Wish Come True (The Blogger Diaries Trilogy Book 3) (26 page)

“I need you to time this,” I repeat, and he turns and looks down at me. “I think I might be having contractions, but I’m not sure. It doesn’t feel like it did with Josalyn.”

“Really?” he breathes, his eyes widening. “Okay, baby.” He grabs his phone and looks at the time. “Let me know when you feel it again. Here, roll over and I’ll scratch your back. Grab the remote and find us a show.”

I do as he says, appreciative of his idea to distract me. A rerun of
Supernatural
is on, so we watch it for a few minutes before the feeling comes back, this time a little stronger than the last. Another one comes not too long after, and glancing at his cell, he tells me they were twelve minutes apart.
 

“I think I’m in labor,” I say with a smile, rolling over to look up at him.
 

“Are you sure? I imagined… I thought it’d be a lot worse than this. You don’t seem to be hurting.” His brow furrows.

“I mean… if they are coming at a steady pace, not just one and then a couple hours later, that means they aren’t those Braxton Hicks thingies. It doesn’t
hurt
. It’s just really uncomfortable,” I explain, and he nods.
 

“Okay, well, at our class, they said we should get up and start moving around,” he reminds me, talking about the six-hour labor class we took at the hospital. It was for his benefit, since I had already gone through this before. Seeing how my labor with Josalyn was such a traumatizing experience, I’m surprised at how calm I am right now.
 

He comes around the bed and helps me stand, and then holds my hand as we walk down the hall and into the kitchen. “They said you won’t be able to eat after you get checked into the hospital, and that you should eat before we go, so what can I make you, baby?”

“Well, before I woke you up, I went to the bathroom with an upset tummy, so I’m really not all that hungry,” I tell him, but he starts shaking his head before I even finish.

“No, you gotta eat something. How about some toast? Will you at least try to eat some toast for me?”

The worried look in his eyes tells me that eating the damn toast is important to him, so I nod, giving in and eating the lightly buttered bread after he sits it in front of me with a kiss to my forehead. Halfway through the second slice, a contraction hits me, this one way stronger than the others. He sees me grip the side of the table with both hands, and quickly stands and pulls me up to him.
 

“Wrap your arms around my neck, baby. Just like they showed us in the class,” he says soothingly, wrapping his own arms tightly around my waist, starting to sway us side-to-side. I press my forehead to his chest and breathe deeply like they taught us, and as I inhale Jason’s familiar masculine scent, a sense of calm washes over me, even through the discomfort as everything in my center tightens. As he feels my arms relax around his neck, he loosens his grip around my waist, and I pull back to look up into his eyes.
 

“That’s not so bad,” I whisper, and he leans down to kiss me gently. “Oh, shit.”

“What? What’s the matter?” he questions anxiously.

“I haven’t shaved in like a week. I can’t go to the hospital like this,” I reply, starting to move toward the bathroom.
 

“Babe, no one cares if you have a little stubble on your legs. You’re about to have a baby. No one is going to be paying attention to any of that.”

“I’ll know. And I won’t be able to concentrate on pushing this baby out when I’m worried about my vagina looking like the one that was on that nasty childbirth video they showed us at the hospital,” I state, and with that, I hurry into the bathroom, hearing him call out, “No shower! And yell for me when you’re done so I can help you out of the tub!”

I can’t help but giggle to myself as I turn the water on and wait for it to heat up. About a week ago, Jason and I were taking a shower together—he hadn’t let me shower alone since watching the episode on
Grey’s Anatomy
where the pregnant girl slipped in the tub. I had gotten a new facial cleanser and wanted to try it on him. He argued that he had already washed his face with his lava soap, and that you shouldn’t mix anything with it since it’s so abrasive, but I wasn’t hearing any of it. I was gonna wash his face with my fancy new cleanser whether he liked it or not.
 

So, I lathered up my hands, feeling his wrap around my back to hold me close. And as soon as I laid my soapy hands against his cheeks, he let out a manly yet blood-curdling scream, making me jump, gasp, and then cry out, “What? What’s wrong?” my heart about to beat out of my chest.
 

“It burns!” he howled, but then immediately started laughing harder than I’ve ever seen before.
 

