Lorraine Blake is going to kill the next person who tells her to calm down. She's been through this before. She knows what it all entails and quite frankly she figures she has every right to be a little vocal in sharing her pain. That's the problem with having a bunch of men running the show. Sure they might have read a lot of textbooks and delivered countless babies but not one of them can begin to imagine what it feels like to force a new life into this world. Of course this is one new life that doesn't need much forcing. The little tyke is in no small rush.
"You're doing great, Mrs. Blake." The nurse holding her hand is another story. Sister Arnold is in her fifties with a round, friendly face and slightly wild grey-brown hair. No doubt she has ten children with a pack of grandkids piling up too. Plus she hasn't once said calm down. That is more than enough to ingratiate her to the mother-to-be. "We're going to need you to push again."
"Damn Henry! Damn him." Despite the cursing, Lorraine wishes her husband was here looking goofy and losing his head. You'd think a pregnant wife would be enough of an excuse for him to stay home. How could they expect her to do this alone? It was all men. A man had gotten her pregnant, it had been men who had taken her husband away right when she needed him the most and now a bunch of men hover around her, pretending to be useful while she does all the work.
"I hate men!"
"I've said the same thing many a time. Six to be exact." The older woman squeezes her hand reassuringly. Six, ten. Close enough. "Push now Mrs. Blake."
Calm down, push. Push, calm down. Is that all anyone can say?
-x-
Lorraine is exhausted. Six hours of labour. Not long considering but long enough for a woman her age. She lies in her bed, a dishevelled, sweaty mess, and watches the sun set. Briefly, she wonders if Henry is witnessing the same scene.
"Honey?" There's her answer. He enters the room looking even more sheepish than she had expected. Still in his fishing clothes and wringing his raggedy old hat between his hands. Catching a finger on one of the flies, he winces and sucks frantically on the digit.
"Serves you right. Imagine going fishing when you're wife is nine months pregnant." If only Henry was more assertive, it wouldn't have mattered that 'Tony planned this for ages'. It's not as though his impending fatherhood was a surprise either. Damn the big oaf for looking so cute. She can't stay mad at him for long. "Come here." Taking his finger, shesurveys the damage. "Nothing serious. I mean, really. I've never understood how you can fiddle around inside hundreds of patients and still lose it at the sight of your own blood."
"I'm so sorry, honey. About being late I mean. I came as soon as I got your sister's message. I've never driven so fast. In fact, you should be glad I'm here at all. I nearly got myself killed on the trip home."
"I am glad you're here." Her thoughts turn unexpectedly to Marla Brenton at the country club whose husband went to Korea and never came back. Lorraine leans against her own spouse with a sudden rush of possessiveness. She doesn't want to let him go anywhere, ever again.
There is a light knock on the door and Sister Arnold enters, carrying a tiny bundle.
"Doctor Blake. Glad you could make it. I'd like you to meet your son." Her dark eyes twinkle with humour as she hands the baby to his beaming father before leaving the room.
"A little boy? Gee, that's swell. A boy Lorraine!" Henry cuddles the child to his breast, love shining in his eyes. "Barely a few hours old and you're already getting me into trouble by turning up a week early."
"Apparently he doesn't take after his dad."
Henry kisses his wife's forehead and squeezes onto the bed next to her. The two proud parents watch their son doze.
"What should we call him?"
"Andrew."
"Well hello, Andrew. It sure is nice to meet you. My name is Henry but you can call me daddy."