Summary: Valentine's Day and the week proceeding. That's all I can say... Thank you for your patience with this chapter! It is worth the wait!
Friday, February 16th, 2024, 5:20 p.m., Geneva
It's been a long day, a long week! Helen feels huge! Her feet hurt; her lungs and intestines are being squished; stretch marks have been making her belly itchy; and she hasn't been able to sleep soundly because her insides are being treated like a punching bag. Helen is so ready to not be pregnant anymore. But she still has a month left. Well, three weeks and three days, to be exact, but who's counting?
Helen trudges into the apartment, then leans against the back of the door for a moment to catch her breath.
"Is that you, babe?" Max calls from another room.
"Yeah." Helen wanders down the hall to find Max in the bathroom drying his hair with a towel and wearing only boxer briefs.
Max meets Helen's eyes through the mirror. "Hey! How's your day been?"
Helen surveys the steamy bathroom. A pair of light charcoal gray slacks and a long-sleeved white dress shirt are hanging on the wall hooks, and Max's hair pomade and cologne are sitting on the sink counter. "You're getting dressed already?"
"Yeah. I dropped off Luna at Emilia's for her sleepover on my way home from work, and I got home twenty minutes ago. So I figured I'd get a head's start." Max drapes the towel around his neck and gives Helen a quick peck on the lips. "But don't feel rushed. We don't need to leave for almost an hour."
With Valentine's Day landing in the middle of the week, Max and Helen had decided to save their celebration for the weekend. Tonight, they're going out to dinner, then attending a candlelit instrumental concert in town.
"Unless…" Max starts, trying to gauge Helen's vacant expression, "you just wanna stay in? We could order food and watch a movie. I could give you a massage and maybe we can take a bath together…" he suggests, seductively raising his eyebrows.
Helen sighs while palming Max's torso, "As tempting as that sounds, let's stick with our original plan. It's probably our last opportunity for a date night before little Nugget arrives," she says, nodding down at her ballooning stomach. "And I have a feeling I'm going to experience a bit of cabin fever once she's here."
Max snakes his hands around Helen's waist, pulling her against him, and kisses her, a little deeper and lingering than the last one. "Whatever you want, milady."
After prying herself out of Max's grip, Helen heads to the bedroom. "I'll go get ready."
As Helen changes out of her work clothes, the nerves in her stomach start to build. She has a gut feeling that Max might propose tonight, in part because they're going to the Mediterranean restaurant they went to the night they officially got back together.
6:30 p.m.
Max guides Helen to their table with his hand on the small of her back, then helps her sit down. The hostess gives Max and Helen menus and informs them that a server will be over soon. When they're alone, Max kisses Helen's hand. "Happy Valentine's Day, Helen."
Helen's heart flutters. Max's hushed tone and intense gaze always sends her heart into overdrive. "Happy Valentine's Day, luv."
"You know, technically speaking, this is the first one we've celebrated together." Two years ago, they were officially a couple, but Helen had gone back to London while Max stayed at New Amsterdam trying to get rid of Fuentes. So insteadm Max ordered a bouquet of red roses and a card to be delivered to Helen's office, and they had a memorable but brief FaceTime chat during his lunch break as she was leaving work. "The pressure is on!"
For some reason, that just makes Helen even more nervous. "Max, please don't feel like you have to make some grand romantic gesture or something simply because of the holiday. You never fail to make me feel loved."
Max simply nods, then he and Helen glance over the menu. They both order a gingerbeer mocktail: the ginger and carbonation help to soothe Helen's mild but frequent pregnancy nausea, and Max is refraining from alcohol tonight since he's driving. With the baby's impending arrival, they recently bought a car to make transportation with a newborn easier than using public transportation. Since Helen has been having Braxton Hicks contractions more frequently, Max installed the car seat two weeks ago.
While waiting for the food to come out, Max and Helen catch up about the week. Max talks about how his team of researchers at the W.H.O. is trying to better predict what flu variants will be prevalent come autumn since this past year's vaccine was a bust. Helen talks about a patient she's grown fond of who is now in remission and will be released next week. "It was the sweetest thing!" she says, recounting when she gave the 6-year-old patient and his family the good news. "They were overjoyed, of course. But Aryan asked if he was going to see me again. I told him I would be going on maternity leave soon, but that I'd be back for his 6-month routine scan. Then he gave me the biggest hug and said he loves me."
"Oh, I've got some competition!" Max jokes, enjoying the way Helen's face lights up when she talks about her cancer kids. "You're gonna miss it, aren't you? Being in the hospital?"
Helen's smile fades just a bit. "Yes." She doesn't like taking off for a long period of time. She wants to be helping people. "But it will be nice taking care of and spending time with my own family for a change."
Max has a hard time sitting still too. He gets a few weeks of paternity leave, so at least that time will be well spent tending to Helen and their newborn, with Luna's help of course. "Yeah. I can't wait! It'll be us four against the world! Helen? You okay?"
Helen closes her eyes and grips the edges of the table, breathing in slowly through her nose and out through the mouth. "Yes, I'm fine, it's just a practice contraction."
"You sure?"
"Mm-hmm, it's still considered mild if I can talk through it. Mmm! Give me a moment. Breathe, Helen. Just breathe," she whispers to herself. Fifteen seconds go by before it passes, and Max can hide his evident concern.
"Helen, are you sure you're okay? That one looked more intense than the contractions you've had lately."
