Chapter 65
Clarke remembered learning about the stages of labor, and how the first stage was split up into phases. She knew she was in the early phase and likely would be for a while, because her contractions still felt like bad menstrual cramps. They didn't last long, only about thirty or forty seconds, and she was able to rest in between them. She knew she had to rest while she could, because once she got into the next phase, there would be no possibility of sleep.
There seemed to be different people in her room whenever she woke up, although Bellamy, of course, was the constant. First it was him and her dad. She wondered what they were saying, but their conversation stopped short when she started moaning and groaning about her contraction. She felt like she'd only gone back to sleep for a few minutes, though she had no real concept of time, when she awoke again. This time, Bellamy was standing in the doorway, talking to Raven. But he rushed right back to her bedside when she called out for him. His poor hand was probably going to be bruised by the time the delivery was over. Even these minor contractions caused her to grip it pretty hard.
Since the only sleep she was getting was a light sleep, just barely skimming the surface of actual rest, it didn't even take a contraction to wake her up the next time. She heard Bellamy talking to his mom, and when she opened her eyes, she saw that Aurora had joined them in the room. She had a teddy bear in her hand that looked like it had come from the hospital's gift shop.
"Aurora?" Clarke said, relieved to see her. She hadn't really gotten to talk to her since . . . well, since everything had come to light.
"Oh, Clarke, we didn't mean to wake you," Aurora said apologetically.
"You didn't," Clarke assured her. She really was just resting her eyes more than anything else.
"Another contraction?" Bellamy asked, sitting down in the chair next to her bed, holding out his hand.
"Not this time," she said, though she took his hand anyway, just because it was nice to have that contact. "But how far apart have they been?"
"About twenty-five minutes," he told her.
Twenty-five minutes? That meant this early phase was still very early. "This is taking forever," she complained.
"It can take a while," Aurora said, peering down at her. "But it looks like you're doing what you need to do, trying to relax."
"Yeah." Trying was the key word there, because it was so hard to relax knowing what was coming. But she kept trying to remind herself that women had been doing this since the dawn of time, even back when there were no hospitals or drugs or anything to help ease the process. Her mom had gone through this. Hell, Aurora had gone through it twice, both times without a hand like Bellamy's to hold.
Looking up at the woman who already felt like her mother-in-law, Clarke felt a stab of guilt for lying to her, too, for keeping something so huge so secret from her. "Aurora, I'm so sorry," she apologized shakily. "I didn't mean to rob you of a grandchild."
Aurora didn't try to tell her that it was all okay, which was actually kind of nice. Because Clarke didn't want to be excused of her secrecy; she wanted to be forgiven for it. "Well, now you're giving me one," Aurora said, smiling softly. "And it was your choice to make. You don't have to apologize to me."
"But I feel bad," she said. So, yes, she was going to apologize, because she felt like that was all she could say, even though it wasn't enough.
"Clarke." Bellamy rubbed her hand and reminded her, "You don't have to worry about that today, remember?"
"I know," she said. "I know, but . . . I just feel really emotional." Tears stung her eyes, and she felt like, any second, they'd just start pouring out.
Aurora must have sensed that they needed some privacy, because she said, "I'll leave you two alone," and set the teddy bear down on top of Clarke's hospital bag as she left the room.
Clarke hadn't even realized she'd started crying until she felt Bellamy's hands on her face, wiping away her tears. "Shh, baby, it's okay," he soothed her. "You're okay."
She was, and she knew she was, but still . . . she just kept crying. It wasn't even that she was sad. She just felt . . . worked up.
"You want me to hold you?" he offered.
Nodding quickly, she scooted over a bit to allow him a little space on the small hospital bed. He curled up next to her, put his arms around her, and she snuggled in as close to him as she could get. She clutched at his shirt and used it to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "This is a lot," she said. "I thought I knew what this was gonna be like, but . . . it's so much."
"You're doin' great," he assured her, stroking her hair.
Was she? She didn't feel like she was doing a horrible job so far, and she'd heard that it was very common for women in delivery to have many hormone fluctuations on the big day. But she'd also watched some vlogs of young women who were, like, impossibly beautiful throughout the whole process with their perfect makeup and big, bright smiles, and she definitely didn't feel like one of them right now. "I've barely even started," she said. "It's gonna get so much harder. I might need some drugs."
