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“Mary. What the…?”
But then she groaned and curved over her belly. And he understood. It was another contraction.
He gave her his hand again to hold onto, and she got through it as she had the ones before, supporting her big stomach with the hand that wasn’t clutching his, groaning as if she was about to push that baby out right then and there.
When she could talk again, she swung her feet back on the bed, covered up and took the cell back. She dialed and shook her head at him as the phone on the other end rang and rang. In the end, she left a message and flipped the phone shut. “Well. One way or another, Ida’s bound to get the message that her grandchild is on the way.” She set the phone on the stand by the bed.
In his pocket, his BlackBerry started vibrating.
She could hear the buzzing sound it made and slanted him a sideways look. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
About then, he realized it just might be Mary’s mother-in-law. But when he got it out and checked the display, he saw it was only his father. Again. “It’s nothing that can’t wait.” He put the phone away and pulled one of the easy chairs close. “What happens next?”
She reached for his hand. “More of the same. Hours of it.”
He sat in the chair. “Having a baby is pretty damn monotonous.”
She grinned at him, still holding tight to him, her fingers laced with his. “You’re right. Well, aside from the screaming and the blood and the pain.”
The hours went by. Nurses came and went. The doctor appeared twice, to ask Mary questions and examine her to see how her labor was progressing. Gabe wasn’t really up on things like dilation and effacement, but he gathered that it was all happening pretty much as expected.
It seemed completely natural to him, to be there, holding Mary’s hand, while Dr. Breitmann examined her. Natural, and important, too.
The whole process filled him with awe. And being awed wasn’t like him. Not like him in the least. He found himself thinking stuff he never really thought about.
How he’d always been the kind of guy who skimmed along the surface of life, keeping it cool, never getting too close. He was self-aware enough to know that some people called him shallow, and self-assured enough not to give a damn what anyone thought. He liked his life just the way it was and he had no intention of changing it.
But there in that labor room, with Mary…
He was involved. Really involved. And it was great. Because this mattered, a new life coming. He wanted to help. Any damn way he could.
When they finally decided it was time to wheel Mary down to the delivery room, a nurse told him he’d have to suit up before he could go.
No problem, he said. Whatever they needed him to do. First, though, they had him take Mary’s stuff into the room where she’d be staying after the birth. Once he did that, he put on the blue gown they gave him and the ridiculous hairnet, too, and he washed his hands with their special disinfecting soap.
And then they let him in to be with her. He got the top half of her, while the nurses and the doctor worked below. He held her hand when she needed it and wiped her sweaty face with a cool, wet cloth and said soothing things. He took his cue from the doctor and encouraged her when it was time to push.
And then, finally, after hours and hours of waiting, of Mary working like a trouper to make it happen, she pushed for all she was worth and Dr. Breitmann said, “This is it, I see the head…”
And Mary was panting and pushing and crying and Gabe heard himself say, “You’re doing it, Mary. Come on. It’s really happening…”
And she let out a low, agonized scream. Tears were running down her red, sweat-shiny, scrunched-up face as she pushed. And she let out a laugh, right then, at the same time as she was bawling her eyes out. “Lord. Gabe. I can’t…”
“You can,” he told her. “You are. You’re doing great…”
She cried and laughed and pushed even harder and the nurse said the head was out. Mary pushed some more.
And then the doctor announced, “We’ve got the shoulders clear. The rest should be quick.”
And it was. The baby slid out in a rush after that.
Gabe heard a raspy intake of breath and the baby’s first cry, a loud, very cranky sound.
Mary said, “The baby? My baby…”
“You have a beautiful baby girl,” said the doctor.
Mary cried, “Oh! Oh, thank you. Thank you…” as if Dr. Breitmann had done all that pushing and panting. She held out her arms.
The doctor passed her the baby. Mary cradled the tiny, squalling, blood-streaked, naked child close, not even caring that the cord was still attached.
She looked up at Gabe over the baby’s head, through exhausted eyes that still managed to shine with pure happiness. “I can’t believe it. I did it. Oh, Gabe. Look what I did…”
“You did good,” he answered gruffly, around the sudden tightness in his throat. “Real good.”
She stroked the baby’s slimy, bloody head. “Virginia Mae,” she whispered, and glanced at him again. “My mom was Virginia. And Ida’s middle name is Mae.”
“I like it,” Gabe told her. “It’s a fine name.”
A few minutes later, the nurses clamped the cord and took the baby to examine her and clean her up a little. Once they had her wrapped in a blanket, Gabe was allowed to hold her, just for a minute.
She was so light in his arms, and warm. He looked down into her squinty blue eyes and something.. .happened inside him, something momentous and scary, a feeling he didn’t understand.
But so what? Why wouldn’t he be gone on that baby? He’d just seen her being born. Even helped, as much as he could.
“Little Ginny,” he whispered to her, and she made a happy cooing sound, as if she thought his nickname for her was just fine. He watched, fascinated, as she tried to get her fist into her little pink mouth.
By then, they were ready to take Mary and the baby to their room. They put Mary on a gurney and wheeled her down there while one of the nurses pushed the baby in a plastic hospital bassinet. Gabe trailed along behind, thinking vaguely that he probably should be getting going—but somehow, still not ready to leave Mary and the baby on their own.
Her room had two beds, but the other bed was empty, the privacy curtain pulled back. Once they had her settled, they raised the head of Mary’s bed and she nursed Ginny for the first time, easing aside her hospital gown and putting the tiny red baby to her full white breast. The baby rooted around, making funny squeaky sounds. And then Mary guided the nearly-bald head into position, lifting her breast and offering the nipple at the same time. Ginny latched on and Mary said, “Ouch! That hurts…” And then she laughed softly to herself. “Well, I think you’re catching on, aren’t you?” She stroked Ginny’s wispy hair.
Should Gabe have looked away while she fed her baby for the first time?
Yeah. Probably.
But he didn’t. By then, he’d seen most of what there was to see of Mary Hofstetter. And it just wasn’t…like that, with Mary. She was so natural about everything, so matter-of-fact. She had no false modesty.
She looked up from the baby at her breast and saw him watching her. And she smiled.
He smiled back and then her attention was all for Ginny again. Gabe watched that. The miracle of that. Mary and her baby, together.
Somewhere, a cell started