"Max, I'm alright. They're not following a pattern yet, and I was only one centimeter dilated at my last appointment. I'll let you know when they get closer." After Luna's traumatic birth, Helen doesn't blame Max for being on edge. She tries to be understanding and sensitive about that. But she hopes he isn't too much of a frazzled mess during labor and birth.
"Alright, sorry."
When Max and Helen's food arrives, they dig in! The doors for the concert after this open in an hour, but it's nearby, so they're not in a big rush.
"Helen, have you heard from Lauren lately?" With the baby coming soon, Max has been thinking about their friends.
"Yes, she and I had a chance to chat on Sunday. She's doing well. I think becoming an AA sponsor has been very good for her. It gives her some external motivation and more meaning to her life." Helen and Lauren have spent the last five months rebuilding their friendship. It's a little tricky long-distance, but it's been nice having her oldest friend to talk to again. "What about Floyd? What's been going on with him recently?"
"Actually," Max chimes, "he and Gabrielle just got their next assignment. They're going to Madrid soon. So he said maybe they'll visit once the baby is born!"
"Oh, how exciting! It'll be nice to see him again." The last time Helen saw Floyd, or any of their friends, was during her stroke recovery. While she was there, Helen found out that he was… sort of… having a baby with Lyn from New Amsterdam's OB/GYN department (a polyamorous situation Helen could never quite wrap her head around), and since then, he had been struggling to get his love life sorted out. "It's nice to see he's finally gotten his affairs in order, that he's found someone he can call home."
"Yeah." While he doesn't think Floyd and Gabrielle are going to get engaged or settle down anytime soon, it makes Max think about his and Helen's future, so he takes the opportunity to segue into a long-awaited conversation. He reaches for Helen's free hand, catching her by surprise. "Helen, can I ask you something?"
Helen's breathing shallows as her heart races. Is Max about to ask her the question? If it were anyone else, she might think it too soon. But this is Max, this is them. So why isn't she ready?!
Seeing the panic in her eyes, Max clarifies, "Don't worry, I'm not proposing yet. But I kinda wanted to pick your brain and see where you're at, you know, in the whole marriage department." Helen doesn't speak, too nervous to utter a word, so Max continues. "I know you said you'd give me the green light when you were ready, but is there any way I can get a time estimate on that?"
"I… I don't know, Max. I want to marry you, truly, I do. But I'm not quite there yet."
"Why? Are you having doubts? Is there something we need to work through?" Getting couples counseling has been very beneficial for their relationship in terms of communication. But Max isn't aware of any major issues as of right now. On the contrary. Their relationship has never been better!
"No, it's not that. I'm sorry, Max. I wish I had a better explanation." Helen doesn't even understand it herself. "Let's just get through the birth first, then we'll reevaluate, okay?"
Max tries not to freak out. He doesn't want to push Helen. That's part of what drove her away last time. So he utters a measly "okay."
10:15 p.m.
The concert was lovely! Battery-powered candles filled the glowy room as a quartet of stringed instruments played covers of Adele. But now, Max and Helen are wiped out from the night. They enter their apartment and quickly get into more comfortable attire.
As Helen removes her makeup in front of the bathroom mirror, Max pops in and hugs her from behind. "Happy Valentine's Day."
"Happy Valentine's Day. Thank you for a lovely evening."
Max is still a little uneasy about their brief marital conversation at dinner. But he wants to go to bed on good terms with Helen, no resentment. "Listen, Helen, I know you're not ready to get married right now, but I'm in this for the long haul. I'll wait as long as it takes. I'll try to be patient." Max really, really wants to marry Helen, to commit their lives together with an unbreakable vow. But if it came down to it, if that's not what she wants anymore, Max could try to be content with that. He'd stand by her, no matter what. As long as they're together.
Helen softly smiles, then kisses Max's cheek. "Thank you for understanding. I love you."
"I love you too," mwah, "so much" mwah "it's not even funny!" Max mumbles, smothering Helen's neck with kisses. "Mmm, you smell amazing. And you look gorgeous!"
"What? In this tattered old thing?" Helen is wearing Max's running shorts and one of his loose-fitting t-shirts, some of the only things she can sleep in comfortably these days.
"Yeah, I love it when you wear my clothes. It's sexy!" he utters gruffly. Knowing she's carrying his child makes Helen even more beautiful, a feat Max didn't think possible. "Can we…?"
Helen is unable to suppress a breathy sigh when Max's lips resume trailing down her neck. They've had to be a little more careful and gentle in bed over the past two months, but their sex life has been almost more intentional and intimate as a result. As uncomfortable as she is in this body, Max never fails to worship it or sing her praises. Helen's tired, but Luna's not here, and this could be one of their last chances for a while.
She turns and kisses Max, desperately, passionately, and for a moment, it's like time slows down. Helen toys with Max's hair, their lips still brushing as she whispers, "Yes. I need to be close to you tonight."
Monday, February 19th, 10:15 a.m.
Helen is exhausted and achy this morning. She woke up around 5:45 to some cramping, so she's running on not as much sleep as she'd like. The day is dragging by like molasses, and it's not even halfway over. Helen is standing by the nurses' desk, filling out some release paperwork for her favorite patient, Aryan. Working in a cancer hospital, particularly a children's cancer hospital, can be heartwrenching. So finding the good wherever she can makes the hard days worth it. It's always a good day when someone enters remission.
As she's double-checking the fine print, Helen's abdomen tightens up, catching her off guard. She grips tightly onto the nurses' counter, head down, breathing slowly until it passes after a long thirty seconds.
