Epilogue

Epilogue
Five years later:
“Do you want some ice?”
“No.”
“I think you need some ice. Your forehead is all shiny.”
“Goodness, Talia. Leave me alone.”
“Don’t get cranky. I’m just trying to help…”
“Brenden,” Irene whined. “Make her stop. For the love of God, make her stop.”
“Talia,” Brenden berated in a warning tone, his voice coming from Irene’s right, and the two of them got into a hushed argument that ended with Talia huffing and giving them both the stink eye. Which was perfectly fine by Irene because at least Talia would no longer be talking.
“I’m sure if Nina wanted her to have ice, they would bring her ice,” Irene’s mother said reasonably from across the room. She was sitting in a little chair, looking out of place in her khaki pants and t-shirt.
“Sure they would,” her dad agreed. He had been standing by the wall, too anxious to sit and checked his watch several times a minute. “Where is she, anyway?” His eyes scanned the room as if expecting Nina to spring out of the shadows at any moment. Then, they settled on Brenden. “Shouldn’t she be back now?”
“The nurse will call her when Irene is ready,” Brenden explained.
“What if she doesn’t get here on time? Does the nurse know how to deliver a baby?”
“Dad, everything is under control,” Irene said tiredly. “Stop worrying.”
“My commanding officer’s wife had her baby in the car, Irene. Just popped the thing out like a pressure cooker. Of course, I worry.”
“Greg!” Irene’s mother looked scandalized, but apparently not enough to keep from adding, “Brenden and Talia are both here. Between a doctor and a nurse, they would never let Irene become a pressure cooker.”
“Thanks a lot, Mom.”
“All I am saying is we should be prepared for the worst,” Greg argued.
The divorced couple bickered like old times, and Talia tapped her foot on the floor at a rapid speed, actively partaking in one of her annoying habits. Brenden rubbed his hand down Irene’s forearm, avoiding the IV and said in her ear, “I can kick them out if you want.”
He had been like that since the pregnancy: attentive and thoughtful. He was always making sure Irene had what she needed, ensuring that she never carried anything too heavy or that she was not on her feet for too long. Irene wanted to work up until her due date, despite Brenden’s protests, but in her third trimester, Nina sided with Brenden and she was overruled.
It was funny how Nina remained her doctor after all. Irene attempted to switch to another office, but she had an honest dream about Nina’s place—about the waterfall and soothing music and coffee. She was simply unable to part with the slice of heaven. When she tried to make her next appointment with another doctor, Nina snagged Irene’s file for herself and Irene was forced to endure another awkward exam beneath her scrutiny.
Irene hadn’t had the heart to say anything since. Especially since the pregnancy, which brought tears of joy to her eyes. She had been so excited at the thought of delivering their baby.
Talia had been right about some things. But at least now that she wouldn’t have to choose between allowing Nina or her mom in the delivery room. Talia was gleeful over this detail whenever Irene brought it up.
“I told you letting Nina be your cooch doctor had its perks!”
The nurse came in and made everyone except Brenden leave the room so that she could do an internal exam. Brenden held her hand, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, and she announced that Irene was seven centimeters dilated before glancing at her IV bags and leaving the room.
Vin flew in with the rest of the crew, dressed in his surgical scrubs with a matching cap on his head.
“Seven?” Irene heard him say. “You’re trying to hold it in, aren’t you, Irene? I have to go scrub in for a surgery in an hour.”
“You can come back when you’re done, Dad,” Brenden said tiredly, answering for Irene.
“What? And be the last person to see my grandson?”
Vin had assumed it was a boy since the pregnancy announcement, even though they decided not to find out the gender until the birth. He once stated that Irene was carrying the child in the same way Nina had carried Brenden, whatever that meant.
Nina knew the sex, but Irene made her swear to do her best to keep it a secret from everyone, including Irene and her own husband. It was difficult to do with a family of doctors, but Nina had managed somehow.
“Oh, did you find out it’s a boy?” Irene’s mom said excitedly.
“Of course it’s a boy,” Vin interjected loudly. “Look at how big she is!”
