CHAPTER 24: Kristy

It was now Christmas Eve eve. Jason and I were sitting in the living room, watching It's A Wonderful Life on the DVD player at around 8:00 that evening. The movie was already up to the part where George Bailey gets his second chance, and he's running through the streets of Bedford Falls, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. I still remember when Andrew tried that, and he looked so cute, up until he slipped on a patch of ice and busted his tailbone. I can still hear the hollow thud of that boy's behind hitting the ice, and it still makes me shudder to this day. Not even Ashlee Simpson's performance at the Orange Bowl could've compared to that.

When I got up to go to the bathroom, I noticed that Jason pressed the pause button. "I'll only be a minute," I told him.

"I know," he smiled. "I just didn't want you to miss anything."

Another reason why I fell in love with him.

I got to the bathroom and turned on the light, and that's when I saw a trickle of blood and water on the bathroom floor. Right away, I knew what was happening. "JASON!" I shouted.

He came running into the bathroom. "It's time?" he asked.

"No, I spilled ketchup all over the floor," I said sarcastically. "What do you think?!"

"Okay, just calm down," he said, starting to do so himself. "I'll get the bag, and we'll go to the hospital."

I nodded, then grabbed my coat while Jason put the DVD away, turned off the TV and DVD player, got my bag and his coat, and we went out the door. During the ride to the hospital, Jason called our parents and the doctor on his cell phone. As we rounded the corner to enter the hospital parking lot, the Beach Boys' version of "Little St. Nick" was playing on the radio, and we were singing along. Speaking of that song, I don't know which version I like better: that one, or the one with John Denver and the Muppets.

When we found a space and pulled into it, I felt the first contraction. "I can't move," I told Jason.

"What do you want me to do, love?" Jason asked. "Bring the doctor out here and deliver the baby in the parking lot?"

"Very funny."

"All right," he said. He grunted and groaned as he lifted me out of the truck.

"Hey, I'm not that heavy!" I protested.

When Jason set me down, just for fun, I started slapping him and yelling, "YOU STUPID JERK! MY KID'LL PROBABLY BE BRAIN-DAMAGED BECAUSE OF YOU!" Then I groaned, pretending that a contraction had seized me. (By the way, Jason was not driving like a maniac. In fact, he's one of the most careful drivers I've seen.)

I knew Jason was laughing, especially on the way inside when I was swatting him away and yelling, "Don't touch me, just don't touch me! I'll just go have this baby without you touching me!"

I was also pretty sure that Jason was looking at people, as if to say, "I've never seen this woman before in my life."

As soon as we checked in, the nurse took me to the labor and delivery room, and Jason followed with our bag. The nurses helped me change clothes. Then, with Jason's help, I climbed into the bed. It was a little hard, because I was in the middle of a contraction. Jason rubbed my back until it had passed.

As the next contraction seized me about ten minutes later, Jason rubbed my knuckles and spoke to me in a low, soothing voice, obviously talking me through it. I assumed that he'd learned it from Bebe's Uncle Brent, who's married to her Aunt Amanda, Steve's sister, who was born when Steve was in third grade, and also happens to be a hypnotherapist.

About three hours later, it was midnight, which meant that it was Christmas Eve. I hoped the baby would come soon. I didn't care what day it was, though.

When another contraction seized me about five minutes later, and another seven minutes after the last one, I grabbed Jason's hand and squeezed it as hard as I could, not giving a rat's ass if I was breaking it. That's how much pain I was in.

Around seven in the morning, Dr. Wright came in. After he examined me, he said, "Well, Mrs. Everett, time to start pushing."

I groaned and leaned back against the pillow. Jason turned my face toward his and said, "You can do this. I know you can; you're a strong person."

Jason briefly left the room, and when he returned, he was wearing the same surgical garb as the doctor. "Ready?" he asked.

"I—I think so," I stammered.

"Okay, Kristy," Dr. Wright said. "On the next contraction, I want you to take a deep breath and hold it for a count of ten, okay?"

I nodded as I shifted my position on the bed.

"Take a deep breath—now," the doctor said.

I took a deep breath and held it while Jason and the doctor counted to ten, then let it out. "Very good," the doctor said. "Oh, shit."

"What?" Jason asked.

"The baby turned on us. We may have to either manipulate it back into a proper position or do a C-section."

"Try to manipulate it back into a proper position," Jason told the doctor. "I think Kristy's scared to have a C-section after what happened to her friend, Mallory."

"I am not!" I snapped defiantly. Then I did something that surprised everyone in the room, especially me: I grabbed Jason by the nuts and twisted as hard as I could.

"Ow!" he cried. "Okay, okay!"

About five minutes later, Dr. Wright said, "Okay, that was a good first try. Now this time, I want you to use your muscles and push down while we count so we can get this baby out, okay?"

When the next contraction came, I did just that. "The baby's making nice progress," Dr. Wright said. "In fact, I see it crowning."

Within minutes of straining, pushing, and screaming, "GOD, GET IT OUT OF ME, YOU QUACK!" at the doctor, the baby came out, and we heard the first cry.

"It's a boy!" the doctor announced. "You have a little boy, born at 7:44 a.m."

I fell back against the pillow, let out a huge breath, and sobbed my heart out. Jason and I were just over the moon, having brought this whole new life into the world—and on Christmas Eve, mind you. Through my tears, I looked at the doctor and managed to gasp out, "If either of you even thinks about singing 'It's a boy, Mrs. Everett, it's a boy,' you'll be in traction in one second flat!"

"Okay, we won't," Dr. Wright assured me. "Choir wasn't my best subject, anyway."

Jason and I laughed, then he gave me a kiss on the lips. "I'm so proud of you," he said, "for giving me a son."

"What should we call him?" I asked. We looked over our list of names.

"Daniel," Jason answered. "That way, I can sing that Elton John song to him, but I promise not to drive him crazy by constantly singing it."

"Daniel, I like it," I said with a slight laugh. "Daniel James Everett, but we'll call him DJ, for short."

The nurse nodded, and filled out the birth certificate.

Jason and the doctor bent over little Daniel. "You want to do the honors?" the doctor asked.

"Aye," Jason answered. With a little instruction, Jason cut the cord, then the nurse weighed and measured the baby while the doctor signed the birth certificate as another nurse wrapped him in a blanket and handed him to me.

"Merry Christmas," she grinned. And that's when the baby started crying.

"Shh," I said, jiggling it a little, as the nurse finished filling out the birth certificate, and trying to control my own emotions. Jason stood beside me and kissed my cheek, then leaned over and kissed little DJ's forehead.

"You did it, love," Jason whispered.

"We all did it," I grinned.

We just couldn't believe our own little Christmas miracle.