A familiar female Scottish accent comes from behind. "You alright there, lass?" The woman is in her mid-thirties with pale freckled cheeks, hazel eyes, a fairy-like slightly upturned nose, heart-shaped lips, and curly copper hair barely contained in a bushy bun.
Helen straightens her posture and turns to face her friend, massaging her bump to ease the ache. "Yes, I'm fine."
"You sure 'bout that?" Kelsie asks, raising her eyebrows. "I'd say that wee bairn's fit to come out any day now."
"Just Braxton Hicks. I've still got a few weeks to go."
"If you say so. But sit that arse down at least. I'll join you. I've got some paperwork to do meself." Kelsie ushers Helen to one of the rolling chairs at the desk and sits in the other one. She pulls up a patient file on the computer and starts typing while talking about the ski trip she took this past Saturday.
When Helen started working here, she was out of her element once again in a foreign country, and it took her a little while to feel at home. Then she met Kelsie during a "new hires" team meeting. The two women bonded over both growing up in the United Kingdom. Kelsie reminds Helen a bit of Lauren: bold, tough, and blunt, unafraid to speak her mind. But she also reminds Helen of her younger self: confident, fearless, and adventurous. Kelsie is a travel nurse, and is five months through her six-month stint in Geneva (although she's considering extending her stay). Having never traveled outside her small hometown until she was eighteen, Kelsie wants to see the world. It'll be hard for Helen to say goodbye to her closest friend here, despite having made a few others. But goodbyes are a part of life, right?
After describing her weekend activities, Kelsie waits to see if Helen will reciprocate. A full minute of silence passes before Kelsie caves in. "So… how was your date on Friday night?"
Helen knew she could only avoid this conversation for so long. "The concert was lovely. The candles were battery-powered to prevent a fire hazard, but it was enchanting and set a romantic mood. I think many couples there were celebrating Valentine's Day as well."
"How about dinner? Did you do anything special?"
"Dinner was fine," Helen says curtly. "We went to a Mediterranean restaurant across town with a nice view of La Rade Lake."
Another few seconds of silence passes while Kelsie waits for Helen to divulge any more information. But beating around the bush has never been her strong suit. "Alright, out with it. What happened? Talk to me."
Helen simply shrugs, still staring down at her papers. "There's nothing to talk about."
"I can see that," Kelsie nods toward Helen's left hand, noting her bare ring finger. "Did he not ask or…?"
"Well, he didn't technically ask, per se. But he did bring up to topic to get my thoughts on the matter. Although it if were up to Max, we'd be married already."
"You don't sound too enthusiastic about it."
After all she and Max have been through, Helen hates that she's still not ready to take that final step. "I dunno. We've been so busy and overwhelmed preparing for the baby that we haven't talked about it recently."
"Well, you'd better fix that or you'll die an old maid," Kelsie teases with a smirk.
"Speak for yourself!" Helen playfully retorts, swatting Kelsie's arm with her clipboard. "You've been single for god knows how long!"
"Aye, and I like it that way! I dinnae care to be tied down. I enjoy my freedom far too much to give it up. But anyway, we're not talking about me right now, we're talking about you. I thought you wanted to marry him."
"I do. It's just…" Helen rolls her head back and sighs, sounding like a moody teenager. "Don't you have some patient file to update or something?" she sassily remarks, still trying to dodge the inquiries.
Kelsie types a few things, makes a few clicks, then hits "save" and logs out. "Not anymore. Just finished. I'm about to pop over to the break room. Fancy a cuppa tea? I think you need it."
"Fine. Give me one second." Helen signs and sets aside her paperwork, then allows Kelsie to pull her up by the hands. The two women walk down the hallway together. Although Helen's stride is more like a waddle. Helen has been wearing her usual dresses with a belly band underneath, and flats instead of high heels. Normal clothes tend to put the children at ease, plus she didn't want to give up on her style completely by succumbing to scrubs and crocs.
"I cannae understand why you decided to work up til your due date," Kelsie remarks, watching Helen's awkward gait. "Aren't you uncomfortable?"
Helen nods. "Mmm, bit." Since she's still technically a new hire, Helen would feel guilty for taking off any earlier than absolutely necessary. "But I hate the idea of sitting and waiting around at home while I could be helping the children here."
"Yeah, but no one would blame you if you started your maternity leave early. You need to conserve your energy for the big event."
"Don't worry, I'll be fi–i–ine, oh!" Helen stops midstride and leans one arm against the wall, the other on Kelsie's shoulder as her knees buckle. Her whole belly tightens, it feels rock hard. It's like terrible stomach cramps paired with achy hips and back pain. "Give me a moment." She tries to stay calm through it.
When Helen comes back into focus and straightens up, Kelsie's eyebrows are raised at her. "What?"
"Helen? How far apart are your contractions?"
"I'm not sure. I haven't gotten around to timing them this morning." Being at work and on her feet has been a helpful distraction. "Although yesterday, they came about every hour or two."
"Well, that can't have been any more than…" Kelsie glances at her wristwatch, "eight, maybe nine minutes since the last one. And it carried on for a bit. I think you might be getting close."
Helen's head involuntarily shakes in disbelief. "No, it can't be. I still have three weeks."
"Alright, no need to worry. But thirty-seven weeks is technically considered full term. How about I check you out to see how you're getting on?"
Max has been watching her carefully all week, and would probably say the same thing. So Helen gives a tiny nod.
As a travel nurse, Kelsie has been trained in and competent with multiple departments. She leads Helen to the small gynecology department (even in a children's cancer hospital, it's necessary for in-patient girls) and finds an empty exam room.
