Page 119 of Demo
With my free hand, I turn her head toward me. “You can do it,” I say, even though I’m talking out of my ass because I’m not sure I could do it.
“You’re close, Emily,” the doctor says. “The head will be out with the next push, and then it’s smooth sailing from there. Just one more push, and hold for ten seconds.”
Leaning in, I say to Emily, who looks exhausted and defeated and scared, “You can do anything for ten seconds. Pain is temporary. You’re going to make it. And then your baby will be here.” Except that’s bullshit, too. If anyone knows pain isn’t temporary, it’s me.
Looking in my eyes, she nods, and then the curtain billows open and there’s Bram and Knox. “Emily!” Bram shouts as he makes his way over and grabs her other hand, kissing her forehead. Knox immediately turns on his heel, having seen something he shouldn’t have, and stands with his back to us.
“Where the hell have you been?” I scold Bram as Emily tightens her grip on both of us.
“There was a pileup on the highway, I was texting you—”
“Yeah, a little busy here—”
“It’s OK,” Emily says. “You’re here now. You’re here.”
There’s a pause, and then we hear, “Hey, Em. How’s it going.” It’s Knox, his back still turned to us.
“Fucking fantastic, brother. How you doing?”
“Eh, you know. Same old, same old—”
“Everyone shut up,” the doctor interrupts. “Emily, I need you to push. You want me to clear the area, or you good with everyone here?”
“They can stay,” she pants, then adds to Knox, “Just don’t even think about turning around!”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he replies.
Taking in a big breath, Emily bears down, screams, swears and growls.
I make a point not to look at the danger zone as sounds of sloshing, and slurping, and just grossness ring out. “The head is out, now just one more push,” the doctor says, and my eyes bulge as I envision a baby’s head just hanging out of Emily’s crotch.
She gives another push and then there’s more wet sounds and a sudden cry. It’s horrifying, and exciting and … unbelievable.
Bram and Emily are both sobbing uncontrollably as the doctor holds the baby up. “Meet your new baby girl,” she says as she lays it down on Emily’s chest.
“Oh, God!” I gasp. “What’s wrong with her?” Bram, Emily and the doctor laugh.
“Nothing,” the doctor says. “Nothing at all. She’s perfect.”
“Why does she look like a raisin? And why is she all goopy?!”
More laughter. “She’s had a day,” the doctor says, gesturing toward the little thing crying and squirming on my sister-in-law’s body. And, to my horror, both she and Bram are touching it and kissing it, completely oblivious to the white slimy stuff all over her.
They are in a little bubble. They are on another planet right now. Just the two of them and their new baby. And then a weight hits me in the gut as I wonder what it’s like. What it would have been like for Knox and me. And then the guilt for having that thought is a second punch, because I should be nothing but happy for them.
“Alright, Dad, will you do the honors?” the doctor asks Bram, handing him a pair of scissors that looks like something I would cut Christmas wrapping paper with.
“Is it safe to turn around, now?” I hear Knox ask.
“Yep,” the doctor says as she snaps off her gloves and throws a sheet over Emily’s legs. “The placenta already came out. We’ve got some cleanup to do, but she’s got a minute.”
Barf.
Knox slowly turns around and takes in the scene: His brother sobbing like a baby, Emily beaming, the goopy disgusting little bundle between them. And then me. I have no idea what kind of emotion I am projecting, but it must be concerning, because Knox gives me a sad smile.
And there it is. One of the things that binds us together. I can tell he feels it, too. The sadness and the guilt amidst the sheer happiness. Because we are happy for them. So incredibly happy. We’re just feeling sad for ourselves, too.
There’s no one else in the world who can share this melancholy moment with me. I wish to God there was.