"That's okay," Bellamy said.
"No, but I don't want any," she said, whimpering. "I wanna try to . . . be strong." If she could give birth the natural way, then that was definitely preferable. She hated the thought of being all drugged up when her daughter came into the world.
"You are strong," Bellamy assured her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
She took a deep breath, focusing on the feel of his hands, the thrum of his heartbeat, and everything else that managed to calm her down and get the tears to stop flowing. "You make me feel stronger," she said, closing her eyes, hoping to fall asleep using him as her pillow. Even if it was just for a few minutes, it'd make her feel better.
...
Dilation wasn't a speedy process. Ten hours in, Clarke found out she was still only at three centimeters. That wasn't even enough to move onto the next phase yet.
The contractions had begun coming more frequently, and they were gradually getting stronger. Bellamy timed them all for her since she was unable to focus on anything other than her increasing discomfort and pain.
It wasn't unmanageable yet, but it was to the point where sleep had become virtually impossible. So she had to start doing other activities just to try to get her mind on other things. Since she had her sketchbook, she tried to do a quick drawing. It was supposed to be a dog, but it ended up looking more like a giraffe. Not her best work. They did end up putting on some music—she'd actually put together a pregnancy playlist a while back, but no song was really enough to hold her attention. So Bellamy ended up doing a lot of talking. He told her a lot of stories about his childhood, and she learned things about him that she hadn't known. Like apparently the first football he'd ever gotten had been a Christmas present from his grandfather. And he'd gone through a phase in elementary school where he'd been convinced that, if he acted like a bear, he'd actually turn into a bear. And he recounted his memories of the day Octavia had been born, of seeing her for the first time and holding her as a little boy himself. His face took on a different expression when he told those stories, the stories of feeding her a bottle for the first time, and getting up in the middle of the night to check on her because he wanted his mom to be able to sleep.
He was going to be a great father.
Bellamy's stories must have been the thing to get her through that early phase of labor, because just when Clarke thought it was never going to end, one of the nurses came back into the room and peeked under the blanket to check her progress. "Alright, Clarke, looks like you're four centimeters dilated," she announced. "That means you're in the active labor phase now."
"How long will that last?" Clarke asked. Sure, she'd done her research, but she couldn't remember off the top of her head.
"Typically three to six hours," the nurse replied.
"Typically?"
"Well, every woman's different."
"Meaning it could last longer," Clarke interpreted. "I'm not having this baby before midnight."
"No, it's already after midnight," Bellamy informed her.
"Is it really?" Here she'd thought it was barely 9:00.
"Yeah."
She groaned, pressing her head back into the pillow, and apologized to him, "Sorry this is taking so long."
He laughed a little and shook his head. "It's fine."
Realistically, she knew there was nothing she could do to speed it up, but still . . . she thought of her family and friends sitting out there in the waiting room and actually felt bad for keeping them waiting.
"Your contractions are going to start lasting longer, probably closer to the minute mark," the nurse informed her. "And you won't have as much time to rest in between."
"Oh, goodie." That sure sounded like something to look forward to.
"We can get Dr. Jackson in here to talk about pain management if you want," the nurse offered.
It was tempting, definitely, but Clarke still wanted to see how long she could hold out. "I think I'm . . . I'm managing," she decided. Once the pain started to become unbearable, then she'd probably cave.
"Okay," the nurse said. "You just let me know if you need anything."
"Thanks," Clarke said, waiting until she'd left the room to start whining again. "Oh, Bellamy . . . I'm getting impatient."
"I know," he said, yawning. "But we knew it was gonna take a while."
Hopefully her body—and her baby—picked up the pace, though, because she did not want to be one of those poor women who ended up in labor for over a full twenty-four hours. And she didn't want to get to the point where she had to have a C-section, either. "Can I have some more water?" she asked him. All of these contractions had her sweating and feeling so thirsty.
"Sure." He handed her her glass, and she drank greedily, even though she knew she was going to have to get up and pee in about ten minutes.
"Am I doin' alright, by the way?" he asked her. "I mean, I know this isn't really about me, but . . . do you feel like I'm here for you?"
"Oh, god, yes," she said, handing him back the glass so he could set it on her bedside table. "I'd be a wreck without you." She really couldn't imagine going through all of this with just her mother in the room. Even Raven . . . as much as she loved her friend, she wouldn't have known what to do, and she wouldn't have been able to calm her down as well.
