Delivery

By: Tamara Black



“Are you okay?” I asked.

“My water broke.”

“I figured. I’m a med-student.”

“Good for you,” she screamed. “I need to get to the hospital.”

“How far apart are your contractions?” I asked.

“Not far apart. Are you going to drive me or do I need to call an ambulance?”

“How far apart?” I repeated. “If they’re close, we’re not going to have time to get you to the hospital.”

“Less than five minutes apart,” she said. “I was going to go earlier, but I was waiting on your damn pizza.”

Her body leaned forward. I dropped the pizza bag and rushed forward, holding her up.

“Get your hands off of me,” she said in an irritated tone.

“You looked like you were falling. Let me drive you. It’s faster than waiting for an ambulance.”

“I was going to call a cab,” she said.

Where’s the kid’s father? I wondered.

“Let’s go.”

I extended my hand to her. She grabbed her stomach.

“Another contraction?” I asked.

“Yes!” she yelled.

“I’m studying to be an OB/GYN, and I can help,” I said. “We don’t have time to get to the hospital.”

“What are you saying?”

“You’re having this baby now, and I have to help you deliver it.”

“I am NOT having the guy who delivers my pizza deliver my baby.”

She stared at me with beautiful green eyes so intense.

“It’s not my idea of a fun time either, but I can help you. That was a strong, contraction, right?”

“Yes,” she said, a tear streaming down her cheek.

“Let’s go inside. I need clean towels and hot water.”

“This isn’t happening,” she sobbed.

“It’s happening, alright,” I said. “But for whatever reason, I’m here at exactly the time you need me. Now let’s go.”

I put my arm around her waist. She leaned against me as we walked into her living room.

“We can do this in the tub so we don’t mess up your bed.”

“I don’t care. Just get the baby out of me!”

“Is the tub clean?”

She shot me a look that could’ve melted solid steel.

“Yes, my tub is clean,” she snarled.

“Okay, stay here. Call the paramedics. We’re going to want them here. I’ll go get the tub ready in case they don’t get here in time.”

“I don’t have my phone with me,” she said.

I dug in my pocket and pulled mine out, handing it to her.

“Here. I’ll be right back. Hold onto the back of the couch.”

“I got it,” she snapped, taking the phone with one hand while she used the other to hold herself up.

“Where’s your bathroom?” I asked.

“Down the hall. The second door on the left,” she said.

I dashed away. In her bathroom, I pulled back the shower curtain and turned on the water – hot and cold to make sure it was warm enough to not harm the baby after it came out.

“I don’t fucking know any Daniel,” she yelled from the living room.

Leaving the water running, I ran back to her.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Your damn work called and I couldn’t call 911.”

“Fuckers,” I muttered. “Call them now.”

“I’m trying if you would leave me alone.”

As she dialed, I went back into the bathroom to check on the water and get the clean towels ready. I had witnessed many births before, but this would be the first actual baby I delivered on my own. Once the water filled the tub halfway, I stopped it and checked the temperature again.

“Are you ready yet?” she yelled.

I took a deep breath then ran back into the living room.

“It’s ready. Is the ambulance on the way? We can wait if you want.”

“This baby is not waiting,” she said. “The contractions are getting closer.”

“Shit,” I said under my breath. “Keep your bra on, but you’re going to need to take those pants off. I’m going to have to see your magic starfish?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Did you just call my nay-nay a magic starfish?”

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