Page 82 of Reticent

Hunter enters the room, his anxious eyes landing on what I’m doing. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

I zip up the bag and walk into my bathroom. “Because I’m about to take a shower.”

“Now? Do you really think that’s a good idea?” He follows behind me.

“We just had sex, and my water broke. So, yes, I do. I should shave my legs, too.” I grab a new razor from the vanity.

“What?” Hunter shoves both hands through his hair.

I walk around him and reach into the shower, turning it on and adjusting the temperature. “Can you go do something instead of hovering?”

Hunter moves in front of me, blocking the shower door. “We need to go. This is happening. Now.”

We planned for this. The classes, the books, the appointments, the checklist. But now that we’re down to the wire, I’m becoming paralyzed with fear. I’ve witnessed my younger siblings being born, so I know what’s in store for me. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Hey,” he soothes, lifting my chin. “Yes, you can.”

I shake my head as tears swim in my eyes. “It’s too soon. I’m not ready.” Although the complications are low for a late preterm delivery, there are still risks.

Hunter puts his hands on my shoulders. “Your body has been preparing for this moment. Everything is going to be all right. But we have to get you to the hospital. Okay?”

I nod. “I can do this.”

“Damn right you can.” He runs his hands up and down my shoulders and brushes his lips to my forehead. “I’ll give you a few minutes to freshen up.”

I take a deep breath, mustering up all the courage I can.

Hunter gathers my face in his hands. “We’re finally going to meet our boy,” he says with bright glistening eyes.

I smile through my own watery eyes. “We are.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

I’m admitted to the hospital as soon as we arrive. And to avoid the risk of infection, my doctor will induce labor in twenty-four hours if it doesn’t progress on its own.

It doesn’t. I sleep most of the night, trying to preserve my energy for the main event.

By Monday morning, my labor still hasn’t progressed. My contractions on the monitor are so mild that I can barely feel them. We first try natural measures: walking, acupressure, muscle stretching, and even nipple stimulation, which isn’t as sexy as it sounds. Nothing seems to work. Talk about discouraging.

But through it all, Hunter never leaves my side and doesn’t plan on it. He’s packed a few nights’ worth of clothes, just in case.

And after a frustrating day and night, I finally doze off to sleep.

* * *

My first big contraction hits on Tuesday at four a.m., and oh my God, does it hurt. It feels like the worst menstrual cramps ever. I groan as my stomach tightens in pain.

Hunter jolts awake from the chair at my bedside. “Squeeze my hand.”

“It hurts.” I hiss, squeezing his hand.

“I’m so proud of you, baby. You’re doing so good.”

His words give me strength and courage, so I cling to them. Maybe this is it. Maybe things are starting.

My contractions taper off, causing my labor to stall. The nurse comes in to check my dilation, and it’s only at four centimeters.

Out of ten.