Chapter 25: Wednesday 1 June

Today's the day: it's Donna's due date. Her stomach? Gigantic. Her heartburn? Liquid fire. Her mood? Foul. Alongside the normal discomforts of late pregnancy, the baby is pressing on a nerve and her back hurts any time she heaves herself off the couch. After all those weeks worrying about premature labor, now it's time there is not a single hint that it is ready to begin.

She finished work three weeks ago, and she hasn't known what to do with herself. She's too uncomfortable to do all the things she had naively imagined she might do on maternity leave, so she has been amusing herself with shopping for the baby - online, of course.

Things with Harvey are…just ok. After the debacle that night at the hospital, they patched things up fairly quickly, once she was over the initial shock and knew the baby was fine.

She has no complaints about his behavior since then. He is saying and doing all the right things. He has made incredible progress over the last nine months, and she is proud of him. But he has had a relatively short time to fix some deep-seated issues, and some of the bumps along the way have been really rough on her. She is tired and vulnerable now, and can't deal with more drama, so she is keeping a little distance. He seems to get it, he's being patient with her.

He has done everything he had said he would that night in the hospital. He did move in. He has been working from home every evening and, lately, some full days, and he's mostly around at the weekends. And he is now rigorous about keeping his goddamn phone charged and within earshot.

It has helped enormously that one week after that night, Harvey came through and got Mike out of prison, freeing up a lot of his time and headspace. To celebrate, he surprised her by taking a rare long weekend away from work, and talking her to a spa hotel in the Hamptons that specialises in pregnancy treatments. Some uninterrupted time together helped unthaw the frostiness between them, but they're still not as close as they were before.

He has been sleeping in a spare room ever since he moved in, though this is as much about her late pregnancy restlessness as it is about the state of their relationship. She can't get comfortable at night and she is up to pee constantly, so she'd only disturb him.

People keep telling her sagely that pregnancy sleep deprivation is nature's way of preparing her for what lies ahead. Donna thinks that's bullshit - the best way to prepare for interrupted sleep is surely lots of sleep? This week, the discomfort and exhaustion is catching up with her, and every little thing that Harvey does is madly infuriating.

It's 6pm and she hears the now familiar sounds that signal he's home: the door opening and shutting, his keys rattling on the hallway table. He appears in the room, and she is irrationally pissed off by the sight of him looking entirely his normal self, with his fancy clothes, his flat stomach and pain-free back, returning from an interesting day out in the world, while she is an uncomfortable, unstylish, lonely blob stuck on the couch. How is that fair? It adds fuel to the fire of her disgruntlement that he seems chipper.

He kisses the top of her head. "How are you feeling? No sign of Sharky?"

"Only 4 percent of babies arrive on their due date, Harvey," says Donna irritably.

"Back any better?"

"Worse," she huffs.

"Have you tried a hot curry? Pineapple?" They'd been talking about ways to bring on labor the previous evening.

"Yes, both. No luck."

"There was that one other suggestion in the book," he waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

God, had he always been such a dork? Right now she is struggling to work out how she let him get her pregnant in the first place.

"There is literally nothing else that could be worse than having sex with you right now Harvey," she snaps.

To her absolute rage, he grins at her. "I'll try not to take that personally."

"I'm serious. The fact that you could even suggest it tells me that you have zero clue how I feel right now."

He sighs softly. "You're right. I don't." He hands her a bag, hoping his purchase will perk her up. "I picked up that baby sleeping bag."

But she isn't done with the previous topic. "I think it's staggeringly selfish that that is even on your mind right now."

"I was just thinking it might help get things moving, Donna, I promise. I was trying to help."

"I seem to remember that it was you altruistically having sex with me 'to help' that got me into this position in the first place."

She sounds so serious, so angry, when making such a ridiculous statement that he bursts out laughing. "We'll be glad I was such a boy scout when we're holding our little girl. One way or another, it won't be long now."

"When did you turn into such a sap?" She says it with some affection, just a hint of edge. She opens up the package, and finds a long-sleeved baby sleeping bag.

"This isn't what I asked you to get! It's a winter one. It's June. The baby will cook in this."

"I can exchange it tomorrow," he offers.

"For fuck's sake, Harvey, can't you get anything right? I showed you the picture, I emailed you a link, what more am I supposed to do?" To her own amazement as much as his, she bursts into tears.

