When Girlfriends Step Up (34 page)

“Wait!” Claire said. She flew out of the rolling car with my keys finally in hand. “I’ve got to get the baby seat!” Her voice trailed as she ran across the lot to open my car’s trunk.

“This is like a fucking movie!” Jackie exclaimed, pounding her hands on the shoulders of my seat. “This is awesome! Aren’t you excited, Robin?”
 

I gave her a worried smile—distorted and forced.

I watched through the bright beam of Lara’s headlights as Claire struggled to the slowly moving car, the large and awkward car seat with the pink, fluffy cushions bobbing in the night.
 

“Hurry!” Lara said, still motoring the car forward. “Throw the damn thing in the back with you. We don’t have any time.”

Claire all but threw herself into the back of the seat, landing on the laps of Sophie and Emily, the car seat thrown somewhere in the back with them. Jackie was crouched at the bottom of the car floor, her small head poking in between the two front seats.

“This is so freaking exciting, Robin!” She squeezed my hand and smiled brightly up at me. “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be a superstar!”

“Drive!” I shouted to Lara, squeezing Jackie’s hand and making her face wince. “Drive as
fast
as you can!”

By the time I was wheeled into the maternity ward, the contractions were only two minutes apart. The nurses said it was a good thing I had such a great team of friends to help me get to the hospital so soon. I probably wasn’t going to deliver for another hour or so, but that’s the funny thing with babies. They come when they want, and had my contractions started to kick into an even higher gear I could have found myself in a real pickle.
 

“Two minutes apart, and coming up on a minute-and-a-half apart is really nice,” the nurse told me. She finished hooking me to various machines, more machines than I’d used during my Braxton Hicks scare.
 

This is it. The time has come. It’s really happening.

“If you like, you can have your friends come and visit,” the nurse told me, her bedside manner already worlds better than the last nurse, who’d become quickly annoyed with our breaking of the hospital’s alcohol rules. “Because once it’s game time, that’s it. Show’s over and it’s time to get started.” She patted my arm and wrote Lara’s name down on her clipboard after she’d asked who would be joining me in delivery. “I’ll make sure Lara gets suited up when the time comes. For now I’ll get you some more ice chips and let your friends come in. Beep if you need me.” She patted my arm once more.

“We called your sister,” Claire all but shouted, waving my cell phone at me when she strode into the room. “Left her a voicemail.”

Sophie, Emily, Jackie, and Lara followed behind Claire, Lara bringing in my overnight bag, and Sophie the car seat.

“Thanks, girls,” I said. “Kaitlyn’s up in the mountains somewhere on vaca. She’s going to be so mad.”

“Hey,” Sophie said, “on the bright side, maybe this is just another one of those false labors.”

“Yeah,” Claire said. “One of those Brayson Wix things.”

Sophie and I chuckled, and I told them that I didn’t think so. This was probably the real deal. Rose would be here before we knew it.

“Oh!” I said.

“Another contraction?” Sophie asked.

“No, not for another…” I looked at the monitor. “Maybe thirty seconds. I mean, did anyone get a hold of Bobby?”

“Oh my God!” Jackie said. “We totally forgot. Man alert! Man alert! Call that boy, Claire!”

Claire searched my phone for Bobby’s number and started talking to him, waking him from his peaceful sleep, I was sure, while my next contraction started up.

“Oh, God,” I moaned. “Here it is. Oh no.
Ohhhh
.” This one was probably the most painful one I’d had yet.

Lara and Emily coached me through it, each holding one of my hands and telling me to focus on breathing. Nothing but breathing.

The contraction released and Claire said, “He’s on his way. Poor guy sounded totally groggy.”

“This is happening,” Sophie said. She pushed back my sweat-soaked bangs. “This is really happening. Robin’s going to be a mom!”

After thirty minutes, when the contractions were only a minute apart, Dr. Buschardi came in.

“Hello there, Robin,” she said, much too smiley for four o’clock in the fucking morning.

Oh God, not another contraction. Oh, the pain…

This time Claire and Sophie had my hands, and Jackie was counting down the seconds to when the contraction would be over, intently focused on the beeps and lines of the monitor.

“Shit!” I screamed, squeezing their hands purple. The contraction receded, and I apologized for my language.

