Sweet Little Thing(33)

Jenny yelled back, “I think we have to go.”

I pushed the door open and went inside. The other women in the bathroom all scattered except for Jenny. Mia was leaning over the sink, splashing cold water on her face.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

She turned to me, holding her stomach, but before she could speak, she buckled over and sucked air through her teeth like she was in pain. “I think it’s just false labor,” she finally said. “I’ve been having those Braxton Hicks contractions lately. I think that’s what it is.”

“What if it’s not? I have to get you to the hospital.”

“You’re in no condition to drive, Will,” Jenny said.

“No shit, Jenny, you’re going to drive us. We’re all going. Let’s go get Tyler.”

We had brought Jenny’s dad’s Lexus sedan, which had a GPS, thank God. We were able to locate all the hospitals on the way. Mia insisted we head for New York Methodist where she planned to have little Allen. She said if it was real labor, based on the time between contractions, she thought we could make it. According to the GPS, the hospital was an hour and forty-five minutes away. We all piled in the car and took off. Jenny drove like a maniac to get us on to the main highway. Mia continued having regular contractions, and each time she would yell at Jenny to slow down.

Half an hour into it, Mia’s pain became progressively worse. She started moaning through every contraction. I had her get on her hands and knees across the back seat and rock back and forth. I felt so bad for her and bad that Tyler and I had been so selfish as to think going to the Hamptons was a good idea. At the point when we were an hour away, I called Dr. Cho.

“Dr. Cho, I think Mia is in labor.”

“I am in labor!” Mia yelled.

“How long has she been having contractions?”

“I don’t know, about an hour.” My voice was shaky.

“Calm down, Mr. Ryan. She’s probably very early in her labor. Average first labors take about twelve to fifteen hours. Just relax, go to the hospital, and let the nurses check her. I’ll head in there and have them prep the OR.”

“Okay,” I said and hung up.

“What did she say?” Everyone in the car yelled at the same time.

“She said it’s probably very early in her labor.”

“What?” Mia shouted. “It can’t get worse. I don’t think I can take it if it gets worse,” she whined.

I immediately texted Martha to meet us at the hospital.

There was a moment of calm between contractions where I took Mia in my arms in the back seat. Our position was awkward, but I could tell by the way she let all her muscles go lax that she was already exhausted.

“No, no, no,” she cried. “Another one is coming,” she mumbled and then she was back on her knees again.

Jenny continually glanced in the rearview mirror while she gave Mia instructions. “In through your nose and out through your mouth, Mia. Make sure you pay attention to your breath.”

Tyler stayed relatively quiet the whole miserable ride while Mia writhed around in the back seat of that car. I made silent prayers to any god and every god that Mia wouldn’t give birth in the back seat of Jenny’s dad’s Lexus for no other reason except that I would have to deliver our baby. She spent time on her knees, on her back, on her side, and in every other possible position she could get into.

It got horrendously worse when we were about fifteen minutes from the hospital. The contractions were coming one on top of the other. Mia was out of her mind, moaning and yelling and sometimes just making low, guttural sounds. At one point she tried to take off her clothes, but I knew if I let her go there, out would come baby.

We pulled into the ER entrance driveway because it was after hours and the main entrance to the hospital was closed. Jenny pulled to the curb.

“Ahhh!” Mia cried. “Hurry! I can’t walk—it’s coming.”

“Tyler, go grab a wheelchair!” I yelled.

Jenny tried to soothe Mia with words. “Visualize your body opening like a lotus flower.”

“Shut the f*ck up, Jenny!” Mia screamed at the top of her lungs.

Jenny looked back at me with her eyes wide.

I shook my head. I had no idea what to do besides get Mia into that hospital.

Honking sounds started coming from the rear of the car. I got out to see what the commotion was. It’s safe to say I was sober when we reached the hospital, but unfortunately neither Tyler nor myself were any less belligerent.

When I got out, I saw a huge yellow Hummer behind us. The massive truck couldn’t maneuver around Jenny’s car, so the driver sat there and honked.

Standing next to our rear passenger door, I looked at the guy and then pointed inside the Lexus and yelled, “My wife is in labor. We’re getting a wheelchair—can you hold on one second?”

“Just ignore him!” Mia barked.

The man honked again. I walked over to his window. He rolled it down and the imbecile said, “Are you gonna move or what? I need to get out of here. I made a wrong turn.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear when I said that my wife is in labor in that car. She can’t walk; we’re getting her a wheelchair.”

“Why should I care?” he said, glaring at me.

“Well f*ck you very much!” I turned to walk back to our car.