Love Lessons (Marina Diamandis)

Chapter Eight (Part 2)

In that moment, everything goes blank in my head for a good minute. We know exactly what to do, have rehearsed it even. Still, I go cold from head to toes. As soon as my body responds to my brain again, I reach out for her hand.

She looks at me as if she were still in denial, then her hand squeezes mine like she did before, and I see nothing but pain reflected on her face. That's when it all kicks in. "You've been having contractions today and didn't tell me. Why would you do that?"

"Because they weren't happening every five minutes, I didn't want it to be Wednesday all over again". She sighs as she remembers our previous disappointment. Long story short, she had two contractions, we freaked out, and ran to the hospital over nothing.

"Babe, but you're supposed to tell me. How's it now?" We walk out to the room. I know that this doesn't necessarily mean she's going into labor soon.

"I'd say ten minutes maybe, at least. But... They haven't stopped". I have to remember everything we learnt in maternity classes. But my mind is too fogged up. What did it mean again if they don't stop? This is no time to panic. Think! Dammit!

"Alright, then sit, or lie down and do nothing while I get everything ready and call your doctor" I tell her while I search for my phone on the night stand. 

"Walking helps me with the pain, actually" She comments, and suddenly everything makes sense.

"That's what you were doing" I whisper to myself, smiling. I should have seen it coming.

While she resumes her pacing, I call the doctor. He tells me we should go when the contractions are two minutes apart from the other, something I know Marina isn't going to like. It gives me enough time to clean the mess in the bathroom and to make sure we have everything we needed.

Once I walk inside the baby's room, my heart grows twice its size, because a little someone is coming to our world. It could happen in minutes, could be in hours. The wait is almost over. This is really happening.

I catch the Greek outside, hug her from behind and leave soft kisses on her shoulders. She takes my hands in hers, squeezes them with each new contraction, while I do my best to keep track of time. It takes around three hours for the count to move to three minutes. By the state Marina's in, I am not going to wait any longer. No sane person would want to see their loved one in this much pain.

We call Dr. Parker right before leaving the flat, and I drive us to the hospital. My hands can't stop shaking nor sweating. I can only hope Marina is too busy to notice how nervous I really am. She's trying her best to focus on her breathing, I can hear that. However, her next scream is too hopeless and painful to listen to.

I wish I could take her pain away, at least a part of it, just to make things easier for her. Sadly, there is nothing I can do other than support her in every step of the way. My words might not relief her, but she gets distracted. I know she's nervous, we both are. No matter how much time you spend preparing yourself, you're never ready for a moment like this.

Within minutes, we're at the hospital. The nurses check on the baby, and lastly, on Marina. We are almost immediately sent to the delivery room. In there, time goes by painfully slowly for both of us, but specially for the lady in labor. We walk, stand, walk again until the nurses come alongside the doctor to check on the baby once more.

There are moments in which Marina has the biggest smile on her face and her eyes shine as she tells me she can't wait for us to be mothers, and then come the ones where she's screaming in agonizing pain, telling me how she didn't ask for this, or begging the nearby nurses to just cut her open and take it out.