Silver Lining

thirty three.

Nathan Fields.

When I arrived home from work last night, the last thing I expected was to find my pregnant girlfriend in labour on our sofa. Now, seven hours later, Iris is progressing well at seven centimetres dilated, contracting every three minutes.

During her examination upon arrival, her main doctor, Maxwell, suggested having an epidural due to the horizontal position of the baby near her ribs. If the baby flips breach when the other is delivered, which may happen, her doctor will need to reach in and flip the baby for her. After he mentioned that, she didn't let him finish explaining the process and simply agreed.

Iris has yet to ask for the epidural because she wants to get as far as she can without it. Now that she's entering her fourteenth hour in labour, she's getting exhausted, so I doubt it'll be long until she does.

"Do you want me get you more ice?" I ask, taking the cup from her to put on the table next to me.

"I'm okay," she shakes her head with an exhausted smile, "Thank you, though."

"You're doing amazing, baby," I tell her for the hundredth time, taking her hand.

Her head lolls back on the pillow, "I love you."

"I love you more," I press a kiss to her knuckles.

"Oh, fuck, not again," she exhales a deep breath, her face screwing up in pain as yet another contraction rules her body, "I need this to be over, Nath, I feel like I'm dying."

"Squeeze my hand," I insist, and she doesn't hold back in the slightest; she could break my bones for all I care.

"I need the epidural now," she practically begs, and within seconds, she presses the button at the side for a doctor.

The doctors happily give Iris what she wants once the consent form is signed, and they've thoroughly explained the process and all the risks to her. They wait for her next contraction to pass before fitting the epidural, so she can stay completely still for the process.

When she's laid back in bed, a nurse fits a catheter and soon enough, for the first time since her labour started, Iris is out of pain and is comfortable.

"Get in and join me," Iris taps the bed.

"You have seen the size of me, right?" I will not fit in that bed next to her.

"Please?" she pouts her lips.

With not much room, I successfully slide in next to her and, with my arm around her, I hold her close, being insanely cautious of all the wires. She lies her head on my chest, sighing contently and out of curiosity, I look over to the machine that monitors her contractions to see that she's having one right now.

"Can you feel it?" I murmur, bringing my attention back to her.

"It feels like pressure," she looks up at me to reply, "I know I'm having contractions, but it's not painful any more."

"I'm glad, sweetheart," I kiss the top of her head, keeping her close. There's nothing I hate more than seeing the people I love in pain; I felt so helpless just watching her, "I'm so proud of you, baby, you've done so well so far."

"It's not even over yet," she sighs, "I'm terrified to push them out, how am I supposed to do it, Nath?"

"You have a great team of doctors who will help you through it, and your body knows exactly what it needs to do. I know you can do this, sweetheart, you're incredible," I assure her as best as I can, but I feel so out of my depth with this.

It may be the fourth labour I've supported someone through, but there's a drastic difference. Lucy was my best friend, I cared for her and hated seeing her in labour, but with Iris, it's killing me inside to watch. Guilt eats at me for putting her in this position, and I'd do anything to help her.