A hushed horror fell over the room, and then everyone was reprimanding him at the same time. Irene just shook her head, completely unfazed.
Some things would never change. Vin and Irene had continued to banter, to insult, and tried to get the best of each other. Brenden didn’t understand it, and yet he always submitted to his father’s nonsense, taking Vin’s subtle insults and absorbing them like a punching bag. But Irene had long since discovered that it made Vin’s behavior worse.
Vin stood up for her once. About two years prior, Irene received the chiding of a lifetime from a doctor over an order that was written and not completed the day before. The doctor blamed nurses in general for their incompetence and insisted Irene call the supervisor and explain why the patient had yet to make a full recovery.
Vin witnessed it all and took the doctor aside, and Irene soon received a brief apology from the doctor with the assurance that he would take care of the problem himself.
It wouldn’t be impressive from a normal person, but Vin’s brief act of support proved that he liked Irene. Just a little.
The feeling was mutual, whatever it was.
A few minutes later, Nina came and checked in on Irene, then got called away for something else. Vin told the nurse to bring him a cup of coffee, and when she refused, he disappeared to the cafeteria.
Andy and Dr. Stone—Selena— showed up half an hour later, just in time for the nurse to come in and clear the room again.
Irene was nine centimeters dilated.
“Any minute now,” she said happily while trashing her gloves.
Irene was nervous and her mouth was dry. But there was no way she was going to say anything lest Talia tried to shove more ice down her throat. Irene thought she was prepared, with all the classes and her own medical training, but not even hours upon hours of training could ready her for that moment in her life.
As soon as they had her rolled into the birthing suite, Irene grabbed Brenden by the shirt sleeve and told him to get her an epidural. She didn’t care what he had to do to get it. She had willingly turned a blind eye to anything if it made the pain stop. It never crossed her mind to go without pain management, especially as the contractions wracked through her and threatened to split her lower half open.
Now, Irene could barely feel anything from the waist down and the contractions were nothing but a dull, painless pressure, each spell coming and going with an increasing consistency. On the little monitor above her head was the baby’s heartbeat, faster than her own. Irene caught Brenden watching it frequently, her eyes shifting upwards and his features relaxing with each reassuring glance.
Irene told Brenden he didn’t have to watch the actual delivery—that she wouldn’t be offended—but the whole birthing process didn’t seem to bother him. He was moderately calm throughout the ordeal, even when the contractions started before her water broke. It had something to do with him being a doctor, and Irene thought it would be the same for a nurse, but the thought of Brenden’s penis ripping open and a baby emerging made her insides want to twist and die. She assumed he would feel the same way.
The crew came in again, but only minutes passed before the nurse was ushering them out once more, acting on some instinct. She did a final exam and announced Irene was fully dilated and that she was leaving to call Nina.
Just the thought of what was to come caused Irene to sweat. Brenden came to her aid, giving her ice without her having to ask for it. He stroked her hair and murmured about how, if the hospital allowed it, Brenden would have sat on the bed with her.
Irene’s mother was the only person allowed in the room with them. Nina came in and did another internal exam and on her command, people began taking apart the bed. Irene’s feet were placed into the stirrups and the overhead light, which was as large as the sun, was spotlighted directly between her legs.
Nina squeezed her hand in reassurance before they began. “This is it! You ready?” she asked excitedly, and all Irene could do was grimace in return.
Brenden held her hand, his grip firm, and Irene hung on like he was her life support. Two people on either side of her pushed her knees back to her ears and it occurred to Irene that this was exactly how she got herself into her current situation. Minus Nina and the bright spotlight, of course.
“Alright, Irene. Are you ready? When I say so, I’m going to need you to push as hard and for as long as you can.”
Irene nodded quickly, concentrating on her breathing like Nina taught her to do. In through her nose, out through her mouth.
“Okay, let’s give a big push! Come on, Irene! Push!”
Aside from an uncomfortable amount of pressure, nothing hurt like she thought it would. The epidural was godsent. Irene got a small sheen of sweat on her forehead, but she attributed this more to the heat rolling off the spotlight than the actual labor she was performing.