Once the door and window curtains are closed, Helen drops her underwear and climbs onto the examination seat. Kelsie first uses a stethoscope to find baby's heart rate: roughly around 140 beats per minute, good and strong. Then she kneels and begins the internal exam.
Being considered geriatric comes with risks, so Helen has been seeing her OB/GYN on a weekly basis recently. But being used to it doesn't make the examination any less uncomfortable.
Helen expected Kelsie to have said something by now, and the silence is concerning. "Kelsie? What is it?"
Kelsie spends another few seconds in silence to focus, then she finally resurfaces. "Helen, do you recall when you lost your mucus plug?"
"Oh, no. I didn't realize it was gone. It might have happened in the shower."
"Well, you're three centimeters dilated." Kelsie stands and strips off her gloves, tossing them in a nearby waste bin.
"What?!"
"And 60% effaced. I reckon you're most likely in early labor. Congrats, Mum!"
Helen can't believe it! In labor?! "I… do you… erm…"
"At a loss for words, I see. I'd suggest timing your contractions for a bit. Call your OB to see what they recommend. Then have Max pick you up and go home. We'll survive without you."
Just like Lauren, Kelsie is a bit bossy, but it's usually justified. "Alriiight, mother!" Helen replies exasperated.
Once seated in the breakroom, Helen calls her doctor while Kelsie makes them each a cup of herbal tea. They recommend the same protocol: go home, time the contractions, and come to the hospital once they're five minutes apart and last sixty seconds over the course of an hour.
Helen grabs her tea to-go and returns to work. She takes inventory of the supply closet, submits a request to the department head for a piece of updated equipment, and checks in on a few patients, some of whom eye her in concern when they witness her tensing up.
At quarter to noon, Helen sits down at the nurses' station again, pulls out the small notepad, and scans the data.
Her first entry: "10:37, 31 seconds long, ~8 or 9 minutes apart?" Versus her most recent one: "11:41, 35 seconds long, maybe 7 ½ minutes apart?"
Bracing herself, Helen pulls out her phone and clicks on Max's number.
It barely rings twice before he answers. "Hi, baby! What's going on? Everything okay?" he asks, unsuccessfully trying to hide the twinge of fear in his voice.
"Yes, well, sort of. I… can you pick me up soon?"
"Yeah, of course. Is something wrong?'
"No, not technically. But my contractions are getting closer together, and I don't feel comfortable taking public transportation in my state."
"Wait, 'closer' as in how close?"
"Somewhere between seven and eight minutes apart." Max is silent, and Helen suspects his brain has either short-circuited or is moving at a thousand miles an hour. "I've been cramping this morning, so Kelsie gave me a quick exam, and she suspects I'm in early labor."
"Oh my god, Helen! That's great! Our daughter's coming soon!"
"Yeah!" Helen can't help but grin from ear to ear.
"Okay, lemme see, lemme see. What do I need to do?" Max mumbles, mostly to himself, thinking out loud. "I've gotta get Luna from school, have Michelle pick her up. Or should I drop her off? And keys… where are my keys?"
"Max!" Helen interrupts, bringing him back into focus. "How about you fetch me first, and we'll figure it out on the way home?"
"Yeah, okay. I've gotta finish up something, then I'll be outta here as soon as I can, maybe ten, fifteen minutes?" Max is grateful that his work is more research-based, less "hands stuck in someone's bloody body cavity" kind of things that would make it difficult to just up and leave at a time like this.
"There's no need to rush. I need to finish some things here too. How about let's say you meet me here at 12:30?"
"Sure, hon. You gonna be alright until then?
"Yes, I'll be fine. I'll see you soon. And Max? Please drive carefully. Our daughter would very much like to meet her father alive and unharmed."
"Yes, ma'am!" Max pauses a moment, taking it all in. "I really love you, Helen!"
"I really love you too!"
While she waits, Helen sends a few emails and updates some files for the staff temporarily taking over her patients. She wants to make sure they're properly being cared for in her absence. Then she sets up her vacation responder to say she's on maternity leave.
Several contractions and forty-five later, Max arrives, stampeding through the hallways. He finally finds Helen seated at the computer.
Helen smiles when she sees him. "Hi! I'm almost ready to go, I just need to– mmm!" She's cut off by Max grabbing her face and roughly kissing her full on the mouth. Helen welcomes his tongue, steading her hands on his forearms. If she wasn't already sitting down, she'd be going weak in the knees. It takes her a few seconds to realize when it's over. She flutters her eyes open, still in a daze. "Well, hello to you too!"
On the drive, Max and Helen finalize their plans for Luna. She'll be going home with and spending the night at her friend Emelia's house. So when they arrive home, Max packs her up a sleepover bag and booster seat, which Michelle, Emelia's mother, will swing by and pick up on the way to the school.
Max and Helen eat a quick lunch, then to kill time and speed up Helen's progress, take a light walk around the neighborhood, pausing every several minutes when a wave hits.
Most of the afternoon is spent doing chores, packing up their hospital bags, setting up the bassinet, and making sure their place is tidy and all set to welcome a newborn.
By 3 p.m., Helen's contractions aren't close enough together to be admitted to the hospital yet, but she needs some temporary pain relief, so Max runs her a bath. It's soothing, and the warm water helps her muscles relax a bit and eases the load she's carrying. Helen takes this time to reflect on her pregnancy. If she were to describe each trimester with one word, they would be as follows: nauseous, glowing, and cramped.
