Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Which was an absolutely stupid fucking idea.
I had heard about people who said inductions were dramatically more painful than natural labor. I’d taken this into account, but I’d also thought that pain was pain. I knew logically it couldn’t kill me, and I had my breathing exercises; I would focus on those, and I’d be fine.
And I was indisputably wrong.
I was in the tub. Initially, I hadn’t planned on using the birthing tub. But it was one of the ways to help reduce the pain without drugs. Something I found to be pure bullshit after floating around in there, still three centimeters dilated after hours. After what felt like years.
Three centimeters meant that I had more hours ahead of me. Of that pain. Pain that felt like my body was splitting in two. My contractions had been coming every minute for … God knew how long.
Kane was at my side, as he had been the entire time. Massaging my back, holding my hand, brushing hair from my face. He’d been steadfast, calm, tender. All of the things you’d want in a birth partner. Yet I barely paid any attention to him due to the pain. Even Kane ‘The Devil’ Rhodes couldn’t manage to anchor me in that sea of agony.
“I need the epidural,” I ground out to him from the tub.
There was a nurse kneeling beside me, her hands in the water, holding the two monitors on my stomach to ensure the baby was still okay. She was. Her heartbeat was steady. Apparently, she was as calm as could be while her mother was fighting for her life.
Kane’s eyes were clear on mine, though I saw the edge of worry there.
We’d talked about this.
“If I say I need the epidural, you need to tell me no,” I’d said while rubbing oil onto my stomach.
“Me, tell you no? Absolutely fucking not.” Kane didn’t even take a moment to consider his response, the words rushing past his lips as he swatted my hands away so he could rub in the oil for me. It was one of his favorite tasks. “If you’re in pain that you can’t handle and there’s a medicine available that will make that pain go away, I am in full support of a professional administering it.”
“I can handle it.” I pursed my lips. “Women have been handling it for millions of years. But knowing that it’s available in the back of my mind, I may falter.”
“Chef, you won’t falter.” He paused so he could look up at me. “And again, asking for medicine is not faltering or failure, just so you know.”
I let out a deep sigh. “Yes, whatever. But this is my request. That you remind me of my birth plan and that I can do it without the epidural.”
Kane’s brow furrowed. “I’ll remind you.”
“Someone get my woman a fucking epidural,” he said to the nurses without missing a beat.
“Okay, honey. You stand up, and we’ll get the anesthetist on the phone.” I hated the nurse for sitting there and not being in unbearable pain. I hated everyone. Even Kane. Especially Kane. He did that to me.
Even the simple act of standing seemed unfathomable. Breathing was an effort.
Yet I found the ability, with Kane’s help.
As soon as I stood, the pressure at my pelvis turned, morphing into something different than pain. Something much bigger.
“Something’s wrong,” I gasped.
Kane’s expression remained calm, but I saw his pupils dilate.
“I feel like I need to push.”
That was an understatement. It felt like my insides were about to all come tumbling out. The pressure... The pressure was unlike anything I’d ever felt.
Once I’d uttered those words, the nurses jumped into action.
Suddenly, I was out of the tub and on the bed, the nurse between my legs.
“Okay, she’s here,” she announced calmly.
“Here?” I shrieked. “But I was only three centimeters dilated. I need the epidural.”
She glanced up at me with kind eyes. “You’re all the way ready now, and we’re past the point of an epidural.”
My eyes bugged out. “Past the point? That’s not real, that only happens in stupid romantic comedies.”
She smiled. “Well, it’s happening here and now. I’m just going to call your doctor.”
She put the phone to her ear as more nurses filtered in, the energy in the room changing from calm support to purposeful preparation.
For labor.
Of a baby.
That I had to push it out.
Without drugs.
“I can’t do this,” I panted.
“Yes, you can, honey.” The nurse looked at me with knowing eyes, with a belief in me that made no sense since she didn’t know me. “You can totally do this.”
“No I can’t.” I had thoughts of closing my legs, insisting on them cutting her out instead. They could do that, right? I could make them do that. I could threaten to sue them or something.
Why I was thinking about threatening to sue these lovely, supportive, hardworking women was a testament to how much agony I was in. I would do it in a heartbeat if it would make it stop.