Realizing he was playing a trick on me, when I finally caught my breath, I reached around and pinched his ass cheek as hard as I could, making him laugh even more.
 

“You asshole! You could have sent me into labor!” I yelled, rubbing my belly, but his laughter was infectious and I couldn’t help but join in.
 

Feeling the water has reached the temperature I want, I quickly strip out of Jason’s T-shirt and my panties, the only thing I’ve been able to comfortably sleep in for the past two months, and carefully get into the tub. After bathing myself hastily, having one more contraction inside the water, which seemed to lessen the discomfort, I call for Jason to come help me.
 

“I just need to sit on the side of the tub so I can shave. I can’t squat inside the water like I do when I don’t have this giant belly,” I tell him, and he has me wrap my arms around his shoulders so he can grip me around my back to lift me up. I settle my bottom on the wide porcelain lip of the tub and reach for my body wash and razor.
 

“Tell me when you’re done so I can help you dry off, baby,” he says, and then leaves the room, but I hear him return almost immediately and turn to look over my shoulder, seeing he has his digital camera.
 

“What the—? What are you doing?” I ask, turning back around to face the wall. I can only imagine what I look like, my wide ass perched on the edge of the tub, one leg up as my toes press against the other side while I shave my leg. Hearing him chuckle, I lift my left hand, the one not holding the razor, up so he can see it over my shoulder and flip him the bird, and that’s when I hear the camera shutter go off.
 

“That’ll be a nice one for the baby book,” he says through a chuckle. I roll my eyes then try to shave everything from the waist down before another contraction hits.
 

I call out for him once more, and he comes to hold my hands as I rotate and then stand up on the bathmat, and then he grabs the towel off the rack and wraps it around me. Used to this recent routine, I allow him to dry me off from neck to toes, smiling as his head disappears below my protruding belly. As he stands, he kisses my tummy on his way up, and a contraction immediately takes my breath away.
 

When it ends, I pull my face from his neck and tell him quietly, “I think it might be time to call the doctor.”

“On it,” he replies, and he helps me to our room, grabbing the phone from its cradle on the dresser.
 

I hear only one side of the conversation.
 

“Hi, this is Jason Robichaux. My girlfriend is in labor… Yes, she’s been having contractions for about an hour and a half now… Ten minutes apart… Yes, ma’am. Oh, hi, Doc… Really? In the class, they told us to wait to call you until they were ten minutes apart… Right now? Okay, I’ll grab our bags and we’ll see you in a little bit. Thanks.” He hangs up.

“What did he say?” I ask, my brow furrowed.

“Apparently, we were supposed to call him at the first sign of a contraction, not wait like the nurses in the class told us to. He said get our asses to his office STAT,” he answers, getting our hospital bags out of the closet, where I’ve had them packed and ready for the past month.

“Shit. Okay, well, go wake your parents up and let them know we’re leaving, and I’ll finish getting dressed.”

With a nod, he jogs out the door and I hear the garage door open. And as I put my arms through the straps of my sundress, I hear him return and then knock on his parents’ bedroom door. The four of us meet in the living room, his mom pulling her robe around her and tying it at the waist, his dad tugging a shirt down over his head.

“You all right, babe?” Dad asks, giving a gentle squeeze to my shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s been fine so far. Nothing like Josalyn’s. So we can stick to our plan. We’ll go see the doctor now, while y’all watch Josalyn. We’ll call when he tells us what to do, and then you can come on up to the hospital whenever you want. I have no idea if I’m even dilated at all, since I didn’t on my own last time, so who knows how long this is going to take?”

“Okay, hun. Just give us a call when you know what’s going on,” he replies, and they give us each a hug and we head out the door.
 

I have four contractions in the car on the drive there, but when Jason starts to speed going down 610, I grab a hold of his wrist and tell him to slow the hell down. The anxiety he’s giving me weaving through the cars is worse than the labor pains. When we take the exit for Fannin Street, I breathe a sigh of relief knowing we’re almost there. The doctor’s office shares a parking lot with The Woman’s Hospital of Texas, where I’m delivering, so we park directly in the center, not knowing where we’ll end up at the end of this. With my luck, they’ll probably send us home saying we’re not ready yet.

