It was all wrong; everything had gone wrong. The baby wasn't meant to come until next Tuesday, and yet here it was, making Wendy bend over in pain, her eyes searching his as he dashed around, looking for the baby bag and car keys and oh, fuck, where the hell was everything?
Breathing heavily and holding her stomach, Wendy hobbled over to the kitchen and retrieved the car keys from their hook, handing them to her positively freaking out husband, who was fumbling around with the baby bag. He muttered a "thanks" as he ushered her into their new car, already equipped with a car seat and baby window tints.
The tires of the Kia squelched against the asphalt as Cartman peeled out of their driveway, a sound that suggested slight skid marks had been made. His wife groaned and moaned as he hightailed it to Hell's Pass Hospital, contractions coming in shorter and shorter increments.
Like the sudden onset of Wendy's labor, the pregnancy had been a total surprise, albeit a good one. Cartman could recall with clarity exactly where he'd been when she'd shared the news with him.
Just having gotten off work, Cartman had ducked into a Shakey's, guiltily appeasing an old craving he'd all but kicked over the years. As his teeth had sunken into that first, glorious, cheesy bite of pizza, his Blackberry had gone off. The phone had been a work perk, courtesy of his humble new job at a multi-million dollar corporation. Checking caller ID, he'd wiped his greasy fingers off in a napkin and promptly answered.
"What can I get you, m'dear?"
Wendy had giggled, more feminine than usual, even. Oh, that damn, lovable hippie of his. "I was going to wait 'til you got home tonight, but I just couldn't…"
"Huh? What's goin' on?"
"Eric – we're going to be parents!"
At first, his normally speedy brain hadn't quite registered what Wendy's words meant. "We're… we're… what?"
Sounding downtrodden, she'd said again, "We're gonna be parents, hon!"
"Wha…wha… Oh! Oh, sweetie, this is wonderful!"
More girly giggling from Wendy's end. Cartman had rushed home right away, not even bothering to finish his super-awesome-delicious slice of Shakey's pizza.
Now, he was tearing down the tumultuous road to Hell's Pass with Wendy beside him, eyes shut tightly with one hand gripping his forearm.
Not even bothering to do anything with the car, Cartman pulled up ambulance-style in front of the hospital and jumped out, opening the door for Wendy and helping her into the entrance. They made their way to the front desk, and within minutes, a wheelchair had arrived along with a certain male nurse, devilish grin adorning his handsome, if boyish, face.
Kenny McCormick, perverted childhood friend to Cartman, had gone into nursing school "for the hot babes with stethoscopes", as he, himself, liked to put it. None of his friends had even bothered arguing that doctors were the ones who actually used stethoscopes and that he was thinking of role playing porn, not reality. Too lazy and probably not intelligent enough to become a "pimp doctor", he'd settled for "murse", claiming it was hotter than a doctor anyway, plus more close-up alone time with said babes.
Kenny wheeled Wendy up to the maternity ward and checked her into a room, Cartman hot on his heels, crooning to Wendy that everything would be alright. Once in her hospital gown and as comfortable as possible on the bed, given the circumstances, Wendy kindly snapped at her husband, "Quit it!" She was red in the face, another contraction coming on. Cartman gazed down at her lovingly.
"Love you, too, ho," he whispered, purposely low enough so that his dangerous, birthing wife could not hear.
The hours ticked by. Wendy had refused any and all pain medication, insisting it was bad for the baby. Cartman, uncomfortable to say the least in his position sitting next to Wendy, his hand caught in her venomous, visceral grip, carefully extracted himself. "Babe, I'm gonna go get the damn doctor; Iunno what's taking his Jewish ass so long."
He stepped out of the room, backing away slowly as if afraid he'd step on a landmine, and then hastily found Kenny, whose feet were cockily propped up on the desk at the maternity ward's nurse station. "MCCORMICK!" Cartman shouted. "WHERE IS KAHL, THAT DAMN JEW!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Kenny said coolly, pulling his feet down from the desk and getting up. "He'll be here when it's time for Wendy to push, okay?"
"No. Not good enough. Mah wife needs the most expert care available. I want Broflovski's ass down here right now!" He reverted back to his old speech habits; it was something he tended to do when under copious amounts of stress.
"What? Is Wendy screaming something fierce or something? I'll go check her med levels… they've sent someone in for an epidural, right?"
Cartman gave the perky blonde a blank stare. "She won't take any goddamn meds, Kenneh!"
The nurse's face morphed into a look of mock-seriousness. "Ahh, I see. Now, what we've got here is a case of 'You're Fucking Screwed'. Hopefully they can salvage what's left of your fingers down on trauma once the baby's born."
"This isn't funny, Kenneh! Damnit!" He paused, running a hand through his head of thick, light brown hair. "And I said get Kahl over here, McCormick! God, that fuckin' Jew, Imma kill him!"
Kenny sighed, his shoulder rising then sinking downward beneath his turquoise scrubs. "You're gonna have to calm down, man. I know it's like… a big deal. I've seen it happen god only know how many times. Kyle will come when it's time. Now go back in there, Wendy's all alone toughing out those things by herself. Be a man!" He gave Cartman a hearty slap on the back, gently pushing him back towards Wendy's room.
Inside was chaos by the name of Wendy Testaburger. (She'd refused to change her name when they'd married, like the hippie feminist she was.) Silky black hair tangled and sprawled out over the sheets, her face was contorted as she clutched the guards on either side of the hospital bed, her only support. "Finally," she growled as Cartman crept back over to her, looking slightly guilty.