"You know, Nugget, as uncomfortable as the last month or two have been, I'm sort of going to miss having you in here," Helen confesses, running her fingers along the dark line down her belly. "I'll always cherish this time we had together, just you and me. But I can't wait to meet you in person."
Little Nugget responds by rolling her elbow. She doesn't have much room to move these days, but she still perks up when she hears music or her parents' voices, particularly when Max sings.
"Your father and sister are very excited to meet you too."
4:45 p.m.
Max and Helen arrive and are admitted to the hospital. A nurse shows them to the delivery room, then leaves them to get settled in. While Max blows up the birthing balls, Helen changes into the fashion faux pas of a hospital gown, white with small blue polka dots, and catches Max watching her. It brings a blush to her cheeks, causing her fingers to fumble with the strings. "Stop ogling me!" With her growing size and a plethora of different hormones, Helen has been a little self-conscious about her figure.
Max slowly walks over and finishes tying the gown, then kisses the back of her neck. "Helen, your body is beautiful! It's carried and grown our little miracle in there for eight months!" He stands in front of Helen, rubbing her stomach. "Of course your body's gonna change, but I love you no matter what you look like. You, Helen Sharpe, are beautiful."
Helen slightly shakes her head, trying to suppress a smile. "Why do you always have to say the sweetest things?! It makes it impossible for me to resist you!"
"Good! Because if you could, I wouldn't have knocked you up in the first place. And then we wouldn't be here."
Helen flings her arms around Max's neck and plants her lips on his. His touch, his smell, his taste are intoxicating! Helen doesn't know how she ever lived without him! But she doesn't want to boost Max's ego too much. "Shut up."
Shortly after, Helen's OB/GYN comes in. Dr. Réné N'Doye, a black woman in her late fifties, dressed in blue scrubs, with her cropped coily curls contained underneath a matching scrub cap. When originally choosing an OB/GYN, Helen made sure to pick a doctor whom with she'd feel seen, safe, and understood. She's seen far too many black maternal deaths due to systemic racism in America to risk her own pregnancy.
"Helen! It's a pleasure to see you! Although a bit earlier than I expected." Dr. N'Doye speaks fluent English, but with a French accent like most people in Geneva.
"Yeah. This little one already has a mind of her own," Helen says from the bed, massaging her bump.
"Yes, babies rarely arrive on their due date. But this is quite early. Not enough to be alarming, but let's get you attached to the monitors and I'll do an examination."
As Helen is connected to the machines, another contraction hits, and the monitor goes wild tracking that and baby's heart rate. Dr. N'Doye checks Helen out to see how things are moving. "You appear to be five centimeters dilated and 70% effaced. Still some time to go, but making good progress." She stands and throws away her gloves. "I'll be making my rounds, but myself or a nurse will be in to check on you in a few hours. If you need anything in the meantime, hit the call button on the side of your bed. Bonne chance!"
Once they're alone again, Max finishes setting up the room. He blows up the second yoga ball (peanut-shaped), dims the lights, puts Helen's labor playlist on a small bluetooth speaker, and brings out a few battery-powered candles. The hospital wouldn't allow real candles, or even an oil diffuser, so this will have to do.
Time goes by in a blur, not necessarily quickly, just a bit hazy as Helen gives most of her mental and physical energy to cooperating with her body. The dim lighting helps set a peaceful tone. Helen rolls back and forth on the large yoga ball, doing figure 8s, widening her hips while trying to wiggle the baby into position. The room is relatively quiet except for classical music playing and Helen's occasional moans when a contraction hits. In between waves, Max massages her lower back, helping to alleviate the pressure.
After a while, Helen stands, pulling Max with her. She drapes her arms around his neck, buries her head against his chest, and sways her hips from side to side. Max holds tightly onto Helen, being an anchor as her body tenses every few minutes. With her arms around Max, her hips swaying back and forth, and the music playing, Helen feels like they're slow dancing. A picture briefly flashes in Helen's mind, one with her in a white dress and Max in a suit and tie, surrounded by their friends as they have their first dance. Her heart skips a beat at the image, but she shakes it out of her head for now.
"How you doing, Mum?" Max whispers against Helen's ear.
Helen threads her hands through Max's hair, pulling his face down, and kisses him, open and without abandon. She's never felt more connected to Max. Due to the oxytocin it releases, research indicates that the passion that put baby in there may ease the process of getting it out. And Helen is more than happy to test that theory. "I'm glad you're here." If IVF implantation had been successful five years ago, Helen wonders what her labor would have looked like. She probably would have chosen Lauren as her support person. But it's different with Max, more intimate.
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be."
8:45 p.m.
Helen's stamina is wearing thing. It's been fifteen hours since her contractions started this morning, four since she's been in active labor. They're a little over three minutes apart and last a full minute, not giving her very much of a break in between. At this point, she doesn't have the energy to stand and is currently lying sideways on the bed with the peanut-shaped birthing ball in between her legs. Max is kneeling behind her, offering words of encouragement and palming the base of her spine. As another wave hits, Helen lets out a long groan, releasing some pent-up energy along with it. It's unlike any pain she's ever felt.
Someone knocks on the door, then Dr. N'Doye quietly enters the room. "Hello, Maman, Papa. May I do a quick progress check?"
Helen nods her head, still panting, then Max removes the birthing ball and helps her sit up.
While the doctor dips below her hospital gown, Helen stiffens at the discomfort of the exam. Max rubs her shoulder, helping her to relax until it's over.
