Answering Machine

I awoke with a start in the middle of the night, not quite sure, at first, what had brought me from my slumber. I soon realized, however, that it had been the sharp jabs of pain in my abdomen that shifted from unbearable to excruciating, and back again, before subsiding for a few moments. Subsequently, I noticed that the sheets beneath me were damp with the unmistakable sign that my water had broken.

“John,” I stated, at first quietly, simply staring at the bed in what could be nothing but horror. He, of course, didn’t stir next to me, as he was an impossibly sound sleeper and my voice had barely made a blip on the sound radar in the night.

“John!” I cried, my voice cracking and hitching this time with pure nervousness. I blindly reached my hand over to shake his shoulder, before another wave of pain hit me in the gut. I let out an uncontrollable yelp, clutching my belly and wincing and writhing.

“Linds?” John’s groggy, disoriented voice wavered to my ears and I turned to look at him with a panic-stricken expression. “What’s wrong?”

As soon as he saw my face and my huddled position he bolted upright next to me, his hands finding my shoulders as he drew himself closer.

“I can’t – it’s – oh my god, it hurts,” I whined, biting down hard on my lower lip as tears began to stream down my face.

“What? What hurts?” he panicked, moving in front of me.

“The baby!” I yelped. His hands gripped my shoulders and his eyes widened as he began sputtering nonsense.

“No, it can’t – it’s not – the due date isn’t for another month!”

“Well, that’s obviously a little irrelevant right now!” I countered with a groan of frustration. “The baby is coming now.”

“Oh my god. Holy shit. Okay,” John began rambling as he leaped off the bed, continuing to mutter about packing a bag and calling my doctor and getting me down to the car.

I moved to somehow get out of the bed, although I wasn’t quite sure what I was planning on doing once I did so, but John marched straight over to me and gently pushed me back.

“You stay there,” he instructed. “I’ll pack some stuff for you, and then we’ll go to the car, okay?”
He was suddenly talking clearly and making sense, so I nodded and sat back, trying to remember how I had been taught to breathe when this time finally came. Then again, I hadn’t been expecting this day to come for another month, so I couldn’t say I was all too prepared.

John bustled and scurried around the room, throwing open dresser drawers and closet doors, pulling out a duffel bag and shoving articles of clothing into it, and even remembering to toss in my toothbrush. I sat there in my spot on the bed, watching him and trying to remain calm and stifle my cries of pain, although let’s face it, I wasn’t do a very good job at either. Eventually, though, John made his way back to me and held out his hands to help me wobble out of the bed.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he told me, smiling softly as he kissed the top of my head once my feet had made it onto the floor. I looked warily at him, hoping to God that he was right, because I couldn’t honestly say I felt the same way he did.

I didn’t tell him, but there was nothing I felt more in those early morning hours that pure, gripping fear. I knew that a month of prematurity wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been, but the endless possibilities of complications and problems gripped at me more fiercely than the pain that surged through me every several minutes.

When we finally, slowly, made it out to the car, I blinked at the clock on the dashboard that read 2:18 AM.

“This is ridiculous,” I groaned as John started the car and pulled out of the garage. He simply smiled comfortingly at me and held my hand over the console between our seats.

“Just breathe, Linds,” he advised, stroking his thumb over mine.

“Easy for you to say!” I retorted, leaning my head back against the seat and trying to make good on his advice. “I don’t see you crippled over in pain with a baby trying to push itself out of you!”

John laughed at this and I sent him a deathly glare, although he didn’t see it as he focused his attention to the dark road ahead of us.

“Ugh, this is all your fault,” I accused with a grumble, gripping his hand with one of my own and the door handle with the other as another wave of pain crashed over me.

“My fault?” he asked with a chuckle, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to grin at me. I didn’t know whether he deserved a slap or a hug for putting up with me in such good spirits.

“Well, yeah!” I began to argue. “You’re the one who had to go and get me pregnant.”

“Sorry, I’ll try to refrain next time,” he promised with a smirk.

“You’re not funny,” I told him with a huff.

