Redeeming 6: Boys of Tommen #4

JOEY

WHEN I CLIMBED through Molloy’s window tonight, the last thing I had expected to witness was her in full-blown labor, but that’s exactly what happened.

Battling her mother when we got to the hospital was another event I hadn’t anticipated. To be fair, I didn’t blame Trish for wanting to be with her daughter.

It was a heated argument that resulted in me winning when Molloy stepped in and told the midwife that I was the one she wanted with her.

Several hours had passed since we were taken down to delivery, and while she was dilating and had reached seven centimeters according her last internal, it seemed to be dragging on forever.

Sucking on gas and air like it was going out of fashion, my best friend balanced on a birthing ball, rocking and rolling her hips, as the worst fucking noises I’d ever heard in my life escaped her.

I wanted to save her.

I wanted to put a goddamn stop to her suffering.

But I was completely helpless.

Contorting in pain, as her body tried to expel the baby I’d put in there, I never felt so fucking guilty in my life.

Even now, as she leaned against me in her delivery suite, in the throes of another contraction, all I wanted to do was apologize.

Jesus Christ.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she declared, twisting sideways on the ball to grip my shoulders. “Joe, I need to go right now.”

“Okay,” I replied, trying to remain calm when her face turned a deep shade of red. “I’ll help you.”

“What’s that?” the midwife, who was lingering nearby, asked when I moved for the adjoined bathroom with my girlfriend leaning heavily against me.

“She needs to use the bathroom,” I explained. “I’m just taking her now.”

“No, no, no,” the midwife replied, ushering us towards the bed instead. “Climb on, Aoife pet, and let me examine you.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Molloy groaned, climbing onto the bed, and then writhing in pain when the nurse stepped between her legs. “If you don’t let me go to the bathroom right this second, I’m going to shit on you!”

“Just as I thought. You’re fully dilated, Aoife,” the midwife declared. “You’re ready to deliver.”

“A poo?”

“No, pet, a baby.”

“Oh, Jesus, Joe.” Crying out, she clutched my hand and pulled me close. “If I shit in front of you, please don’t hold it against me.”

“Molloy,” I coaxed, brushing her hair off her clammy face. “You can do whatever you want in front of me, okay?”

“That’s comforting, Joe,” she cried out, hooking an arm around my neck and catching me up in a headlock Kav would be proud of. “Because I think you’re about to see what I look like on the inside.”

Something was wrong.

I could feel it.

Molloy had been pushing for over an hour and nothing was happening.

The concerned look in the midwife’s eyes was enough to send my heart-rate spiking, but it was the shrill sound of the bell ringing that put the fear of God into me.

“You’re grand,” I coaxed, keeping a death grip on her hand, as her panicked green eyes looked up at me from her hospital bed when the room filled with doctors and nurses. “This is all normal, Molloy.”

It wasn’t.

It couldn’t be.

I’d been with my mother when she delivered Sean.

This was about as far from normal as you could get.

“Okay, Mom, the baby is starting to get very tired, sweetheart, so we’re going to help you deliver, okay?” the midwife that had been with us since admission told us. “We’re doing to take you down to theatre now.”

Theatre?

Jesus Christ.

“Joe,” Molloy cried out, as I was pushed aside for them to wheel her away. “Joe!”

“It’s okay,” I called out, feeling helpless as I watched them take her away from me. “Everything is grand, Molloy, I promise!”

“Dad will follow you down,” the nurse holding her hand said, as they disappeared through the doors with my girlfriend. “He just needs to gown up first.”

“What’s happening?” I choked out, feeling like I was about to pass the hell out, as another nurse helped me into a blue operating gown and hair net. “What’s wrong with her?”

“The baby is showing signs of shoulder dystocia,” she explained calmly. “Mom needs intervention to deliver.”

“What do you mean shoulder dystocia?” I demanded, following her over to the sink and scrubbing my hands raw before patting them dry on paper towels and masking up. “Does Aoife need a caesarian?”

“Baby’s head is out, but baby’s shoulders are stuck in the birth canal,” she explained as she ushered me down a long corridor towards theatre. “Don’t worry, Dad. Mom and baby are in great hands.”

“Joe,” Molloy was crying out when I was finally let into theatre. I could see her on the operating table, surrounded by the surgical team, as her hand flailed around wildly, searching for mine.

“I’m right here, Molloy,” I called out, jumping into action as I moved straight for her, only to be herded towards the top end of the table by one of the surgical team. “I’m here, baby.”

“Joe,” she sobbed, snatching up my hand in hers, as she screamed in pain. “Joe, it hurts so bad.”

“Can you give her something?” I demanded, feeling myself spiral as I watched them manhandle her like she didn’t have feelings. “Jesus Christ, you can’t do that to her without an epidural.”

“No time for that now, Dad.”

“Joe —”

“You’re grand. You’re grand, baby.”

“Push, Aoife. We need you to push.”

“I’m right here,” I whispered in her ear, holding onto her head to stop us both from watching. “Just stay with me, Aoif. Stay with me, okay?”

Crying out in agony when they pushed on her stomach, she clung to my shoulders. “Make it stop!”

I wanted to.

More than anything I’d ever wanted in my life.

