Angel came in with Dare and they brought some magazines, some hand cream and lip balm, and a Happy Birthday balloon for our coming baby.
Angel was so excited.
I was sure it was bittersweet for her, since the
y’d been trying for months to get pregnant without success as of yet.
“You’ll probably have twins or triplets with those fertility drugs,” I had said a few days back while we’d been out for lunch. “Maybe you’ll be the next octo-mom.”
“I would be totally okay with that,” she replied with a faraway look in her eyes.
It was five o’clock and I’d been induced for eight hours with very little progress. I was glad for the epidural. I was also a little bit crabby, because I’d had about a dozen people looking under my hospital gown and prodding me down there to see if I’d dilated further.
Tommy looked about ready to blow his top, because at this stage, everyone was putting their hands on me down there without him even leaving the room.
“She’s only three centimeters,” the nurse said. “We’ve been upping her Pitocin constantly. If she doesn’t progress, it might mean a section.”
“The fuck is a section?” Tommy asked.
“Tommy. Language,” I reprimanded.
“A cesarean. C-section,” the nurse said.
Tommy went white. He looked at me. “No. Fuck, no.”
I was feeling sick. Scared. I didn’t wanna be cut open.
“You are not fucking filleting my wife!” Tommy snapped.
At that verbiage, I heaved. The nurse moved to me with a puke basin and just in time.
When I stopped barfing, she was scolding him.
“Mr. Ferrano, you need to dig deep and compose yourself. You’re upsetting your wife. Maybe in situations like these, we oughta go back to the days when daddies waited in the wings ready to hand out cigars, oblivious to what really happens here.”
She rubbed my back.
“No. Tommy, don’t go!” I was bawling.
Tommy was suddenly there, at my bedside. “Out of my way, lady. Baby?”
I looked up. His hand came to my jaw. He was oblivious to the death glares my nurse was giving him.
“Sorry, baby girl. I’ll be better. You’re gonna be okay.”
“I don’t want to do this. I wanna go home.”
“Baby, I’ve got you. We’re gonna get through this.”
“You’re gonna meet him tonight, either way,” the nurse said.
“Him?” I asked.
She smiled and shrugged. “Or her.”