I waddle into the exam room, and the nurse helps get my ankles into the stirrups, not worrying about changing into a gown since I’m wearing a dress. When she checks me, her eyes grow wide, and she throws a “Be right back” over her shoulder as she hustles out the door. When it reopens, it’s Dr. Chavez, his quiet calm immediately blanketing the room when he walks in, making me feel a lot better after the nurse’s hasty exit.
 

“Let’s check you out, Mom,” he says as he sits on his rolling stool between my legs, and Jason reaches for my hands and squeezes it while we wait to see what the nurse had discovered.

“Dear girl, you are already at four centimeters,” he says in his soothing tone. “All those worries about scar tissue like with your last one were for nothing. You’re gonna have this baby girl no problem. Right now, I need y’all to head across the parking lot and get checked in at the hospital. I’ll be over there shortly.”
 

“That’s it?” I ask, surprise filling my voice.

“Hun, if you sneeze wrong, she’s going to fall into my lap. Now get your tuchus over there and get checked in.” With that, he stands, pats me on the knee, and then holds out both his hands to help me sit up. He pushes the metal stirrups back into their hidey-holes and then pulls out the step at the bottom of the bed to help me get to the floor. “I’ll call them right now and let them know you’re on your way.”

“Thank you, Dr. Chavez,” I say, almost dazed. I can’t believe this is all happening so fast. I was in labor with Josalyn for four days! I just woke up a couple hours ago with contractions, and now I’m already about to be checked in at the hospital? What is this sorcery?
 

Jason holds my hand while we make our way, slow but steady, across the parking lot, and enter through the front doors of the hospital. When we reach the front desk, we tell the woman I’m in labor, and she asks us to wait while she gets a wheelchair.
 

“Actually, I think I’m okay to walk,” I stop her. “I mean, they said it helps the baby get into position when you’re standing, and gravity pushes their head against your cervix, helping it dilate, so I think I’m good.”

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble to get you a wheelchair, ma’am,” she asks.

“Really, I’m all right. It only hurts during the contractions, and even those aren’t that bad while I’m upright,” I say, turning to look up at Jason, who nods.

“I’ll keep a hold of her. If she says she’s good, then she’s good,” he backs me up, and with a nod, she reminds us which floor and points us in the direction of the elevator. We had taken a tour of the hospital during our labor and delivery class, so we were able to find it no problem. On the ride up, a strong contraction grabs hold of me, and we assume our middle-school-slow-dance position, him rocking me side-to-side while I breathed through it. The car stops before our floor, and a couple gets in with us. I hear Jason say, “She’s a badass,” but not what the woman had asked as I concentrate on not holding my breath through the squeezing pain. It releases just before the doors open to our floor, and I give the woman a smile as she tells us, “Good luck,” when we exit.
 

“What did she ask when she first got in?” I inquire.

Jason looks down at me with pride in his eyes. “She asked, ‘No wheelchair?’ with the most astonished look on her face.” He chuckled.

“I mean, is that not normal? I’m just doing what the ladies in our class said,” I prompt as we approach the nurses’ station only a few feet ahead of us.
 

Obviously overhearing my question, the nurse sitting behind the computer answers me, “No on both accounts. Usually, the mom can’t get into a wheelchair fast enough, and normally, what we teach in the classes go right out the door as soon as the labor pain starts. Good job, Mom.” She smiles brightly. “Miss Greenwood?” I nod. “Dr. Chavez called and let us know you were on your way, so your room is all ready for you, dear.”

She comes out from behind the desk and takes my arm as Jason holds my other hand, and she guides us to room 21. It’s much brighter in here than the one I had at Womack, and it’s not that the florescent lights are just more lit. There’s a lot of natural light coming in through the giant windows on the far wall, and I have a fantastic view of downtown Houston this high up. The bed and gizmos are all on the left side of the room, an open door leading to a bathroom in the far right corner, and several comfy looking chairs and a couch on the wall beneath the windows. Looking behind me after we walk more fully into the room, I see all the things they’ll use after our girl enters the world, like the scale to weigh her, and the clear plastic bassinet she’ll lie in while they clean her up.