We’re about midway through our set when Anika signals for a time out.
Rhett takes his cue and addresses the crowd. “All right, guys. We’re gonna take a brief intermission. Enjoy a little classic country from the jukebox, refill those drinks, and empty those bladders. We’ll be back in a jiff.”
The four of us rush off to meet Anika backstage to find out what’s going on. We don’t keep our phones with us on stage, so the girls know to call her should anything pressing arise. Naturally, we’re all a bit frazzled, because for Anika to pull us off stage, it must be something major.
“Just got a call from Raven—the kids are fine,” she rushes out when Nick gets a panicked look on his face. “But they’ve just admitted Sammi to Memorial.”
The rest of her words sound like they’re coming from underwater. My head goes foggy, and my knees nearly give out on me. The thought of anything happening to her or our baby is paralyzing.
Frank materializes behind me with a chair, grips me by the shoulders, and forces me to sit.
Then a glass of whiskey splashes me in the face, bringing me back from whatever dimension I just went off to. “Snap out of it, dumbass.” Aiden shakes his head. “You’re not supposed to pass out until you see the gore.”
“Sh…she’s okay?” My eyes fix on Annie as I lick the liquor from my lips. I don’t know why my mind instantly went to thinking the worst, but whatever that little blackout was caused me to miss most of what was said.
“Yes,” she says with a laugh. “She’s fine. Just getting ready to have a baby.”
“A baby…today?” I leap to my feet, hit with a sudden burst of adrenaline. “We’re having a baby!” My heart starts pumping double time.
“Hell yeah, you are.” Rhett slaps me on the back. “Get your ass to that hospital. We’ll have Gage fill in for you.”
After a string of well wishes from the guys, I sneak out through the back with Frank, and we make a mad dash to the hospital.
I attempt to call my wife as soon as we reach the car with no answer, but soon after received a message that she’s in the middle of being checked. This apparently means the doctor is all up in her business, and it’s not a good time to talk.
“She’s six centimeters,” I tell Frank, needing someone to talk to when the news comes through.
“Is that good?” he asks, flipping his blinker and merging onto the highway.
“I mean…yeah.” I nod. “I guess so. Gotta get to ten before he comes out.” My foot is steadily tap—tap—tapping on the floor. “She says we have time.”
“That’s good.” He punches the gas anyway and takes off flying with his caution lights flashing.
“Just got her epidural,” I announce, not at all upset to have missed that part. That needle is no freaking joke. My wife is a beast.
“Says she’s feeling no pain.”
Frank nods, smiling to himself at my nervous chatter. “Glad to hear it.”
Pretty sure my friend is ready to throw himself into oncoming traffic by the time we arrive at Memorial. I’m in such a rush to get to my wife that I don’t think to wear a disguise, nor do I even attempt to hide my identity, which is even more obvious than usual since I’m in concert wear.
As soon as I step foot into the hospital, heads whip in my direction and the whispering starts.
“This way!” Dr. Ruby waves me over to a staff elevator, away from the prying eyes. “She’s doing great, Lyle.” She cups a hand to my shoulder. “Breathe.”
“But isn’t it too soon?” I can feel my blood pressure rising again. I’m a nervous wreck.
She shakes her head. “Thirty-seven weeks is considered full term, and remember we had to date by ultrasound. That really just gives us a ballpark.”
Once the elevator stops, she guides me down the hall to the room all the way at the end. I can hear Sammi, Korie, and Raven cackling before I even step foot inside.
“Oh, Lyle,” Raven says when I enter the delivery suite. “Wait til you see the stretched-out mess that was once your beloved—”
“Stop it.” Korie smacks her behind the head. “It goes back to normal. Don’t listen to her.”
“If not, I’m sure you could ask doc here”—Raven hitches a thumb over her shoulder toward Dr. Ruby who’s snapping her hands into a set of gloves to examine my wife—“to uh…add a few extra stitches.” She makes a sewing motion with her right hand.
Ignoring the peanut gallery, I rush to my wife’s side, bringing her hand to my mouth, kissing each of her knuckles in tandem. Then, I kiss her forehead, the tip of her nose, and finally her lips. “I can’t believe we’re having a baby today.”
“Right now, actually,” doc says, popping up from beneath the sheet shielding Li’l Bit’s business. “You’re complete.”
“Complete?” I stare at my girl, waiting on clarification while listening to the doctor in the background suggest to the ladies that it’s time to head out to the waiting area just down the hall.
Sweat beads on Sammi’s brow. “This is it,” she says, eyes wide. “It’s time to meet our little bean.” She’s white with fear but also teeming with excitement.
Before I know it, there are two nurses in the room, breaking apart the bed and pulling stadium lighting down from the ceiling and aiming it at her crotch.
Everything happens so fast. There’s none of that nervous pacing like in the movies. No time for passing out cigars. I just walked into the damn room and it’s go time.
“She’s crowning, guys,” a redheaded nurse announces after having a peak under the sheet. “Someone get Dr. Ruby back in here, stat.”
When the doctor returns, the nurse moves to the opposite side of my wife’s bed from me. She tells me to keep a hand on her back and when she’s given the order to push, I’m to help lift her into a sitting position.