Brenden was immediately on it, throwing a wet towel on her forehead, trying to be supportive while struggling to catch the whole show. Despite her fear, his excitement was contagious, and all Irene could think about the whole time was how she was having their child and how lucky she was.
Nina coached her through it, telling her to push, then to push harder. Brenden squeezed her hand, then her foot, and if Irene weren’t so preoccupied, she would laugh. Her mom stood respectfully near her head in quiet observation.
The pressure was tremendous, and all at once it disappeared in a quick, sudden relief that left her panting. There was a blur or movement as everyone sprang into action, and all she could see was a small goopy bundle in Nina’s arms.
No one told Irene the sex of the child and she wanted to ask, but there was so much commotion and noise that Irene suddenly felt too exhausted to raise her voice so that she could be heard. The baby let out a choked cry before the umbilical cord was cut and it was whisked away to a table across the room.
A few minutes later, Nina resumed her current position, telling Irene they were not done. She spoke quickly, determinedly, coaching Irene through the expulsion of the placenta, which came easily after several long minutes but distracted her focus from everything else occurring in the room. There were pads tucked beneath her by what appeared to be a nurse tech.
Then the bed was reassembled and her legs were repositioned, and all Irene wanted to know was where the hell Brenden was and why he left her at such a vulnerable moment. Her chest got tight, and for the first time in her life, Irene experienced the crushing, overwhelming sensation that left her feeling hopelessly suffocated in everything that was occurring around her.
Then from out of nowhere, his lips were on hers, his thumbs wiping away the sweat on her cheeks as he kissed her briefly but with purpose. “It’s a boy, Irene,” he whispered, and then Nina was at her side, lowering the tiny bundle into her arms.
Irene didn’t have a lot of experience with babies, but this one settled perfectly against her chest, its little body warm and soft and so incredibly fragile. Thin, dark hair was matted against his head, the ends settling an entire inch above eyes that were clenched tightly shut.
The room filled with people for an indefinite amount of time, everyone cooing and ahhing over the boy in Irene’s arms. It was loud and crowded and Irene was feeling selfish. She just wanted everyone to go away, to have this perfect moment all to herself.
When the nurse began kicking everyone except Brenden out of the room, it was all background noise against the cozy, seamless little existence that surrounded them.
Brenden kissed her temple, and when Irene turned her head, he kissed her mouth.
When it was just them and the nurse in the room, the reality of her fortune weighed on her. Its presence was a sharp contrast to the anxiety that had burdened her only moments earlier. For the first time since her wedding, Irene wept tears of joy.
.
“Thank God his hair is the same color as Brenden’s, right, Irene?” Talia whispered loudly, leaning towards her bed so that Irene could hear her clearly. “Could you imagine if he came out looking like Vin?”
Ward lightly smacked her on the arm for Irene, aghast at her statement, but Irene couldn’t help but crack a smile. Talia was right.
After the nurse kicked everyone out of the room, she assisted Irene with her first breastfeeding, which took a few tries. Then she left the family of three alone, and shortly afterwards, Irene was moved to the maternity ward. A crib for the baby was parked in the room with them, which was once again overflowing with family and friends.
Andy took the baby, handling him carefully, and the little boy looked tiny and breakable against his looming size.
“I think he looks like an Andy,” he announced firmly. “Isn’t that right, Junior? Oh shit—crap—he opened his eyes! He likes the name!”
Irene’s dad, who was probably the only person who hadn’t seen the baby’s eyes open, nearly crashed over a chair to witness this turn of events.
They still hadn’t decided on the name. Brenden and Irene debated on a few they liked, but in the end, they decided to wait until they saw the baby to see if one fit. Which was ridiculous, but it felt like the right thing to do.
So far, they had barely had a moment to themselves to see what they both thought.
“He looks terrified,” Irene heard Brenden say.
“No, dude, he looks fucking ecstatic. Oh shit… Freaking… Sorry.”
“You can’t say ‘freaking’ either, Andy!” Selena griped.
“Why not? It’s not a cuss word.”
