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I bite my lip. I can’t really offer much in the way of comfort, except by saying, “It’s going to be over in a matter of days.”
“It better be, buster. And you can forget ever getting near me again.”
Grimacing, I nod. “Okay, honey. I know. I promise I’ll get a vasectomy.” It’s the only thing I can offer now, even though getting my jewels snipped seems like playing checkers compared to what she’s done to bring our child into the world, and the labor hasn’t even started.
Tilting her too-heavy belly into motion, she starts down the trail again, her braided pigtails swinging side to side.
My heart swells so big inside of my chest it threatens to choke me. A state I’ve lived in since I first had her in my arms in San Miguel. Simona is the light of my life.
Shoving my hands in my back pockets, I follow my lovely, infuriating, amazing wife. Worry gnaws at me, like it has been for the last few weeks. Watching Simona get huge and uncomfortable and riding a wild hormonal roller coaster has set my teeth on edge.
My head is filled with all the medical things about birth, which is why I insisted on using a birthing center at a hospital, where everything Simona and the baby might need is in place.
Of course, that was the argument of the century. Somehow, I came away with both my heads intact. Simona wanted nothing of the sort. “Home birth!” she yelled at the top of her lungs one night as she stomped out of the house and wobbled down the steps.
For two days, she didn’t speak to me.
But I finally won in a game of cards.
Yes. A game of cards.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Fortunately, I’m a better Poker player than Simona. For the moment. You better believe she started studying as soon as she lost. I have a feeling I won’t be able to beat her so easily next time.
Her arm suddenly flies out, her voice shatters the quiet woods, “Oh!”
I’m by her side in an instant.
Her fingernails dig into my arm. “That was BIG.”
“Come on.”
Shaking her head furiously, she bites out, “No, I’m walking. And you are coming with me!” She lets out a string of what I’m sure are curse words. Now is a terrible time not to understand Czech well. But on the other hand, I’m able to ignore half the curses Simona’s throwing my way. The other half, I have no doubt about their meaning.
She draws in a few breaths and starts down the trail. Not thirty seconds later, she’s grasping in for my arm. She half screams. “Oh boy! This was no joke!” I run to her side but she yells, “Get away from me!” Glaring daggers at me, she breathes like a dragon as the contraction takes hold. “You’re. Never.” Huff, huff, huff. “Touching. Me. Again!”
Panic explodes inside my rib cage. “Have you been having contractions?”
I grab her even though she protests. The contraction worsens. Folding over, clinging to my arms, she wheezes, “I don’t know. My back has been killing me today.”
“Oh, fuck. This is not good.” I realize I’m about to yell and can’t stop myself. “Why didn’t you tell me? Jesus.”
Her face turns red, her eyes narrow to bitter little slits, as I swing her up in my arms and rush toward the house. “Jameson Scott, I did tell you! I told you my back hurts. It’s been hurting for days. Months! All because of you!”
I’m only twenty strides closer to the house when she gasps and lets out the loudest, meanest streak of Czech I’ve ever heard.
“Breathe, remember? Breathe.”
She pants and calls me every bad thing she can think of in English. When the pain passes, I rush toward the house and she bursts into tears.
I can barely understand her words. Through sobs, she says, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say those terrible things. It’s just these god awful hormones and this alien trying to rip me in half.”
I lean in to kiss her forehead, knowing I’m taking my life in my hands by getting close. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I understand.”
She twists her damp fingers into my shirt. “This better be over soon…”
Not soon. No!
Not soon. Not for hours. We have twelve miles to go to get to the hospital. This baby is not coming now.