I do not own WWE, Mr. McMahon and family have that title.
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Chapter 5: Blessing in Disguise
Characters' thoughts are in *'s.
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"I'll call the hospital," Mr. Hardy offered.
"And I'll get the motor running," Amy replied, grabbing the keys out of her purse as she slung it over her shoulder. "I'm glad I decided to get dressed this morning," she muttered to herself as she and Mr. Hardy helped Trish out to the white Ford Taurus parked in the driveway.
"Come on Amy, pick up." He rested his head against the pay phone in exasperation as Gilbert Hardy's voice sounded on the machine. "Amy, we need to talk. Please call me when you get the chance. I am staying at the Howard Johnson Inn, 903-856-7928." Matt paused and took a deep breath. "I love you."
Amy drove to the hospital carefully, resisting the urge to speed. Amy frowned ruefully in concentration. *The point is to get us there safely. No point in driving too fast if we want to arrive alive.* Pulling up to the emergency entrance, Amy dropped Mr. Hardy and Trish off. After finding a parking spot, she quickly dialed Andrew's number on her cell phone. "Come on Andrew, pick up!" she cried, tapping her fingers impatiently against the steering wheel. Slamming the phone shut in frustration, Amy jumped up out of the car and headed inside. Upon entering the emergency waiting room, Amy immediately searched for a sign of Mr. Hardy or Trish. Spotting Mr. Hardy filling out paperwork in a nearby chair, Amy rushed over to him. "How is she?" Amy worriedly asked, sitting down beside him.
Mr. Hardy looked up. "The nurse helped her into a wheelchair and took her upstairs, to the birthing rooms. It appears the labor is real this time."
Amy felt a smile tug at her lips. "You were eavesdropping?"
Mr. Hardy shrugged sheepishly. "Couldn't help myself, too near the drawing room I guess.
Amy couldn't stop smiling. "I feel like a grinning idiot," she whispered to Mr. Hardy.
He patted her hand, "It wears well on you dear."
Suddenly, the receptionist walked up to them. "Are you finished with the young woman's paperwork sir?" She turned her attention to Amy. "Because if you are, she is asking for you Ma'am."
Mr. Hardy handed the receptionist the paperwork as Amy jumped up from her seat.
"Were you able to reach Andrew?" Mr. Hardy asked.
"Not yet," Amy called over her shoulder, "but I'll keep trying!" After receiving directions from the receptionist, Amy dashed down the hall and into the nearest elevator. Quickly Amy dialed Andrew's number again, but received no response. On a whim, she dialed Matt's cell number.
"Hello."
"Matt! Thank goodness I was able to reach someone!"
"Re, I mean Amy, is everything okay?"
"Yes, I mean sort of. Trish is having her bab.." the phone cut out. "Crap! I forgot to charge the batteries!" All of a sudden, the elevator lights flickered out as it came to an abrupt halt. Hastily, Amy rummaged through her purse. *Good thing Matt bought this mini-flashlight for me!* She felt a pang of warmth mixed with hurt as she thought of Matt. Trish is right, I really do need to speak to Matt, I owe our him that much--and our marriage. "No time for musing right now Red, need to get yourself out of here," she mumbled to herself. Switching on the flashlight, she pulled open the emergency door, and a small piece of paper fluttered to the floor. She yanked the phone off it's hook, spoke rapidly to the other person on the line and pressed the red button for good measure.
While waiting for the rescue crew, she bent down to retrieve the paper. Curiously, she unfolded it and began to read. "Families who have lost their unborn children, welcome. Talk about how you really feel. Others who have experienced what you are going through are here to listen and help. If you have any questions please don't hesitate to call us at: 484-7481. Meetings are held on the third floor, room D1." *Maybe this is something that could help Matt and I both!* Trying not to set her hopes too high, Amy quickly stuffed the flyer in her jeans pocket. Then the lights flickered back on and the doors opened. Amy raced down the hall and into the birthing suite waiting room. Just then the doctor came out. "Doctor, is Trish alright?"
"She has just started labor and it will probably be a few hours, at least, until the baby is born."
"May I see her?"
"Not yet," Doctor Anderson answered.
"But Doctor . . ."
"You may see her as she nears the birth of her son."
"Son?" Amy questioned in disbelief.
