"Everything is going to be okay."
"You don't know that," she argues as she grimaces in pain.
"Why didn't you say anything earlier?"
"I thought that I was okay."
"You don't have to be okay all of the time," he reminds her.
She falls silent. He doesn't push the conversation any farther. He scoots his chair closer to her bed, and reaches for her hand. She squeezes his hand as he watches the contraction on the monitor. When it passes he redirects his attention to her.
She lies in the hospital bed in a gown with monitors, and cords, and tubes coming from several different locations, and directions. Her dark hair keeps falling into her face. She looks tired, and more scared than he's ever seen her. She looks even more vulnerable now that when they brought her home months earlier. He can't even begin to imagine what's going on in her head. He takes a deep breath, and squeezes her hand. He allows the minutes to tick by. Finally he gets up enough courage to look her in the eye. He dares to ask the question, "What scares you the most about all of this?"
She shakes her head, "I can't pick just one thing."
"So tell me all of the things that scare you."
"We never found them," is the first thing that falls from her lips.
"You're afraid that they'll come back?"
"What if they find out that I'm here. What if they find out why I'm here?"
"What if they do?"
"What if something happens, and..." she trails off, and breaks eye contact. She looks down at her stomach. For the very first time she is wearing something in which she's not trying to hide her burgeoning bump. He feels a lump forming in his throat as he looks at his partner's stomach. She's been through hell over the past months. He wants to help her, to bring her back.
"What if nothing happens? What if they never come back? What if you just move on with your life?"
She shakes her head, and adopts a solemn tone, "How am I ever supposed to do that? I don't feel safe in my own home. How am I supposed to move on, when I am going to have this day in the back of my mind for the rest of my life?" Her voice cracks, "How am I ever supposed to move on knowing that my flesh, and blood is out there in the world somewhere, and I didn't want it?"
"Why are you always the villain?"
She arches an eyebrow, "What?"
"In your story you're always the villain. You didn't put you here. You haven't done anything wrong."
"I don't want to be the victim."
"Why does victim have such a negative connotation for you?"
"I don't want to spend the rest of my life being a victim. I don't want to play that role."
"Then be a survivor," he suggests.
She squeezes his hand as another contraction grips her body. The contraction ends, and she stares at him with dark eyes.
"I don't know if I can do this."
"Olivia you don't have a choice."
"If I had a choice I wouldn't be here right now."
"You have to make the best of this."
"Make the best of it? I am about to give life to another human being. A human being who I should want. All I can think about is how it's a mistake. This is all a mistake."
"Everything happens for a reason."
"What if it doesn't?" Her nostrils flare.
"Do you really think that you have been put through all of this pain for no reason at all?"
"Sometimes I don't know. My life is one big disaster after another. It just doesn't seem worth it anymore."
The vein in his head pulsates at the thought of what she's suggesting, "Then find something. Find someone, and just hang on."
"I am so tired of hanging on."
"I got you," he reminds her.
"Nick..." her thought is interrupted by another mind numbing contraction.
He allows her to squeeze his hand. Finally she relents just as he's convinced she's going to break his hand.
"I have to push."
"Olivia we've been her for forty minutes, there is no way."
"Nick. I am telling you."
He hits the nurse call button. The nurse enters the room. She approaches the bed with a chipper attitude, and a smile Olivia would like to wipe off her face.
"What can I get for you?" She questions as she turns the call button off.
"A doctor. I need a doctor. This is happening now," Olivia writhes in pain.
"Miss Benson you've only been here for forty minutes."
"What's your point?" she grits her teeth.
"This is your first, right?"
"Yes," she nods.
"It could be hours," the young nurse points out.
"Could be, but it's happening now. I've got to push."
"Let me check you, okay?"
The nurse pulls on a pair of gloves, and checks the progress. Without another word she begins to break down the bed, and move the tray of sterile instruments towards the bed. She hits a button on the bed that is connected to the receptionist station.
"Amy, I need the doctor in room three twelve, now."
"I have two in the O.R., and two in the delivery room. The other is ten minutes out."
"I don't have ten minutes. Send me a resident."
"Are you sure?"
"Now!"
Nick finally has the courage to open his mouth, "What's going on?"
"The baby is coming now," she explains as she gowns up.
"What do you mean by now?"
"The head is crowning," she shifts her glance to Olivia, "Are you doing okay?"
"Yeah," she nods.
"Okay with the next contraction I want you to push, gently, okay?"
"What about the doctor."
"He'll be here any minute. Go ahead and push."
Another nurse enters the room, and gowns up. She gathers a bulb syringe, and waits.
"Okay, Olivia, push."
Nick counts. Olivia exhales, and looks down. She can see an entire head. The doctor slips into the room quickly pulls on gloves, and a gown, and trades the nurse positions.
"One more good push," he tells her.
He gently guides the shoulders out. Within seconds the baby's airway has been cleared, and the cord has been clamped, and cut. He places the baby on Olivia's chest, as the newborn begins to squeal. The tears stream down Olivia's face too.