Deep (Stage Dive 4)

Ben bolted across the stage toward me, grabbing me carefully around the waist and shifting me onto the stage, beneath the heat of the bright lights. I could hear the crowd screaming, but they sounded distant, otherworldly.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ben, eyes panicked.

“She’s moving,” I said, one hand on his shoulder and the other on my belly. “She’s moving, Ben. I felt her move. Our baby.”

He buried his face in my hair, keeping me close, taking my weight.

“I didn’t know what it was before, but it’s her. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Yeah, that’s wild.”

“Your voice was so loud, she must have heard it and recognized it.” I smiled at him in amazement.

He swept me off my feet, holding me high and striding toward the center of the stage. “That’s great, Liz. It really is. But, sweetheart, I need to know if you heard me too.”

Slowly, I nodded, putting my palm to his face, against the bristle of his beard. “I heard you.”

“What do you say?”

I took a moment, thinking it through. Big, life-changing decisions deserve at least a second of contemplation. “We don’t have to get on that plane.”

“Okay,” he exhaled hard, smiling.

“And I love you too.”

His smile stretched his beard wide. “I know I’m going to fuck up now and then, but just stick with me, okay? I don’t want to do shit without you. I don’t want to be places where you’re not. That’s not who I am anymore.”

“We’ll work it out.”

“Yeah. We will.” He covered my lips with his, kissing me stupid.

“Everybody,” Ben said into the microphone, his voice once more filling the stadium. “This is my girl, Liz. Say hi. We’re going to be having a baby.”

And that was that.

EPILOGUE

“Get! It! Out!”

“Okay, sweetheart,” said Ben, holding my sweaty, straining hand. “Just breathe.”

“Don’t you sweetheart me. It was your penis that did this.”

Dr. Peer, the obstetrician, looked at me over the rim of her face mask thingy, eyes singularly unimpressed with the drama. Asshole. She wasn’t the one lying on a bed with her legs up in stirrups, vagina exposed for the whole fucking world to see, was she? No. No, she wasn’t. I was. And this whole labor thing had been going on for twenty-one fucking hours now, so really something needed to be done sooner rather than later. At fifteen hours I’d given in and asked for an epidural. Best thing ever. But now my high was fading. My happy was long gone.

“You can do this, I know you can,” said the amazing maternity nurse, Amy.

“Have you done it?” I snarled.

“Well … no.”

I let my eyes do the talking.

The woman took a step back.

“Easy,” said Anne, bravely holding on to my other hand.

“Liz, your baby’s head seems to be lodged in the birth canal,” said Dr. Peer. “She isn’t showing any signs of distress yet. So we can continue on as we’re doing, and hopefully push her out the old-fashioned way, or you could let us help things along with a suction extraction.”

“I read about those.” My eyes stayed on the blip-blip-blip of the baby heart monitor screen beside me.

“Is it dangerous?” asked Ben.

“With any procedure there’s a risk, but it’s very minimal. Generally the child’s head will just display a small bump, something like a blood blister, on the crown of her head for a couple of days. Nothing more.”

“What do you want to do, sweetheart? Keep going a little longer?” He picked up a wet cloth and wiped my sweat-soaked face with it.

“I’m so tired,” I cried. “Why is your head so big? If your head wasn’t so big this wouldn’t be happening.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. At around fourteen hours, Ben had stopped trying to defend himself. Probably for the best. I wasn’t to be reasoned with.

“I feel very bad for me.” I cried some more.

“Another contraction coming soon,” Anne announced, watching the monitor.

“Miss Rollins, why don’t we set up for the extraction, just in case?” asked the ever-calm Dr. Peer.

“Okay.” Some weeping.

“Oh my fucking god,” said the voice of about the last person on earth I had any interest in dealing with just then. “What is the holdup in here? Do you have any idea how boring it is, waiting around for this kid to appear?”

“Martha, you cannot be in here,” said Ben through gritted teeth, giving his sister a foul look.

“Get out, bitch,” said Anne, ever so eloquently.

The woman swanned on over to my bedside, avoiding the sight of my girl bits so proudly on display, with a look of distaste on her perfect face. “Liz. Christ you’re a mess.”

Ben cracked his jaw. “Martha—”

She placed a hand on her brother’s arm, gave him a look. “Relax. I have an important role here that everyone can agree I am well placed to perform. I’m here to take the abuse. Figure by now you must be running out of energy for it. And given I could hear her screams from the waiting room…”

“Contraction coming,” warned Anne again.

“Get that uptight fucking bitch out of my sight,” I said.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Martha yawned oh so delicately. “I thought you’d be getting to be a seriously cranky little girl by now.”

“You are the worst person to be in here.”

“Oh please,” she said, sitting down beside me and patting my shoulder. “You were handing out worse abuse to Ben and Anne, and they’re saints compared to me. Let it all out.”

“God you suck.”

“You know, I’ve been sitting out there for hours, putting up with the stinky diapers and crying from Jimmy’s little twin angel girls. And if your kid is anything like them, count me out for babysitting.” Hand on hip, she faced me down.

“As if I’d allow my child anywhere near you unchaperoned,” I snarled.

“Cute names, though. Lori and Jean. Much nicer than what you’ve got picked out. I really do pity that child during her school years.”

“Fuck I hate you!” I screamed, every inch of me straining, bearing down with my very last reserves of energy, giving it my all.

“Tell me something I don’t know!”