A/N: Welp, it has been fun and real, you guys. Thanks for reading and Cordueva/Villadero forever!
Epilogue (Michael POV)
"See?" Jane preens, clearly proud of herself, "I told you that it would work out fine." I grumble in response to that, splitting my attention between the road ahead and side-eying her in disapproval. "Would you stop looking at me like that?" she cries in exasperation, "Nothing bad happened!"
"Yeah, only by the grace of God," I mutter irritably, "I don't want to argue about it. The sooner we get home, the better."
Jane is already well aware that I've been against this insane road trip since its inception. Therefore, the fact that we made it through the entire event relatively unscathed and are now on our way back to Miami in no way alters my opinion on the matter. This trip was a bad idea and ill-conceived from the start.
When her agent first contacted her with the idea of a preliminary book signing prior to her novel hitting the bookshelves nationwide, I had been excited and all for it. I was as almost as eager as Jane was to begin her book tour, especially because it would be delayed somewhat due to our daughter's impending birth. That is until I realized that the scheduled date of the signing was the same week as her due date. No bueno.
Further souring my enthusiasm was the fact that signing was scheduled to take place in Tampa, more than 280 miles away from Miami and it was an overnight trip! For me, it hadn't been worth the risk. Naturally then, the entire idea quickly became a deal-breaker. For my "usually" cautious wife on the other hand? Not so much.
"What do you mean you're going to do it? You're one week away from giving birth!"
"Michael, it will be fine. So far, I am barely effaced, dilated to nothing and I've barely had any Braxton Hicks. Dr. Benton already has me scheduled for a c-section if I don't go into labor before my due date."
"You could still go into labor, Jane! Should we even risk it with the placenta previa? That's the whole reason Dr. Benton recommended a c-section in the first place!"
"This will be a quick turnaround trip. Two days max! Besides, this will be my last opportunity to promote the book before I have the baby and go on maternity leave."
No amount of reason would dissuade her. She was determined to go and so I took the last four days off of work because I was determined to be with her. But I have not been happy about it this entire time. Not at all. And I've made that fact plainly known…as much as possible.
"I don't understand why you even came at all if you only planned to sulk the whole time," she grumbles.
"Oh, I don't know," I retort sarcastically, "Maybe because I didn't want you to have our friggin' daughter without me!"
"That wasn't going to happen! That didn't happen!"
"That doesn't mean that it couldn't have happened!"
"So you're going to be mad at me for what could have happened but didn't?"
"Yep," I reply, refusing to be intimidated by her superior tone or her implication that I am being unreasonable, "Sure am."
This sudden nonchalance of hers regarding labor is an interesting turnabout since, just two weeks prior she had been fairly obsessed with bringing it on. She had tried every home remedy and old wives tale imaginable to move things along. And when she learned from Dr. Benton that seminal fluid could sometimes soften and dilate the cervix I spent four days with my pants perpetually around my ankles. I never knew there was such a thing as too much sex but those four days were probably the most fatiguing (and rawest) of my life!
And now she's acting like she's in no big hurry for our daughter to arrive but I'm not buying it. I know that the part of the reason she pushed for this trip so hard was because she'd hoped that tempting fate might kickstart her into labor. And, though she doesn't say so, I know that she's disappointed that nothing happened after all. I sympathize with her frustration but it doesn't make me any less aggravated with her, especially when she's so damned unapologetic about it all.
"You're being a baby right now, you know that, right?"
I flick an eye roll in her direction. "Takes one to know one."
She flutters her hand dismissively. "Good grief, Michael! I can't believe you're being so melodramatic!" she huffs, "It's not like anything happened the whole time we were there so I don't understand—oh!"
Immediately, I stiffen and swivel a glance at her following that surprised exclamation. She is sitting ramrod straight in the passenger's seat with her hands braced on the arm rests. Her facial expression can only be described as dubious horror. I feel my blood pressure shoot up about fifty points.
"Please do not tell me you just had a contraction. We're still an hour away from home."
"I didn't have a contraction." I'm about to wilt with relief when she adds, "But I'm pretty sure my water just broke."