“It’s inappropriate. I don’t want you saying it around our kids.”
A few months ago, Selena confessed that she wanted to start trying for kids right after they got married. They were engaged a year ago, right after Andy started to work as a nurse practitioner at a trauma center. Their wedding date was set for the end of the year, a little under half a year later.
Irene recalled how years ago, while sitting in Andy’s living room, Selena told her she never wanted kids.
A knock on the door turned everyone’s attention. Dr. Swift, whom Irene had called by her preferred name, Marg for three years, surprising herself even, entered the room, her eyes zeroing in on the bundle in Andy’s arms.
“Sorry, I’m so late,” she apologized, quickly stepping forward to hug Irene and then Brenden. “I had a complicated surgery. Oh my god, is this our little man?” she exclaimed, quickly moving towards Andy’s side and gushing at the baby.
Things were awkward between Dr. Swift and Irene for a long time. Despite the peaceful lunch they shared, becoming close friends wasn’t easy. Irene still didn’t fully trust her, and Irene thought the other could sense her unease.
Dr. Stone continued to keep her distance from Brenden until Irene finally invited her to Andy’s house for a house party. After they all had a few drinks and really had a chance to talk, the tension eased away, the wall between them slowly but surely chipping down at the edges.
Marg had been dating someone for a year, although it was still uncertain whether they were serious. She was vague with her details, and when asked if he was ‘the one,’ she could coyly respond, “I guess we’ll see.”
As it turned out, Marg had a hard time with life. She was not close to her father, despite how Vin made things seem, and her mother passed away when she was a teenager. She had been on antidepressants on and off since she started college, and Irene later found that the unmarked pills she dropped in the hallway so many years ago were said antidepressants.
She was currently better and had been doing well without pills.
Over the years, she had maintained a close friendship with Vin, and when Irene finally asked her about it, her answer was surprising.
“Good friends are hard to come by,” she said with a shrug. “Vin can be an ass, but looks out for people he cares about. Believe it or not, he is sometimes hardest on the people he loves the most.”
Irene thought about Brenden, hoping like hell that was true.
“What’s his name?” she heard Marg ask Brenden.
“Baby like Andy,” Andy quickly prompted, as if it would settle the matter.
“The baby does not like Andy.”
“You could go the celebrity route,” Ward joked.
“Celebrities are stupid and name their kids after directions and equations. We are not going the fruit way either.”
“We are not naming the child after what we want for dinner, right?” Greg interrupted. “Cause I am a little hungry.”
Pretty soon, the baby started fussing and the nurse came by to make everyone leave. It was getting late, so they told them to get rest.
The nurse assisted Irene with another breastfeeding lesson and then quietly left the room, allowing her to finish on her own. Irene watched the baby for a moment, touching his soft nose with the tip of her finger, and he looked at her with sleepy eyes.
As soon as Nina saw his grey-ish green eyes, she claimed they would fade to the exact shade of Brenden’s in a few short months.
Brenden sat on the recliner by the bed, watching them silently. She waved him over and he approached with caution, sliding in beside her slowly so as to not disturb the baby.
When the baby finished eating, Irene handed him over to Brenden to burp him, watching in awe as Brenden handled him easily and with care. She was exhausted. She felt like she could sleep for weeks but her eyes were glued to the scene next to her, unwilling to miss a single moment.
After he burped, the baby sagged, going limp and peaceful in Brenden’s arms.
“Guess he’s full,” Brenden murmured quietly. He turned and looked at her. “You tired, Irene? I can go to the chair so you can sleep.”
Irene shook her head, turning on her side and nestling against Brenden’s chest. He shifted the baby into his right arm and wrapped his left around her shoulders, pulling her closer.
Irene’s eyes went heavy immediately, especially as Brenden began rubbing her forearm with his fingers. Especially as he turned and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering, his nose skimming the base of her hairline while he inhaled deeply.
She knew the feeling. Clutching them both tightly, not wanting to lose a moment even in her sleep, Irene held on for as long and hard as she could.

‘This is perfection,’ she thought as she drifted to sleep.