Chapter Twenty-Five

I GROWLED AND GRIPPED MY HANDS AROUND THE STEERING WHEEL. DC traffic was a bitch. There was a storm coming I wanted to beat, and while Max still had a few days before his due date, we knew due dates were a guesstimate, really, and we also forgot one major thing. Someone at my shoot started talking me up, and I told them about my pregnant partner and how it was almost time. They asked if we took any birthing classes, and I went, “Oh, crap.”

After the shoot ended, I wanted to rush home because while it was too late to take a class, we could at least look up information beforehand. Something about patterned breathing was mentioned in my conversation, so I really needed to read up on that. Raindrops began splattering down on my windshield, and thunder rumbled behind me. By the time I had gotten home, the wind had picked up, and the trees all swayed to the side, looking like they were going to snap.

“Oh, thank God,” Max said when I walked in the door.

“Are you all right?” I asked, so worried it was time.

“Um … yeah. There’s a tornado warning.”

Since we lived a bit further out, we had a lot of flat land around us, all the farms. We didn’t get many tornadoes, but when they did pop up, they liked to come our way.

“Shit. You should be in the basement.”

“Same with you.”

“Go down. I’ll grab a few things.”

“Okay.”

As I collected flashlights, battery packs for the phones, and some snacks, the tornado sirens started blaring. I booked it down to the basement. Poor Max had just made it to the bottom of the stairs. He still held the railing, trying to catch his breath.

“Sorry, I don’t have a finished basement,” he said as we snuzzled into a little interior cubby hole.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, but maybe I’ll look into that. I can become a handy dad.”

“You don’t have to finish the basement.”

“We can make it the playroom.”

“That could be nice.” He sat between my legs, leaning against me, and I had my arms around him, holding his stomach in my hands. The storm raged outside. Rain plopped down in huge drops, and the gutters clunked around as the wind whooshed.

A couple of hours passed, and I dozed off but sprung awake when I heard Max breathing heavily.

“Oh, my God, are you okay?”

He had his hands on his belly with his eyes closed, blowing out breaths.

“Max?” I asked, my heart thrumming fast.

He gulped and exhaled. “I think I might be in labor.”

“Holy shit fuck.” I held him under the armpits and tried to stand.

“No, no,” he said, waving me down. “I’m okay for now.”

“When did it begin?” I asked. We had to start getting things ready.

“A couple hours ago, I think?”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because I’m fine right now, Bauer, and it’s still storming pretty bad. We’re safest down here for the time being.”

“What can I do?” I asked, hugging my arms around him.

“Hold me.” He squeezed my hand.

“That’s it?”

“Yep.”

***

“The brunt of the storm seems to be over. Let’s go back upstairs. Can you make it?”

Max gripped my arm and blew out a breath and another.

“After this contraction. Nice and calm and breathe.”

He exhaled and gripped my arm tighter, and made a little mewl sound.

“Breathe, breathe, Max.”

He blew out a series of quick breaths.

“Slow down there. Try the … uh … hee-hee-hoo.” Before I had fallen asleep, he told me a bit about patterned breathing.

He said it along with me. We repeated it a few times before he loosened his grip on my arm.

“Let’s go now. You have about six minutes until the next one.”

I helped him upstairs and to the bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed and cradled his stomach, wrinkling his nose up.

“Again? Already?”

He whimpered and nodded.

“That’s a change of pace. We have to make sure we’re prepared.”

He whined and leaned forward.

“Sorry, sorry, breathe, Max.”

He rocked back and forth, breathing through his contraction, and I ran around, making sure all of our supplies were in order. For some reason, I looked up how to deliver a baby at home but not how to get your partner through it. Lucky for me, he was the smart one and had already researched it. The lights began to flicker. Max moaned.

“Crap, I thought the storm was over.” There was a loud buzz and a snapping sound, and we were in darkness.

We only had a few hours before the sun came up, so hopefully, the baby would wait until then to be born. Those hours were hell for him. The contractions kept coming faster and getting stronger. He rocked back and forth on the bed, moaning, sweat rolling down his face. I climbed onto the bed behind him and rubbed my thumbs into his lower back. He groaned and began quickly exhaling.

“You’re doing so good, baby, so good.” We had read that first births could take twelve to twenty-four hours, and his was going to be one definitely going past the twelve hours.