I do a doubletake and inadvertently swing the car into the neighboring lane when I yell, "What?"
"Stay calm," she urges me fiercely, "Everything is going to be fine." But I don't know if she is trying to reassure me or herself.
I grip the steering wheel so hard I don't know how it doesn't snap apart in my hands. "Are you sure that's what it is? You know…sometimes you have little accidents. Maybe this is one of those times. Maybe you had a little accident."
"Thanks so much for reminding me about my problems with incontinence, Michael, but it's not that," she replies with a deadpan expression, "And yes, I am pretty sure that my water broke, which is actually very rare, almost as rare as giving birth on your due date…"
"Can you focus?" I snap impatiently.
"I felt a pop and then I felt wet. I still feel wet, like I'm peeing my pants. My water definitely broke."
Now I am panicking. All of my chill is gone. I mentally calculate how long it's going to take us to get to the hospital from our current location and I am feeling screwed. "Oh God. Oh God." I pin Jane with an accusing glare. "I knew this trip was a bad idea!"
"Are you really going to say 'I told you so' right now, Michael?"
"I know! I'm sorry! But I'm freaking out here!"
"I'm freaking out too! Do you know how many women actually go into labor on their due date? Less than 5%! I'm less than 5%, Michael!"
"Okay, okay," I say in a grounding tone, as much for her sake as my own, "Let's Google the local area hospitals. We can get you to one of those. We've got this."
I am relieved, thinking we have a solution to this mortifying dilemma but Jane crosses her arms in defiance. "I'm not having our daughter in a strange hospital."
How my head doesn't literally explode off of my neck in that moment, I do not know. "Are you freaking kidding me right now?"
"You remember what happened last time and I was in a hospital where I felt safe!" I almost want to cry when she shakes her head in stubborn refusal. "I'm not taking that chance."
"Jane," I begin with a measured calm that belies my inner turmoil, "Rose is not going to try and kidnap our daughter. She's on death row."
"I'll believe she's done with us when she's actually dead."
"How would she even know what hospital we're in?" But I should know better than to try and reason with her.
"How should I know? She's the criminal mastermind, not me," she counters with a shrug, "But I know she has spies everywhere."
"Oh my God!" If I weren't gripping the steering wheel right now I might have thrown up my hands in frustration. But as it is I am laser focused on the task of keeping us on the road. "This is crazy. This is completely crazy!"
"I think it's going to be okay," Jane reasons and in that moment I am pretty sure she's lost her mind, "I am not even having contractions right now. I think we have plenty of time to get to our hospital. This can still happen according to my birth plan."
"You're joking."
"Michael, I've done this before. Trust me. We have time."
Famous last words.
For the next thirty five minutes we ride in relative silence. I'm too anxious to make conversation and Jane is trying to get comfortable while sitting in a puddle of amniotic fluid. I don't dare turn on the radio or tolerate anything that might distract me from making it to the hospital in the record time, especially now that darkness has descended. The quiet within the interior of the car is thick and intense which is why, when Jane yelps out a long, low moan of sudden agony, the sound is magnified in my ears.
"That's a contraction," I determine in half statement, half question.
But Jane is unable to confirm my assumption either way because she is in too much pain to talk. I watch helplessly as she grits her teeth through the wave. Her fingers curl into the armrests, fairly trembling with the strength of the contraction. When, what seems like an eternity later, she weakly collapses back into her seat, her skin is covered with a fine sheen of perspiration and her breathing is harsh and labored.
"Now can we pull over and find a hospital, please?" I ask worriedly.
"That was only the first one," she pants.
"Well, the first one looked like it hurt."
"It did. But they need to be five minutes apart before I am even close." I vaguely remember her telling me the same thing when she was pregnant with Mateo. "How far away are we again?"
"About 25 minutes but I can make it there in twenty."
"Good. I'll call the family and tell them to meet us at the hospital."
She's barely begun to explain to her mother what's happening when another contraction abruptly grips her. She drops the phone and cries out sharply, her face contorted in a grimace of anguish. And I know it's not good that she's having another one because that was most definitely less than five minutes since the last one! While Jane tries to ride out this latest wave, I grope around next to her hip for her cellphone.
