I get done with my massage and am at my locker, getting dressed.
The baby, who must have been sleeping during the massage, has decided to wake up and do some kind of workout. I’m getting kicks to the stomach and elbows to the ribs. I pat my belly, the stress I felt when I got here instantly reappearing.
I still have no idea what I’m going to do.
Or where I’m going to go.
But then I look down at my engagement ring and remember what Phillip told me a few days before our wedding.
“This ring means one thing. That I love you. Promise me that, no matter what, no matter if we fight, no matter how hopeless things might feel, you will look at this ring and know that, when you love someone, that’s all that really matters. That we’ll always figure it out together.”
I promised that I would.
I was a tad overdramatic when I stormed out on Phillip’s mom. Honestly, I wasn’t really that mad at her. And I’m a big girl. I should’ve talked to her about it myself instead of waiting for Phillip to say something. I just didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She’s made me feel like part of their family since my parents died. I’ll just be honest with her. Tell her that we love having her stay with us, but it’s our house, and there are a few rules. Make that one rule. No decorating.
I’ll apologize, tell her the truth, and then tell her what Lori said because that’s what upset me the most. That’s what set me off. The nursery was just the spark that lit the powder keg.
I still can’t believe Lori said that to me. Wished that on me.
How could a friend say something like that?
That brings me back to the same answer I’ve been avoiding since she accused me of cheating.
A friend wouldn’t.
Besides apologizing to Mrs. Mac, I also need to have a serious conversation with Danny. If he wants to stay with Lori, that’s his business, but I can’t be friends with her unless she gives me a sincere apology. I’m done pretending like things are okay. And I hope and pray it won’t affect our relationship with Danny.
My phone vibrates.
“It’s your dad,” I say to my stomach. “Close your ears. I might say a few bad words. Hello?” I say into the phone.
“Come home,” Phillip says.
“No, thanks,” I reply even though I want to go home. I just want it to be my home when I get there.
“Are you okay? Mom said you were really upset when you left.”
“I’m fine, Phillip,” I lie.
“I just need to make sure you’re okay.”
“I just told you, I’m okay, Phillip,” I say with a sigh. “Just like I told you that your mother doing stuff to our house was upsetting me. Just like I told Danny I couldn’t be friends with Lori anymore.”
“I’m sorry about my mom. I kept thinking it was temporary. That we just needed to get through it. Then, we could do things our way as soon as she left. I didn’t want to upset her.”
“But it was okay to upset me? Why does everyone think it’s okay for me to be upset?”
“What happened with Lori?”
“I went over there before I came home. Danny wanted me to make up with her, but I wasn’t even through the door before she said something horrible.”
“What did she say?”
“That I would have a rough delivery because I’ve had such an easy pregnancy.”
“What a bitch,” Phillip says. “You’re done being friends with her. I’ll talk to Danny about it.”
“I came home upset, and when your mom showed me the nursery, I just blew.”
“I don’t blame you. Mom chewed me out,” he says softly.
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t stand up for you. She said that I suck at being a husband.”
“You’re not a bad husband, Phillip. You were in an awkward situation. I get that. I understand why you always took her side. I just didn’t like it.”
“But I shouldn’t have. And I shouldn’t have left the burden on you to tell her. It wasn’t fair of me. Just like Danny asking you to be friends with Lori again isn’t fair. My parents are leaving, just so you know. They will stay in hotels from now on.”
“I don’t want them to leave. I just don’t want her decorating.”
“Please come home.”
“While we’re at it, let’s talk about you, Phillip.”
“Me? What’d I do?”
“I haven’t wanted to say anything, but since I’m getting it all off my chest, I might as well. Your worst-case scenarios, the college funds, the baby-proofing, the planning. You’re so far into the future; it’s crazy. Are you doing all that out of love or fear?”
“Seeing Lori and Danny’s relationship deteriorate so quickly has me nervous.”
“We’re not going to be like them, Phillip. So what if we don’t change the baby’s diaper perfectly or if we don’t have money saved for college yet? The baby won’t know the difference. We’ll learn and grow with it. Remember what you told me about my engagement ring? How love is all that matters. I wasn’t lying when I said you were going to be an amazing father. You’re fun and smart, and you have strong arms. Those are the things I remember most about my dad—that, and I always knew he loved me. And, if something ever happens to me, I know that you’ll raise our kids to be strong, confident, and caring.”
“Don’t even say that. Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“You’ve read all the worst-case scenarios, Phillip, and I’ve lived my own worst-case scenario when my parents died. Things can and do happen. It’s important for me to know, if something ever does happen, that you’ll always remember love is the most important thing. Just love.”
“I’ve always known that,” he says. “I guess I just lost sight of it. But I learned it again today. From you.”
“How so?”
“The crib and the rocking chair came. The nursery looks beautiful and calming, just like you wanted it to. But it’s more than that. The room feels like you’re being wrapped in a hug because you chose every single little detail for it out of love. So, I get it. Love is all that matters. And I love you desperately.”
“I love you, too, Phillip. Does it really look good? Did you put everything where it’s supposed to go?”
“It looks perfect. And my mom and I were able to get the stickers off the wall without ruining the paint.”
“Ohmigawd! Really? I’m dying to see it. I’m leaving the spa now. I’ll be right home.”
“I can’t wait, Princess. I love you.”
“Any chance you can get rid of the chickens, the table, and the bad artwork, too?”
“Already done.” He chuckles as we end the call.
I rush to my car and head for home.
I can’t wait to see the nursery.
I’ve obsessed over every single detail that would go into the room, all the way down to selecting over a hundred coordinating fabrics and ribbons for the mobile.
I hope it looks the way I’ve envisioned it.
