November 1977 – NYC

"Are you okay with just staying here until it's time to go?" Michael asked after Angela had recovered from the last contraction.

"Yeah, that's fine," Angela answered. She was usually nervous about popping the bubble with Michael, but she knew him well enough that she could sense when he was edgy. This was definitely not one of those times, and the leeway she recognized emboldened her. "The hospital is less than 15 minutes away. This is probably as good a place as any to wait."

He nodded, "Yeah, that's what I was thinking." He kept nodding, walking around the room, and swinging his arms. She was a little amused by the scene. When he noticed she was staring at him, he stopped and asked, "What?"

Angela shook her head, smiling. "Nothing. You're just cute."

He smirked at her. "Well, we know it's not my personality that's keeping you here."

She put her hands up, and laughed. "Hey, you said it, not me."

He laughed, good naturedly taking the hit. "You sure you don't need anything? I'm getting kind of hungry. Want to order in?"

Angela's heart lit up so much, she could see how sad she was. I really do miss him. She smiled gratefully, "I would actually like that very much."


They spent the next couple of hours sitting on her office floor, eating lo mein, playing cards, and logging contractions on a legal pad.

"Angela, please be nice," Michael winced, when she laid down a straight.

A contraction hit right then, and she sucked in her breath. "I don't have it in me to rake you over the coals just now," she gasped.

"Ha! I sure do love this little guy," he laughed, putting a hand on her belly.

She popped one eye open through the pain, and lightly smacked the back of his head with the arm that wasn't propping her up.

"Hey!" he whined. "It took me weeks to get all that permanent marker off." Angela laughed at the memory, in the midst of the contraction.

"Stop," she laugh-whined. "Don't make me laugh."

"You're the one who enjoyed that. I certainly didn't think it was funny." Angela had to wait until the contraction passed before she could focus.

Finally, she rasped, "You deserved it. I know you. You were trying to take advantage of a newbie," her head rolled back, breathing hard.

"Yeah, well, I might feel more remorse if you weren't so damned good at everything," he laughed.

Angela was jolted out of the fun.

What? That's why it always feels like we're competing? Because he really is? Angela dealt with the revelation under the camo of physical pain, and breathed it off. But after the cramping had subsided, the swollen truth still remained. Michael noticed she took more time recovering from this one, and held out his arm to her shoulder. "Hey, you alright?"

Her breathing slowed, and she finally answered in a little voice, "Yeah." She breathed for a while in silence, collecting herself.

In the respite, Angela found herself staring distantly down at her belly, the giant bow at her collar flopping over it as would a man's tie. Michael tilted his head. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head, and shrugged. "We've just had a rocky road…"

Michael looked down, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, we have."

A surge of bravery or clarity hit Angela, and her head came up. "Michael? Are you happy? Being with me? With the baby?"

A sadness came over Michael's face. "Angela, I've been happy being with you since I met you. And even though I, uh… I wasn't very supportive at first, I'd hope you already know I'm happy we're having the baby. But…there's a lot of things I'm not happy about."

Angela started a slow nod. She didn't have the courage to press for particulars, but she understood enough. I just wish it were different.

Michael tilted his head to the side. "Are you happy? Being with me? With the baby?"

A sad smile came over her face, and she shrugged. "I'd say my answers are basically the same as yours."

He didn't press, either, but nodded soberly.

Angela looked at Michael, and waved him over to her, pointing behind her. To help, she turned around and scooted back into him. Even in her favorite maternity suit, she loved to sit on the ground like this, like they'd been in the desert. She felt close and protected; they didn't need to say anything. He propped them up on his left arm, with his right hand spread wide over her tummy. She turned her head, and rested it on his chest, with her hands over his. I wish we could stay like this forever. She might not have been able to voice everything, but she knew they were conflicted. That's something, right?


"Yes, Mother. We're heading over to New York Presbyterian right now. We'll call you when he's here, and you can come meet him…Yeah, so am I…Thanks, Mother. Bye," Angela hung up the phone, and turned to see Michael holding up her coat for her.

"Oh, thanks," she put it on.

"The cab should be here in a minute, and the maternity ward knows we're coming," he said, grabbing her briefcase.

"Thanks," she took a solidifying breath, and let it out. "Alright, let's go."

As they drove to the hospital, Angela was starting to feel more and more afraid. She had a couple contractions in the cab, but Michael had one arm behind her and the other hand on her belly. She tucked her head into his shoulder, and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting clenched until the wave passed. "Good job," he'd said, kissing her forehead.

Angela looked up at him as she was catching her breath. I don't think he's ever said that to me before.

When they got there, Michael helped her out and leaned over a little to pay the driver. Thankfully, that was between contractions. Angela felt greedy for, but entitled to, Michael's comfort when they hit. Everything was starting to feel very real, and all her hard-earned professional skills were feeling more and more useless. As she was standing there, a woman came out in a wheelchair holding a newborn. Angela had never felt so jealous of anyone in her entire life. She's done. She has her baby.

