“Why are you angry? It’s not as if I’ve had a baby before … I’m not a doctor … I fucking ride motorbikes for a living!” I yell back.
“Maybe I should have fucked a doctor then!” What the hell does that mean? Jealousy clears my fear.
“Do something!” Still the low cow voice. I’m still trying to figure out what that something is when she screams again. She glares at me as soon as her body stops contracting.
“GRIMM … I’m going to fucking strangle your bloody perfect neck! Do something!” Fuck the cow … she’s now breathing like a rodeo bull ready to attack.
I move between her legs and slide my fingers into her waistband. Usually, when I’m about to undress her it’s with sweet anticipation … not THIS time … I’m fucking terrified to death. I pull her briefs down with her pregnancy jeans in one swift motion, throwing them unceremoniously on the ground.
I look between her legs … not seeing any baby … YET … but I’m sure something looks different somehow.
“Is he there?” she asks anxiously.
“No! Breathe … keep calm … breathe IN … like in the classes,” I take a deep breath, “one … two … three … four …” I breathe out, “OUT … one … two … three … four … just don’t panic …” I feel dizzy. My breath puffs out.
This breathing shit does not seem to be working. Maybe I’m doing it wrong. I try again.
Nope … still dizzy.
What the fuck must I do? I can’t drive her to the hospital in this condition, can I? She’s bottomless naked on my truck … legs spread apart … with me standing between them. Rather erotic if not for the laboring part.
Wait … the bag …
I hold my hands up.
“Stay here … don’t go anywhere … okay … I’ll be back … ”
“Where the hell would I go, stupid!” She has a point. I run to the front and grab the hospital bag and a blanket from the backseat. Luckily my sexy baby-mamma listened to the doctor and got prepared in case … this happened.
I get back to where Mel is screaming in pain again.
“Keep calm … just keep calm angel … and breathe …” I’m unsure if I’m saying that to her or myself. She grabs my shirt in a bear grip.
“Don’t you tell me what to do!” her voice is hoarse. She is scary.
“Eh … don’t shout it will fall out.” I try to not go in a flat spin. For probably the first time in my life I’m so fucking scared I can’t even remember my own name. I squeeze the blanket underneath her.
“Stay calm!” she shouts while clenching her teeth. “Aaaahhhh!”
“I am calm … you must breathe … one … two … three … ”
“Stop counting … fuck … we have to go … I need my doctor …” I also need your doctor. Where is Doctor Burden when you need her?
She lets out another high-pitched intense wail of pain while vigorously clutching my shirt in a grip that would outdo Superman. A few buttons pop.
I can assure you now, that when your brain gets deprived of oxygen, your body starts to do strange things. Like hugging the love of your life while she’s crunching through a contraction.
“Maybe this is just a false alarm.” It seems that you also start saying strange things. That is clearly not appreciated by your laboring soon-to-be wife. I wonder if she’s still going to marry me after this shit.
She shakes me like a rag doll, her hands still firmly clutching my shirt.
“Don’t hug me … I’m not sick!” I try to move back but she’s not letting go as another contraction rips through her.
She jabs me forward. I lose my balance and almost fall onto her.
“HRNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGG! This is NOT a false alarm, dick! He’s coming out!” she roars in my ear and shoves me away.
“Fuck!” Fear clouds my already-not-working mind. I don’t have a clue how to deliver a fucking human. I’ve only seen a calf being born … once … on Animal Planet. And the cow did all the work. The bull wasn’t even present. But, even with a brainless mind, I’m pretty sure I should not tell her that.
“You keep that fucker in … he can’t be born here … I’m taking you to the hospital …”
“Are you fucking crazy!” A small part of my brain distinguishes that we’re swearing too much, and she’s not even noticing.
“No … just keep it inside,” I push her knees together. “We must get to the hospital … where it’s safe … and where they know what they’re doing. You keep it inside and don’t let it come out …”
“Damion,” she hisses out my name in a not-very-pleasant way. “I fucking hate you!” she screams as another wave of pain hits her. “This is your fault!”
“EEEEHHH! I want an epidural!”
“Eh … even if we get to the hospital now they won’t give you one …” I tell her truthfully. At least I remember some things I’ve learned in our antenatal classes.
“Stop talking like you know everything!” she screams and then whispers breathlessly, “Speak nicely to me.” Tears roll down her flustered cheeks.
“I love you angel … you can do this … you’re the prettiest girl in the world …” I ramble the nicest things I can think of.
“I fucking hate you!” Clearly, it was not nice enough.
“This is all YOU! If I get up from here I am going to kill you!” She grabs my face between her hands, squashing my cheeks so it, in turn, pouts my lips out.
“The contractions are close together … I think,” she croaks. I remember what that means. The baby is close. And I’m not ready to catch it … she has to give me more time.
“No … stop the contractions …” I try to reason with her. “I’m not ready yet … you need to slow it down,” I explain. She spasms and screams. These contractions are not helping.
“Don’t push.” She lifts her head and gives me a stare that would freeze hell over. I swear she’s gonna murder me before my son takes his first breath. For the first time, a girl actually manages to scare me deep into my soul.
She grabs my church shirt again and eyeballs me. “The baby is coming … and you better catch it or you will not see another frickin sunrise …” The look in her eyes is serious … I believe her. So I guess I’m catching a baby.
My phone rings. She slacks the vice grip on my poor torn shirt.