Mile Marker 113.3 - Welcome to the World
The second birth story I've ever written, and first one published here! I hope you enjoy!
The rain had been falling for hours, and the highway was a parking lot.
David's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He’d been focused intently on his wife’s growing distress, counting contractions and timing, his paramedic training warring with his husband heart.
"David," Sarah whimpered, shifting against the seatbelt. "The contractions are – oh God – " She cut off with a sharp cry, her hands flying to her belly, fingers digging into the fabric of her summer dress.
"I know, baby. I know. The accident up ahead, they said it’s a bad one. Truck jackknifed, and it’s a hell of a mess. Between the response and this storm, they said we’ll be here for a while."
"A while?" Sarah's voice climbed an octave, breaking on the words. "We’ve already BEEN here for a while. We’ve been here forever. Too long." She arched her back, and her eyes widened. “David… ngh, oh God. That’s different. Mmm… I can’t wait anymore. I-I… I need to push!”
He looked at her, and grimly recognized the telltale bearing-down expression he'd witnessed before in field deliveries and never imagined he'd see on his own wife's face like this. He'd delivered babies before, in an ambulance on the way to the hospital, and in a living room, and once in the back of a city bus. He'd told her stories, late at night, making her laugh with tales of fathers fainting. But now, here, her eyes were wide, terrified, tears streaming down her cheeks. They were supposed to have been at Memorial Hospital by now, and be in a comfortable room with monitors and an epidural and doctors.
"Okay," he said, shifting into park and turning on the hazard lights. The car rocked slightly as an impatient driver crawled past them in the adjacent lane, headlights cutting through the rain. "Sarah, look at me. I'm going to help you. We’ve got this.”
"Here? In the car?" She was sobbing now, her face flushed and contorted. "No. David, I don't want to - I wanted a doctor - I wanted –"
"I know," he said, his voice soft. He unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed carefully into the back seat, grabbed the kit bag he always kept back there just in case, then leaned over the center console to face her. He took her face in his hands, thumbs brushing away tears. "I know, sweetheart. But our baby isn't waiting anymore. You’ve got this. I’ve got you. Both of you.”
Sarah nodded frantically. "It hurts so much," she gasped, writhing.
"I know, baby. I know." He helped her recline the seat as far back as it would go, then looked at her. “Sweetheart, can you let me check you?” She stared at him, wide-eyed. His voice trembled slightly as he nodded in confirmation. “I need to check your cervix. If you push before it's time, before you're really ready, you could hurt yourself. I have to know.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, then nodded tensely. “Do it… just… please…”
He scooted and reclined the seat as far back as it would go, then gently lifted her knees, bending her legs. He found the waistband of her underwear and gently but quickly pulled them down and off. The position felt obscene, exposed, and Sarah turned her face away and pressed it into the crook of her arm, mortified despite the pain.
"I’m so sorry, love,” he murmured. “I know this is… I know you didn't want it to be like this.” He pulled on a pair of gloves from the kit and smeared lubricant on his fingers. “Deep breaths. I’m going to be gentle. I’m sorry if it hurts.”
He reached up under her dress again. Sarah cried out sharply as his fingers entered her, an intrusion she wasn’t ready for, the pressure and pain and discomfort making her arch her back and squirm. It was clinical and intimate all at once. Her husband's loving touch that knew her body so well, now transformed into something different, gloved and lubricated, medical, necessary, uncomfortable, painful.
"You're fully dilated and effaced," David said, his voice deliberately calm and controlled. "The baby is right there, Sarah. The head is right there. This is happening now. You can push."
"No," she moaned, shaking her head violently. "I need to… No, no, I can't. I can't do this here." She squirmed and cried out, her back arching and feet wriggling helplessly.
"You can," he said firmly but gently. "You are doing this. We’re doing this together. You're the strongest person I know, Sarah.” He took a deep breath. “Listen to me. Your body’s telling you what to do. Don’t fight it. Listen to it. Push when you feel that urge.”