"You're coming along beautifully," Dr. N'Doye says, throwing away her gloves. "You are seven centimeters and 90% effaced. Every labor is different, but I expect you'll enter the transition stage within the next two hours. How are you feeling, Helen?"
Two hours?! And that's not even until the end, she'll probably have a few more hours of labor after that. Helen's eyes begin to well up. "I'm… really tired. How do women do this?!"
"Well, I understand it wasn't on your birth plan, but there is pain relief. We offer laughing gas and epidurals."
Helen considers the options. Originally, she wanted to labor as naturally as possible to avoid any unnecessary medical intervention. Part of her also feels like using pain relief is taking the easy way, no doubt instilled in her by her mother to tough it out when things got hard. But Helen doesn't know how much longer she can go. "I… I dunno. Max?" She glances at him, asking his opinion.
"It's up to you, babe. It's your body." Sensing her anxiety about the whole thing, Max caresses Helen's head. "You're allowed to be weak. It won't make you any less of a mother. But you can do it whichever way you want."
A silent tear slips down Helen's cheek. Two years ago when she had blood clots in five different organs, Max was trying to convince Helen that the safest course of action was a hysterectomy, in addition to a few other surgeries. She had to beg him to honor and respect her wish to choose a less invasive course of action. Now, he's supporting her medical decision before she's even made it. "Erm, my body doesn't react well to laughing gas. It makes me nauseous."
"That still leaves the epidural. It would give you a chance to recharge a bit."
Although research shows that epidurals extend the length of labor, it's not by much, and Helen is in desperate need of a break. She nods. "Alright. I'll do it."
Over the next fifteen minutes, an anesthesiologist prepares Helen's back and gets the epidural set into place, making sure to insert the needle while her uterus isn't contracting. Helen tries her best to remain completely still as it goes in. It takes another fifteen minutes for the medicine to fully start working, then they insert a urinary catheter and set her up with an IV drip.
Finally able to relax a little bit, the staff leaves Max and Helen to get some rest. Now that she can focus on her other bodily needs, Helen asks Max to give her the prepackaged protein shake and crackers they brought along. She needs to fuel up before the big push, but can only tolerate something easy to consume.
"You're doing great, babe. So great," Max says while dabbing the sweat on Helen's forehead.
"Thank you." Helen rubs her stomach. It's such a weird sensation since her stomach can't entirely feel her hand. "I knew this would be hard, but it's a lot harder than I expected."
"What's it like? The contractions."
"It's… almost like a Charley Horse, but through my entire stomach. Or akin to my insides wringing out like a dirty dishcloth." Helen takes another sip of her drink. "It's exhausting. I'm just ready for her to be here."
"Yeah, me too." Max checks the time. 21:25. So technically 9:25 p.m. It's not super late, but Helen must be tired. Plus they'll likely be up late into the night. "How about you get some rest, okay? Mind if I go grab some food from the cafeteria?" Max needs something a little more substantial than the pre-packaged snacks he's been munching on.
Helen gently shakes her head. "No. Go eat. I'll try to sleep." Although she can't feel the pain of the contractions anymore, she can still sort of feel her uterus tightening up.
"I'll have my phone on if you need me." Max leans down and gives Helen a soft but lingering kiss. "I love you."
"I love you too."
Twenty minutes later, Max returns with a full stomach and a little drowsy. Helen seems to have finally fallen asleep, so Max tries his best to scrunch up on the couch. It's not super comfortable, but it'll do for now.
Max has just begun to drift off when Helen's monitor starts beeping, starling him into action. He checks the numbers on the screen, frightened by what he sees. He frantically hits the call button a few times, then pokes his head out the door. "Hey! I need some help in here! My wife's blood pressure's crashing!" Max bolts back to Helen's bed, lightly patting her face. "Hey, Helen! Come on, baby, wake up!"
Helen stirs from sleep, but only a bit, a little lightheaded.
One of the nurses bustles through the door and checks the monitor. "Hypotension. Common with an epidural."
"Well, then fix it!" Max doesn't mean to yell, but he can't lose Helen again.
"Helen? How are you feeling?" the nurse asks, checking Helen's IV drip bag to make sure it's working properly.
"Dizzy. I– ugh! Nauseous."
Max leans against the bed, grasping Helen's hand. "What's going on?" he asks the nurse. Given time, he could probably figure it out himself, but he's too panicked to think straight.
"Her fluids are being administered at a normal rate. I believe she may be having an adverse reaction to the epidural."
"Well then, take it out!" Max shouts again.
"I need the doctor's approval to get the anesthesiologist to remove it completely," the nurse calmly says, clearly accustomed to people freaking out in a hospital.
Helen tries to make sense of it all. She's having a hard time breathing and feels a little shaky. Another beeping noise goes off, a little muffled in Helen's ears, and the nurse says something else she can't quite make out. Maybe ten seconds later, her head begins to clear and her heart is thumping against her chest. Max is staring at her and sighs in relief, just the faintest hint of tears in his eyes. Helen looks back and forth between him and the nurse. "What happened?"
Max presses Helen's hand to his lips. "Your blood pressure was tanking and you weren't responding to the IV meds. Then Nugget's heart rate started going down," he says, voice cracking a little. "Got all the way down to 54."
"What?!" Helen turns to stare at the monitor, double-checking Nugget's monitor. Back up to 135, thank god!
"Normally, I would have increased the drip rate on your fluids to see if that solved things," the nurse continues, "but since baby was in danger, I switched off your epidural and gave you a shot of epinephrine. We'll monitor you for a bit. Once you're stable, I can increase your IV flow, and we can resume the epidural. Or we could take the epidural out and proceed unmedicated."