I hear Xo frantically calling for Jane when I put it to my ear. "Xo, this is Michael. Jane's in labor. We need you to meet us at the hospital."
Of course Xiomara would want an explanation when I am almost too frantic to talk. "What do you mean she's in labor? Where are you right now? I thought you were at her book signing!"
"That's over! We're about twenty minutes out, in the car and on our way there! Just let everyone know we're coming." I hang up the phone just as Jane starts to relax in her seat.
"God," she mutters wearily, "Labor really hurts."
I frown my concern. "Looks like it. Was it like this with Mateo?"
"I had an epidural with Mateo," she says in a way that makes it clear that she longs for one right now.
"Are you sure we can make it?"
I'm especially worried, not only due to the fear that she might give birth in the car but also because of her pre-existing medical condition. The placenta previa hasn't really caused too many worrisome symptoms throughout her pregnancy other than some intermittent bleeding. However, Dr. Benton has continually expressed to us the importance of Jane giving birth under medical supervision, which lets me know that it's a big deal even if our OB and Jane didn't necessarily act like it was.
"Just let me pull over and do a quick search," I plead.
"No. I can make it. What is the hospital…like fifteen minutes away now?"
"More like nineteen but what's four minutes when you're in active labor?"
Nine minutes later she has had a total of four contractions and is currently locked in the jaws of a fifth one. Tears of sympathy burn the backs of my eyes as I watch her writhe because there's not a thing I can do to ease her discomfort. "We're almost there, Janie. Ten more minutes and we'll be at the hospital. Just hold on, babe."
I quickly put in a call to dispatch to request a police escort for the remainder of our journey. Once we reach the city limits going 90 miles per hour won't be feasible and I'm going to need backup. I offer her a trembling smile when the tension in her body finally begins to lessen.
"Help is on the way, Jane," I tell her, "We're going to make it."
But far from comforting her, Jane looks at me with an absolutely terrified expression. "Michael, you have to pull over now."
At first, I don't understand the reason for the urgency in her tone so I try to reassure her. "Our police escort will be here soon. It'll be okay."
"No, you have to pull over right now!" she yells hysterically, "The baby is coming right now!"
And it still doesn't hit me fully what she's trying to tell me until she unclicks her seatbelt, wiggles out of her sodden underwear and props her feet up against the dashboard. Then I get it. The baby is literally coming at this very second. I utter the first words that spring into my mind right then. "Holy shit." On autopilot now, I have just enough time to pull off the highway and into the bustling parking lot of a Target when Jane starts to push.
"No! No! Don't do that!" I beg her, "Janie, don't do that!"
"I have to!" she grinds out from between clenched teeth, "Michael, help me!"
I seriously don't know what the hell I am supposed to do but I throw off my seatbelt anyway and scramble around to the passenger's side. When she finally scoots around and props up her legs, bracing her feet against my shoulders, I know without question that delivery is imminent and I'm going to have to do something about it. I feel like I'm going to throw up.
"Jane, I can see her head! What do I do?" Her expression clearly screams, "how the hell should I know," before she throws her head back to push yet again and scream through her next contraction. I watch with a mixture of horror and fascination as my daughter's tiny face begins to emerge from the birth canal and I instinctively begin coaching Jane through it. "That's right, babe," I encourage her, "Keep pushing. She's coming! Almost! Almost here!"
"Dios mío, esto es insoportable!" she wails at the top of her lungs and the exclamation shocks me because I can't remember hearing Jane ever speak much Spanish. And while I'm still pretty rusty when it comes to speaking and translating, I'm rather sure the rough translation of what she said is, "This hurts like a motherfu-,"
"Michael, I'm so sorry!" she gasps when her contraction starts to ebb, "You were right. We shouldn't have gone. I don't know what I was thinking! You were right."
"None of that matters right now, Jane," I reassure her softly, "Just breathe, okay. It's going to be fine."
"I'm scared," she whimpers, "What if something goes wrong? What if I start hemorraging? I didn't think this through. I should have thought it through!"
