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I wake up in a puddle. Lucas is fast asleep next to me. He’s been so calm since our escape from LA. He sleeps like the dead these days. I nudge him.
“Babe, I think it’s time.”
“What?” he mumbles, half asleep.
“The baby. It’s time.”
I’ve never seen a man move so fast. He’s up and out of bed in a flash. Lucas is dressed and on the phone to first the doula and then the midwife in no time.
We decided that a homebirth was the best option for us. I hate hospitals. Okay, to be fair, I should say that I hate them because that’s where the morgue is. I cannot face starting my child’s life in a place of death.
Lucas was skeptical at first until I explained to him that women have been having babies since the beginning of time, and that with the right assistance, I’d be just fine. Joanna and Ester sat us down and explained to us exactly what the process was all about. I have complete faith in their ability and experience. This won’t be their first rock around the birthing pool.
“The girls are on their way, babe,” he says. “Don't even think of dropping that baby before they get here.”
My labor pains have started, so I nod between contractions.
“Breathe, my love. Breathe.”
“I am breathing,” I snap. “Sorry, I didn't mean to take a chunk out of you. Man, this hurts.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to do this at the hospital? There’s still time.”
“No. Absolutely not. Our baby will be home from the moment it draws breath.”
“Okay.”
“Will you prepare the bath for me, please?”
“Of course.”
“And don’t look so terrified. I’ve got this.”
I’m upbeat in front of Lucas. But secretly, I’m shitting myself. The doula and the midwife better get here asap.
I’m about ready to do a cartwheel of joy when I hear the doorbell. Oh, thank you, God! They’re here.
“Hi, Ella!”
It’s so strange to hear people calling me by that name. But it’s a necessary precaution. Emily and Lucas died back in America.
“Hi. Ouch! Here comes another one,” I grimace.
“Okay, let’s take a look,” Ester, the midwife, says, gently touching my shoulder.
“Hi, Ella. I’m right here,” Joanne says, squeezing my hand.
“Okay, sweety, your cervix is dilated by about eight centimeters. You’re doing great.”
“How long before I can push?”
“It depends. Not all women are the same. I’d say anywhere from thirty minutes to two hours,” Ester replies.
“Ugh! Two hours. This is going to be a hoot, isn’t it? My lower back is killing me,” I moan.
“Let’s get you in the pool. The warm water will help soothe you,” Joanne smiles.
“Hey, no arguments here,” I mumble.