Seems easy enough. And I’m glad to have an assignment, because right now I have enough nervous energy to climb the fucking walls.
“All right, Sammi,” Dr. Ruby says, rolling her stool to her spot at the foot of the bed, “on the next contraction I want you to give me a big push.”
“But I—I don’t know how,” she whines, looking around in a panic for guidance.
“You just grab the back of your legs and sit up and strain like you’re having a bowel movement,” the nurse opposite me instructs.
“Hah!” I choke on a laugh, instantly recognizing those instructions. “You got that, love? Same way you removed that butt plug the other day.”
“Oh no, you didn’t.” Leslie, the nurse, sucks in her lips, trying not to laugh while shaking her head.
The glare Sammi aims at me is lethal. “I think I might actually hate you right now.” But knowing I distracted her from her fear for even a minute is worth the temporary disdain.
Dr. Ruby keeps her poker face firmly in place, not reacting at all to my nonsense. “Push!” she says, then starts counting back from ten.
Li’l Bit’s face turns almost purple as she puts everything she’s got into forcing this baby out.
“And…rest.” Dr. Ruby looks up briefly to smile at my wife. “You’re doing great. His head’s already almost out. Give me another one just like that…” She waits for the monitor to start climbing, signaling another contraction. “Now!”
“Come on, baby, you got this,” I say, encouraging her through another ten-count while sneaking occasional glances at the mirror set up down there for our viewing pleasure. I can’t look for very long because every time I do, I end up feeling woozy. “Pushhhhhh!” I shout while she squeezes the life out of my hand.
“Head’s out! You can relax for a minute.”
This time Sammi remains in her upright position, ready to go when given the order.
“There he is,” I say, pointing toward the bloody mess in the mirror and trying not to pass out. It looks like a scene from a horror movie down there, with the doctor unwrapping the cord from around his neck and suctioning all kinds of goop out of his mouth.
“He’s so beautiful.” Big fat tears spill from my Li’l Bit’s eyes. This must be what they’re referencing with that phrase “a face only a mother could love.” Because my wife is smitten.
“That’s exactly what I was just thinking,” I lie, praying the situation gets better once he’s cleaned up.
“One more big push,” the doctor says, nodding at my wife. “In three, two, one…”
Sammi bears down, digging deep for every ounce of strength she can muster.
“He’s out!”
The second Dr. Ruby makes the announcement, Sammi’s body falls back and she is racked with sobs.
It’s the sound of his first cry that has me biting back tears. Hearing his little voice for the very first time. “You did it, Sam!”
My chest swells to near bursting with immeasurable pride. “You’re amazing.” I grip her face in my hands and smash my lips to her sweaty forehead while she attempts to catch her breath. “I love you so much.”
“I love you.” Her fingers tighten around mine. “So much.”
“Mr. Livingston,” Dr. Ruby calls, “would you like to cut the cord?”
I look to my wife, who smiles up at me and nods, giving me a little nudge. “Go meet your son.”
The overwhelming feeling of warmth that consumes me as I look at our little miracle is the purest form of love I’ve ever experienced. “He’s perfect,” I rasp, as tears run unchecked down my cheeks.
“Right between these clamps,” Dr. Ruby says, handing me the scissors.
Once I make the cut, the doctor hands him off to the second nurse, who until now had just been hanging out near the baby warmer.
“What’s happening?” There’s an edge of panic in my wife’s voice. “I thought…shouldn’t we be doing skin to skin?”
“I’m sorry, Sammi,” Dr. Ruby says. “It’s standard procedure when a baby comes this early to have them thoroughly checked out by a NICU nurse. Given his size and that we don’t have a true due date to work off of, it’s really for the best.”
“Oh…okay.” Her voice cracks and fresh tears spill down her cheeks.
I move back to my wife’s side, dabbing her face with a tissue. “It’s better to be safe,” I say, smoothing her sweaty hair back. “That cord was wrapped pretty good around his neck too.”
Sammi nods, never taking her eyes from that warmer.
“Five pounds, ten ounces,” the nurse announces.
“He’s so tiny.” Sammi continues to stare in awe at the little life she created. “Is he okay?”
“So far, so good,” the nurse says, looking back briefly to smile at my wife. “Lungs are good and strong.”
“He’s such a handsome little guy,” Dr. Ruby offers while finishing up with whatever she’s still doing between my wife’s legs. “Have you two decided on a name?”
The way she just carries on conversation while she’s messing around down there boggles my mind.
“George Wayne Livingston,” I answer, not missing a beat.
“That’s ni—”
“That’s not his name,” Sammi says, cutting her off when she nails me with another one of those killer glares. “Stop calling him that.”
I cower at the unfamiliar bite in her tone. “Sorry, baby. Won’t happen again.”
“Would you like to hold your son?” The nurse chooses the perfect moment to walk over with the baby bundled up like a little burrito and place him into my wife’s arms. “Congratulations. You have a healthy baby boy.”
I’ll never forget the expression on her face as she trails a finger over his little features, as if trying to commit them to memory. This right here is the definition of love at first sight. It’s sacred and pure and I feel honored to bear witness to it.
“Judd,” she says, lifting her gaze to mine for approval. “Judd Wayne Livingston.”
“It’s perfect.”
The name.
The baby.
This moment.
Our life.
