Michael shook his head. “Nah. They did another ultrasound, and the doctor estimated the baby is about six, six-and-a-half pounds.”
“Forget about weight, what about the, uh, the…” I raised my hands and opened them and closed them, too worried to come up with the right word.
“Lungs,” Neil supplied for me. “The baby’s lungs are—”
“They gave Emma some steroids, just in case. But the baby is thirty-five weeks, so she’s almost full-term.” Michael spoke with the quiet authority of a man who would accept nothing but the best possible outcome. “Emma says the last month of pregnancy just packs the baby fat on, anyway.”
“Well, Emma would know,” I said lightly, hoping to calm Neil down some. Neil and Michael were more alike than either of them—or Emma—was comfortable admitting, so I assumed that whatever she had told Michael was a slightly condensed version of the truth meant to comfort him.
Neil slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocked on the balls of his feet. “She’s doing fine. She’s dilated to four.” Michael paused. “You haven’t heard from Valerie, have you?”
“I haven’t.” Not that I would have expected to. “I thought she was here with Emma. Isn’t she her coach or something?”
“No, she was the back-up coach that Emma hoped not to have to call.” Michael scrubbed a hand down his face. “Her friend, Amy, was supposed to do it, but she’s in India on a spiritual retreat, and Valerie isn’t answering her phone.”
Neil already had his cell out. “I’ll call her assistant.”
“Maybe you guys could come back there?” Michael’s eyes widened in pleading hope. “I don’t want to leave her alone for very long, but I need to take a walk or something to burn off some of this energy.”
This must be what Botox feels like. Though I was standing still, expression frozen, in my mind, I was stretching one arm out to brace against the wall, my other arm wrapped around my stomach as I tried not to vomit.
It’s not that I hate babies. I’m just super afraid of them, and pregnancy grosses me out. I guess because I don’t want kids, I don’t understand what would motivate someone to put themselves through all that. But it was what Emma wanted, so I had to be supportive, right?
But if I saw blood or anything crowning, I would pass the fuck out.
“Valerie’s assistant says she’s at the London office,” Neil said, running a hand through his hair. “That would explain why she’s not answering her phone. It’s four in the morning there.”
“Let’s go back, so you can see Emma.” Michael gestured over his shoulder.
The maternity ward wasn’t what I expected at all. I’d thought there would be more screaming, but it was strangely quiet. It still had that hospital smell, though, and that didn’t help my increasing queasiness.
I’d also expected Emma to be sleeping or sickly looking. She wasn’t even lying down. She was sitting up with the head of the bed raised, reading on her phone. She looked totally fine. She didn’t even have an IV or anything.
Neil rushed to her side like she was dying. He kissed her forehead, and she rolled her eyes. “Daddy, I’m fine. Don’t overreact.”
“You’re not in any pain, are you?” he asked, looking her over as though she would have the bloody end of a broken bone sticking out of her somewhere.
She tipped her head back with a frustrated groan. “I’m in labor. Of course I’m in pain.”
“Emma wants to do this ‘naturally’.” Michael crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “I think it’s a little crazy—”
“We have been over this,” she warned. “Why don’t you get out of here? You’re driving me nuts.”
“That’s my excuse to go.” He rolled away from the wall and left, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Neil put his hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Don’t you think you should have something? I’m sure it’s perfectly safe—”
“Sophie,” Emma began reasonably. “Could you please explain to your idiot fiancé that this is my bloody body, and i
f I don’t want to take any bloody pain medication, I’m bloody well not going to!”
Neil turned to me, and I just shrugged.
Emma let out a soft “phew” of air between her lips. She dropped her phone in her lap, arms going rigid as her face scrunched up. The very important-looking machine parked next to the bed showed a green line that had spiked sharply and plateaued as it moved across the screen.
Neil leaned down beside her, asking, “What’s the matter? Do you need something?”
I shook my head. “Neil. Shut up. She’s having a contraction.”