"What else can I do?" Bellamy asked. "You want a massage or anything?"
"I think . . ." She shifted uncomfortably, wincing as her back muscles started to pull and strain. "I need to get up and walk around."
"Okay." He helped her to her feet, and she felt a little unsteady, so held onto his arm and took a few steps. "You wanna go get a snack?" he asked. "Or . . ."
"No, just in here," she said. "Just walk with me." The change in position came highly recommended. She'd read up about a lot of moms who had said that moving around during delivery was the only time when they could find any relief or comfort. But she wasn't completely sold on it herself. Her whole midsection still hurt, and she sensed another contraction was going to kick in soon. Timing-wise, she was due for one.
"What're we gonna do about her middle name?" Bellamy asked her as they slowly padded around the room. "I don't think we ever decided that."
They hadn't, which felt kind of silly given how prepared they'd tried to be for everything. But in a way, she liked the spontaneity of it. "I've got an idea," she said. "Do you trust me on it?"
Without hesitation, he answered, "Yeah."
"Good." She smiled a bit and said, "I'm glad you trust me." Because that was something she was prepared to earn back. Before she could offer up any hints as to what name she had in mind, her stomach muscles started tightening and contorting, and she hunched forward. "Oh, Bellamy . . ."
"It's okay," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "You're okay." He started to sway back and forth with her gently. They'd learned about this in one of their classes, the so-called slow-dance position where she could just lean against him and use him as her pillar while he rubbed her back. "I'm right here," he whispered quietly in her ear. "I got you."
He did, didn't he? He totally had her.
"You're doin' so good," he said. "I'm so proud of you. You got this."
Hearing his voice made it easier to try to block out the pain, so she said, "Keep talking to me," and continued to sway with him.
"You're so strong," he said. "You're so strong right now. You're amazing, Clarke. I'm so in love with you."
"Oh, that helps," she said. Yeah, there was no way Raven or her mom could have been there for her like this. Bellamy was the only one who could . . . well, he was just the only one.
"That's better?" he asked.
"Yeah. So much." Even as the contraction subsided, she still stood there with him, wrapped in his arms with her face resting on his shoulder. "You just have to talk me through all of them, okay?" she said.
"Okay. I'll try not to repeat myself."
"No, I don't care." Even if he said the same thing over and over again, it'd be fine. "It just helps hearing your voice. And being able to hold onto you. I missed this."
His hands continued to smooth up and down her back, easing some of the tension there. There was just a warmth in his touch that she couldn't otherwise feel, a reassurance.
As the active phase of labor continued, they tried a lot more massaging, in various positions, too. Clarke placed a pillow down on the floor, got down on her knees, and leaned over the chair that he sat in, and he did his best to massage out some of the pain in her lower back. It never completely went away, of course, but when she focused on the feeling of that along with her own breathing, she was able to stay relatively calm, even if the contraction was a bad one. Bellamy did a good job of checking with her and making sure that every touch was what she wanted and he was not pressing too hard or hurting her. He was so patient with her and accommodating, exactly the way a birth partner was supposed to be. She felt like she couldn't have a better man—a better person—by her side.
Even as she became more dilated, she still opted to decline pain relief, at least the drug-related kind. So one of the nurses suggested they try a warm bath instead, which was supposed to help ease her muscle tension and relax her. Clarke was down to try anything, so she agreed to it, and the nurses drew a bath for her right there in the room. It was one of those birthing pools that she'd seen on YouTube, and she had to admit, it felt pretty damn good to soak in there.
"How do you feel?" the nurse asked her.
She smiled dazedly and replied, "Weightless." The water made her feel like she could float.
"Good," the nurse said as she squeezed out a sponge, trickling warm water onto Clarke's shoulders and arms.
"Maybe you should just have the baby in here," Bellamy suggested.
"Maybe the next one," she said. Water births were definitely becoming more popular, but for this first baby, she just wanted something more traditional. She couldn't help but get freaked out when she pictured her little baby being born in the water. "Tell me the truth," she said, reaching out to graze her fingers against his arm. "How gross do I look right now?"
"You look beautiful," he said.