Dr. Buschardi laughed it off and said it sounded like and—as she glanced over the readouts printed out from underneath the contraction monitor—it looked like I was going to deliver before the sun rose.

“You’re nearly fully dilated,” Dr. Buschardi said. “Contractions are coming closer and closer together. I think your little girl is just about ready to make her big appearance.”

I smiled brightly at the girls. “Did you hear that?
This
morning! My baby is coming
this
morning.”

Another contraction, more painful, followed by another. I felt like I was going to die and be reborn at the same time. The pain was excruciating, but the joy that overfilled my heart was astonishing.

“I can do this. I can do this,” I said to myself, and Emily repeated the encouragements.

“Um, Dr. Buschardi,” a nurse said, stopping by my room a brief moment. “There’s a Mr. Holman here.”

I waved my hand as a sign for him to be let on through as I tightened my jaw and squeezed the girls’ hands for another oncoming contraction.

“Is he the father?” the doctor asked, snapping on bright blue gloves and taking a seat on a stool that a nurse urgently wheeled over for her. My bed started to move forward and down, setting me in more of an upright position.

“No,” I cried. Then the contraction receded, but I knew my thirty- or forty-second break wouldn’t be enough to calm down and get back on my proper breathing track.
 

“He’s her super hot boyfriend,” Jackie told the doctor, wiping my forehead with a damp cloth.

“Super hot,” Claire added.

“Well, Robin,” Dr. Buschardi said, “you’re still not fully dilated yet, but you’re doing well with your contractions. Nearly thirty seconds apart. You comfortable?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I tried to readjust myself in my now upright bed.

Dr. Buschardi smiled. “With the bed—you comfortable with the bed? I want gravity on your side when you start to push, which I think is right around the corner.” She smiled even more brightly. “But if you feel more comfortable laying down for a while, we can readjust.”

“I don’t care,” I groaned, my lower back throbbing, my head pounding with what felt like a migraine, and my womb pulsating ten, maybe twenty times more painfully than the worst period cramps I’d ever had. “Can I have some drugs?”

“Robin,” Lara said, shocked, “I thought you wanted to do this all natural?”

“Listen,” I braced myself for what felt like another contraction. “I may have said that
before
I was in this bed with my legs strapped up and my stomach feeling like it’s about to explode, but trust me
—screw
natural. This
hurts!
”

“Too late for those, honey,” the doctor said. “Natural it is. Your daughter is on her way.”

I thought another contraction was due, but I miscalculated. A nice little pause? Nope. Another one now, just as strong, just as painful.

“Okay, ladies,” Dr. Buschardi said. “Looks like Robin’s going to get ready to start pushing. We need some room in here.”

As the girls were about to leave, Bobby rushed in. “Robin!” he exclaimed, charging to my side.

“Bobby!” He cupped my sweaty, clammy face in his hands and gave me a kiss.

“Oh, Robin, I came as fast as I could. As soon as I got the call. Are you all right?”

“As right as I can be. Rose is coming—today.”

“Robin,” the doctor said, a serious look covering her face. “We’re getting very close.”

“Okay,” I said, knowing it was time for visitors to head out to the waiting room. Lara and I had a baby to welcome into the world, and soon enough everyone would be able to meet baby Rose. But first…

“Ow!” I screeched. Bobby grabbed my hand and I squeezed tightly throughout the duration of the quick contraction.

“Show time!” the doctor announced, as the contraction abated.

“I love you, Robin,” Bobby whispered, wiping away my newly formed tears from under my fogging glasses. “And I’ll be right out there with the girls when you and Rose are ready. You’ll do a wonderful job. I’m so proud of you.” He kissed me firmly, the taste of his mouth warm and sweet, familiar and enjoyable, even in such a remarkable moment.

“I love you, too, Bobby,” I whispered. Another contraction was forming, and Lara took the helm, holding my hand and softly encouraging me as the gang filtered out of the room.

“Okay,” Dr. Buschardi said. “Push, Robin.”

I pushed. And I pushed. And I pushed some more.
 

A brief break, then more pushing.
 

I cursed a few more times, calling for pain medication.
 

Lara held my hand and kept telling me, “You can do it. You can do it.”

