“Please?” I ask, standing.
“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.” He rushes to the bathroom, and returns, pulling a hoodie over his head. He sets the towels on the edge of the bed and tugs on a pair of sweatpants. “Ready?” he asks, picking up the towels and sliding his arm around my waist. He walks me out to the garage and helps me into the car. He then lifts the garage door and starts the engine. “I’m going to go get the bags. I’ll be right back.” He kisses me on the corner of my mouth, then races back into the house.
“I’m so excited to meet you,” I whisper to my belly. I know there could be complications from the placenta previa. Dr. Hatfield has talked extensively with us about this. I want to try to deliver naturally. And by naturally, I mean give birth with an epidural vaginally. However, if a caesarean section is necessary, then I want Dr. Hatfield and her team to do whatever it takes to bring the boys safely into the world.
Ty rushes back, tosses our bags in the back, and slides in the driver’s seat. “You okay?” he asks, his eyes full of panic.
“Hey.” I reach over and place my hand on his arm. “It’s okay. I’m fine. The boys are fine. I’m not even in any pain. Yet,” I add, because I know that’s coming. “We get to meet our sons today,” I whisper, barely able to see through the tears starting to form in my eyes. This pregnancy has been a challenge, with so many highs and lows. We’ve waited a lifetime to meet them. Our sons.
He grins a boyish grin. “I love you, Reagan Justice. Let’s get you to the hospital. We’ll call our families on the way.”
Thanks to the hospital’s preregistration process, they send us straight upstairs to the maternity ward where I’m assigned a room. Tyler helps me change into my hospital gown and then into bed. A nurse comes in and hooks the babies up to fetal monitors to watch their heartrates. There is also a machine strapped to my belly that captures contractions.
That’s what I’m doing now—watching, breathing through yet another strong contraction. I did well on the way here and even while they were signing me in. The doctor came in and checked me, and the boys must have decided they were ready. About fifteen minutes later the first strong contraction hit and they’ve been coming like clockwork every fifteen minutes since.
“You’re doing great, babe,” Tyler encourages from his spot beside my bed. “That was a good one,” he says, eyeing the printout from the monitor.
“I know,” I deadpan. He doesn’t need to tell me.
“Sorry.” He winces. I know he’s trying to help, but it’s my body and I know when I’m having a contraction. He brings our joined hands to his lips and kisses my knuckles. Closing my eyes, I rest my head against the mound of pillows behind me and wait for the next one.
“More ice?” he offers.
“No, I’m—” I’m cut off by another strong contraction.
“Ten minutes,” he says, letting me grip his hand with force even I didn’t know I was capable of.
I breathe through the pain until it subsides. “I’m sorry,” I start again. “This just hurts.”
“I know, baby. I don’t know what to do for you. I’m here, okay, for whatever you need. Rip my hand off, cuss me out, whatever. I’m your man.”
I smile over at him. “I love you.”
“I love you, and these guys,” he says, placing his hand on my belly. I’m not sure how he found a spot that wasn’t connected to some kind of wire or monitor, but he managed to do so.
His phone pings with two messages, one right after the other. I watch as he pulls it out to check. “Our parents are here,” he tells me. “You want to see them?”
“Yeah, I’m not sure how much longer until these little guys get here.” He types out a reply and slides his phone back in his pocket. A few minutes later, our parents are lightly knocking on my door and pushing it open.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Dad says. Mom smiles with tears in her eyes, as does my mother-in-law, Helen.
“Hi.” I wave awkwardly.
“How are you feeling?” Helen asks.
“Good. The contractions are strong, about fifteen minutes apart.”
“That last one came close together,” Tyler chimes in.
“Yeah,” I agree, feeling my belly tighten. He must sense it as well because he offers me his hand. He watches me as I breathe through the pain.
“That was eight minutes.” Again, I don’t need him to tell me, but I know he feels helpless. I bite my tongue to keep from snapping at him. Again.
“Ridge is on his way. Kendall is staying home with the kids,” Mom tells me.