"That's when she'll really need you," he said, with a slight crinkling around his eyes. "You betcha, when the time comes, you'll be notified," he reassured her. "Now, if only my wife would have needed me half as much as I needed her during labor." Turning, Dr. Anderson headed back to birthing suite.
Doctor Anderson's last comment fell on deaf ears, as Amy nervously sat back down and tapped her fingernail against the cell phone. "Come on Matt," she muttered to herself.
Matt flew down the hall to Andrew's dressing room and banged on the door. "Andrew, Andrew!"
"What's all the ruckus about?" Andrew asked irritated, flinging open the door.
"Trish is going into labor!"
"Wha, what?!" Andrew's eyes widened. "You're kidding right, she's not due for another week."
Matt shook his head. "Amy just called me." Andrew was as surprised that Amy voluntarily spoke with Matt, as he was about the revelation of Trish's legitimate labor pains.
"Yeah, she called, but then her phone cut out." Matt frowned, "I hope she's okay."
Andrew grabbed his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Tell Vince I have to take the next flight out of Connecticut."
"You don't have to tell me anything," Vince said, striding up to Matt and Andrew. "I heard all of it. Take my private jet, Andrew. You'll get there much faster and will be sure not to miss anything," he added, clapping Andrew on the shoulder.
"Wow, Mr. McMahon. Thanks!"
"Think nothing of it." He grinned broadly. "I was very fortunate enough to see the birth of my children and wish for my extended wrestling family to see the birth of theirs, if at all possible. Clearing his throat, Vince's expression turned thoughtful. "Matt, if you want to go . . ."
"No, that's okay Vince. I think it may be best if I wait a little longer."
"But Matt, she called you," Andrew argued.
"And I will call her back to make sure she is alright," Matt replied firmly. "Now go, do the same for your wife." Matt good-naturedly gave Andrew a light shove.
Hurriedly, Andrew pushed and shoved his way through the crowd of people milling about the ticket counter. He scanned the heads until spotting a flash of red. "Amy!" he cried.
"You're late," Amy said, flicking a glance at her watch.
"I know. Rain and hail slowed us down. Is Trish alright? Did she have the baby yet?"
"No, but we need to hurry." They rushed to the baggage area. "The doctor said Trish is going to need a Cescearian section."
"Why?" Andrew asked as he grabbed his duffel bags.
"The baby is turned around and will be born feet first. The only way left is to deliver the baby through Trish's stomach."
"Is she going to be okay?" Andrew doubled his stride, in order to keep up with Amy's.
"Yes, but we need to hurry." She threw Andrew's bags in the back seat and gunned the engine. "Better put that seat belt on," Amy advised. Tires squealed as she tore out of the parking garage.
"How are you feeling, baby?" Andrew approached Trish, who was holding the sleeping babe in her arms.
"Just fine."
"I tried to get here as fast as I could," Amy apologized.
"Believe me she did. My knuckles are still white from clutching the door handle."
"It's just as good. Trish's voice cracked, " I just as soon not have you see the birth since it was a C-section." She stared down at the damp sheets. Amy took that as her cue to leave and quietly stole out of the room.
"It's alright sweetheart. It doesn't matter. I just want you and the baby to be safe."
Silence.
"Look at me, hon." Almost painfully, she lifted her chestnut eyes to his face. "Don't be ashamed. You're my wife and you just gave birth to our beautiful baby! That's two blessings in one." Trish's full lips curved upward. Cupping her chin in his hand, he kissed her upturned lips. "Now, what do we have the pleasure of naming this little one?" He turned back the tiny yellow blanket wrapped around the baby and gasped. "A boy! He looks just like me!"
"Excuse me."
"Oh, um yeah. He has your eyes."
"His eyes are closed."
"So, um, what did you name him, sweetheart?"
"Good recovery Drew, but I thought we should name him together."
Andrew scratched his chin. "Hmm, how about Alex then? I've always liked that name."
"Alex." She rolled the word off her tongue. "That sounds like a nice name."
"We can always call him cue-ball until he starts growing some peach-fuzz on his head," Andrew said with a grin. He rubbed the back of Alex's tiny pink head."
"Alex it is . . . on one condition," Trish said. She whispered into Andrew's ear.
Wrinkling his nose, he made a face. "Aw, do I have to?"
"Yes, you must, but we don't have to tell him until he's an adult?" Trish offered.
