Chapter 27 ~ Birth - Part 1
"Shit," I was racing around the house like a bat out of hell, I grabbed my phone off the bedside lamp and dialled Mum's number, it may have been the early hours of the morning but no matter what time we called, she would always answer. "Mum, it's time, I have to get Quinn into the car, are you guys meeting us at the hospital?... shit hang on Mum, I can't find my phone..." I began opening the drawers and leant down to look if it was on charge, hearing Quinn laughing her ass off at me. "What are you laughing at?" I looked at her with knotted brows.
"Dante... you are on your phone," she chuckled.
"Shit," I pulled the phone away from my ear staring at it blankly, then laughed out loud, returning it back to my ear again, "Shit, I was on my phone looking for my phone..." Mum laughed through the receiver saying her and Dad will be there soon. I loved them, they were always there for us, no matter what.
I ended my call as Quinn got dressed and we were halfway down the stairs before Quinn stopped and bent over, "ooooohhhhh," she groaned out in pain.
Suddenly her head snapped towards my crotch and her eyes widened, "what? What is it, baby?"
"Dante, are you going to the hospital naked?" I looked down, seeing a whole lot of bare flesh and my tackle swaying between my legs.
"Jesus Christ," I growled, before trudging back upstairs to put on some bloody clothes. How had I managed to fuck up so colossally when we hadn't even left the house yet? I dragged my feet back down the staircase muttering to myself as she sat on the bottom step, hysterically laughing. "Shut up," I growled again, swinging open the front door and striding out, waving my foot under the car so the boot popped open. The little action only happened when the car keys were near the vehicle, sometimes, I really loved technology, times like this when my hands were full, it came in real handy. Hell, I didn't even have to start the car with a key, all I did was press a button and the engine would roar to life.
When the bags were in, I walked back and collected a, still laughing Quinn, from the foot of the stairs, "imagine if we had of made it all the way to the hospital before you realised?" This I did not find slightly funny and it showed on my face, "stop Dante, please, I will piss myself if you make me laugh anymore."
This I did not find funny either, but she thought it was hilarious. I dialled the birthing unit on our way in and they assured us they would be ready when we arrived. True to their word, a midwife was waiting with a wheelchair, seeing that made anxiety roll through my body, things were getting real very quickly. They rolled her from the car and into the reception, while I parked, joining her as she filled out paperwork. We were shown to a bed, not a room and I was concerned, I was assured when I booked, that we would be in a private suite, now we were here, in a bed, with a separator curtain dividing us from any others as the nurse wheeled in this large contraption.
"Hello, my name is Craig and I will be your attending tonight, how you doing Mum?" he seemed like a nice man, young, idealistic, not very tall, soft and welcoming with short mousy blonde hair and grey eyes.
"Well, it's been an eventful start to the evening," she commented with a bright smile, sending a wink in my direction, I just rolled my eyes.
"Great, well I'm just going to put this heart monitor on you and we'll see how far along this baby is and how comfortable things are in there, no doubt you're anxious to meet your new addition." He wrapped a belt around her extended stomach and the reader sat just below her popped out belly button. I remember her commenting one day, about how it looked when she wore a singlet and it was chilly, she did look as though she had three nipples poking through her shirt. I laughed at the thought that slipped into my mind and both of them eyed me, I just ignored it.
Craig placed the little clip on the end of her finger and some pillows behind her back before placing a jug of water and two cups beside the bed. He patted her shoulder and said that he would return in a little bit to see what was going on, so for now, we just had to wait.
Quinn and I were both playing games on our phones as paper printed from the machine, it had lines scribbling on it, every time Quinn had what they called a 'contraction' the little needle and arm would jump erratically and scribble down these jaggered lines on the paper.
A little while later, had turned into a couple of hours and while money was not a concern for us, I was still pissed that I was paying so much and that 'Craig' had not been back to check on her. Every time she was hit with a wave of pain, her hands would drop and her eyes would close and she would moan, and not with a nice moan, it was a bad moan, that had her lose her mind momentarily.
Mum had called, said she, Dad, Viola, Kason, Pierre, Amber, Asher, Vinnie and Blade were all here, waiting in the waiting room. I loved knowing they were there, without question, to support us. Apparently Kason, Vinnie and Asher were all tuning the nurses which kept them entertained, when I asked what Blade was doing? Mum said that something weird was happening between him and Vi, that they were sitting miles apart, pretending each other didn't exist. She asked me if something had happened? I didn't know, they had been friendly for years but over the last few months, they acted as though they hated each other. I knew Vi was in a relationship now, could Blade be jealous? Did he have feelings for my sister?
My thought process was broken by a sudden wail of agony that came hurling from Quinn as she sat up straight in the bed. This finally prompted the allusive 'Craig' into action and he comes waltzing in like he had all the time in the world, "sounds like things are getting interesting in this room." He leant over the readings, studying them closely, "Alright, looks like you are in labour..."