"Yeah, right." It was a good thing Murphy wasn't filming this, because she felt like she looked a mess. "You're just saying that."
"No, I'm not," he insisted, smoothing her damp hair back from her forehead.
Honestly, at this point, she didn't even really care what she looked like, not when her body was doing something it had never done before.
The sudden urge to use the bathroom made itself known, and Clarke struggled to sit up straighter. "Oh, I have to pee," she announced. "Bellamy, help me up."
"Careful," he said. He grabbed one arm to help her up, and the nurse grabbed the other. The second she was out of that water, she groaned and lamented, "Oh, I don't feel weightless anymore." She was back to feeling like a bloated elephant, but she had to remind herself that that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The more discomfort and pain she felt, the closer she was to bringing Avery into the world.
...
Sunrise happened. Still no baby. But the good news was that Clarke finally entered the last phase of the first stage of delivery. Dr. Jackson said it was called the transition phase. At eight centimeters dilated, she was officially transitioning into having the baby.
The transition phase wasn't fun. She started having a lot of hot flashes, and Bellamy kept having to press a cold washcloth to her head and her neck. It was rarely ever just the two of them anymore. Nurses kept rotating in and out of the room, checking up on her, coaching her through her increasing discomfort, and of course monitoring how things were looking between her legs. The progress was still slow, but at least she felt like she was nearing the home stretch. She kept telling herself that she only had to deal with this for a few more hours. Hopefully.
When the nurses finally left her alone for a moment, she told Bellamy to bring her mom into the room. She needed advice, and she needed it now.
"Hi, honey," her mom said when she walked in. She looked quite tired herself, and her hair was falling out of its ponytail. "How are you doing?"
"Not good," Clarke admitted. The pain was pretty relentless at this point. It didn't matter whether she lay on her back, her side, or got up and moved around; it didn't let up.
"No, she's doin' great," Bellamy said.
"But I don't feel good." She grimaced, shifting around uncomfortably in the bed. "It hurts."
"I know," her mom sympathized.
"My last contraction was . . . how long was it?" she asked Bellamy.
"Eighty-five seconds," he replied.
"Eighty-five seconds." It'd felt more like eighty-five years. "And I'm only having, like, two minutes in between. They said this part can take two hours."
"It can," her mom said. "But it's still the shortest part of labor. Remember that."
As much as she kept trying to tell herself that, she sort of felt like her perception of time was skewed, because she just couldn't get relief for any substantial amount of time whatsoever.
"We're just gonna keep breathing, alright?" Bellamy said, cupping her cheek. "We'll get through this together."
"Easy for you to say," she grumbled. "You don't actually have to push the baby out. You just have to stand there." Immediately after she said that, she regretted it. "I mean . . . I'm sorry." He wasn't just standing. He was doing a lot for her. "I don't mean to get snippy."
"It's fine," he assured her.
Was it? She sort of felt like she had a free pass on account of going through the most physically demanding experience of her life and all. Bellamy had prepared for this, too. He definitely knew not to hold it against her.
"Looks like he's taking good care of you, Clarke," her mom noted.
"He is." Her eyes closed, because they felt so heavy and she felt so tired, and a few tears seeped out the sides. She wasn't even experiencing a contraction in that moment, and it still hurt. She felt so much pressure down in her pelvic area, like a bowling ball was going to come out.
"Do you want me to stay back here, too?" her mom offered.
"No," she said. "No offense. I just wanted to see if you think I should get an epidural." She was really close to asking for one.
"Well, that's up to you, sweetie," her mom said.
That didn't help. "But I don't know," she whined. "Doesn't it slow down labor?"
"It can," her mom said.
Desperately, she looked to Bellamy. "And we've already been here for . . . how long?"
"Don't worry about it," he said.
"We've been here a long time," she said. "But this sucks." Was it worth it to have the epidural now when she was getting close to being able to push? It almost seemed like a better idea to just power through at this point.
"How dilated are you?" her mother asked.
"Eight centimeters." She shot Bellamy a look and asked, "Do you know what that means? It means I'm dilated enough for a baseball."
"Wow," he said, his eyes widening momentarily.
"Or maybe it's a doughnut." She couldn't quite remember, but she had a little chart on her phone.
"You still have time to see how you're doing as things progress," her mom said. "You don't have to make any decision on pain relief yet, okay?"