Michael straightened, and quickly put his wallet in his back pocket. Taking her right hand in his, and placing his left at her lower back, she felt he was leading her to the guillotine. "Just stay with me, okay?" she whispered to him, holding on tight.

He looked at her, confused. "Of course."

He walked her to the maternity ward, and they got checked in. She got changed into a hospital gown, and they waited. They got moved to another room, and they waited. They were finally moved to a delivery room, and they waited some more. She opted for the epidural, and finally started to breathe normally after she was all hooked up.

Michael scooted the bedside chair close to her, and held her hand. Angela smiled at him. The analgesia was so welcome, even if she couldn't move her legs. Angela was even able to get a little rest. But in the middle of the night, the pain started up again.

Angela told the nurse, through worried eyes, "It hurts."

"You're in labor," the tired nurse said dryly.

Angela had to stop herself from glaring at the woman. "I thought the epidural was supposed to help with pain," she said, breathing heavily.

"You're getting into stage 2. That's not pain; it's pressure," she said, walking off. "I'll get the doctor."

What? Angela looked up at Michael in question, wondering if that made sense to him.

He just shrugged, "It's not pain; it's pressure." She did glare at him. But another contraction came, and she didn't have time to worry about it anymore. She just tightened her grip on his hand, holding it against her forehead, trying to breathe. She stayed like that for several more contractions, not even opening her eyes in between.

When the doctor came in, and they got her all scooted down to the edge of the bed. She pushed and pushed for forever. There were small breaks where she could throw her head back into the pillow and gasp for air. Sweat was curling the hair around her face, and Michael patted away what droplets he could with hand she wasn't gripping.

"Alright, dad, you want to see your son's head?" the doctor asked Michael.

Michael looked shocked, but hesitated only a second before straining to keep hold on her hand, while he moved around to see. Angela only caught glimpses of her husband during the next few minutes. She was mostly focused on pushing so the pain could stop. It was getting so much worse. She didn't think she could stop herself from crying. But what she did witness comforted her as much as Michael's closeness had before he moved. When she looked up at him between pushes, he looked amazed.

"One more big push!" With everything she had and a yell that was born of a sob, Angela pushed her baby boy into the doctor's hands. She exhaled in exhaustion, crying, and then the unspeakable pain went almost to nil. She looked up and watched as her baby shot his tiny arms out into shaking fists, screaming the cutest little squall. Michael stared at their son, breathing like he'd just sprinted around the parking lot.

"Okay, dad, you want to cut the cord?"

"Hell, yeah," Michael said, snapping back to himself. The doctor handed Michael the shears, and he cut it. "There you go, son. Now you get to eat the good way," he laughed. The doctor chuckled, and the nurse took the baby to wash him up. Michael came back up to the pillows where Angela was breathing peacefully. She looked up at him. He was smiling down at her, with an expression she couldn't quite pin. But it was happy. Really happy. They both let out a little laugh of relief, and he leaned in close, and gave her a kiss.

The nurse brought over their baby, and flopped him gently onto Angela's chest. Her hospital gown had rummaged down to "barely covering anything" in the front, and her son immediately started rooting around for his breakfast. That's amazing. Angela looked at Michael, "Do you see that?"

He nodded, smiling wide. "Hungry little guy."

The nurse helped the baby get a good latch. Whoa! That's an interesting sensation. Angela looked down at her baby, and marveled at his fast-moving mouth. Michael rested one arm on the pillows behind her, and gently stoked the baby's head with his other hand.

"He's so soft," Michael whispered.

Angela looked up at her husband, and smiled. She leaned up to invite a kiss, and Michael accepted it, smiling.

A few minutes later, she started cramping again. "What's that?" Angela asked the doctor.

"The placenta. You have to deliver that, too," he said with an apologetic look. "Your OB didn't tell you this stuff?"

"Ugh! Who can remember?" I've had a lot on my mind, okay? She put her head back on the pillows, and shut her eyes.

Michael squared up in front of her. "You got this, baby," he said, rubbing her shoulder.

Angela just looked at him in astonishment. A girl could get used to this, ya know... She pushed the sadness away, and let herself just feel bolstered by Michael's confidence. She was still scared about going through all that again, but she had no choice. The contractions intensified, and she gave it everything she had. While still awful, she was so grateful to find the placenta came out with considerably less effort than her baby did. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Angela looked at the doctor. "Is that it?"

He laughed. "Well, your work is basically done. Now, we'll get you taken care of."

Angela plopped her sweaty head back into the pillows, and started to breathe easier. She looked up at Michael who was looking endearingly down at their son. He's happy. She looked down at their baby in her arms, his little chin working, and his tiny fingers holding her breast. He was so cute. She felt so grateful for both of them, for this moment, and all she could do was smile.