Reformation

13: Braxton & Betrayal

I chucked the ball into the air and shot out of bed. What should I do? Should I time them? Should I find Ryan? Should I push? Panicking was an understatement. I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to calm my breathing.

I didn't want to go find Ryan, it was too far to walk and I didn't want to have to give birth on the pavement. He said he would be home around two, I looked up at the clock, two thirty. I started to panic even more. Was something wrong? Was an attack happening and I didn't know about it? Was this another dream?

I pinched myself and squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them again. Nope, I was awake.

What would Ryan do? But Ryan wouldn't be going into labor, he is a guy. Ok, what would mom do? Why hadn't I asked her about labor?! I had all of this free time and I never thought to ask her how she was such a great mom?! My pregnancy went by so fast, it seemed like nothing happened, but at the same time everything happened. Focus.

The contractions got stronger, I whimpered in pain.

Suddenly, the door opened.

I whipped my head around and saw Ryan standing in the doorway, his usual exhausted/happy expressing he usually had when he came home from work.

"Hey, baby." He came over and kissed me on the forehead.

I was just frozen. My chest heaved and he could sense something was wrong.

"What's up?" He pushed a strand of honey colored hair off of my forehead.

"I'm going into labor," I blurted out.

His face went pale. "W-What? Right now?"

I nodded.

He ran into the bathroom and threw up. When he came back out, his face was still pale and he looked nauseated, but his voice was steady and calm. "Alright, I'll grab the wheelchair,"

The rain still poured down outside and Ryan gave me his jacket for cover. The contractions were every eight minutes, and getting more intense as time went on.

"Please hurry," I whimpered. If I was really going to do this, I wanted to get it over with.

I wasn't ready. I really wasn't. We hadn't even decided on a name if it was a boy. We were so behind on parenting skills and decisions for our child, I guess we never thought this day would come so soon, but here we are, trying to get to the infirmary through a torrential rainstorm, lightning streaking the sky.

We finally made it inside and we were both soaked. I ditched the wheelchair and he helped me up the stairs and over the terminal bridge, half carrying me. I had to stop every once in a while to catch my breath. We finally made it to the infirmary.

She was just on her way out for the day, her brown hair in loose waves around her shoulders.

"Nope, you aren't leaving she is going into labor," his voice was shaky now.

She groaned. "But it's taco Tuesday," she whined. "There won't be any left."

"I will get you as many tacos as you want, but you aren't leaving," he demanded.

She muttered something under her breath and opened the door to the infirmary again, settling me in one of the first beds just as another contraction came on.

"I assume your water already broke?" She asked as I unzipped my pants.

I pressed my lips together. It might've, but we were in the rain so I wouldn't know. "Yeah,"

She sighed. "Alright, when you feel the next really big contraction, I want you to push, okay?"

I nodded. Ryan gripped my hand. And we waited. And waited. Five minutes passed, still nothing, the pain seemed to leave without a trace.