"Deal!"
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Chapter 5: Blessing in Disguise
Characters' thoughts are in *'s.
***************************************
"I'll call the hospital," Mr. Hardy offered.
"And I'll get the motor running," Amy replied, grabbing the keys out of her purse as she slung it over her shoulder. "I'm glad I decided to get dressed this morning," she muttered to herself as she and Mr. Hardy helped Trish out to the white Ford Taurus parked in the driveway.
"Come on Amy, pick up." He rested his head against the pay phone in exasperation as Gilbert Hardy's voice sounded on the machine. "Amy, we need to talk. Please call me when you get the chance. I am staying at the Howard Johnson Inn, 903-856-7928." Matt paused and took a deep breath. "I love you."
Amy drove to the hospital carefully, resisting the urge to speed. Amy frowned ruefully in concentration. *The point is to get us there safely. No point in driving too fast if we want to arrive alive.* Pulling up to the emergency entrance, Amy dropped Mr. Hardy and Trish off. After finding a parking spot, she quickly dialed Andrew's number on her cell phone. "Come on Andrew, pick up!" she cried, tapping her fingers impatiently against the steering wheel. Slamming the phone shut in frustration, Amy jumped up out of the car and headed inside. Upon entering the emergency waiting room, Amy immediately searched for a sign of Mr. Hardy or Trish. Spotting Mr. Hardy filling out paperwork in a nearby chair, Amy rushed over to him. "How is she?" Amy worriedly asked, sitting down beside him.
Mr. Hardy looked up. "The nurse helped her into a wheelchair and took her upstairs, to the birthing rooms. It appears the labor is real this time."
Amy felt a smile tug at her lips. "You were eavesdropping?"
Mr. Hardy shrugged sheepishly. "Couldn't help myself, too near the drawing room I guess.
Amy couldn't stop smiling. "I feel like a grinning idiot," she whispered to Mr. Hardy.
He patted her hand, "It wears well on you dear."
Suddenly, the receptionist walked up to them. "Are you finished with the young woman's paperwork sir?" She turned her attention to Amy. "Because if you are, she is asking for you Ma'am."
Mr. Hardy handed the receptionist the paperwork as Amy jumped up from her seat.
"Were you able to reach Andrew?" Mr. Hardy asked.
"Not yet," Amy called over her shoulder, "but I'll keep trying!" After receiving directions from the receptionist, Amy dashed down the hall and into the nearest elevator. Quickly Amy dialed Andrew's number again, but received no response. On a whim, she dialed Matt's cell number.
"Hello."
"Matt! Thank goodness I was able to reach someone!"
"Re, I mean Amy, is everything okay?"
"Yes, I mean sort of. Trish is having her bab.." the phone cut out. "Crap! I forgot to charge the batteries!" All of a sudden, the elevator lights flickered out as it came to an abrupt halt. Hastily, Amy rummaged through her purse. *Good thing Matt bought this mini-flashlight for me!* She felt a pang of warmth mixed with hurt as she thought of Matt. Trish is right, I really do need to speak to Matt, I owe our him that much--and our marriage. "No time for musing right now Red, need to get yourself out of here," she mumbled to herself. Switching on the flashlight, she pulled open the emergency door, and a small piece of paper fluttered to the floor. She yanked the phone off it's hook, spoke rapidly to the other person on the line and pressed the red button for good measure.
While waiting for the rescue crew, she bent down to retrieve the paper. Curiously, she unfolded it and began to read. "Families who have lost their unborn children, welcome. Talk about how you really feel. Others who have experienced what you are going through are here to listen and help. If you have any questions please don't hesitate to call us at: 484-7481. Meetings are held on the third floor, room D1." *Maybe this is something that could help Matt and I both!* Trying not to set her hopes too high, Amy quickly stuffed the flyer in her jeans pocket. Then the lights flickered back on and the doors opened. Amy raced down the hall and into the birthing suite waiting room. Just then the doctor came out. "Doctor, is Trish alright?"
"She has just started labor and it will probably be a few hours, at least, until the baby is born."
"May I see her?"
"Not yet," Doctor Anderson answered.
"But Doctor . . ."
"You may see her as she nears the birth of her son."
"Son?" Amy questioned in disbelief.