She has plenty of reasons to be scared, namely because she's about to deliver in the front seat of our car and without any medical personnel present. All she has is me and I'm scared too. Actually, I'm freakin terrified but I let none of that show as I reassure her. "Let's not worry about it now. Don't be scared, babe. We're together. We can do anything. You've got this. I know you do."
"I'm so glad you're here. I couldn't do this without you, Michael."
Jane finds my hand and gives it a tight squeeze as another contraction takes hold. In the near distance I can hear the familiar wail of police sirens, see the approach of the flashing red and blue lights beyond the car window as Jane fights to push our daughter into the world. The next ensuing seconds whiz by for me in a blur. Half a dozen cops cars, a firetruck and an ambulance come skidding into the parking lot as Jane screams one final time, her body contorts and the baby slides free. The ambulance screeches to a halt and two paramedics jump out only seconds before my newborn daughter drops into my waiting arms.
She's slimy, slippery and covered with some kind of cheesy substance. I look down into her tiny, wizened face that is obscured with blood and mucus and I don't think that I've ever been more in love in my life than I am right this second. When I finally place my squalling, squishy newborn daughter into her mother's open, eager arms, we are both crying and laughing at the same time. "We did it, babe," I whisper proudly, kissing Jane's temple again and again as the medics swoop in, "We really did it." It's only then that I realize that we've had a crowd of spectators behind us almost the entire time.
Jane and the baby are transported to the hospital by ambulance but not before I'm reassured that they both appear to be in healthy condition, despite some initial heavy bleeding for Jane following the birth. The brief hemorrhaging is controlled by the time the medics load her and the baby up into the cab. I'm glad that it worked out but I also know that if they hadn't shown up at exactly the right time, we could have very well had a serious problem on our hands.
I follow behind them in the car, wondering vaguely if blood and amniotic fluid can be scrubbed from car upholstry. When I finally stumble through the through the doors of labor and delivery the Villanuevas and my parents all descend on me at once. It's only when I see my parents that I realize how long it must have taken us to finally arrive at the hospital. We must have spent quite a while on scene while the EMTs stabilized Jane and checked out the baby.
"Oh my God! What happened, Michael?" Xiomara cries when she sees my disheveled appearance and blood stained clothes, "Where is Jane?"
"She had the baby in the car," I explain wearily, "We just arrived a few minutes ago. I'm sure they'll call us back soon."
"Wait a minute," Rogelio guffaws in disbelief, "You delivered the baby?"
"Not exactly. More like I watched Jane deliver her and I caught her when she came out."
"Oh my God," my mother and Xiomara exclaim simultaneously and that seems to be the go to phrase right now. "Are they okay?" Xo presses further, "Was everything okay?"
"Yeah, Xo. You gotta see her. She's so beautiful."
"Aww. Congratulations, Michael." Impervious to my soiled clothing, she throws her arms around me in a tight hug which starts the processional for my parents, Rogelio and Alba to hug and congratulate me as well. "Where's Mateo?" I ask when I notice his absence, "He's not with you?"
"I told Rafael to come pick him up after you called," Xo says, "Do you want him here?"
"Yeah. He should meet his baby sister."
She is in the middle of making the call when I hear, "Michael Cordero?" I swing around to find a nurse waiting. "We're ready to take you back now." As soon as she says that, my parents, Rogelio, Xiomara and Alba all line up behind me. The nurse blinks at us in trepidation. "Whoa, this is a lot of people."
"And we've got two more coming," I tell her.
"It's okay," she says brightly, "I'm pretty sure you'll all fit." As we follow her back to the delivery room where Jane has been admitted, she cannot stop gushing about how beautiful and amazing my daughter is and all I can do is grin. I'm certain that there's never been a more beautiful baby in all the world.
Before leading us directly to Jane's room, the nurse offers me a blue scrub top to replace my bloody dress shirt for which I am grateful. The last thing I want is for Mateo to show up at the hospital and find me covered in his mother's blood. I want him to remember this day as a happy one, not be traumatized for life. While my family and in-laws wait outside, I quickly duck into a nearby bathroom to change before we all go in to see Jane.
