"Just one more push, Julia. Just one more big push. You can do it. Boys are so stubborn, aren't they?"
'I'm going to just one more push you right out the damn window,' thought Julia. The nurse was on her last nerve. The woman thought her job was to talk and count and cheer and generally annoy the baby out. Maybe the little bastard was taking so long because he was afraid of this reject from cheerleader camp. Julia's daughter hadn't been so stubborn. Four hours of labor, half an hour of pushing, and then the doctor handed her a perfect little green-eyed, red-headed baby girl. A leprechaun just like her father.
"Push!" they cheered and then the assholes started counting again, trying to egg her on to keep pushing, through the pain and the fear and the "dear God my body is going to split in half" feeling. She'd done PX90 and the Jillian Michaels workout and both were kidstuff compared to this marathon of agony.
"It will be over as soon as he's out, honey," her husband whispered in her ear.
Finally it was.
People bustled about, finishing up with Julia, getting APGAR scores, cutting the cord, weighing, wiping. It seemed to be taking too long. They hadn't fussed over Megan like this.
"Is he healthy? When can I see him?"
"He's perfect," the doctor announced. "Nine pounds, one ounce. Twenty-one inches long and a full head of hair. Here you go, Mrs. O'Shea."
They handed Jason to Julia and the shame nearly crushed her. Damn. This room full of medical personnel had seen her naked and spreadeagled for the last several hours and she'd borne it, gotten used to it even, but now she felt exposed. No one was ever going to believe this was Nathan's baby. Damn. Damn. Damn!
She'd flirted with that insurance adjuster. What was his name? Tim? No. Tom. Tom. She'd flirted with Tom in the hope that he'd declare her car a total loss after the accident. When he'd responded she'd thought, 'What the hell? A new car and a little adventure.' Now she had a problem. No wonder the kid was huge. He was a week past due instead of right on time. Curse that doctor and her stupid conception chart. She'd been so sure Nathan was the father.
She looked at her husband and was surprised to see him beaming.
Nathan said, "He's dark, just like my grandpa. Black Irish they call it. He'll be a fighter."
"Yes, of course," Julia answered. "Like your grandpa."
Six weeks later Nathan asked for a divorce. He demanded custody of Megan. Julia got Jason.