What's Done is Done

Chapter 22

I'm now thirty nine weeks pregnant. I'm only one week away from my due date. The doctor told me that I should be expecting for the babies to come at any time now. I'm overly excited but also incredibly nervous.

I'm still pretty damn young. Is it even physically possible for my body to give birth to not just one baby, but two?

I try to convince myself that I'll be fine, that my babies will be fine. Great, actually. 

On April 19, a normal Tuesday morning, I'm lazily sprawled across my bed, mindlessly watching a stupid, cheesy LifeTime movie on TV. My stomach is sticking out and absolutely KILLING me. I haven't talked all morning, just moaned and groaned.

Ever since I hit week thirty, I've been in a LOT of pain. I've been through hell and back - I'm not even exaggerating!

Being pregnant hadn't been easy on me physically, emotionally, and mentally. Especially physically. Those babies oh so kindly (note the sarcasm) gave my body a lot of wear and tear.

Even though for the last nine weeks or so, I've felt like dying, I was still looking forward to seeing my beautiful babies, my beautiful son and daughter.

Anyway, it's just a typical Tuesday morning. As soon as the LifeTime movie ends, I get a funny, weird feeling. Several small cramps suddenly appears. For the first ten minutes, the cramps come and go. Huh...

I try my best to ignore it by settling on another LifeTime movie (they're so terrible yet addicting; it's just a guilty pleasure of mine) and eating chips and dip. 

Halfway throughout the movie, I pee. Actually pee on the bed. Well, it feels like I'm peeing, anyway...

"God, what am I, two?!" I cry in disgust, getting out of the bed.

I realize that it isn't pee. My water had broken.

I'm in labor.

I gasp and gasp, not knowing what to do. 

I calm down and tell myself: Allison Christine Barry! You know what to do. Dr. Heathers had coached you on what to do when in labor. Get a grip, Al!

I open the door to my closet and grab my bag that had been packed for over three months now.

I look at myself in the floor length mirror; I'm wearing a plain white T-shirt, gray sweatpants, and mismatching socks (one is purple and the other is orange); my unbrushed and unwashed hair is sloppily styled into a messy bun, and my face is bare without any makeup. 

I wonder if I should freshen up and get dressed, but I decide against it. I'm going to the hospital, not a fashion show.

I call Brandon and tell him the news, and he says that he will be right over in a few minutes. (Even though he's at school.) Then I text Delilah who's also at school the news just to let her know.

Brandon arrives, like, three minutes later and I quickly get in his car. 

"How's it going, Allie Bear?" He asks me as he starts driving to the hospital.

"I'm...in...pain!" I say, breathing in and out heavily, and sweating a shit ton.

"I'm so sorry, Al, but everything will be over in a little while, I promise."

"Okay."

Brandon holds my sweaty hand and smiles at me. I manage to smile back.

When we arrive at the hospital, we hurriedly walk inside and find Dr. Heathers. She leads me to a  room and I change into an ugly hospital gown and I crawl into the bed.

She calmly and nicely coaches me on giving birth. Brandon is on my side during the whole time, clutching my arm, and whispering me nice, calm words in my ear.

At 1:00 PM, two hours later, a beautiful baby girl with a bald head, a red, blotchy, and scrunched up yet adorable face, blue eyes, and a bloodcurdling scream is born.

The nurse carries the girl and takes her away to the nursery.

"Okay, now we're going to perform a C-section on your son, okay?" Dr. Heathers inform me.

I nod my head, crying and smiling. "Okay."