Mac
Holy crap, this burns.
For something that is supposed to be one of the best experiences in your life, it feels worse than the day after a hot Indian curry.
Whoever said childbirth was beautiful was obviously high on pethidine or delusional. It’s sweaty and gross, and there is nothing sweet or nice about it.
For twelve fucking hours, I’ve been in this hospital being monitored after my waters broke this morning. Eight hours of contractions, or ‘payback’ as I like to call it. I thought period cramps were bad enough. Times them by a hundred, and add sharp pains in the cervix, and you’d be close.
I look over at Daniel, and as much as I love to see the gorgeous, supportive, loving man that I’ve chosen to spend the rest of my life with, all I can see right now is the man who gave me twenty minutes of pleasure and inadvertently caused the last twelve hours of stabbing poker pain to my nether regions.
I love him to the moon and back, but all I can think about right now is the fact that all he had to do was stick his cock in me. I’m the one who has to push two watermelons out a hole the size of a lemon.
After this, he’ll be lucky to touch the sides of my vagina the next time we have sex. Hell, that’s even if I let that lethal weapon of mass impregnation come anywhere near me again. Superheroes make twin ninja babies who love practicing judo, or yoga, or god knows what all through the night for the last three months of pregnancy.
As another contraction hits me, I grab Kate’s hand and squeeze the life out of it.
Oh shit, what if I really am going to give birth to demon spawn like in the movie Aliens. Holy mother of all things holy, it feels as if they’re trying to claw their way out.
I don’t want to do this anymore. I change my mind; they can both stay inside me. I don’t care if I end up being the size of a house; Superman will just have more of me to love. He’s spent the last five months telling me he loves my belly. Well he’ll just have to get used to it permanently.
It’s about this time that I start crying again.
“Mac, what’s wrong, gorgeous? You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Daniel says, wiping my forehead with a wet towel.
“I’m gonna give birth to a monster!” I sob.
He chuckles at me. My fiancé has the balls to laugh at me.
Hello, castration? We have another candidate.
I scowl at him. “I wouldn’t laugh. The spawn of Daniel is eating your fiance from the inside out. I swear to god, they’re ripping my insides apart. Is this part of the male master plan to take over the world because if it is, it all makes perfect sense now!”
I look at Kate for support, but she just smiles at me. “The babies are coming,” she whispers excitedly. It’s pretty much all she’s said since she arrived with Zander ten hours ago.
I should probably insert a disclaimer here. I may be delirious because I’ve been awake for twenty-two hours, twelve of which I’ve had stabbing pains from my cervix right down to my ass hole.
But since I’m between contractions, I’m now faced with the biggest concern for new mothers. The poop problem. I’m shit scared of pooping on my baby, or before the baby comes out, or even in front of Daniel—pun intended. Kate’s here too, but I’m not worried about her. I’ve pooped in front of her before, but that’s another long drunken story that we’ve promised never to share.
What did make me laugh was when she got all light headed when the doctor came in and did an examination of me. In her words, he “fisted the shit” out of me. She spent a good hour sitting in the corner reading a magazine about breastfeeding to try and get the imagery out of her brain.
I’m in the middle of telling her never to have sex with a man again, and that the possibility of being torn apart by not one, but two six pound babies is not worth all the mind blowing penis sex in the world, when the doctor walks in again. As much as I glare at him, hoping that my Mac death ray stare will penetrate his brain, he still smiles and nods, checks up my who-see-what’s-it, and tells me I’m doing well. Well, that has been his procedure for the past eight hours anyway. This time, it’s different.
“How are you doing, Mac?” he asks.
I bite my tongue, stopping from saying the first thing that comes to mind.
“Okay. It’s getting worse, though.”
“I imagined it would be. I’m just going to check how far along you are and see how these babies of yours are doing. You’ve done so well to get to thirty five weeks, Mac.”
“Thank you,” I whimper as another contraction strikes. I start crying again, I can’t help it. Damn these pregnancy hormones. I’ve been crying at everything for the past nine months. The Glee kids won regionals, and I burst into tears. The Bachelor chooses the right woman for once, then gets down on bended knee to propose marriage, and I leak like a water fountain. A baby turtle clambering down the beach to reach the safety of the sea, and I’m a blubbering mess. Daniel rubbing my feet after a long day at work, and I turn into a leaky sprinkler. Don’t even get me started on when I started leaking milk out of my boobs two weeks ago.
“Okay, Mr. Winters,” he says, looking over at Daniel who is now lazing back in the chair beside the hospital bed like this is a Sunday joy ride. “If you could just hold Mac’s hand and try to keep her calm, I’ll be finished in no time.”
“At least buy me a drink first before you fist me,” I mutter, Daniel’s eyes go wide as he tries not to laugh. Kate doesn’t have that luxury and is rolling around, laughing her tits off at me.
Note to self: Must reconsider my choice for godmother.
After sticking his hand inside me, and moving it around like I’m a talking puppet, he removes his hand and drapes the sheet back over my naked lower half.
“You’re fully dilated, Mac. It’s show time. Can you feel any pressure down there?”
“I can feel fucking everything down there. Your hand, the gloves, the demon spawns called my children that are trying to climb out of me as if there’s a ladder in my crotch.”
He has the audacity to chuckle. I mean, I’m a health professional. I know all there is to know about bedside manners, and laughing at a lunatic pregnant woman is NOT the thing to do. It’s not cool, man. NOT. COOL.
Daniel entwines our fingers and squeezes. “Gorgeous, you can do this. I’m with you all the way. We’re going to meet out son and daughter. I know you can do this because you can do anything you put your mind to. I love you. Let’s meet our babies.” The smile on his face is my undoing. I wouldn’t give this moment up for all the craziness in the world.
“Superman,” I stutter as I feel tears welling up again. “I love you.”
He leans down and kisses me softly, gently, with just a little bit of superhero tongue. Well played, Mr. Winters.
Twenty minutes, and a lot of obscenities later, Jared Daniel Winters enters the world. Ten minutes later, Riley Mackenzie Winters decides to grace us with her presence.
And I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.