The contraction hit like a crashing wave, and Sarah howled, the sound filling the car, echoing off the windows. She bore down instinctively, her face reddening with effort. She could feel every millimeter of the baby’s agonizing descent inside her, pressing, stretching, moving downward. It was a horrible sensation that she desperately wanted to retreat from.
"That's it, that's it," David encouraged, one hand supporting her perineum, the other resting on her knee. "You're doing amazing, sweetheart. Our baby is coming."
"Oh God," Sarah gasped. She was crying now. "It hurts! It hurts so bad!”
“I know. I know, honey.” He rubbed her knee. "Slow your breathing down. Breathe with me... in... out."
She sobbed through the next push. The bulge of the baby’s head was pronounced now, the flesh between Sarah’s legs parting slightly to give David a glimpse of a scalp and wet dark hair.
Her sobs rose to a pained wail. “Ow! Ow!”
“Sarah, I can see her head. I can see her hair. She’s right there. She’s coming.”
Her fingers clamped around his wrist, her fingernails digging into his skin, as she cried out. “It feels like it’s ripping me apart! David, am I tearing?!”
“No. No, you’re not,” he answered, his voice soothing. “She’s stretching you. But you’re not tearing, I promise.”
Then the scream that tore from her throat was sharp, high-pitched, a cry of surprise, shock, and agony. Her hips bucked. David gently nudged her knees apart as she tried to snap them closed, reacting instinctively to the pain. “No, no, don’t do that. Let her come. Push, love. Little pushes, okay? Gentle. Slow.”
The baby's head appeared between her legs, spreading her, igniting white-hot fiery agony in her most private place. Sarah flung her head back, screaming again. "Ooowwwwww!"
David watched, his professional medical detachment fracturing as he saw his wife's body working, their daughter’s head emerging. “I can see her, Sarah. Our little girl. She’s almost here. Push through that burning. Almost done, almost over."
"I can't!" she shrieked, her body shaking violently. "It's too big! She won't fit! Help me! Please!"
"It will,” he assured her. “She’ll fit. You’re not going to tear. I’ve got you. Your body knows what to do. You’ve got this, my love. You’re so strong. You’re amazing.” His touch was gentle, protective, supportive, holding their daughter’s head and applying gentle pressure to Sarah’s perineum, guiding their daughter and preventing his wife from tearing.
“Owowow! Get her out, get her out!”
It was unbearable, the sensation of her tissue stretching around the curve of the baby's skull, a torturous pain that blurred her vision. She could feel every millimeter of forward movement, every nerve ending stretched and on fire, as seconds felt like minutes. Surely she was going to split right in two, or shatter into a thousand tiny pieces...
Suddenly there was an abrupt change in sensation, the fiery burning turning into pressure, a release, something emerging from her body with a gush of fluid.
"Stop pushing!" David commanded suddenly. “There’s her head. It’s out. Sarah, listen to me, don’t push. Wait a second.”
She squirmed, gasped, whimpered. The sensation between her legs was screaming at her to continue pushing, but she forced herself to resist. She groaned through clenched teeth. She felt her husband’s gentle touch between her legs, against their baby’s neck, checking for the umbilical cord, wiping the baby’s nose and mouth with a square of cloth.
“Oh, she’s beautiful,” he breathed. “Sarah, she’s got hair. Dark hair, like her mama. Lots of it. Beautiful little face. She’s incredible. And you’re incredible, my love.”
Sarah wept. David grinned.
“You ready to meet our girl? Go ahead, you can push again.”
She felt the next contraction building, a tightening band of iron around her middle, and cried out. The baby’s shoulders pressed downward.
“No, no, it hurts! I can’t do it anymore, I can’t!”
"Yes, you can," David said. "Just a little more, Sarah, just a little more.” His hands were positioned to guide the baby. “Another push for the shoulders. It’ll hurt again for another minute, another stretch, but then you’re done. Then you’ll be able to hold our baby.”
The contraction came, and she couldn’t stop the push, her body bringing her baby out into the world. The shoulders were wider than the head, somehow, impossibly, and stretched her already ravaged flesh anew. Along with the terrible stretching again, there was a new different pain now, agony in her pelvis as the baby's shoulders rotated and then pushed forward to emerge. She howled. “Ahh, owwww!”
