Chapter 3 - The Delivery Room
Eight months later, a brutal ice storm paralyzed Lexington.
I had built a beautiful, quiet life in a downtown apartment. The divorce had been finalized in record time, pushed through by Ethan’s aggressive lawyer. I had entirely vanished from his world.
At 11:00 p.m. on a Tuesday, my water broke.
The roads were a sheet of black glass. My doula couldn't make it. The ambulance crawled toward Bluegrass Regional Medical Center at ten miles an hour. By the time they wheeled me through the emergency doors, I was fully dilated and in blinding pain.
"Her primary OB is snowed in!" a nurse shouted as they rushed my gurney down the fluorescent hallway. "Page the on-call attending!"
They pushed me into a delivery suite. The monitors beeped wildly. I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the rails of the bed, breathing through a massive contraction.
The heavy doors swung open.
"I'm here," a male voice said, slipping on surgical gloves. "Let’s get a look at—"
The voice stopped dead.
I opened my eyes, panting through the pain.
Standing at the foot of my bed, wearing hospital scrubs and a look of absolute, universe-shattering shock, was Ethan.
He stared at my massive, nine-month pregnant belly. Then he stared at my face. The color completely drained from his skin, leaving him looking like a ghost under the surgical lights.
"Rebecca?" he choked out.
"Doctor," the charge nurse snapped, breaking his paralysis. "She’s at ten centimeters. The baby’s heart rate is dropping. We need to push now."
Ethan’s medical training overrode his shock. He stepped up to the bed, his hands trembling as he positioned himself.
"Push, Rebecca," he breathed, tears welling in his eyes.
May you like
For twenty agonizing minutes, the man who had discarded me for being barren coached me through the hardest physical marathon of my life.
And then, a sharp, beautiful cry pierced the room.
