“I’d love some.” Jenna reached up to rub her thumb over James’ dog tags, watching as Derek went into the wine refrigerator, chose a bottle, and uncorked it, so desperately in love with him that it hurt.
Thank you, James, for saving the life of the man I love. We’re together now. Because of you, we’re together.
Epilogue
Jenna held Holly’s hands while the nurse anesthetist inserted the epidural catheter. “You’re doing great. He’s almost done. In a few minutes, you’ll feel much less pain.”
“Thank God!”
Nick watched the fetal heart monitor as another contraction started to build, his distress at his wife’s suffering written all over his face. He stroked her shoulder. “Here comes another one. Hopefully, it will be the last one you feel.”
Jenna had witnessed hundreds of husbands during labor, but few had been as caring or focused as Nick Andris.
Holly moaned, her eyes squeezed shut, her hands tightening around Jenna’s as the contraction grew stronger.
“Open your eyes, Holly. Look at me. That’s it. Just breathe.”
The nurse anesthetist taped the epidural catheter in place. “Okay. You’re all set. It will take a few minutes to kick in.”
Holly was breathing hard, anguish on her face. “Why can’t it kick in now?”
“The contraction is peaking,” Nick said. “You’re on the downhill side now. It’s almost over. Just a few more seconds.”
Holly’s grip loosened, her breathing slowing as the pain ebbed. “This isstupidpainful.”
“Yes, it is, but you’re doing great.” Jenna had never seen the point of pretending as some midwives did. She’d met women who had grappled with PTSD due to the pain of childbirth, and she did her best to meet each woman’s needs. If they wanted epidurals, that was fine with her. She never tried to talk them out of it, like some CNMs she’d known. She wasn’t the one giving birth.
Nick helped Holly settle back against her pillows, kissed her forehead. “How does that feel?”
“Better. Thanks.”
The next contraction came and went with little pain.
“Whoever invented the epidural deserves the Nobel Prize,” said Holly.
Nick looked as relieved as his wife. He shook the anesthetist’s hand. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” The anesthetist cleaned up and pushed his cart toward the door. “If you need me, I’ll be around until seven a.m.”
Holly had gone into labor just after midnight—six hours ago. It had been mild until her water had broken. After that, she’d gone from three to five centimeters in an hour, and the pain had been much worse.
Jenna rested her hand on Holly’s thigh. “My advice, Holly, is that you rest now. When it comes time to push later, you’ll need your strength—and let’s face it, after tonight you won’t be getting a lot of sleep. You, too, Nick.”
Holly rubbed her swollen belly, looking gorgeous despite being in labor. “I can’t wait to meet him—or her.”
Jenna knew the sex of their baby, but they had wanted it to be a surprise. “I’m sure he or she is just as excited to meet you.”
Jenna turned down the lights and sat in a rocking chair in the corner, while Nick watched over Holly, who quickly fell asleep.
Jenna watched the fetal heart monitor, checked Holly’s vitals, cat-napping for short stretches in between.
Just after seven, there came a knock at the door, and an older woman stuck her head inside the room. She whispered, “Nika?”
“Hey, Mama.”
Mama Andris—Nick’s mother.
Jenna had heard about her—how she’d raised six children, immigrating to the US just before Nick was born and how she was the force to be reckoned with in the Andris family. No one messed with Mama Andris.