“There’s one shoulder. It’s out,” David coached, his voice guiding his wife while his hands gently held and guided their baby. “One more, my love. One more.”
Sarah pushed again, screaming with it, and then felt a sudden rush and release as the second shoulder popped free. Her scream turned into a guttural grunt and a choked gasp – “ow!” – as the rest of the baby girl’s body surged out and into her father’s waiting hands.
“She’s out!” David cried. Gone was the professional paramedic, replaced by the thrilled new father. Laughing and crying at the same time, he beamed at his wife. “Sarah, oh, my love, you did it. You did it. Here’s our baby. Here’s our daughter.”
He held the infant, his gloved hands looking comically large compared to her small body, and quickly cleared her airway with his finger. The baby girl sputtered, flailed her little hands, then let out a mewling squeak that quickly rose into a full-throated cry.
Sarah collapsed back against the seat, sobbing, shocked and stunned. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, her throat burned from screaming, and her dress and the seat were soaked with sweat and fluids. “Oh, my God. David. Ow. That hurt so bad. That was awful. The hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” she gasped between sobs.
“But you did it. It’s done. She’s here. And she’s perfect,” David said as he gently laid the baby on Sarah’s chest. “She looks healthy and perfect and wonderful and beautiful.”
Sarah cradled their daughter with trembling hands. She looked down at the squalling infant, her tiny face scrunched and furious, covered in vernix and blood, and let out a sound that was half laugh, half cry. “Oh, wow. Oh, my God. Hi, baby. Hello, my sweet girl.”
For lack of anything else, David pulled out his shoelace and carefully tied off the umbilical cord with it, then cut the cord with scissors from his kit. He wrapped his wife and daughter in emergency blankets from the kit. “She’s beautiful,” he said, his voice cracking. He cupped Sarah’s chin in his hands and tenderly kissed her lips, then leaned down and gently kissed the baby’s head. “You're both perfect. I love you so much, Sarah Elizabeth. You’re so brave, and you did amazing.”
“I wasn’t brave, I was terrified, and it hurt like hell,” she retorted.
“I know,” he acknowledged, stroking her hair. “I know it did. I’m so so sorry that it did. But she’s here, you got her out, you brought her into the world. I love you both so much.” He planted a line of kisses on Sarah’s forehead, her cheeks, her lips. “You did it, and I got to catch our daughter,” he said. “Her daddy got to be the first person to hold her. Thank you for that.”
David pulled on another pair of gloves. Sarah realized he was still in paramedic mode alongside loving husband mode. The afterbirth was still to come, Sarah knew, and then it would finally be over. They were still stuck in traffic, it was still pouring down rain outside, and she was drenched in sweat and sitting in amniotic fluid and blood in the backseat of their car. But in that moment, none of it mattered.
“Sir? Do you need help here?” a man’s voice called out as footsteps approached the car window. David looked up to see a firefighter/paramedic slogging through the rain on foot, carrying his bright red jump bag. Then the man saw the paramedic insignia and department logo on David’s t-shirt. “Hey, brother. A lady flagged us down and sent us in your direction, said it looked like you might need some help over here. What’cha got? Under control?”
David laughed and shook his head. “Yeah. You’re a little late.” He motioned to the crying bundle on Sarah’s chest. “Little one decided she couldn’t wait any longer to make her appearance. I just delivered my daughter a few minutes ago. Appreciate an escort to the hospital, though.”
“Oh, wow.” The firefighter grinned. “Congratulations, Mom and Dad. Let’s see, born on July 6 at” – he glanced up – “mile marker 113.3. Welcome to the world, little miss. Sorry about the commute, though.”
All three of the adults laughed.
“Closest hospital is Mercy West. Let me go radio in and tell them you’re coming, and we can give you three a ride there.”
David kissed his daughter’s head. “Born in the car, delivered by her daddy, all natural, in the middle of a thunderstorm. Mama’s got one heck of an epic birth story to tell.”