He sits next to her cautiously, and draws her into a careful hug. After a few moments, he pulls away, and wipes away her tears with his thumb.

"I'm sorry. I have no idea what's wrong with me."

"Hormones?" He offers tentatively.

"Are you telling me I'm crazy?"

He smirks. "You said it, not me. But seriously. You're gonna be ok, I promise. They're not letting you go more than a week overdue. One way or another, this time next week, we'll have our baby, and things are going to seem very different."

"One week! And we don't have the right sleeping bag for her."

"I'll get it tomorrow."

"What if she comes before then?"

"We have blankets. Or Rachel will get the right one."

"And I don't know if I have enough nappies in my hospital bag, and the newborn clothes look too small. We're both tall, and the baby can't be that tiny, they're ridiculously little, so I think I need to pack some 0 to 3 months clothes too. But I don't know what kind, as I don't know how hot it will be in the hospital. And we still haven't settled on a name, and I just don't think we can be ready for her in a week." Her eyes start leaking with tears again.

Jesus, he thinks. On the contrary, this baby can't come soon enough.

"Is anyone ever ready?" He gives her a lopsided smile. "I'm going to make you dinner, OK, then we'll get an early night."

….

Donna is sitting in bed feverishly googling what to pack in a hospital bag, even though for weeks she has had a bag containing what she needs for every eventuality. Harvey comes in to check in on her and say goodnight, and sit down next to her on the bed.

"You doing OK now?"

She nods. "I'm sorry I yelled. I'm just frustrated that I can't do anything myself right now. it's weird that we don't know when she's coming. I'm not used to feeling so... out of control."

"You're doing great." He tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "If you can't sleep, any worries at all, just come find me, OK?"

He kisses her softly on the lips, strokes the bump, and heads off to his own room.

….

Half an hour later, he's lying in bed, drifting off to sleep, when Donna switches on the lamp and climbs awkwardly into bed next to him, clutching her phone, and a notebook and her classic four-colour pen.

"We need to decide on the name right now," she whispers.

"Right now?" He replies groggily. "Why are you whispering?"

"I don't know. But listen. The baby could come any time. And she won't have a name."

"She won't mind if we take a little time to figure it out."

"Harvey. We have had nine months to sort this out. Nine." There's a rising note of hysteria in her voice again, just as there was earlier, right before she cried. He props himself up with his pillow, resigned.

"We both liked Martha."

"I've been thinking about it. It seemed cute and meaningful, but we can't call our baby after the place she was conceived," she whines. One day we're going to tell her about that trip and she is going to work out where she was conceived. And no kid needs to know that."

He's amused. "We're really telling our kid about that trip? The time Daddy took Mommy away to have sex wtih her, to help her have sex with other guys?"

She slaps his arm.

"Too soon?"

"No, it just sounds so bad when you put it like that."

"It worked out pretty well, in my opinion."

"I guess so." She leans her head against his shoulder, and they sit in silence for a few moments.

"Cordelia. Cordelia Paulsen-Specter. Cordelia Specter." She tries it out.

"He looks at her questioningly. Where did that come from?"

"It's a Shakespearean name. King Lear. I played that part at college. It means 'daughter of the sea,' if we want a more subtle reference to where we made her.

"I like it."

"You do?"

"Yeah." Now let's get to sleep. You staying?"

"I'll try." He leans over to switch off the lamp and wraps his arm around her. It's really nice to have her back in bed with him, though he will probably soon change his mind about that - she is already fidgeting.

"You're not just saying you like it so that we can sleep, are you," she murmurs, snuggling into him.

"No, Donna. I really do like it."

"Because…"

He kisses her gently. "Look at that. I stopped your mouth with a kiss. That Shakespearean enough for you?"

"If it wasn't Shakespeare, I'd be offended. And since when did you quote the Bard, Harvey Specter?"

"They made us study Much Ado About Nothing at school. Now sleep!"

….

Donna wakes two minutes before midnight, with a gripping, tightening sensation around her middle, and what feels like period pain. After a few moments, it passes. It's similar to the Braxton Hicks from April. She sits up, instantly alert. Is this it? It's her due date. It must be it. Several minutes later, the same sensation is there again. She should have known her kid would be right on time. OK, here goes, she thinks.