“Call him and tell him not to come. Who knows how long it will be? Just tell him you’ll keep him updated,” I tell my parents.
“Good luck with that.” Dad chuckles.
I know he’s right. My big brother has been there for me my entire life. I can’t see him missing this for the world. “You’re probably right.”
“Dawn and Mark are out in the waiting room,” John, my father-in-law, informs us. “They said Kent and Seth are on their way.”
Hot tears prick my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I tell them. “I hate that everyone’s sleep got interrupted. You should go home. We’ll call you when they get here. We don’t know how long this is going to take.”
“Hey.” My dad comes over and kisses my temple. “We want to be here, Reagan. All of us. We don’t feel obligated. We want to be here for you.”
“I-I love you all.” I can no longer hold onto the tears as they stream down my face, at the same time, another contraction hits. I try to breathe through it, squeezing the life out of my husband’s hand.
“Five minutes,” Tyler says, and I can hear both the worry and the excitement in his voice.
“We’re going to go back to the waiting room. We just wanted to say hello.” Helen gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ll be waiting to meet those baby boys,” she says, her eyes now misty with tears as well.
“Thank you.” My parents say goodbye as well and leave Tyler and me alone. I struggled with who to have in the delivery room with me. In the end, I decided I wanted it to be just the two of us. I love my family, but this moment, it’s ours, and I want to have time with our babies, just our little family of four. Even for a few minutes. It’s a moment I know neither of us will ever forget.
The next couple of hours pass by in a blur. Contractions come and go. I’m checked more times than I can count, and finally, I’m given my epidural. The relief from the pain is welcome. Not only does it relax me, but I can tell that it relaxes Ty as well.
“You doing okay, Reags?” he asks.
I smile at him. “Wonderful. The pain is gone. I can feel pressure, but it doesn’t hurt.” He nods, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Good.” He leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth.
I’m so relaxed that I drift off to sleep, only to wake with the feeling of extreme pressure. “Ty,” I say groggily. He’s lying with his head on the bed. He looks completely uncomfortable.
“Yeah?” he asks, sitting up and blinking.
“I think it might be time,” I tell him. His eyes dart to the machine that monitors contractions, and he nods like he knows how to read it or something. Standing, he hits the Call button for the nurse.
Not a minute later, she’s breezing into the room. “How are you, Reagan?” she asks.
“I’m good. No pain, but I feel a lot of pressure.”
She nods. “That’s normal. Sounds like you might be ready. Let’s have a look.” She proceeds to check me. At this stage in the game, I’m used to it. I never gave much thought to how often pregnant women are in compromising positions. It’s a lot. “It’s time. You ready to meet your babies?” she asks.
We both nod as worry takes hold. I don’t know what to expect, and I pray my boys arrive safely into this world. She pulls a phone out of her pocket and rattles off my room number and tells them it’s time to summon the team. That’s when things begin to happen so fast I can hardly keep up. When she said team, she wasn’t kidding. The doctor comes
in followed by eight other people. Four for each baby.
“Wow,” I say as they scurry into the room and take their places.
“You’re in good hands, Reags. We made sure of that,” Tyler reminds me.
He’s right; we did. We did our research with the help of Dr. Hatfield, making sure the hospital was prepared for a multiple birth. They assured us they could handle any issues that might arise. It helps that the local children’s hospital is just a few blocks over. And while Dr. Hatfield is adamant that both the boys are healthy, I still worry.
“All right, Reagan, are you ready to push?” Dr. Hatfield asks.
My legs are in stirrups, and I’m exposed to everyone in the room, but I can’t seem to find it in me to care. It’s time to meet our baby boys. “Yes,” I say, gripping Tyler’s hand tightly. I’m more than ready to meet our boys.
The next fifteen minutes are a blur. I push and push. The nurse and Ty hold my legs as I grip the sheets. I’m exhausted already and I’ve not heard the first cry.
“You’re doing great, Reagan. One more and Baby A will be here.”
“You’ve got this, Reags. I know you do.” Ty swipes a cool cloth over my forehead.