“Push, Aoife. Harder. Come on, baby needs to be delivered.”

“Ahhhh.” Her face was white to the point of grey, as she clung to me and pushed with all her might, panting and shaking violently. “I’m scared.”

Me, too.

“Don’t be,” I tried to soothe, leaning in close so that she was only focusing on my face, and not what was happening around us. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Ahhhh,” she screamed again, face contorting in pain before suddenly growing limp in my arms.

Moment later, the sound of a baby screaming filled the room.

“You did it, Aoif,” I choked out, trembling just as badly as she was, as the sound of our child filled the room. “You did it, baby.”

“Yeah,” she strangled out, nodding weakly, as her eyes rolled. “Oh, god…”

“Hey, hey hey.” Leaning over the bed, I caught ahold of her face between my hands and tried to keep her focused, while the doctors continued to work on her. “You’re okay.” I pressed a kiss to her head. “Come on, Molloy, stay with me. Can you hear the baby?”

“Yeah.” She was trembling and so was I.

I could hear the screaming baby in the background, I didn’t even know what we had, but I didn’t dare move from her side, as I focused on her face and ignored the way they were working on her body. “You’re okay. Shh, shh, baby, you’re okay.”

“Joe…”

“Step aside, Dad,” one of the nurses instructed. “Mom needs a little help right now.”

I’d never seen so much blood.

But I wasn’t about to tell her that.

“No, no, no,” she slurred, pushing weakly at the oxygen mask they were placing over her mouth and nose. “Joe…”

They were all so calm when I felt like my world was slipping away from me. I was watching her body bleed out while, she was still conscious.

It was beyond terrifying.

Freaking the fuck out, a nurse led me over to where the baby was, as they worked on stemming the bleeding.

She’s hemorrhaging.

She’s bleeding out.

You killed her.

She’s going to die.

Feeling faint, my gaze flicked between the operating table my girlfriend was lying on, and the baby in the incubator in front of me.

I didn’t even know what it was.

I was too fucking panic stricken.

“Mom is fine,” the nurse continued to coax. “Don’t worry. She’s in the best hands. She’s going to be just fine. Now, come and meet your son.”

“Son,” I repeated, numb, as my attention flicked back to Molloy. “Aoif?”

I couldn’t see her anymore.

Too many people in scrubs had taken up position around her for me to see.

“Molloy?” My heart gunned in my check. “Aoife!”

“Here you go, Dad.”

Moments later, the screaming bundle was thrust into my arms.

“Congratulations, Dad. He’s a beauty.”

Struck fucking dumb, I stared down the baby in my arms.

He was roaring like a bull, with his tiny hands balled into fists, as he squirmed and stretched in my arms.

“Jesus,” I breathed, cradling him in my arms, as my emotions got the better of me. “You’re here.”

And then he opened his eyes and looked at me.

And I was done.

My heart no longer beat for me.

For the rest of my days, it would beat entirely for the child in my arms.

Fuck.

Still draped in a blue gown and hair net, I was removed from theatre, while my girlfriend and baby remained inside.

My heart was hammering.

My mind was reeling.

Breathing hard and fast, I sagged against the wall in a nearby corridor, feeling my heart thunder wildly in my chest.

What the fuck just happened?

It was all so fast.

My phone was ringing in my pocket, and I had to get a handle on myself and force myself to answer.

“Joey.” That was Trish. “What’s happening? Is she okay? Did she have the baby?”

“I, ah, yeah, she’s okay,” I croaked out, still completely reeling from the way it had all gone down. “The baby got stuck. They had to bring her down to theatre to deliver.”

“She had a caesarean?”

“No.” I shook my head, feeling rattled. “They got him out before that.”

But the things they had to do to her.

The blood.

The pain on her face.

I flinched at the memory.

“Him?” Trish’s voice hitched. “It’s a boy?”

“Yeah.” I exhaled a ragged breath, head nodding vigorously, as I tried to get my head around the life changing events that had just taken place. “He’s huge, Trish. They told me he was 56 centimeters long and he weighs like 4.4 kilos.”

“What’s that in pounds and ounces?”

“9lbs 12oz according to the midwife.”

“Oh, Jesus, the poor girl.”

“Yeah, I know.” I flinched again. “What time is it?”

“It’s half past three in the morning,” she replied. “What time was the baby born?”

“A little over an hour ago,” I replied. “Just after twenty-past two.”

“Where are you now? Are you with Aoife? Can you put her on the phone?”

“No, I ah…” I swallowed deeply and pressed the heel of my hand to my head, fighting down the panic trying to claw its way out of me. “She was, ah, she was hemorrhaging, and they couldn’t find the source of the bleeding. I heard them say something about a possible uterine rupture.” Blowing out a pained breath, I strangled out, “She’s still in theatre.”

“No.” The cry that tore from my girlfriend’s mother’s throat put the fear of God inside of me. “Oh Jesus no. She’s in there alone?”

“They wouldn’t let me stay,” I strangled out, chest heaving, as the realization of how serious this was hit home. “I tried, Trish, but they put me out. Said I couldn’t be in there when she was under general anesthetic.”

“Oh, Joey love, don’t panic,” she choked out. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.” I blinked back my tears. “Me, too.”