What if she ran out of time, though? What if she reached a point where she couldn't bear the pain anymore and then it was too late to get drugged up? "Okay," she whimpered. "I'll just wait." As if her body wanted to taunt her for that choice, everything tightened up again, and another contraction gripped down on her. She cried and turned towards Bellamy, and he reached around to rub her back for her. But even that wasn't helping very much anymore.
Eventually, the contractions started coming so frequently that she just felt like they were overlapping, no time to catch her breath in between. Bellamy tried his best to keep doing the breathing exercises with her, but she couldn't concentrate enough to take part. She felt so achy that she didn't even remember what it felt like to feel normal. Even her butt and her legs and her arms were hurting. She was pretty sure the only thing keeping her going was adrenaline. The adrenaline of getting to nine centimeters dilated. Of knowing that, once she got to ten, she could start pushing, and then this could all finally be done.
Pain relief definitely was no longer an option when she felt the undeniable need to push. One of the nurses was back there, checking her vitals, but Clarke turned to Bellamy instead of her and said, "Get Dr. Jackson."
"You think it's time?" he asked.
She nodded frantically. "Yeah."
"He'll be here any minute," the nurse said, pressing a button on the side of Clarke's bed. "You think you're ready?"
"I know I am," Clarke said. She probably hadn't been ready when her water had broken at graduation. She hadn't even been ready when she'd arrived at the hospital. But she'd been ready ever since Bellamy had shown up and told her he forgave her. Now, finally, her body was ready, too.
When Dr. Jackson came into the room, he showed no signs of being tired. In fact, he was all smiles when he said, "Alright, let's see how we're doing here." He peered underneath the covers and said, "Okay, Clarke, looks like you're at ten centimeters. You're officially in the second stage of labor now, and you're doing great."
All she could do was moan in response, especially when one of the nurses tapped Bellamy's shoulder and motioned him to follow her to the other side of the room.
"I'm gonna have you work your way towards pushing," Dr. Jackson said. "How's your pain?"
"It's bad," she said, only somewhat ware of all the activity that had begun happening around her room. All the nurses were in there, and they were setting up things, things she couldn't even identify. She looked around frantically for her boyfriend, but it seemed like there were so many people in there all of a sudden.
"I don't think we have time for an epidural," Dr. Jackson said.
"That's okay, I just wanna do this," she said. "Bellamy?"
"I'm right here, Clarke." One of the nurses was having him wash his hands.
"I need you," she said.
"I'm right here," he said once again, returning to her side.
It was crazy how hours upon hours had all amounted to this. More than that, even. Months and months. She'd been carrying this baby around for almost nine whole months. And now everything was happening so fast. She didn't know how her legs ended up spread and lifted up, whether it was something she'd done instinctively or the nurses who had positioned her that way. This was how it was going to happen, her in a semi-seated position with some pillows propped behind her back, bearing down with every ounce of strength she had left and then some, while Bellamy stood at her side, holding her hand and probably losing circulation in his.
"Okay, Clarke, it looks like your baby's just starting to crown," Dr. Jackson said. "But I'm not gonna have you start to push yet."
"Why not?" she barked. Wasn't this the time to start pushing?
"Because the baby's still retracting after your contractions," he explained.
"What?" What did that even mean? She couldn't think right now.
"It's like two steps forward, one step back," he said in simple terms. "You're getting very close, though."
"I just wanna push," she growled impatiently.
"We have to take this slowly, otherwise you could tear," Dr. Jackson told her. "I want you to breathe and blow through the urge to push, because your contractions are naturally going to move your baby forward. Alright?"
No, she protested internally. It wasn't alright, because this had already gone on too long. It was time to just get the baby out. But still, she tried to follow her doctor's instructions, because she knew he knew what he was doing. She breathed in as deeply as she could and blew it out audibly instead of pushing. But the pressure down there was so intense that it made it difficult to resist.
"What's it look like?" she asked Bellamy.
"You really wanna know?"
"Yes." They had a little covering up so she couldn't see, probably because they didn't want her getting freaked out.
Bellamy peeked down lower, made a face, and shook his head. "You don't wanna know."
No, she really didn't.
"Good job, Clarke. You're doing great," Dr. Jackson said. "Keep breathing. We're gonna let your body take charge here. It knows exactly what it needs to do."
