I chuckled and leaned over to press a kiss to her cheek. “Hey, it’s not like I went and shot myself in the shoulder.”
Alana giggled, but the high, tinkling sound was suddenly cut off as her face contorted in pain and she crumpled in on herself, clutching at her stomach with a quiet moan.
“Another contraction,” murmured her mother, quietly running her fingers through her daughter’s hair. Alana squeezed my hand so tightly, I thought I might get nerve damage, but I didn’t mind. Seeing her in pain awakened something strange and animalistic within me. All I wanted was to be able to fight off what was hurting her, but, of course, I couldn’t protect her from the pain of childbirth.
“Just breathe through it, Alana,” said one of the nurses down by the end of the bed. “Breathe through it.”
I watched as Alana pulled in a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. The contraction seemed to pass; together, we breathed a sigh of relief.
“You’re amazing,” I told her.
The door to the room opened again and someone who was very clearly the doctor walked in, quickly pulling on a pair of long gloves.
“Hi, Ms. Rhodes,” she said, coming to stand beside me. She didn’t comment on the fact that the father of the baby had very clearly been operated on just down the hall, and was totally, absolutely focused on Alana. I decided I liked her immediately. “My name is Dr. Seeley. How are you feeling?”
“Like hell,” Alana croaked.
Dr. Seeley smiled and patted Alana’s knee. “Well, let’s see if we can get this baby out of you, okay?”
Alana nodded as the doctor made her way to the end of the bed between Alana’s outstretched legs. Her mother and I held each of her hands, ready to support her through it all. Alessandro and Marco stood along the back wall, very clearly trying to make themselves scarce while the nurses busied themselves about the room with expert efficiency.
“Oh, yes,” said Dr. Seeley. “I think we might be ready to push! Let’s give it a try, okay?”
Alana nodded, eyes wide. She turned to look at me and I offered her an encouraging smile, any thought of my own physical pain completely gone from my mind. We’d prepared for this day for nine months. Alana had come home from the library with armfuls of books, and some nights we would stay awake into the small hours of the morning researching endless forums for tips and advice. We had a birth plan and a mental list of everything to expect.
Still, in that moment, it was as if all the preparation slipped from my mind. All I could think about was the woman in front of me, suffering in pain, about to bring our child into this world.
“I love you,” I whispered in her ear.
“I love you, too,” she replied, just as softly, her voice trembling just the slightest bit.
“You can do this,” I whispered, kissing the back of her hand. “I’m right here with you.”
I watched as the love of my life set her jaw and fixed a look of raw determination on her face. Then, she took a deep breath and pushed. A cry of pain escaped her lips.
“Good! That’s so good!” called the doctor, her attention fixed on whatever was happening between Alana’s legs. I didn’t have a free hand to maneuver my chair down that way, but I was pretty sure I didn’t want to see for myself, anyway.
“I don’t feel well,” gasped Alana.
I frowned as something beeped irregularly on the monitor and a nurse glanced up at it with a furrowed brow.
“Her blood pressure is dropping,” said the nurse.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
The nurse didn’t answer. Instead, she hurried forward toward Alana. Her mother quickly scooted out of the way, confusion written plainly on her gently wrinkled features.
Alana’s grip grew weak in my hand and I locked eyes with her, watching in horror as the color drained from her face. More frightening beeps echoed throughout the room.
“Alana?” I asked, reaching up to jostle her shoulder. “Alana, honey, I’m right here.”
“What’s going on?” demanded Sherry.
Alana’s eyelids fluttered.
Grunting in pain, I forced myself up out of the wheelchair and leaned over her, placing my hands on her face.
“Baby, stay with me,” I whispered.