Two Punks In Love

A & B

Kat

Sometimes Trace and I have a huge event to go to—like the Grammy's or the VMA's—and weeks and weeks will be spent on the preparations, and days and days will be spend talking about how awesome it's going to be, and hours and hours will be spent sitting in the stylist's chair getting perfectly ready, and then when the limo arrives, I have this overwhelming feeling that I don't want to go. I'd rather go to bed and snuggle with Trace and watch other people walk the red carpet at the event I'm already over.

Yeah, labor is like that.

I don't want to go to the hospital. I don't want to get hooked up to IV's and monitors and have doctor's and nurses invade my privacy like vagina paparazzi. I just want to crawl into a cave have my babies like a mama bear—in hibernation. That must be awesome. Go to sleep and wake up six months later with four month old cubs.

I tug the bed covers over my head and pretend I'm in a cave, but that lasts all of about two minutes, because suddenly I'm having another contraction.

"Aaaaaahhhh," I roll off the bed, and stagger to my feet. I feel better—more in control of the discomfort—on my feet.

"Okay. I'm here," Mac holds her hands out to me, and I brace my forearms on hers. She walks backwards and I shuffle forward. "Fuck that weirdo controlled breathing shit, that never works. Just keep walking, if it helps. Whatever helps, we will do."

We pace down the small hall between the two bedrooms, into the nursery, decorated in greys and creams, and back into the hall. The contraction eases.

"Time," Mac calls.

"Six minutes since the last one. Duration fifty seconds," Marley calls as she records it on paper.

Ashlynn takes my other arm and together she and Mac help me sit on the bed. "I don't want to do this," I whimper, as I lean on my sister. She puts a cool cloth scented with lavendar on my face. "I know. Having a baby sucks ass."

When Mac snickers, Ashlynn stiffens. "Don't tell Leed I said that."

I laugh. Leed thought Lyra being born was the most beautiful moment of his life. Because he doesn't have a uterus that clamped down over and over to squeeze her out.

Suddenly I realize the room is only filled with my girls. "Where is he?" Trace was here five minutes ago, I swear. I crane my neck to see into the living room of our small house. It's empty. "Where did Trace go?"

"He's meeting with Officer Malone and the fireman to asses the bridge, remember?" Marley soothes. "He'll be back in half an hour, tops. Bodie went with him."

"Right," I mutter. Then, as an afterthought. "The other guys are in the barn, drinkin' I suppose?"

Everyone gets quiet. Too quiet. "Did they go with Trace?"

"They are working on a back-up plan," Mac says softly.

"What kind of back-up plan."

"It's nothing to worry about yet. I'm sure Trace is going to come back and say the fireman figured out how to get you across the creek, and you're going to be at the hospital within an hour. Hour and half tops."

"Where I can get my epidural," I sigh.

"Yes, girl. Where you can get your epidural, and you will feel so much better," Marley affirms. "Unlike these lunatics, who chose to suffer," she waves at Mac and Ashlynn.

"I think I might get one this time," Mac agrees, patting her nearly flat belly. "Ash is right. It sucked. I don't know what I was thinking, wanting to go natural. I thought I was going to die in transition..."