To be honest, the whole thing kind of freaked Helen out. As she was already on the fence about the epidural before, this reminded her to listen to her gut. "I'd like it out, please. I don't want to cause any unnecessary risk to myself or my child."
"Very well. I'll page Dr. N'Doye and an anesthesiologist."
Once the nurse has left the room, Max rubs and kisses Helen's belly, then lays his head on her chest to hear her heartbeat, getting the worst sense of deja vu.
Helen runs her fingers through Max's hair. "I'm alright, luv. We're alright."
After the epidural and catheter are removed, Helen feels weird. She's not in pain yet, but she can't sleep due to the adrenaline coursing through her veins. When the epidural starts to wear off, it's slow and feels tingly, sort of like a numb arm regaining sensation after sleeping on it wrong. It takes a full two hours for the lower half of her body to completely come back to life.
Shortly before midnight, the contractions are back in full force. Helen's water breaks during another cervical check. She's fully effaced and 8 centimeters dilated, entering the transition phase.
Helen's contractions pick up in length and intensity, only two minutes apart and lasting over a minute, giving her very little time to catch her breath. To ease some of her back pain, Helen crawls on all fours on her bed, letting her belly drop to keep it off her spine. At one point, she vomits into a nearby trash bin, followed by Max dabbing her forehead and feeding her ice chips to cool down and rehydrate.
Helen climbs off the bed, needing to change positions, and sits on the yoga ball. From the couch, Max wraps his arms around her and drags his hands down her back. Another contraction hits. Helen whimpers and moans all through it, fingers digging into Max's shoulders. When it passes, Helen slumps against him. She feels so weak and fragile, she might just cry! "I'm done, Max! I can't do it anymore!"
"Yes, you can, Helen. I know you can!"
"No, I can't! I'm not strong enough! I just want to go home!"
"Helen, you're the strongest, bravest woman I know! If anyone can do it, it's you!"
Helen's body begins to shake, from her nerves or from labor, she's not sure which. "I'm scared, Max," she quietly admits, almost embarrassed to say it.
"I know, baby, I know. But our daughter's gonna be here soon. Don't you want to meet her? Focus on that, okay? Lean on me, and take it one contraction at a time."
Around 1 o'clock, Helen feels the urge to make a bowel movement. But she knows that's her body telling her to push. "Max, I think it's time."
Max hits the call button and sticks his head out the door again, shouting for a nurse or doctor. Once he sees someone running up the hall, he returns to Helen and helps her up and onto the mattress.
The doctor comes in, followed by a nurse, and she gives Helen one more internal check. "Good instincts. You're fully dilated and ready to push."
"Wait! I don't want to be on my back! I want gravity to help." Helen gets on her knees again, facing the wall so the doctor can see what's going on. Alternating between kneeling and lying forward in Child's Pose, Helen follows the doctor's instructions regarding pushing intensity and breathing pattern. Max stays on her side of the bed, offering a hand, soothing touches, and words of encouragement. Helen can feel the baby descending with each contraction, and it's like she's being ripped in half. She grunts and groans, uttering guttural sounds she didn't even know she was capable of. It's almost primal. At the end of a wave, Helen feels a fiery sensation down below, so she clams up, afraid to push through it. "Oh god! It burns!"
"Don't push," the doctor warns. "Take a minute and allow the opening to stretch. Baby's crowning, Helen. I need quick, short pants."
Helen does as she says, emitting a series of "hee's and "hooo"s, gasping before crying out in pain.
"That it! Baby's head is out!"
Helen reaches between her legs and touches what she suspects is a bundle of curls. "I… I can feel her!"
"Now Helen, on the next contraction, give me one more big push!"
"You got this, babe!" Max says. "You're almost there."
"Kiss?" Helen takes the brief pause as a chance to wordlessly thank Max for being the best birthing partner she could ask for. Then it hits again. "Ohhh!"
"Yes, yes, here we go! We have shoulder one. Aaaand she's out!"
Helen slumps forward, breathless, worn out, but relieved. Although the fifteen seconds it takes before she hears tiny gurgly screams are the most stressful in her life.
Max catches a glimpse of the wrinkly baby being wiped off and wrapped in a thin blanket. "Helen, you did it! She's here!"
The nurse helps Helen to flip over, then the doctor places the wailing infant on her chest. "Oh my god!" Helen takes in the sight of her newborn baby. She has dark soft curls, just as they expected. Her eyes are still shut and a little swollen from birth, but she has long eyelashes and Helen's button nose. "Hello, my little one!"
The baby quiets down, although still whimpering a bit, and nuzzles against Helen's skin, taking comfort in the voice she's been hearing over the past few months.
Helen starts crying, but for the first time today, it's not because of fear or pain. "She grew inside me! And I got her out with no epidural! I can't believe I did that!" she tearfully laughs, turning her face toward Max for a quick kiss. "She's so precious! We made her, Max!"
"Hey, I just did the fun part. You did all the hard work!" Max wraps his arm around Helen and stares at their mini incarnation. "I'm so proud of you!"
The next few hours are a busy hustle and bustle. After a few minutes of basking in the glow, Max cuts the umbilical cord. While trying to breastfeed, although not very successfully, Helen delivers the placenta, with extra encouragement and comfort from Max. The nurse finishes cleaning the baby, then takes her measurements and vitals. She's a little on the small side, but understandable, considering she's three weeks early. Everything seems to be in working order, including her lungs, but she's having a little trouble maintaining her body temperature. So Dr. N'Doye encourages frequent skin-to-skin contact from both parents over the next few weeks.
