

“Is she breathing? Has she cried?”

I laugh with wonder. “She’s staring at me as if trying to figure out who I am. Oh, Thomas, you should see her; she’s so beautiful.”

At that moment, my bedroom door bursts open, and I see Martin. Before I can recover from seeing him in our bedroom, the paramedics enter carrying a stretcher.

The last thing I hear Thomas say is, “I can’t believe that you actually gave birth alone.”