JOEY

WHEN I CLIMBED through Molloy’s window tonight, the last thing I had expected to witness was her in full-blown labor, but that’s exactly what happened.

Battling her mother when we got to the hospital was another event I hadn’t anticipated. To be fair, I didn’t blame Trish for wanting to be with her daughter.

It was a heated argument that resulted in me winning when Molloy stepped in and told the midwife that I was the one she wanted with her.

Several hours had passed since we were taken down to delivery, and while she was dilating and had reached seven centimeters according her last internal, it seemed to be dragging on forever.

Sucking on gas and air like it was going out of fashion, my best friend balanced on a birthing ball, rocking and rolling her hips, as the worst fucking noises I’d ever heard in my life escaped her.

I wanted to save her.

I wanted to put a goddamn stop to her suffering. But I was completely helpless.

Contorting in pain, as her body tried to expel the baby I’d put in there, I never felt so fucking guilty in my life.

Even now, as she leaned against me in her delivery suite, in the throes of another contraction, all I wanted to do was apologize.

Jesus Christ.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she declared, twisting sideways on the ball to grip my shoulders. “Joe, I need to go right now.”

“Okay,” I replied, trying to remain calm when her face turned a deep shade of red. “I’ll help you.”

“What’s that?” the midwife, who was lingering nearby, asked when I moved for the adjoined bathroom with my girlfriend leaning heavily against me.

“She needs to use the bathroom,” I explained. “I’m just taking her now.”

“No, no, no,” the midwife replied, ushering us towards the bed instead. “Climb on, Aoife pet, and let me examine you.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Molloy groaned, climbing onto the bed, and then writhing in pain when the nurse stepped between her legs. “If you don’t let me go to the bathroom right this second, I’m going to shit on you!”

“Just as I thought. You’re fully dilated, Aoife,” the midwife declared. “You’re ready to deliver.”

“A poo?”

“No, pet, a baby.”

“Oh, Jesus, Joe.” Crying out, she clutched my hand and pulled me close. “If I shit in front of you, please don’t hold it against me.”

“Molloy,” I coaxed, brushing her hair off her clammy face. “You can do whatever you want in front of me, okay?”

“That’s comforting, Joe,” she cried out, hooking an arm around my neck and catching me up in a headlock Kav would be proud of. “Because I think you’re about to see what I look like on the inside.”

 

 

Something was wrong.

I could feel it.

Molloy had been pushing for over an hour and nothing was happening.

The concerned look in the midwife’s eyes was enough to send my heart- rate spiking, but it was the shrill sound of the bell ringing that put the fear of God into me.

“You’re grand,” I coaxed, keeping a death grip on her hand, as her panicked green eyes looked up at me from her hospital bed when the room filled with doctors and nurses. “This is all normal, Molloy.”

It wasn’t.

It couldn’t be.

I’d been with my mother when she delivered Sean. This was about as far from normal as you could get.

“Okay, Mom, the baby is starting to get very tired, sweetheart, so we’re going to help you deliver, okay?” the midwife that had been with us since admission told us. “We’re doing to take you down to theatre now.”

Theatre?

Jesus Christ.

“Joe,” Molloy cried out, as I was pushed aside for them to wheel her away. “Joe!”

“It’s okay,” I called out, feeling helpless as I watched them take her away from me. “Everything is grand, Molloy, I promise!”

“Dad will follow you down,” the nurse holding her hand said, as they disappeared through the doors with my girlfriend. “He just needs to gown up first.”

“What’s happening?” I choked out, feeling like I was about to pass the hell out, as another nurse helped me into a blue operating gown and hair net. “What’s wrong with her?”

“The baby is showing signs of shoulder dystocia,” she explained calmly. “Mom needs intervention to deliver.”

“What do you mean shoulder dystocia?” I demanded, following her over to the sink and scrubbing my hands raw before patting them dry on paper towels and masking up. “Does Aoife need a caesarian?”

“Baby’s head is out, but baby’s shoulders are stuck in the birth canal,” she explained as she ushered me down a long corridor towards theatre. “Don’t worry, Dad. Mom and baby are in great hands.”

 

 

“JOE,” Molloy cried out as soon as I was finally allowed into the operating room. I could see her on the table, surrounded by the surgical team, her hand desperately searching for mine.

“I’m right here, Molloy,” I called, rushing toward her, only to be guided to the top of the table by one of the surgeons. “I’m here, baby.”

“Joe,” she sobbed, grabbing my hand, her grip tight as she screamed in pain. “Joe, it hurts so bad.”

“Can’t you give her something?” I demanded, feeling panic rise as I watched them handle her like she wasn’t a person. “Jesus Christ, you can’t do that without an epidural.”

“There’s no time for that now, Dad.” “Joe—”

“You’re okay. You’re okay, baby.” “Push, Aoife. We need you to push.”

“I’m right here,” I whispered in her ear, holding her head so she wouldn’t see what was happening. “Just stay with me, Aoif. Stay with me, okay?”