“Oh, come on, Linds,” he sighed. “Forgive me for trying to make you a little less stressed out. I mean, look, you’re going to have this baby – we’re going to have this baby - and she’s going to be beautiful and healthy, and in no time at all we’ll all be coming home, okay?”

I didn’t respond; I merely turned my head to look at him, a smile finally pulling across my lips.

“What?” he asked, glancing at me for a moment with a worried expression, “What’s wrong?”

“You said ‘she,’” I told him.

Ever since I told John I was pregnant, he had been incredibly keen on the idea of having a baby boy; I, on the other hand, was forever hoping we would have a girl. We chose not to let my doctor tell us which one of us was right – we wanted to wait until the bitter end to know – and we both went on hoping to be right.

“Like I said, just trying to calm you down,” he covered quickly. I settled back into the seat, smiling to myself. My moment of happiness didn’t last too long, however, as nerves, anxiety, and pain crept their way back into my body.

After speeding down the highway and narrowly avoiding several red lights, we came to a stop in front of the hospital’s emergency room. One man rushed towards us with a wheel chair and another stepped around the driver’s side to valet the car to the parking garage. John and the man helped me into the wheelchair, and the man (a nurse, I now presumed) immediately asked me how far apart my contractions were.

“I don’t know, a few minutes,” I told him, listening to my voice shake. “They’re closer now than they were when they started, though.”

He simply nodded curtly and began pushing me into the brightly lit hospital, with John keeping up next to me. I reached out for his hand, which he grasped immediately, lacing our fingers together and giving them a small, reassuring squeeze. In a few blurry moments, I had made it into a bed in the maternity ward with pain relievers being pumped through my veins.

“How are you feeling?” John asked as he sat next to me, pushing back the hair that was falling into my clammy face.

“How do you think I’m feeling?” I snapped, which only caused him to smile empathetically at me and lean forward to kiss my forehead.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized immediately. “I just want it to be over.”

“I know, sweetie, I know,” he murmured, stroking his thumb over my cheek. I sighed and looked down at my big, inflated, belly, before looking back up at him.

“John?” I whispered, blinking away tears. He scooted his chair closer to the edge of my bed and looked at me, holding both of my hands in his own. “What if something happens? What if something goes wrong? It’s so early, you know?” What if – what if the baby doesn’t make it?”

“That’s crazy talk, Lindsay,” he told me gently. “I told you before, everything’s going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” I argued feebly, although I wanted nothing more than to believe him.

“Yes, I do,” he promised with a soft smile. I closed my eyes and nodded, leaning my head back against the pillows that were propped up behind me. I knew that was stupid; of course he didn’t know that, but I wasn’t about to argue with him.

I decided right then and there that if John told me that everything was going to be all right, then I was going to believe him.

Four hours of labor – excruciatingly painful and miserable labor, mind you – later, I was joyously aware of the fact that John had made good on his promise.

“I told you we were going to have a girl,” I whispered softly, smiling down at the tiny pink bundle in my arms.

From his spot squished next to me on the hospital bed, John chuckled softly, but otherwise remained quiet, simply staring down at Allie.

“You should hold her,” I told him, glancing up at him.

“I’m afraid I might break her,” he whispered back. “She’s so little.”

‘You won’t break her,” I told him with a small laugh. “I promise.”

He nodded and held his arms open so I could gently shift Allie into his grasp. Once he finally had her cradled in his arms, I sat back, grinning widely at them.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered to her. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was agape just the slightest bit, with a soft, pink hat pulled over her head.

“She looks like you,” I insisted, leaning my head against his shoulder.

“What?” he asked. “You think so?”

“John,” I laughed, “she has your eyes, and your nose, and – “

“Okay, fine,” he interrupted, “but I bet she’s as smart as you. I bet she’s already got entire Shakespearian works floating around in that little head of hers.”

I shook my head and giggled, leaning back against the bed. John slowly rocked Allie back and forth in his arms and began singing quietly to her, his smile never leaving his face. I closed my eyes, letting exhaustion wash over me as I listened to his soft voice and thought thankfully about how everything had ended up so perfectly.