When I finally poke my head into the hospital room, I see Jane situated on the bed with our daughter cradled in her arms. She already has an IV with fluids hanging and is wearing a hospital gown. When she sees me, she excitedly beckons me closer, her smile widening considerably when she sees that I have company as well. "Come over here, Michael," she whispers, "Look how much hair she has!"
The baby is a lot cleaner than the last time I saw her, so I have a better view of her tiny, perfect face. And just as I've always secretly hoped, she looks exactly like her mother. I smile at them both gently as Jane lifts the tiny baby cap to reveal the swirls and swirls of jet black hair beneath. "Isn't it gorgeous? Isn't she just the most precious thing ever?"
I can hardly take my eyes off the baby, nor can I stop touching her when I answer. "Yeah, she is. But I think she gets the hair from you."
"And you," my mother pipes in softly, "You had a head full of white, blonde curls when you were born. You looked like a little cherub."
"Really?" Jane and I laugh simultaneously.
She confirms that with a nod but then my father adds wryly, "They fell out about three weeks later though. Then you looked like a plucked chicken."
My grumpy, "Thanks, Dad," is barely heard over everyone's ensuing laughter.
Slowly, they all begin to coverge around the bed for a closer look at the baby. My parents and I flank Jane on one side while Alba, Xiomara and Rogelio take the other. Everyone stares down at the baby in cooing awe, as enamored with her as we are. "I can't believe she was born in the car," Xo laughs, "I guess she couldn't wait to get here."
"That is a Villanueva woman for you," Rogelio says, "They come on their own time. Trust me." He lifts his hand for my high five of agreement and I gladly give it to him only to receive warning glances from the wife, the mother-in-law and the mother for my trouble.
"Entonces, ¿ya tiene un nombre?" Alba asks me.
Jane and I exchange a small, secret smile before I reply, "We're waiting for Mateo to get here."
The aforementioned comes bounding into the room fifteen minutes later while the parents are all taking turns holding the baby. Rafael comes skidding in behind him a few seconds later, admonishing Mateo about running off but Mateo hardly acknowledges him. He has eyes for his sister only.
"Is that her? Can I see her?" Mateo squeals in absolute delight, "Can I hold her?"
"Sure, buddy," I murmur, carefully scooping my daughter from my mother's arms and going over to sit on the couch just beneath the window. When I'm settled, I motion for Mateo to come closer. As he tentatively moves to sit down next to me, Jane watches us with brimming eyes. "This is your sister," I tell him gently, "I'm going to show you how to hold her and then I'm going to put her in your arms. Okay?"
"Okay."
After a few, brief instructions on how to support her head, I place the baby into the cradle of Mateo's small arms. The expression on his face is wonderstruck and I recognize it immediately. I'm sure it mirrors my own. He stares down at his baby sister like she's the most perfect being in the entire universe. I have absolutely no doubt in that moment that he will spend the rest of his life protecting her. The thought actually causes my throat to close with emotion.
"She's so small," he whispers. He fingers her soft cheek with extreme tenderness. "She's pretty."
"Yeah, she is," I whisper back.
"Does she have a name yet?"
Jane is the one who answers his question. "No, we were waiting for you. Remember that we made a deal. You can choose her first name just like we discussed."
He looks down at the baby again, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Okay. I know what I want," he says finally and I prepare myself to live with whatever hideous name he comes up with. "Adrianna. I want to name her Adrianna."
Jane and I trade a round of quick, relieved smiles before she commends Mateo on his choice. "That's a good name, Mr. Sweetface," she utters emotionally, "That's an excellent name." She glances over at me in silent confirmation. "So, I guess that makes it official then."
"It makes what official?" Xo asks.
Taking my unspoken cue from Jane, I address the room and officially introduce our daughter to the family. "Everyone, I would like you to meet Adrianna Michaela Xiomara Villanueva-Cordero," I announce with a soft smile directed towards my wife, only vaguely aware of the emotional murmurs the name stirs up because I only have eyes for Jane, "The fourth generation in an incredible line of strong Villanueva women."
The Beginning