She cried out in agony as they pressed on her stomach, clinging to my shoulders. “Make it stop!”

I wanted to.

More than anything in my life.

“Push, Aoife. Harder. Come on, the baby needs to be delivered.”

“Ahhhh.” Her face was ashen, and she clung to me, pushing with everything she had, panting and trembling. “I’m scared.”

So was I.

“Don’t be,” I tried to reassure her, leaning in close so she focused only on me, not on what was happening around us. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Ahhhh,” she screamed again, her face contorting in pain before she suddenly went limp in my arms.

Moments later, the sound of a baby crying filled the room.

“You did it, Aoif,” I choked out, trembling as much as she was as the sound of our child echoed around us. “You did it, baby.”

“Yeah,” she whispered weakly, her eyes rolling back. “Oh, God…”

“Hey, hey, hey.” I cupped her face, trying to keep her focused while the doctors continued their work. “You’re okay.” I kissed her forehead. “Come on, Molloy, stay with me. Can you hear the baby?”

“Yeah.” She was trembling, and so was I.

I could hear the baby crying, but I didn’t even know if it was a boy or girl. I couldn’t leave her side, focusing only on her face and blocking out everything else. “You’re okay. Shh, shh, baby, you’re okay.”

“Joe…”

“Step aside, Dad,” one of the nurses instructed. “Mom needs some help right now.”

I’d never seen so much blood, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.

“No, no, no,” she mumbled, weakly pushing at the oxygen mask they placed over her mouth and nose. “Joe…”

They were all so calm, but I felt like my world was falling apart. I was watching her bleed out, and she was still conscious.

It was beyond terrifying.

Freaking out, a nurse led me over to where the baby was, as they worked on stopping the bleeding.

She’s hemorrhaging. She’s bleeding out.

You killed her.

She’s going to die.

Feeling faint, I looked between the operating table where my girlfriend lay and the baby in the incubator in front of me.

I didn’t even know what we had. I was too panicked to focus.

“Mom is fine,” the nurse tried to reassure me. “Don’t worry. She’s in the best hands. She’s going to be just fine. Now, come and meet your son.”

“Son,” I repeated numbly, my attention flicking back to Molloy. “Aoif?” I couldn’t see her anymore.

Too many people in scrubs had gathered around her.

“Molloy?” My heart pounded in my chest. “Aoife!” “Here you go, Dad.”

Moments later, the screaming bundle was placed in my arms.

“Congratulations, Dad. He’s a beauty.”

Stunned, I stared down at the baby in my arms.

He was wailing, his tiny fists clenched, squirming and stretching.

“Jesus,” I whispered, cradling him as emotions overwhelmed me. “You’re here.”

Then he opened his eyes and looked at me, and I was done.

My heart no longer beat for me.

From this moment on, it would beat solely for the child in my arms.

Fuck.

STILL WEARING a blue gown and hair net, I was ushered out of the operating room, leaving my girlfriend and our baby inside.

My heart was racing, my mind spinning.

Breathing hard, I slumped against the wall in a nearby corridor, feeling my chest tighten with anxiety.

What the fuck just happened? It all went by so fast.

My phone rang in my pocket, and I had to pull myself together to answer.

“Joey.” It was Trish. “What’s happening? Is she okay? Did she have the baby?”

“I, ah, yeah, she’s okay,” I croaked out, still in shock from everything that had just happened. “The baby got stuck. They had to take her to the operating room to deliver.”

“She had a caesarean?”

“No.” I shook my head, still shaken. “They got him out before that.”

But the things they had to do to her. The blood.

The pain on her face.

I winced at the memory.

“Him?” Trish’s voice caught. “It’s a boy?”

“Yeah.” I exhaled a shaky breath, nodding as I tried to process the life-altering events. “He’s huge, Trish. They told me he’s 56 centimeters long and weighs about 4.4 kilos.”

“What’s that in pounds and ounces?” “9lbs 12oz, according to the midwife.” “Oh, Jesus, the poor girl.”

“Yeah, I know.” I winced again. “What time is it?”

“It’s half past three in the morning,” she replied. “What time was the baby born?”

“A little over an hour ago,” I answered. “Just after twenty past two.”

“Where are you now? Are you with Aoife? Can you put her on the phone?”

“No, I ah…” I swallowed hard and pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead, trying to push down the panic clawing at me. “She was hemorrhaging, and they couldn’t find the source of the bleeding. I heard them mention a possible uterine rupture.” Blowing out a pained breath, I choked out, “She’s still in the operating room.”

“No.” The cry that escaped my girlfriend’s mother struck fear into my heart. “Oh Jesus, no. She’s in there alone?”

“They wouldn’t let me stay,” I forced out, my chest heaving as the gravity of the situation hit me. “I tried, Trish, but they made me leave. Said I couldn’t be there when she was under general anesthesia.”

“Oh, Joey love, don’t panic,” she tried to comfort me, her voice trembling. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.” “Yeah.” I blinked back tears. “Me, too.”