“We need Dr. Brown,” I shout to the attendant. She’s out of her chair asking what’s wrong, and a guy in scrubs is headed our way with a wheelchair. “She’s in labor,” I continue not wanting to put her down until we’re at a bed.
Mariska’s head is on my chest, and she grips the front of my shirt. I can feel her body straining with every pain, and I wish there was some way I could help her.
“Here, sir,” the fellow with the wheelchair motions for me to put her down.
“Show me to a room. I’ll put her on a bed.” I don’t want to put her down at all then Dr. Langley, Dr. Brown’s partner appears.
“Mr. Knight! I just got the call. Follow me.” He leads the way, and I follow him quickly down the hall.
“I think she’s too early,” I say as we enter the room. Mariska is sitting, leaning forward on the bed with her eyes closed. “She didn’t want drugs, but I think she might be in trouble.”
Her hand shoots out and grabs my arm with such force I almost sit. She’s shaking her head fast, and I peel her fingers off my arm, holding it in my hand instead.
“No?” I say, smoothing her hair back. “What’s wrong? What’s no?”
She looks up at me, and her eyes are so focused. “I wasn’t sure…” She takes a breath. “It’s the right time.”
“Right—it’s not the right time,” I agree.
“NO!” She shakes her head again, gripping my hand tighter. “This is the right time.”
Dr. Langley is at her side now, holding her arm and helping her back on the bed. “You think the due date was wrong?”
Mariska nods quickly, but then she lets out another yell. My stomach drops. “I hope she’s right.”
She’s crying out more, and the nurses are here. I’m out of my jacket and scrubs are shoved backwards over my shoulders so I can stand beside her and hold her hand. Every scream is a burning sear through my insides.
Dr. Langley is very calm, and he talks her through the process, encouraging and guiding her. Mariska’s body trembles, and her face is soaked. Her hair is soaked. I hold her arm and rub her back feeling like I might lose it at any moment and demand she be given drugs, even though I know it’s too late.
I can take pain. I can tolerate enormous amounts of pain, as I learned in the service. I can’t take watching Mariska suffer like this.
An hour passes. The nurse feeds her ice chips. Every muscle in my body aches from how hard I’m clenching. I feel like I’m pushing through every labor pain with her.
The doctor suggests she walk around when suddenly Mariska breaks into tears. My stomach plummets.
“What’s wrong, baby?” My voice cracks.
“I can’t do it.” She’s crying and shaking, her whole body trembling. “I can’t do it anymore. Stuart, I can’t…”
Holy shit. I hold her shoulders, stroking her sweat-soaked head. She grips my arms, and I know how hard she’s been working. I don’t know what to say.
Her head drops, but Langley keeps urging. “Come on, Mariska! Don’t give up!”
I’m not having it. My arms are around her shoulders, and I draw her close against my chest. “She needs to rest. Just give her a minute.” It’s a stern order.
The doctor’s eyes go round, and he levels his gaze at me. “She’s at a critical point. The baby’s almost crowning. We can’t surgically remove it. If she stops now, we could lose them both.”
Jesus! That’s something I won’t allow. My entire demeanor changes. I put my hands on her shoulders and help her sit up. “Come on, baby,” I say softly, catching her chin. Her eyes are wet with tears, and I see the exhaustion lining her face. “We almost have our little boy.”
She shakes her head as more tears fill her eyes. “I don’t think I can. Stuart…”
“Yes,” I smooth back her hair, forcing a smile as panic squeezes my chest. “You can, baby. You’re strong. Bring him here. Come on.”
She blinks at me a few times, thinking. I watch as her eyes roam around the room until at last they return to me, and in them I see that strength she’s always possessed coming back.
Her voice is trembling, but she grips my hand. “Okay.”
Minutes like eons pass as she works through the final stages. The doctor shouts that he’s crowning, and everything moves faster. At the same time, it all seems to go in slow motion until the noise of our urging, the crying and gasping of my wife, the drumbeat of my heart, all of it is cut by the most beautiful, the shrillest scream of a newborn I’ve ever heard.