Does it? she couldn't help but wonder as she breathed out forcefully again. How could it? She'd never done this part before.
...
Clarke crept out of her bedroom, afraid of what she was going to hear her parents saying. They'd told her to go upstairs and let them have a talk, but judging by the sheer volume of their conversation, it was more of an argument. With her bedroom door closed, she hadn't been able to make out exactly what they were saying. But when she crouched down in the upstairs hallway, she was able to make out every single word.
"How could we let this happen?" her father boomed.
"We didn't let anything happen," her mom said. "We tried to—to educate her and-"
"Well, we should've tried harder," her dad cut in. "We should've never gotten her on the pill."
"Then she just would've gotten pregnant sooner."
"Or she wouldn't have had sex at all!"
Clarke flinched. Her dad sounded . . . so angry. She'd never heard him that angry before.
"She started having sex before I got her on the pill, Jake," her mom pointed out. "Don't make this out to be my fault."
"I'm not."
"Well, that's what it feels like!"
Clarke winced. Why were they yelling at each other like this?
"But you know what?" her mom blared. "If you weren't away for work so much, I wouldn't have to be a single parent half the time."
"So now it's my fault?"
"No, it's . . ." Her mom paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, she wasn't as loud. But she still sounded angry. "It's nobody's fault. Except maybe Bellamy Blake's." She sounded like she was seething as she said his name. "I knew we couldn't trust him. He saw a naïve, young girl who was willing to do anything with him, and he didn't hesitate."
No, Clarke thought adamantly, ready to head down there and defend him if she had to. But fortunately, her dad was more reasonable and didn't seem dead-set on vilifying the baby's father. "Don't say that," he said.
"Why not? It's the truth."
It was so far from the truth, though. Maybe things between her and Bellamy had started as a casual hook-up, but it'd become so much more than that.
"I don't think he's a bad guy, Abby," Clarke's father said, and that gave her a semblance of hope. "He didn't take advantage of her. They were in a serious relationship."
"How serious could it have been?" her mom shrieked. "He up and left to go throw a ball around in college! He doesn't love her, not enough to stay with her."
Clarke's heart . . . sort of sank when she heard that.
"Well, I don't know," her father said. "But I do feel like he'll help her with this child."
"And is that the best case scenario?"
Clarke's heart sank a little further. Because she'd been wondering the same thing.
"Probably," her dad said. "Otherwise she ends up being a single mom."
"Oh, god." Her mother's voice was tearful when she lamented, "This can't be happening."
"It is."
"No, this—this can't be happening, Jake!" she yelled. "She's too young! She's—she's not ready for this."
Clarke wrapped one arm around her stomach.
"She's gonna have to get ready," her dad said.
"No, this—this isn't what her life's supposed to be like!" her mom stammered, crying. "This isn't who she's supposed to become!"
Clarke started to cry along with her, silently so they wouldn't hear her and know she was listening in.
"She's not ready, Jake," her mom insisted, sounding increasingly hysterical. "She's not ready to be a mom!"
...
"Ahhh!" Clarke screamed, squeezing her eyes shut as she pushed with all her might.
"There you go, Clarke," Dr. Jackson said. "Keep pushing."
She pushed as long and as hard as she could, but eventually, she just had to stop and catch her breath. "I can't do this," she cried.
Dr. Jackson and the nurses might have assured her otherwise, but it was Bellamy's voice that she heard. "Yes, you can."
She shook her head fearfully. "No, I can't." It hurt so much, and it was taking so much out of her, maybe more than she had to give.
"Yes, you can, Clarke," he repeated. "This is our daughter. You're gonna bring her into the world. Happiest day of our lives, remember?"
She wanted to feel happy. But she was too busy feeling overwhelmed.
"You can do this," he said again. "I'm right here, okay? You got this. I'm right here with you."
She looked up at him, gasping for air, and she saw such unwavering faith and belief in his eyes that she felt a sudden wave of resurgence. She was doing this no matter how painful it was.
"Your baby's crowning, Clarke," Dr. Jackson said. "A few more good pushes, and her head will be out. You push whenever you feel the urge."
She squeezed Bellamy's hand again, feeling as if some of his strength was flowing into her. Again, she bore down, and again she screamed, because screaming just felt natural. She felt the baby—it really did feel like the biggest bowel movement of her life, like she was tearing open or being set on fire. She'd never felt anything so intense before.