She held my hand through the contractions. Through the pushing. Through what seemed like an eternity of pain and pushing and screaming. Through the moment Dr. Buschardi announced the baby’s head was out. Through more contractions. Lara was there throughout the entire process. And she was there when baby Rose came out, screaming at the top of her powerful infant lungs; when the doctor rested her on my stomach and let me see my daughter for the first time.

“Congratulations,” Dr. Buschardi said. “You successfully delivered your very healthy and beautiful baby girl.”

Just then, a nurse took Rose away.

“What’s going on?” I asked, utterly spent.

“Don’t worry,” Lara said. “I think they’re just going to cut the umbilical cord, take her measurements, clean her up. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“She certainly is,” the doctor said. “A few tests, clean her up, and then my nurses will help you with baby’s first feeding. Congratulations, Robin. You did a wonderful job.”

I looked to Lara, who was, like me, glowing. How exciting! It was all so very real; everything we’d prepared for and read about and talked about for months had finally happened. Rose was here.

***

“Where is that bundle of joy?” Sophie exclaimed, walking into the recovery room I was moved to once Rose and I were ready.

“There she is!” Claire said. She was carrying two large, foil balloons that wished
Congrats!
and
It’s a Girl!

Emily and Jackie crowded around my bed,
ooing
and
ahhing
at the sweet little bundle in my arms. Rose was wrapped tightly in a pink receiving blanket, eyes closed and fast sleep.

“She’s adorable!” they cooed.

“Looks just like you.”

“Aw, she’s so precious.”

“The
cutest
baby I’ve ever seen.”

Bobby timidly walked in, a bouquet of pink and white roses in one hand, and a plush toy lamb in the other.

“Bobby,” I cried, tears coming up the instant I laid eyes on the man I loved.

“Oh, Robin,” he said, coming to my side. He placed the small lamb near Rose and gently touched her chubby cheek. “She’s beautiful. Like her mother.”
 

He looked into my eyes, his big blues still taking my breath away like the first time we shared a kiss. He pressed his lips to mine, kissing me gently. He whispered, “I love you so much, Robin,” over my lips, his glance, his kiss, his words sweeping me into euphoria. “And I’m so proud of you.” He kissed me once more, then, as if noticing he had a love-struck audience, sheepishly shied back and said, holding out the bouquet, “For you and Rose. The most appropriate bouquet, of course.”

Lara kindly took the flowers to be placed in a vase of water, while everyone asked dozens of questions about the labor, the delivery, and, “Why does Rose have all that gooey stuff around her eyes?” or, also a favorite question of the day from Claire, “What do they do with the umbilical cord? Would they give it to you if you asked?”

“Welcome to the family, little Rose,” I said, carefully rocking her. “Welcome to your crazy, fun, and very non-traditional family. We love you.”

Surreptitiously, Jackie uncorked a fresh bottle of champagne. “Shhh,” she said, looking mischievously over her shoulder. “Let’s not get caught this time.” She immediately started pouring rounds and we all, even a tiny sip for myself, toasted to the birth of Rose Sinclair. My daughter and, in all seriousness, the most beautiful little girl in the world.

“Robin?” Dr. Buschardi asked, startling us as we sipped on our celebratory bubbly.

“Yes?” I handed my cup to Lara, who tried her best to look inconspicuous.

“I’ve made sure your to-go bag is all ready for your discharge tomorrow. It’s got all sorts of information and helpful infant items, like some diapers, emergency infant formula in case breastfeeding doesn’t work, and such. Threw in some extra samples for you.” She smiled and, once she took notice of our forbidden drink, gave me a wink. “I won’t tell. Congratulations. And I’ll be by again later this afternoon to make sure all is still well.”

I stared at my gorgeous baby, still so in shock that I actually delivered this little creature—this bundle of perfection—and, while her family wasn’t by common standards the “all-American family,” it was one filled with members who loved and adored her unconditionally. And that’s what mattered. Rose may not have had a father, but she had a mother who’d lay down her life for her. And five aunts—no, six counting Aunt Kaitlyn—who would shower her with love and spoil her with everything under the moon. And she had Bobby, who had come into our lives at the most precarious of moments and offered his love, his support, and his heart to a woman and her baby who never thought such love could be found outside of fairytales.