Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Ten minutes later we knew two things. First, Nevada was almost fully dilated, which was some sort of hell term I didn’t want to contemplate. Second, there would be no pain killers. Apparently, my sister had nerves of steel, because the contractions had been coming and she’d kept it to herself and now it was too late for an epidural.
They inserted an IV into Nevada, put a blood pressure cuff on her arm, and put a thing on her belly to monitor the baby’s fetal heartbeat. My sister looked slightly lost. Nevada never looked lost. She always had everything under control, even when she didn’t.
I came over and hugged her. “If you push too hard, and the baby shoots out like a cannon ball, I promise I’ll catch him.”
She smiled at me, but her eyes stayed haunted.
The nurses adjusted things. The doctor checked her again. And then Nevada started pushing. Mom held her hand. There were three pushes per contraction. She would push to a count of ten and then relax. Push and relax.
This went on and on. At some point I decided to play on my phone.
We were about two hours into it when Nevada gripped Connor’s hand and screamed, and the tv screen shattered. The shards shot out, froze in mid-air, and neatly deposited themselves in the plastic bin.
“I’ve got you,” Connor promised her. “I’ve got you.”
Doctor Maier checked Nevada. “And we have crowning. Break the bed for delivery.”
The nurse helped position Nevada’s legs into the stirrups and then the bottom half of the bed slid down. Dr. Maier put on a gown and gloves and parked herself between Nevada’s legs. I didn’t want to look.
The bed jerked to the side and gently slid back.
Nevada growled.
“Perhaps the halcyons…” one of the nurses said.
“Fuck the halcyons,” my sister snarled.
“You’re doing great,” Dr. Maier assured her. “And push.”
Nevada strained and relaxed. The fetal monitor made a small noise.
“Why is the baby’s heart rate rising?” my sister’s voice spiked.
“This is normal,” Dr. Maier told her. “Accelerated heartbeat means a happy baby. The heart rate decelerates and accelerates during labor, but everything I’m seeing is within normal levels. Stay calm.”
Another contraction gripped Nevada. The fetal contraption beeped. A medical monitor tore from the wall and hurtled towards me, freezing three feet from my head. It hovered there for a second then streaked into the waste bin.
The room turned into a horror movie set. Nevada screaming, fetal monitor going haywire, things flying around, equipment exploding, and my brother-in-law standing in the middle of the chaos, catching things with his mind and holding Nevada’s right hand, while Mom held her left, and the doctor kept assuring my sister that everything was going as planned.
I hid by the side of the bed, next to Mom. It seemed like the safest spot.
It kept going and going.
I snuck a peek. Sweat drenched Nevada. She was breathing like she had run a marathon. Connor’s face turned bloodless, and I couldn’t tell if he was exhausted or worried.
Nevada’s gaze met mine.
“You’re doing great,” I squeaked.
Above us, the ceiling cracked.
Just let it be over. Please let it be over. Please let everyone be okay.
“Almost there,” the doctor crooned. “One big push. One more.”
Nevada whimpered. The wall behind her shattered. The pieces hung in mid-air caught by Connor’s magic.
“One more,” Dr. Maier prompted.
“You keep saying one more…”
Nevada’s voice was so weak. I’d never heard her sound like that. What if she was dying? She couldn’t be dying.
A nurse blotted her forehead. “Almost done, sweetie.”
“And.. push.”
Nevada strained, moaning.
“There you go,” Dr. Maier said. “And the head is out. One more time. This is the last one, I promise.”
My sister screamed. A huge crack split the wall and the floor. The room shook. I shut my eyes.
A baby cried. I looked up and saw him, red and wrinkled, smeared with some sort of goo. He had dark hair and he sounded just like a sad kitten who needed to be rescued.
Suddenly things stopped moving. Nevada slumped on the bed.
Connor kissed her. “You did it.”
“Is he okay?” she asked.
“He’s fine,” Dr. Maier told her. “A perfectly healthy boy.”
I sagged against the wall. I was never, ever getting pregnant.
Ever.
The room was shrouded in a comforting gloom. A table lamp in the corner glowed with a soft yellow light. Nevada was asleep on the bed. I saw how much blood came out of her. I still couldn’t believe she was breathing. The first time she dozed off, I had poked her to make sure she hadn’t died.
Connor slept in a chair. I had a feeling he also thought Nevada was going to die. As soon as she fell asleep, he passed out.
Mom had gone home. After the baby was born, Catalina came in all bloody and glassy eyed. Mom talked to Alessandro and something bad must have happened to my other sister, because Mom decided to take her home. Poor Mom. First, Nevada gave the apocalypse birth, and then Catalina shuffled in like a zombie. This was one of the rare moments when I was the good kid.