She gropes for her phone and, squinting at the bright screen, she opens up the labor app that she has downloaded. When the next contraction hits, she times it. After half an hour, she can see that they are coming every seven minutes, lasting about 45 seconds each. They're not too bad, but she will never sleep through this - she is excited and a little nervous. After all the build up, this is happening to her, right now.

She wonders about waking Harvey, but she doesn't see the point. She is totally on top of the pain, and he'll be more useful later if he's better rested, she reasons. She assumes there is worse to come, and she will need him more later. Galvanised by the fact that the wait is finally over and something is happening, finally, she gets up, and sets herself up with a book, a blanket and a cup of herbal tea on the couch.

Harvey emerges at 6.30am the next day, and heads to the coffee machine. He does a double take when he sees her on the couch.

"Donna! You OK?"

"Yup I've been in labor for, um…" she consults her phone "around about six hours now."

She is bright, purposeful, and more herself than he'd seen her in a while.

"You're just sitting there reading your book. Aren't you supposed to be, y'know, screaming, crying, cursing the day you met me?"

"I'm Donna," she smiles.

Truth be told, she was feeling rather smug. She has been expecting things to get harder as the night progressed, but the pain was manageable and she was totally doing this. The contractions were now about six minutes apart and lasting closer to a minute. She likes to be in control again, and now that the waiting is finally over, she is feeling prepared and ready for the challenge.

Harvey is all for rushing out of the door and heading straight for hospital, but Donna wants to stay home for as long as possible, and the doctor had suggested that the contractions should be five minutes apart, lasting for one minute for an hour before she goes in.

Instead, she gets Harvey to run her a deep bath. She's self conscious about the way she looks, and she asks him to sit outside the door with the app, yelling out to tell him when contractions start and stop. Half an hour passes, and she starts to think about getting out as the water is losing its heat.

"How am I doing?" she calls, heaving herself up and grabbing a towel."

He's scared to tell her. "Um, I think they're getting a bit further apart. And shorter."

"What?!" Wrapped in her robe, Donna flings open the bathroom door.

"That's not what's supposed to happen! I'm going to call the hospital."

She called up and a midwife explains that it's quite normal for this to happen in labor. She's probably in latent labor, which can go on for days, but she can come in to get checked out.

Donna collapses back into the couch with a groan, then explains the situation to Harvey. Maybe this isn't going to be the walk in the park she had thought it was going to be.

….

At the hospital, they are ushered into a room with a bed and various monitors. A midwife introduces herself, attaches some monitors and disappears for ten minutes. She returns and feels Donna's bump to establish the baby's position.

"Right, I think I may know why things are stalling. Baby is back to back, which means she isn't in the optimum position for birth. Her head isn't providing the right pressure on the cervix, and things are likely to be slower."

"What does this mean? Do we need to worry?" Donna asks, panic rising.

"It just means labor may take longer, and you're more likely to need help with the pain. And we want to do everything we can to encourage the baby to turn, which means staying mobile. Being upright or on all fours can really help. And we'll do a sweep to see if that moves things on a bit."

The sweep was considerably more unpleasant than Donna had realised it would be, and instantly the pain of the contractions dialled up from bearable to excruciating. Riding the waves of pain, the world blurs and all she can do is focus on breathing in, breathing out, as the doctor, as from somewhere far off the doctor is urging her to. The sense of optimism, of control, has gone.

Somehow she gets to a delivery room, gets into a gown, dimly wondering where Harvey was when she shed her clothes. She wants to crawl into the bed and curl up in a ball, but she is urged onto all fours. From somewhere far away she can hear moaning, and she realises it's her.

Harvey steps out of the room. He can't bear it. He is unprepared, unfit, out of his depth and so, so sorry that he has, however indirectly, brought Donna so much pain. He missed most of the Lamaze classes because of everything with Mike, and his stupid goddamn book hasn't prepared him for the reality of this. He takes a deep breath, and goes back into the room, because Donna needs him, and if she can't leave this situation, he can't either.

Donna is being prepped for an epidural. They want to give her syntocinon to try to regularise the contractions, which can be very painful, so they've recommended pain relief. With the dose they're giving her, she will still be mobile, albeit attached to a drip. They've warned her that it could take 24 hours or more for the baby to come, and she's already exhausted after missing a night of sleep. He holds her hand, rubs her back, unsure if he's being helpful or irritating. He feels utterly useless. There's still a very long way to go.