Chapter 193 One Hundred & Ninety Three

Chapter 193 One Hundred & Ninety Three
EMMA POV
I woke up at 3 AM with what I thought was just another cramp.
It wasn't just another cramp.
It was a contraction.
A real one this time .
I knew what they felt like because I'd been having Braxton Hicks contractions for weeks. But this was different. This was stronger. This was the real deal.
"Ryan," I said, shaking him awake. "I think it's time.Ryan!" I yelled
He was up immediately, like someone had dumped ice water on his head.
"It's time?" he said, his eyes going wide. "The baby is coming? Now? It's 3 AM. Hospitals are for daytime honey."
"Babies don't care what time it is," I said, trying to breathe through the contraction.
"Right. Yes. Of course," he said, already jumping out of bed. "Okay. We have a plan. We've practiced this."
He'd written a list. A literal list of things to do when labour started.
He'd put it on the fridge.
"The list!" he shouted, running to the kitchen.
"Ryan, just get the hospital bag," I called after him. "It's been packed for two weeks."
"Right. The list. Then the bag. Then the hospital," he was saying to himself as I heard him padding around the apartment.
Another contraction hit.
This one was stronger than the last.
I gripped the side of the bed and tried to breathe like they'd taught us in prenatal class.
Ryan came running back.
"Are you okay? Do you need water? Should you eat something? Do we need to call 911?"
"We don't need 911," I said between breaths. "We need to get to the hospital."
"Right. Hospital. Yes," he said. He disappeared again.
I heard him fumbling around in the dark. I heard him curse when he stubbed his toe. I heard him knocking something over.
"I'm fine!" he shouted from the other room.
"I didn't ask if you were fine," I yelled back.
He came back with the hospital bag and stood there looking at me like he had no idea what to do.
"We need to get dressed," he said.
"I'm dressed," I said, looking down at my pajamas.
"You need real clothes," he said. "What if the baby comes in the car? We need you comfortable clothes. Let’s get you changed
"Ryan, fuck!” I close my eyes “ Don’t make me cuss . I'm in labour. I don't care about clothes right now ."
"You'll care later," he said firmly, already pulling out maternity pants from my drawer.
Another contraction hit.
This one made me grab his hand and squeeze it so hard I thought I might break his fingers.
"Oh my God," he said. "Oh my God, that's seems intense. How long do we have? Should we call the hospital? Are we going to make it?"
"It's early labour," I gasped. "We have time. Just get me dressed and get me to the car."
He threw clothes at me and turned around so I could change.
"Are you sure about the hospital?" he asked. "Because we could have the baby here. At home. That's a thing people do. Very natural. Very— I don’t think I can drive you to hospital am fucking scared."
“Language!” I squeezed his hand tight
"We're going to the hospital," I said firmly. "Now."
The car ride was something else.
Ryan was driving like he was in a high speed chase.
We hit every red light in the city.
"Come on," he was muttering at the lights. "Sorry for the speed limit. Why is no one on the road? Where is everyone?"
"It's 3:30 in the morning," I said, having another contraction in the passenger seat.
"This is the worst time to have a baby," he said. "Why didn't the baby come at 3 PM when you… it would help me think better.”
I couldn't help but laugh through the pain.
"Are you laughing?" he asked, glancing over at me. "You're having a contraction and you're laughing?"
"You're stressing me out ," I said. "It's funny to see am the one pushing the baby you’re the one panicking ."
"It's not funny," he said, but he was also kind of laughing. "Nothing about this is funny. You're in pain. Our baby is coming. This is serious."
Another contraction hit and I wasn't laughing anymore.
We got to the hospital and Ryan practically carried me inside.
"My wife is having a baby," he announced to the receptionist like he was telling her we'd won the lottery.
"Okay, sir we can see that" she said calmly, "Let's get you to triage."
A nurse walked me to a room and I changed into a hospital gown.
The gown was uncomfortable and ridiculous and I looked like a disaster.
Ryan came in and immediately his face went soft.
"You look beautiful," he said.
"I look like hav been beating up badly ," I said.
"Still beautiful," he insisted.
The nurse came back to check how far along I was.
"You're at four centimetres," she said. "You've got a long ways to go."
Four centimetres.
I had been in labour for less than an hour and I was only at four centimetres.
Apparently I had a long night ahead of me.
"What can I do?" Ryan asked the nurse. "How can I help?"
"You can be her support," the nurse said. "Help her get comfortable. Go for walks. Use the shower. Whatever helps her cope with the pain."
The next few hours were a blur of pain and Ryan trying to help.
He held my hand during contractions.
He walked with me up and down the hallway.
He got me water and ice chips.
He rubbed my back.
He whispered encouragement even though I yelled at him to stop talking.
"You're doing great," he kept saying.
"I'm doing terrible," I kept responding. "Why would we plan to do this again? Why would anyone do this again?"
"You're in pain," he said. "You're allowed to hate me right now."
"I don't hate you," I said. "But I also don't understand why you get to stand there comfortable while I'm being torn apart from the inside."
"I know," he said. "It's incredibly unfair and I'm sorry."
By 8 AM, I was at seven centimetres.
Seven.
Only seven.
I wanted an epidural.
I wanted all the drugs.
I wanted someone to just take the baby out right now.
"I can't do this," I told the nurse.
"You're already doing this," she said practically. "You're almost there."
"You don't understand," I said. "This is insane. My body is literally trying to push a human out of itself. This is not natural. This is not beautiful. This is a nightmare."