All sounds and instructions started to fade, except for Bellamy's words of encouragement. She zoned in so much on pushing that she couldn't even really make out what he was saying, but she still heard him, and she still felt him, and that was enough to make her feel strong again.
"Go catch her," she managed to tell him. "Go catch her. Please." She knew she could do this. It was more important for Avery to feel his hands than it was for her to.
Bellamy went down to the foot of the bed, standing near the doctor, and before Clarke squeezed her eyes shut again, she noticed his widen in awe. "Ahhh!" She pushed as hard as she could, pushed right through the pain as the baby finally started to come out. She felt an immediate sense of relief as the head came out, and everything after that felt so much easier. The rest of the body was nothing in comparison and came out so quickly. When she no longer had to push, she just slumped back against the pillows, drenched with sweat and feeling completely spent.
And then she heard the baby crying.
Looking down, she watched as Bellamy lifted this beautiful, tiny little person in his big hands. She was still covered in blood and goo, but she was so beautiful. And he had in fact caught her. The first touch that little girl was feeling was her father's.
Clarke burst into happy tears.
"It's a girl!" one of the nurses exclaimed.
Bellamy looked a bit stupefied and started crying as he held her. But he could only hold her for a moment before passing her off to the nurses. They started wiping and cleaning her off right there over the hospital bed.
"I wanna see her," Clarke said. Since she could still hear her crying, every instinct she had was telling her to hold her.
The cleaning was quick, and Clarke watched as the doctors handed the naked baby back to Bellamy. They stayed at his side as he came towards Clarke, and they helped him position the baby on her chest. One of the nurses untied her gown so they could pull it down and she and the baby could have skin to skin contact. She sobbed, so overcome with emotion as she held and gazed down at her baby. Her eyes were shut, and her face was red. But she was so perfect. She had such little hands and fingers.
"Oh my god. Oh my god, look at you," she said through her tears. This was her daughter. Their daughter.
Bellamy leaned down next to the bed, his face close to both of theirs, tears streaming down his cheeks.
When the baby's crying began to subside, Clarke collected herself enough to smile at her and say, "Welcome to the word, Avery Octavia Blake." She glanced away from the little girl only long enough to gauge Bellamy's reaction, and it was immediate. He started to cry harder, because he hadn't been expecting his last name. But it just felt right.
"Look at your daddy," Clarke said to their little girl when her eyes slowly began to open.
"Hey," Bellamy said, smiling at her. "Oh my god."
He was the first thing she was seeing in this world, wasn't he? Clarke's heart warmed at the thought.
The nurses kept cleaning Avery off, even as she lay on Clarke's chest. Clarke was eager to try to feed her, but she didn't even realize she was still connected to the umbilical cord until Dr. Jackson asked Bellamy, "Do you wanna cut the cord?"
"Uh . . . yeah," Bellamy said.
They had to turn Avery onto her back, and they clamped what looked like very large twist-ties down around the cord. When Bellamy had a hold of the scissors, he looked a little unsure of what to do with them. "Right there?" he asked, positioning the blades before slicing.
"Yep, go ahead and just press down," Dr. Jackson said. He did, but apparently not hard enough. "One more time."
This time, the cord cut through, and all the nurses clapped. Bellamy covered his face with one hand and just started crying again. And that was a pretty beautiful thing to see, too.
"Look at her, Bellamy," Clarke urged him. "Look, she's so perfect."
He sniffed, wiped the tears off his face, and gazed down at her in amazement. "Yeah, she is," he agreed.
It was nice to see him as overcome with emotion as she was. Not that she'd ever doubted he would be. This really was the happiest day and the best moment of both their lives. "You're a dad," she told him, sure that he'd be a good one. The best one. He already looked like he was so in love with her.
"And you're a mom," he said, stroking her hair. He kissed her temple, and she felt his lips trembling against her skin.
I'm a mom, she thought, letting that fully sink in. She wasn't just pregnant anymore. She actually had a baby that she could adore and touch and cradle. She'd brought someone into the world, and it was the greatest thing she'd ever done. Nothing else even came close.
I'm a mom, she thought again, smiling down at her baby, a baby she had loved even before seeing her and loved even more now. Yeah. This was definitely who she was meant to become.