"That's when she'll really need you," he said, with a slight crinkling around his eyes. "You betcha, when the time comes, you'll be notified," he reassured her. "Now, if only my wife would have needed me half as much as I needed her during labor." Turning, Dr. Anderson headed back to birthing suite.
Doctor Anderson's last comment fell on deaf ears, as Amy nervously sat back down and tapped her fingernail against the cell phone. "Come on Matt," she muttered to herself.
Matt flew down the hall to Andrew's dressing room and banged on the door. "Andrew, Andrew!"
"What's all the ruckus about?" Andrew asked irritated, flinging open the door.
"Trish is going into labor!"
"Wha, what?!" Andrew's eyes widened. "You're kidding right, she's not due for another week."
Matt shook his head. "Amy just called me." Andrew was as surprised that Amy voluntarily spoke with Matt, as he was about the revelation of Trish's legitimate labor pains.
"Yeah, she called, but then her phone cut out." Matt frowned, "I hope she's okay."
Andrew grabbed his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Tell Vince I have to take the next flight out of Connecticut."
"You don't have to tell me anything," Vince said, striding up to Matt and Andrew. "I heard all of it. Take my private jet, Andrew. You'll get there much faster and will be sure not to miss anything," he added, clapping Andrew on the shoulder.
"Wow, Mr. McMahon. Thanks!"
"Think nothing of it." He grinned broadly. "I was very fortunate enough to see the birth of my children and wish for my extended wrestling family to see the birth of theirs, if at all possible. Clearing his throat, Vince's expression turned thoughtful. "Matt, if you want to go . . ."
"No, that's okay Vince. I think it may be best if I wait a little longer."
"But Matt, she called you," Andrew argued.
"And I will call her back to make sure she is alright," Matt replied firmly. "Now go, do the same for your wife." Matt good-naturedly gave Andrew a light shove.
Hurriedly, Andrew pushed and shoved his way through the crowd of people milling about the ticket counter. He scanned the heads until spotting a flash of red. "Amy!" he cried.
"You're late," Amy said, flicking a glance at her watch.
"I know. Rain and hail slowed us down. Is Trish alright? Did she have the baby yet?"
"No, but we need to hurry." They rushed to the baggage area. "The doctor said Trish is going to need a Cescearian section."
"Why?" Andrew asked as he grabbed his duffel bags.
"The baby is turned around and will be born feet first. The only way left is to deliver the baby through Trish's stomach."
"Is she going to be okay?" Andrew doubled his stride, in order to keep up with Amy's.
"Yes, but we need to hurry." She threw Andrew's bags in the back seat and gunned the engine. "Better put that seat belt on," Amy advised. Tires squealed as she tore out of the parking garage.
"How are you feeling, baby?" Andrew approached Trish, who was holding the sleeping babe in her arms.
"Just fine."
"I tried to get here as fast as I could," Amy apologized.
"Believe me she did. My knuckles are still white from clutching the door handle."
"It's just as good. Trish's voice cracked, " I just as soon not have you see the birth since it was a C-section." She stared down at the damp sheets. Amy took that as her cue to leave and quietly stole out of the room.
"It's alright sweetheart. It doesn't matter. I just want you and the baby to be safe."
Silence.
"Look at me, hon." Almost painfully, she lifted her chestnut eyes to his face. "Don't be ashamed. You're my wife and you just gave birth to our beautiful baby! That's two blessings in one." Trish's full lips curved upward. Cupping her chin in his hand, he kissed her upturned lips. "Now, what do we have the pleasure of naming this little one?" He turned back the tiny yellow blanket wrapped around the baby and gasped. "A boy! He looks just like me!"
"Excuse me."
"Oh, um yeah. He has your eyes."
"His eyes are closed."
"So, um, what did you name him, sweetheart?"
"Good recovery Drew, but I thought we should name him together."
Andrew scratched his chin. "Hmm, how about Alex then? I've always liked that name."
"Alex." She rolled the word off her tongue. "That sounds like a nice name."
"We can always call him cue-ball until he starts growing some peach-fuzz on his head," Andrew said with a grin. He rubbed the back of Alex's tiny pink head."
"Alex it is . . . on one condition," Trish said. She whispered into Andrew's ear.
Wrinkling his nose, he made a face. "Aw, do I have to?"
"Yes, you must, but we don't have to tell him until he's an adult?" Trish offered.
"Deal!"