The contraction fades away, and I wonder if Bull really meant it when he said he’d be ten minutes. I want to believe that I’m the strongest woman out there, but when it comes down to it, I could really use him here, if only just to hold my hand and remind me that I can do this.
I hear a fire truck siren from outside of the hospital, and I grin to myself, realizing that daddy’s little red wagon just sped right through the stop sign. It will only be seconds before he busts through that door.
I get myself as comfortable as possible in the hospital bed and have midwives come in and connect me to all sorts of machines. They hardly have a chance to finish their job before Bull comes skidding around the corner, having to grab hold of the door frame to stop himself from flying straight past.
He grins at me.
I grin back.
And just like that, I know we’re ready. We’ve got this.CHAPTER 27AMELIAFour hours.
Four fucking hours is all it takes for my body to go from uncomfortably pregnant to ‘get this fucking devil beast out of my vagina.’ How is that even possible? With both Ryan and Coby, I was in labor for twelve hours, yet this little one is ready to go. He or she must really be wanting to meet Mommy and Daddy.
I stand beside the bed, leaning over it as Bull rubs my lower back, doing anything in his power to try and make this easier for me. I see the helplessness in his eyes, and I hate it. I know without a doubt that if he could take the pain away, he would, but I had to go and be a hero and do it without drugs, and now it’s far too late.
What was I thinking? I’ve been through this with the girls and know exactly just how awful it’s going to be, yet when offered the epidural, I waved the doctor away with a smile. A fucking smile.
God, I’m an idiot. What am I trying to prove? No one is going to look at me any differently if I were to seek out some pain relief. What does it matter now, anyway? My window is closed, and now I have no choice but to suck it up and prove to myself for the third time just how incredible and strong my body is.
Women are machines. We’re able to grow babies, house, feed, and nurture them before tearing our bodies apart just to say hello. While men, what are they good for? They’re able to make their dicks hard. Don’t get me wrong, it’s certainly a cool trick, but no wonder they try to overcompensate in every other aspect of their lives.
Bull steps in closer to my side as the doctor prepares for delivery. “Come on, Angel. Let me help you onto the bed.”
I shake my head. “I don’t … I can’t. It hurts too much to move.”
“I know,” he murmurs, keeping his hand moving on my back. “You don’t have to move. Let me do it for you.”
I look up at him, begging him to do this as gently and quickly as he possibly can. I have no doubt that the doctor is more than capable of delivering this baby in this position, but that’s not what I want. I give Bull a nod and scrunch my face in anticipation, knowing this is going to suck.
Bull dips down and scoops me into his arms, and the movement has me wanting to throw up, but before I have the chance to complain, he’s already placing me safely onto the bed.
Midwives come in at both sides, and before I know it, I have pillows jammed behind my back, my knees are up at my head, and the contraction is bearing down on me. “You’ve got this,” Bull tells me, pumping me up like he would an athlete before a big game.
I keep my eyes on the doctor, waiting for her instructions. “Damn straight, I do,” I tell him as his hand finds mine, giving me something solid to squeeze down on.
Bull’s right. I’ve got this. I just have to put the pain to the back of my head and concentrate on bringing this child safely into the world. I can scream about my aching vag later. Right now, I’m a woman on a mission, and nothing is going to bring me down. I need warrior stripes across my cheeks and a fucking medal when I’m through.
“Alright, Amelia,” the doctor says with an encouraging smile. “Let’s get ready to push.”
Fear rushes through me, but I try my best to keep it contained, though Bull knows me far too well and reads me like a book. “What are you, Angel?” he demands.
“A bad bitch.”
“You’re a what?”