"Ya think?" Quinn snapped furiously, to which he chuckled.
"We're going to move you to the birthing suite now, feel like walking? It will help the process."
"Why the fuck didn't we go there first?" I asked incredulously, waving my arms about in complete frustration.
"Quinn is still a little while away from giving birth yet, try to calm down sir."
I wanted to punch that fucker in the face, but Quinn's hand reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling herself off the bed, "help me off," she requested.
We made it to our birthing room, rather difficultly and with five stops so Quinn could keel over in pain, where we were greeted by two midwives, one short stocky woman with pastel pink hair and one tall, slim and a rather young woman with curly orange hair. The short stocky woman helped Quinn climb up on the new stretcher, as I put our things down beside the leather recliner. She pulled over the ultrasound machine and squirted the gel upon her rounded belly before the scanning paddle sent the image to the screen.
"Fantastic," the midwife praised, "baby is in occipito-anterior position and getting ready for birth, let's see how far dilated you are." She pushed the ultrasound machine to the side as she propped herself onto the bed.
"What's octi-potato?" The midwife roared with laughter, I, however, didn't find anything funny.
Quinn smiled at me, "it means the baby is in position, it's engaged, ready to be born."
I swear to god, I was not made for this shit, why do they not just say that? The baby is going to come out her hole soon, man talk, that's the way to do it, none of this 'correct terminology' bullshit. While I was trapped in my gripe, I heard the midwife count, next minute; I see her hand disappear inside the sheet she had just placed across Quinn's lap. "Fantastic, you're coming along nicely... I'd say you're about six centimetres dilated. Good on you Mum. Now, just relax for me as I exit."
Exit? Exit? Where is she exiting from exactly? Quinn's and the midwife's eyes snap to meet my confused face.
"Are you aware you said that out loud?" Quinn screeched incredulously.
"I did?" She nodded as the lady again, roared with laughter.
"I think Dad here is causing himself to fret unnecessarily," she pointed out as she removed the glove from her hand.
"I could use a beer, I think," I stated loudly.
Hours passed by and Quinn was becoming weaker by the second, she was lying on her side moaning a long drawl as the pain ripped through her insides. I felt helpless watching her being ravished by it, she was a strong person, but this, this was consuming her as she coiled inward and hung her head against her chest with her eyes shut tight. The Midwife was becoming concerned with her lack of progress, after testing out her dilation rate and called in the Doctor.
They had administered some gels into her, stating it would help open her cervix up, but even they weren't working. As another wave of pure pain swept through Quinn, she climbed to all fours, rocking backwards and forwards, groaning and whimpering. She remained in this position for quite some time, removing all layers of clothing; she was far too hot and hated the feel of material against her.
The Doctor, a man who looked to be in his mid-forties, with grey eyes and ginger hair, pulled up a chair to the end of the bed, "okay Quinn... we are just going to check the baby's heart by attaching this monitor onto the crown..." he held up the little stick looking thing with a wire on the bottom, but first, he inserted a cone to open her wide enough to get in there.
With the pain of contractions washing through her body and the position of her on all fours with her chest touching the bed, her centre hole gaping open due to the cone, it caused a wind tunnel and she began to let loose tiny 'fart' air bubbles. I had never heard her fart before, I mean, I knew everyone did it but even the Doctor was having trouble holding back his amusement as he tried to attach the heart monitor to baby's head. "Ooooooohhhhh," Quinn cried out, "I'm m-m sorry."
I snorted, I couldn't help it, "shhh, its fine," I tried to comfort without bursting into laughter. My phone rang, Dad's number flashed up on the screen, I answered and placed it on loudspeaker,
"Dad... you okay?"
...Yes Dante, how's Quinn doing?...
"Ah... I guess she's okay."
...How's the contractions, ya mother wants to know how far dilated she is...
...Ask him if she's going natural?...
...He can bloody hear you, Arabella, you are on loudspeaker, he can hear all of us...
...Well, I didn't know...
"OOOOHHHHH!" Quinn broke their small argument with a howl of pain.
...Holy shit, that sounds awful... Viola's chirped up through the receiver.
"Thank you, Vi, I'm sure my woman feels like this is a walk in the park," I replied sarcastically. "Look, guys, I'm kind of busy here at the moment, do you think we could continue this later?"
The Doctor spoke before I could hang up, "Mr McCarlock, we can't get an accurate read on your baby's heart; we need to get Quinn into surgery now."
...What the fuck?... I hear my families collective worry burst out.
"I gotta go."
I didn't wait to hear the rest of mother's words as I forcefully pressed the end call button. Quinn was rocking harder than before, mewling in a low rumble of excruciating pain. I could only gaze with a furrowed brow as her face twisted and contorted into harrowing hurt. I had no doubt she had heard the Doctors words. Shit, things were becoming really drastic and this whole process just escalated quicker than I could comprehend.
Why the hell couldn't things, just for once, run smoothly?