Chapter Twelve: Hurt Always Turns to Relief
Only a few minutes had passed since I began having these dreadful labor pains. Not many people seemed to notice me, which was a shock since I was lying on the floor, having what seemed to feel like pre-contractions. One woman, a worker there, asked if we wanted her to call an ambulance, but we had to refuse, though I'd have loved to go to a hospital, right then and there. Finally, common sense began to kick into everyone. Alice bounced out of the store and down the steps to the first floor. Emmett lifted me into a cradling position, while Bella helped Nessie get out of the dress. They didn't even bother paying for it; they just put everything back on racks and followed a determined Emmett to the parking lot. Edward and Jasper followed after us, also.
Once we reached the cars, Emmett plopped me gently into the backseat. I saw Alice running to her convertible with Esme and Carlisle following. Emmett was already pulling out when he yelled to Carlisle, "We'll meet you at home, if we get there before you do, I'll lay her down." I noticed a slight jerk of the head from everyone. Emmett drove with no flaws. We made it there within ten, maybe fifteen minutes. Alice got caught in traffic with Bella, Esme and Carlisle. Jasper and Edward were right behind us, and soon, we all zoomed into the driveway, to my relief. I closed my eyes and felt myself being lifted. Soon, I was in the comfort of a bed, the cot in Carlisle's office.
"Rose! Rosalie?" I blinked my eyes open at the sound of my brother's frantic voice. Pain overtook me again, so instead of answering properly, I moaned. "Emmett, get her into this." I heard him say. A light blue blur flew into Emmett's arms, it was a hospital gown. He dressed me quickly, and then laid me down, putting a pillow under my head. Where's Carlisle? I asked Edward through thought.
"He's still in traffic. So is Esme, Bella, and Alice," he paused for a moment, "Rose, Nessie's here." I felt a smaller hand brush against mine, in a soothing sort of way.
"Ness," I moaned, "I'm so sorry."
"For what?" she asked, beginning to worry. I shook my head weakly and responded, "For ruining your big moment. You didn't even get to buy your dress. And you looked so beautiful, like always. And, it's my entire fault." I sighed.
"B-but, I'm not mad. I'm so happy! No dress it worth more than a baby cousin!" She laughed, but sounded like she was crying, and when I touched her cheek, it was wet. I wiped the tears away, using my thumb, and embraced her in a light hug. I sensed someone coming close, so I let her go. It was Carlisle, finally.
"Okay," he began, "Rosalie, are you ready?" I felt myself nod and meant it, too. I was ready to meet my baby. I opened my eyes, just once, to see Emmett and gripped his hand.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you, too, Em."
Pain is difficult, but life is harder. This ran through my mind, but I didn't know why. It was just a simple quote. I had read it from my book. I memorized it because it just made so much sense to me.
I didn't realize anything had happened within my half hour of hurt, lying on the cot. I knew Carlisle was working on me, I just didn't know when it was over. I was numb from the pain, but grateful I couldn't feel anything. Suddenly, I fell into a mood of relief. My eyes were closed, but I felt a small smile forming across my face. I stretched my arm slowly to feel my stomach and to my surprise, it was flat. My eyes shot open and looked at where my hand was; all I saw were my 'perfect' curves and my newly-flat belly. I began to panic. Where was the baby? Had I lost it? Oh no.
Soon, I heard a quiet whine of some sort. The noise was high-pitched, soprano, like my sister. It was musical, almost. It was a gentle sound; sweet, calm, happy. The noise was repeated, until it was much louder, and then soft, then stopped.
"Rosalie," I heard a male voice say, it was Emmett. I looked at his face. "You did it. We have a baby." He was quiet. I looked around the room for anyone else, but no one was there, except me and Emmett.
Carlisle soon walked into the room, he was carrying something. It was small, wrapped in a white garment, face covered. Carlisle Cullen, my father, was holding my child, my baby.