All for You.

Chapter 57 - Passing Time

Chapter 57 - Passing Time

— Tobias

She's really clingy to me when the midwife is here. The woman is trying her hardest to talk to Tris, but all Tris does is hold onto my arm like it's a lifeline.

I wonder if it's her anxiety about giving birth that's making her quiet or if it's the fact that she is due for another contraction any minute now. We move into the bedroom, the midwife wanting to track this next contraction with a monitor attached to her laptop. Laying down some thin plastic over the unmade bed, Tris reluctantly lays down. The midwife wraps a band around Tris's stomach and I can tell she is uncomfortable having to lay.
She really hasn't sat down this whole morning.

I kneel on the floor next to her head on the bed, resting my face on the mattress. She holds my hand firmly as I look over at the laptop, seeing a line rise on a histogram.
That must be her contraction.

I talk her through the contraction, which this time lasts a new record of fifty seconds.
I wish I could take each second and transfer her pain to me.
I stay where I am when the midwife helps remove Tris's loose shorts and roll onto her back to check how dilated she is. I run my hand over Tris's hair, lacing my fingers through her damp blonde locks.
I see the distress on her face.
And I hate it.

"You look to be four centimeters, Tris." She helps Tris pull back up her pants after offering her a form of an adult diaper so she doesn't have to worry about getting fluids anywhere. "That means you're going to be entering active labor from this point on."

She explains how her contractions will get worse and most likely closer together as she nears ten centimeters. She sits on the bed across from Tris and I, rolling up the plastic sheet and tossing it in a garbage bag.

"Now these next hours of your labor are all about you and making you comfortable, darling," the woman shows her older side as she obviously tries to relax Tris to the best of her ability. "It's not going to just blow by, I hate to tell you, it could be until tomorrow, for some women. You do whatever you want: take a nap, watch some movies, take a bath, I just wouldn't suggest leaving your apartment here because, well, it's almost over one hundred and ten degrees out there and it is brutal."

She lists some more ways to pass the time and offers Tris a yoga ball that is deflated in her bag.
I don't like that Tris knocks the idea before even trying it, but it's not worth an argument.

"Now I'm going to leave for a while, unless you want me to stick around," she laughs and Tris shyly smiles. Her head is on my shoulder as she looks at the woman across from us on our bed. "And I will come back in three or so hours. I need you to contact me if your contractions get closer than six minutes apart or all of a sudden get really bad all at once." She says and Tris nods. I supportively press my lips to her head, my hand in her hair again.

"And of course, if you have any worries or feel like something is wrong, don't hesitate to call me. I'm going to be at home doing some paperwork and waiting for your baby to be ready."
I like this woman. She's genuine and kind, and a motherly figure. I wish Tris would open up to liking her a little bit more.

As I walk out with the midwife, I ask her to leave behind the yoga ball, despite Tris's strong opinion against it. She smiles, patting Indy on the head and leaving the flab of rubber and it's pump on the couch.

"Amar won't stop texting me," I lean on the doorframe talking to Tris. "What do you say we invite he and George over to play some cards?"

She sighs, holding her stomach as she bosses another contraction. I move over to her to try and comfort her but she shakes her head, pointing me away. I go and write down the time on the notepad, three thirty-one.
She's going on her eighth hour of labor now.

"They were going to come and take Indy anyways so we didn't have to deal with him and a newborn for the first few days, so do you mind if I invite them over? It'll be fun..." she waddles her way into the kitchen and I write down that the contraction lasted a minute.

"Okay," she takes a cookie from the container on the countertop and takes a bite from it.

"I like the midwife, she's nice," I talk as I text Amar.

"Yeah," she replies shortly, eating the cookie in small bites. Indy trots up next to her in hoping that maybe some food is for him.

"They're going to bring Rex," I say reading Amar's text which refers to his old dog.
I do warn him that Tris is having contractions and isn't the happiest person and doesn't feel well.
And of course, he says he doesn't care, and that they will be over in ten minutes.

Tris starts pacing and I wonder if having George and Amar over is a bad idea.

However, I was never more wrong in my life.

George had the bright idea to bake, but he had no idea to make.
So here they are, showing up at our doorstep, with two bags of baking materials that could bake to feed an army.
Did they not think that I've ever been grocery shopping?

Tris finds this hilarious, her hands rubbing her bump as she laughs through her next contraction.

The four of us end up making a mess of the kitchen, and I don't think I have ever laughed so hard in my life.

Not only is it fun hanging with our friends, music blaring, cards thrown, and the smell of cookies, but I'm also overjoyed to see Tris's anxiety fade for a while. She has taken to keeping track of her contractions since her mood has changed so much that I can't always tell when she is in pain.
For the first time, I am convinced that childbirth might just be beautiful.

Just as the last batch of the cookies comes out of the oven, we complete another round of cards, and I find myself dramatically loosing this hand as Tris adds up her mass of points. Despite winning, I can tell that George and Amar have been studying her.
It's clear her contractions are getting worse.

I take her hand in mine as she sets her cards on the table and I'm surprised by how strong her grip is when she takes my hand.

Amar moves to mess with the cookies while Tris breathes through the contraction.
They didn't seem like they were this bad for a while.

"Do you want me to call the midwife?" I ask her and she shakes her head, asking for the yellow pad as her contraction dulls.

"She's going to be here in a little while anyways," she says and I notice that it's already quarter after six.

The midwife will be here to check Tris again soon.
Where did the time go?

"How many hours have you been in labor?" George looks up from petting Indy under the table.

"Going on eleven," Tris sighs as she stands to walk around, her hands on her back.

Tris paces around for a while as Rex takes interest in her moving. She laughs lightly as he trails behind her wherever she goes— the old dog seeming to love following her for some odd reason.

The guys stick around for another few minutes before they take their cue to leave with the dogs.

"I want a picture right away," George says hugging Tris before they leave.

"Yeah, maybe not right away," she raises her eyebrows and he laughs.

And then it's just us.
Only for a little while though.

"Would you try the yoga ball if I blew it up?" I rub her back as she sits away from me on the couch.

The midwife stopped by and said Tris was only five centimeters.

'It's totally normal for new moms to be slower, Tris. You just have to try and be patient. Your body is doing what it needs and you are doing great too. I'm going to stop by every hour, so hang in there, darling.'

"I guess," her voice has gotten small again since Amar and George have left.

I remove my hands from her back and kiss her cheek from behind. She sighs, laying down on the couch as I start the long process of pumping up the ball from the recliner.

It's going to be a long night.