Captured(91)

“Mmm?”

“If it’s a girl, can we name her Ida?”

“Of course, love.”

“Ida…what’s her middle name?”

I take a long time to respond, fighting sleep. “Dunno.”

“Derek.”

“Babe. We got five months.”

“Derek.”

“Jesus. Fine. Elizabeth.”

“Why?”

I groan. “Dunno, babe. I just like that name.” I yawn. “Ida Elizabeth West.”

“’Kay.”





*





REAGAN





OhmyholyshittingJesus. Giving birth never hurts any less. All of me is being ripped apart. I think I broke two of Derek’s fingers. Not the bad one, fortunately. He doesn’t complain, wonderful man that he is. Just holds on, kisses my sweaty forehead, and does the count for each push.

“One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight…nine…ten. Good, babe. Almost there.” His voice is low and soothing, right in my ear.

“Can you see her? Is she coming?” I’m frantic. Nine hours of labor, and I’m ready for this little girl to be out.

“Almost, love. Almost. One more push.” He peers down between my legs. “Yep. I can see her head, the top of her head.”

“Then one more isn’t going to do it. Several more,” I pant.

“You’re almost there, babe. Just think about the push.”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!”

“You’re almost done, babe. For real. Couple more pushes, and she’s out.” He pulls his hand from mine, flexes to restore circulation, and then takes my hand again. Starts the count. “One…two…three….”

I stop thinking about the count and focus on pushing. Every single ounce of everything inside me—PUSH. PUSH. PUSH. Don’t breathe, don’t scream, nothing but the push.

Breathe, gasp. Rest. Ignore everything and gather my strength. Once more. I can do it. One more time. One last time.

PUSH.

I feel something give — something inside me breaks and escapes, and the pressure is gone, the cramping searing pain lessens, and there’s a moment of silence, muttering from the doctor and nurses, a call for scissors. The cord? Is the cord?—But then I hear that sound, that sweet sound. A newborn wail, thin and high and angry and delicate.

A weight on my chest, the smell of blood and something else. I open my eyes and there she is, held by the doctor, birth-smeared and beautiful.

Ida Elizabeth West.

Sister to Tommy and Hank.

I’m crying. “Ida. Hi, baby girl. Welcome to the world.”

Derek, blinking hard, voice cracking. “It’s a beautiful place, this world. And there’s some beautiful people waiting to love you.”

Our eyes meet, and a lifetime of love passes between us, transmitted in a single glance.


THE END