While the nurse helps Helen in the bathroom, Max holds the sleeping baby on his bare chest. She's so tiny! "Welcome to the world, little Nugget. We've waited a long time for you, your mum in particular," Max whispers against her head. "You are soooo loved, more than you could ever know." A faint coo escapes Nugget's lips, and it's so cute, Max's heart might just explode! "You have big sister at home too. She can't wait to meet you."
When Luna was born, and even during her first few months, Max was in a fog, running on autopilot due to trauma, cancer, recovering from chemo, and grief. Then, he missed a lot of Luna's life, no thanks to Covid. But he's been a more present parent to her, particularly since moving to Geneva. This time, he doesn't want to miss a thing. "I promise, I'm gonna be the best dad I can."
The Sharpe-Goodwin clan is transported to a room in the postnatal ward. Helen tries to breastfeed again, but is unable to get the baby to latch properly, so the nurse, a young woman in her mid-twenties named Gina, shows Helen some tips and tricks, and tells her how to get the milk flowing. After a few tries, the baby finally latches and starts suckling.
"If you have any more trouble during the night, you can request a lactation consultant in the morning." Gina gathers her things, then takes a closer peek at the baby. "She's a strong little thing. Have you two picked a name yet?"
Helen locks eyes with Max, who smiles and nods. "Yes, I think so. Nadia Farrah. Nadia means hope, and Farrah is after my brother, Farhad." She leaves out the part about him dying, not wanting to overshare.
"We had the name picked out for a while," Max says. "But we just wanted to make sure she actually looked like a Nadia before finalizing the decision, you know?"
"Yes. Many parents choose to do that." Gina takes in the image of the family in front of her. Dad is sitting on the chair by the bed, leaning as close to Mum as he can. Their eyes flit back and forth between each other and the baby, both bearing subtle but heated smiles. They're clearly enamored with each other and the baby, so much so that Gina feels like she's intruding. "Alright, well, I'll let you three have some privacy. Hit the call button if you need anything."
They're finally alone! Helen stares at Nadia while she feeds, sensing a tug on her heart that connects her to this new tiny human. She'd protect this baby with her life. Is this what all mothers feel for their child? The oxytocin released during milk let-down is no joke!
Serwa felt breastfeeding uncomfortable, nor did she want to do it in public, so Helen was switched to formula at one month old. Maybe missing out on that bonding experience is partially why she was never super close with her mother.
"You look like a natural," Max hums, gazing at Helen in adoration.
Helen blushes, lips tugging up slightly into a tiny smile. "It feels … natural." While still chugging down milk, Nadia opens her hazel eyes and looks up at Helen, focused and alert. "Why, hello there! Yes, smart girl! I'm your mum! I love you so much!" Helen never thought she'd be one to put on a sing-songy voice while talking to a baby. But her whole world changed when Nadia arrived.
After a few more minutes, Nadia's head droops to the side, milk-drunk. Helen manages to get one burp out of her, then holds the baby against her chest, not ready to let go quite yet.
One thing Helen swore she would do as a parent is always be there for her child. The world is tough enough. Serwa's method of tough love instilled in Helen unrealistic strivings for perfection in herself, bottling up emotions, and self-reliance to a fault, which led to difficulty letting people in. She hopes Nadia will never be afraid to come to her for comfort. Helen promises to do better than her mother did, something she's already been doing with Luna.
Max sends a text to Michelle to let her know she can bring Luna by tomorrow after school, then takes a few minutes to formulate a message for his and Helen's friends.
"After over 19 hours of labor and 20 minutes of pushing, Nadia Farrah Goodwin surprised us 3 weeks early by making her way into the world this morning on Tuesday, February 20th at 1:22 a.m. 19 inches long, 6 pounds, 2 ounces. It got a little scary at one point, but Mum and baby are fine now and having some mother/daughter bonding. Helen was unbelievable! We couldn't be more elated to have little Nadia earthside with us!"
He sends it, accompanied by a few photos, then focuses his attention back on Helen. The sight of her performing skin-to-skin with Nadia brings back a memory from early on in their friendship. Max will always cherish that day. Helen was so open and vulnerable with him. Giving baby Zurrah to her father was the right thing to do, but he hated seeing Helen crushed by having her hopes of adopting the baby taken away. He's grateful he finally gave her what she's always wanted.
All too ready for sleep herself, Helen bundles Nadia and places her in the baby bassinet beside her bed. Max helps her to the restroom so she can brush her teeth and wash her face. It's not much, but it helps Helen feel a bit more human again.
Once Helen's back in bed and under the covers, Max dims the lights to the lowest setting, changes into more comfortable pants, and sets out a pillow and blanket for himself on the couch. Before settling in, he sits on the chair next to Helen's bed. "How are you doing?"
"Mmm, utterly exhausted, sore, tender. I feel like my body has been turned inside out." Helen leans her head back against the pillow and tilts it toward Max, eyes aglow. "But worth it."
"Helen, you were absolutely incredible! I knew you could do it!" Max is totally in awe of Helen! She brought their daughter into the world with her own blood, sweat, and tears. And suddenly, the words come tumbling out before he can stop them. "Marry me."
Author's notes: I had a really hard time picking a name. Nadia means hope in Russian, and it's the name of the acress who played Mina. So I thought it was fitting. Although the name and labor/birth process will be different in Ease Away My Doubts
I'll try to get the next chapter to you in a timely manner, especially with that cliffhanger! 😅