"Still don't want any meds, sweetie?" he drawled smoothly, earning him a heavy glare. "Kyle's being a dick and won't get in here 'til you're further along." He sighed then, feeling his annoyance quickly being spun into loosely-based anger. As his wife's prolonged labor seemed to do nothing but become more aggravated as the hours crawled by, Cartman sat there by her side, hand long-since crushed in Wendy's vise-grip, muttering obscenities about the absentee doctor.
An older female nurse checked in every half-hour or so. Every time she came in, Cartman began grumbling about how Kenny was too much of a pussy to come in himself, that damn faggy murse.
Hour eighteen rolled by, finding a bleary-eyed Cartman sporting a cup of Joe and a handful of purple fingers and a hollering Wendy, face pink and eyes slightly red, her hair an ebony disaster as she gritted her teeth and wailed through another contraction. The nurse was back, checking Wendy's cervix.
"You're at eight centimeters, Wendy," the woman informed her. We're getting very close; active labor will be done soon, and it'll be time to push, okay, dear?" Wendy gave a coarse nod, just getting over her latest contraction.
"Isn't this great, babe?" Cartman encouraged, feeling relieved that all this would be over soon, and that they'd finally have their little bundle of joy. Addressing the nurse, he asked, "So when will Kahl finally get his ass in here, huh?"
The nurse pursed her lips slightly, looking thoughtful and a bit offended at Cartman's parlance. "The doctor should be here shortly, Mr. Cartman." With that, she made to leave, and Wendy whimpered into the beginning of another contraction.
"I can't do this, Eric… I can't do it, I can't do it, I… can't… do…" her words strung out as she groaned, clutched his hand tighter, and rolled her head from side to side in unrest.
"Yes, you can. You can," he whispered, drawing nearer to her, his eyes shimmering, his expression serious yet gentle. Their eyes locked for a moment, until Wendy clamped hers shut, her face morphing with the discomfort.
A few minutes later found both Cartman and Wendy screaming. "About fuckin' time, Kahl, you no-good, ginger, Jersey, Jewish vestige of sewer rat!"
Dr. Kyle Broflovski gave his childhood companion a cold stare before snapping on a pair of sterile rubber gloves. Two nurses had accompanied him into the room, including the one Cartman had been rude to before. One waited on the doctor, while the other moved to the unoccupied side of Wendy's hospital bed, offering additional support to the writhing young mother. "Nine and a half centimeters," he observed, his voice soft. "You're getting real close, Wendy."
In such a small town, Kyle had delivered the children of many a former classmate, though it never got any less awkward; peering between the legs of women who he'd sat next to in class when they were kids, reassuring frantic men he'd played football with as boys in the schoolyard. Most of the others, however, had opted for pain meds, and knowing Wendy Testaburger, he'd be surprised if anyone within a one hundred foot radius had eardrums left once this baby was delivered.
Wendy gave a particularly nasty scream, and Cartman seemed torn between comforting her and yelling, in turn, at Kyle. He bent down and delivered a surprisingly tender kiss to her forehead, his eyes closed innocently, hands still clasped with hers so tight that they were white with pressure. "Damnit, Kahl, would you get this babeh out of her!"
"Ten centimeters, Wendy," Kyle addressed the mother, ignoring the father. Cartman wiped the sweat from his wife's brow, giving her another kiss, to which she responded by swatting him away and letting loose a string of obscenities. "Time to push."
"Oh, fuck! I cannot do this. I can't. There's no way. It's fucking – aghhhhh! – physically impossible!" The nurse to Wendy's left gave her a motherly smile and gentle, mellifluous words of encouragement.
"C'mon, ho. You got this far. You'll be great, okay?" Cartman nervously scratched at the back of his head, looking not so certain, himself, but his voice was steady and kind.
Kyle looked up from beneath the bed sheets into Wendy's eyes. "On the count of three, okay?" Wendy's amber eyes looked simultaneously terrified and resolved as she braved a small nod and gritted her teeth, quickly looking up to Cartman for support. He returned a warm smile, squeezing her hand. "One… two…−"
"Aghhhh!" She jumped the gun, lungs pouring out of her in a trembling, piercing moan as she contracted her abdomen. Two, three, four, five, six more times. Wendy was panting, out of breath, sweat glistening on her brow and dotting her hairline. Kyle's fingers maneuvered beneath the cover of the white sheets, working magic.
"Getting close," the doctor murmured, face set and serious as he concentrated on his work. "You're about to crown, Wendy." The nurse beside Wendy gently stroked the younger woman's head, whispering sweet words of encouragement.
"Come on, Kahl, get the hell on with it! Can't you see she's in pain?" Cartman demanded, sporting a heavy scowl, worry coated on beneath that. He turned back to Wendy, whose breath was ragged and heavy, and his caramel eyes widened. The hatred on his face subsided instantly, a look of wonder replacing it. Wendy's labored panting transitioned into agonized screams, her fingers welding themselves against Cartman's, then back to panting once again, and then there was the gentle wail of a baby.
Everyone, it seemed, breathed a collective sigh of relief. Wendy's tired head fell instantly back against the pillow, a look of immense gratification gracing her worn-out features. Cartman smiled down at her, finding her more beautiful in that moment than he ever had before.
A trickling wetness found its way from the corner of his eye down his cheek as his wife was handed their child, a positively tiny little boy with big, chestnut eyes and a light shock of deep rosewood-colored hair atop his head. The newborn looked up at his father, eyes wide.
Wendy smiled down at her son. "Eric, he's looking right at his Daddy," she softly commented, eyes flickering up to her transfixed husband. Clutching the baby close to her breast for a moment longer, she then offered him up to Cartman. They exchanged a profound look of pride, of happiness, indescribable joy, of having weathered the storm.
Looking into the face of his child, Cartman's heart fluctuated and a grin slowly formed on his large face. "Hey there, little guy," he said quietly, drawing his face closer to that of his wide-awake son. "Welcome to the world."