“Crap,” I say, hitting the brakes as the left-turn arrow changes to red.
I sit patiently and wait for the cars to cross in the other direction.
When the green arrow lights up, I make my turn.
I’m just out into the intersection when I see a car coming toward me. My brain quickly processes our impending crash. I hit the gas hard, hoping to avoid the unavoidable.
The collision is loud and violent.
Brakes screaming.
Metal bending and twisting.
Tires screeching.
Glass breaking.
A motor hissing.
Air bags exploding toward me.
The smell of smoke.
It seems like the noise lasts forever.
But then there’s an eerie silence.
I slowly open my eyes and assess myself, wondering if I’m injured but feeling an overwhelming sense of urgency to get out of the car. I remember the salesman telling me that there is a smoky smell when an air bag goes off, but my brain is overriding that knowledge and urging me to get out of the car.
I try to undo my seat belt, but it won’t budge.
I grab the tool Phillip bought me, cut my seat belt, pop the air bag, and escape from the car.
I’m stumbling, dazed, my mind trying to comprehend it all.
There are metal pieces tossed across the street.
Teeny squares of broken glass.
The sweet smell of radiator fluid.
A car’s hood buried into my passenger side, its motor steaming.
Its driver motionless.
I’m a little woozy, and I feel off-balance as I stagger away from the vehicle.
A big arm slides around my waist. “Jadyn!” Marcus says. “Are you okay?”
“What are you doing here?” I ask him.
“I was heading home. Saw the crash.” He grabs my arm. “Jadyn, look at me. Try to focus.”
I try to do as he asked, but my brain is on sensory overload.
“Your pupils are huge,” he assesses, grabbing my face and holding it still. “Were you wearing your seat belt? Did you hit your head? Does anything hurt?”
“Uh, I’m not really sure,” I reply, still looking at the wreckage of the other car and wondering if this is what it was like when my parents crashed. “The other driver isn’t moving.”
“I’m going to check on him. Are you okay?”
“I forgot you studied to be an EMT,” I say, wiping the sweat from my face. “And, yes, I think I’m okay.”
“What about the baby? Have you felt it kick?”
“Oh my God! No!” I’m suddenly panicked.
Marcus puts his hands on my shoulders. “Take a deep breath, Jadyn. I’m going to check on the driver. Yell if you need me.”
He runs over to the other vehicle.
There’s a lot of commotion now.
A siren in the distance.
People trying to help the other driver.
Yelling.
Lots of yelling.
People on cell phones, taking photos.
Others gawking as they slowly drive by.
In the midst of the mayhem, the baby kicks me in the ribs, which makes me start crying in relief.
More sirens.
Police cars.
Fire trucks.
Ambulances.
Lots of questions.
Questions I don’t know the answers to.
“How fast were you going?”
“Did you see him coming?”
Then, pain ripping through me.
“Ahhh!” I yell out, clutching my abdomen as a sharp, piercing pain brings me to my knees.
Marcus runs over. “What’s wrong?”
“I just had this horrible pain. Could I be in labor?”
“An event like this could most definitely trigger labor,” he tells me.
I suddenly feel wet.
My first thought is that I’ve had some kind of peeing incident, but then I realize what it is. “Um, Marcus, I think my water just broke.”
“Let’s get you over to the ambulance.”
He speaks to the paramedics at a rapid pace, “Female Caucasian. Twenty-three years old.” He turns to me. “How far along are you?”
“Um, thirty-six weeks.”
He continues, “She’s thirty-six weeks pregnant. Water just broke and experiencing severe pain. Let’s get her to the hospital.”
The paramedic hooks me up to a blood pressure machine.
“Your blood pressure is a little lower than I would expect after an accident. But you’re doing great. Just keep breathing through the contractions. On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?”
“Ten, maybe eleven. Can’t you stop it? Give me a shot or something? I can’t have the baby now. It’s too soon.”
“Once your water breaks, you need to deliver within twenty-four hours, so get ready. You’re going to have a baby today.”
“Did the wreck hurt the baby, and that caused me to go into labor?” I’m trying not to panic.
“It’s not unusual for emotional or physical trauma to cause a woman to go into labor. Everything will be fine,” he says reassuringly.
“Marcus, will you call Phillip and have him meet us at the hospital?”
“Of course I will. It’s a little sooner than anticipated, but are you excited?” Phillip must answer because Marcus stops talking to me and goes, “Hey, Phillip. Um, I’m with Jadyn. She was in a car accident.” Pause. “Yes, calm down. She’s okay, but her water broke, and she’s gone into labor.”
Another contraction rips through me, and I cry out in pain again.
“Yes,” Marcus says to Phillip. “The labor pains are strong and pretty close together. The paramedics are checking her vitals, and then we’ll be heading to the hospital. You’ll probably get there before we will, so just meet us in Emergency.”
“Is he freaking out?” I ask Marcus as the paramedic checks my oxygen levels.
“Every father freaks out a little when his wife goes into labor.”
“Would you?”
“I’d like to say that, with my training, probably not as much, but I’m sure I will.”
“At our class, we were told that giving birth is the most natural thing in the world. This doesn’t feel natural. It hurts.”
“Is it just the contractions that hurt?” the paramedic asks. “Or do you hurt anywhere else?”
I point to a spot on my lower right side, near where my leg attaches. “This is where the sharp pain is. I’m having contractions, too, but they hurt all the way across my stomach, like really hellacious cramps.”
“You were hit hard from the side. Does your back hurt? Your shoulder? Your neck?”
I shrug my shoulders and then move my neck in a circular motion. “Shoulder and neck seem stiff but not painful.”
He puts his hand across my rib cage. “How about here?”
“A little.”
He makes a note of it as another piercing pain rips through me.
