Avoiding Amy Jackson (32 page)

“Dear god, Amy, let’s not try to freak her out, okay?” Lizzy adds quietly.

I look at Ellie with remorse. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. You’re not going to shit all over the baby during the delivery. Everything is going to go picture perfectly because we’re going to head to the hospital right now. We’re going to meet our Lucy today!”

Ellen’s eyes go wide with shock. “I’m going to have a baby today.”

I decide that now is the time to take action and get her pregnant ass moving. Lizzy and I hurriedly drag Ellen into my car and make our way towards Regency Hospital. Lizzy sends Trent a text letting him know we’re heading his direction with a panting, red-faced, screaming pregnant woman. Once we got Ellen into the car, she moved from the shell-shocked stage to the shouting-profanities stage.

“Motherfucking donkey taints!”

“I’m going to strangle Trent with my bare hands!”

“Fuck your mother!”

“Sweet mother of giraffe scrotums!”

As I pull into the parking lot of the hospital, I’m getting a little worried that my best friend is much further along into labor than she probably even realizes. And I’m disturbed that she’s screaming about giraffe scrotums.

She’s sweating and yelling and hardly able to keep her ass in the passenger’s seat.

“Fuck! I think I just pissed on myself!” Ellen howls vociferously.

My head snaps in her direction and I see that the crotch of her pants are now soaking wet. That’s just fantastic. Perfect timing. I’m so happy that my best friend’s water broke inside of my car on the passenger’s seat upholstery.
Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Ellie, I think your water just broke, hun.” Lizzy gently places her hand on Ellen’s shoulder and attempts to calm her erratic breathing down.

“What! Oh fuck!
Fuck!
” Ellen grasps her abdomen in obvious discomfort. “I have so much pressure! I feel like I’m going to shit a basketball ball!”

Son of a bitch!

“Do not push! Whatever you do,
do not push
!” I sternly shout as I pull up to the front doors of the hospital.

This cannot be happening right now. I am not going to deliver my best friend’s baby in the passenger’s seat of my Honda Civic.
Nope! No way!
I hurriedly jump out of the driver’s seat and grab a wheelchair sitting just inside the lobby doors. I sprint back towards my car and open the passenger’s side door. “Get in! Get your pregnant ass in this wheelchair now!” I’m starting to panic. Ellen is pretty far into her labor, like in a ‘probably doesn’t have time for an epidural’ kind of way. Who progresses this quickly with their first baby?

“How long have you been having contractions?” I ask as Lizzy helps Ellen sit down in the wheelchair.

“Uh…” Ellen groans loudly as she pants through another contraction. “I don’t fucking know… I’ve been having contractions since yesterday.”

“Yesterday!” I shout noisily and Lizzy gives me a stern look, letting me know that now is not the time to discuss the fact that Ellen waited over twenty-fours before letting anyone know she was having contractions. I mean, Lizzy and I had to practically drag her ass into the car to get her to come to the hospital. If we wouldn’t have done that, then she would have literally delivered Lucy in my living room.

I will wait to slap Ellen until after she has Lucy.

I don’t even care that I’m leaving my car parked illegally in front of the hospital. I’m on a mission to get this screaming pregnant lady into a hospital bed. I push the wheelchair through the ER doors like my tits are on fire and my sprint workout has me puffing almost as hard as Ellen. I definitely should have spent more time at the gym before the fiasco that is Ellen’s delivery occurred.

This is the absolute craziest scenario possible.

Well, maybe not as crazy as delivering your baby in your toilet or the back seat of your car or at the gas station, but still, this is absolutely ridiculous. Who seriously doesn’t have time for an epidural with their first child? Apparently my best friend Ellen. Although, right now she probably isn’t aware that she is most likely going to have to give her own Little House on the Prairie rendition of a natural delivery. I’m just thankful that we’ve got her inside the hospital doors. My apartment would have been a terrible, terrible place for this delivery to happen.

“There you are! There’s the asshole that knocked me up!” Ellen shrieks once she spots Trent waiting for us by the nurses’ station in the ER.

His eyebrows rise and then he makes eye contact with me, gauging my reaction towards Ellen’s current mental state. My response is to mouth, “Good luck,” to him. Because seriously, Trent is going to need a hell of a lot of luck to get through this ordeal. Everyone in the ER is currently eyeing us, seeing as Ellen’s screams made our entry apparent to everyone, patients included.

“I’m not sure we even have time to get her upstairs,” I attempt to whisper to Trent.

“Let’s just wheel her into bed nine and I’ll call the OB unit to send staff down to us,” Tony updates as he calls the charge nurse for the labor and delivery staff, instructing her to send staff down here as soon as physically possible.

“What the hell are you doing? Why are you wheeling me into an ER bed? Take me and my god damn vagina to labor and delivery!” Ellen puts her feet down, trying to stop the wheelchair while simultaneously panting and grunting through contractions.

“We need to get her in a bed like yesterday. She’s already starting to push during these contractions.” My eyes lock with Trent’s as he tries to coax the crazy bitch from her wheelchair.

“Get off of me! Fuck you guys! I’m walking to the eleva—” Ellen stands up, takes a few steps, and then immediately stops in her tracks, squatting down with a contraction.

“Baby, we need you to get in the bed. Now.” Trent’s voice is stern. He’s more than aware that if we don’t get her in the bed, we’re going to be catching a baby from between her legs while she’s vertical.

“Fine! Call the epidural guy! Call the epidural guy!” She’s now frantic and reaching a point where I think she realizes that
shit is about to go down.

“Ellie, it’s going to be okay. Just think about that beautiful baby girl we’re about to meet.” Trent helps Ellen get in the bed as I proceed to throw on gloves and prepare for the absolute worst—delivering my best friend’s baby.

Trent pulls up a stool as I take Ellen’s pants and underwear off. She’s in so much pain that her modesty is nonexistent. She couldn’t care less that her snatch is in full view and her soon-to-be husband is currently sitting right between her legs, ready to deliver his own baby.

Where’s A Baby Story when you need them?

I mean this is quite the perfect moment, right? Ellen screaming profanities while Lizzy, Trent, and I try our best to calm her irrational ass down. I understand why she’s completely losing it. Honestly I do. Who wouldn’t be losing their mind when they’re getting ready to push a human being out of their vagina without any type of pain relief? I would be off my fucking rocker. I’m thankful I get to be a participant instead of the person who is currently getting ready to have a natural delivery that was far from planned.

Ellen was set on getting an epidural.

She was ready for her epidural at thirty-seven weeks. If her obstetrician would have agreed to it, she would have gotten her epidural placed during her last trimester and had Trent wheel her numb ass around until after she had the baby. I’m pretty sure she asked her doctor if she could keep the epidural until her six-week post-partum checkup. Yeah, she was more than convinced when it came to the entire pain management subject.

She was going to get an epidural,
no matter what
.

Lizzy and I are on either side of Ellen, holding her legs, while Trent sits at the foot of the bed with sterile gloves on, ready to deliver his child. For someone who is about to become a father, he is completely calm, cool, and levelheaded. He continues to sweetly encourage Ellen, telling her that he’s proud of her and that she’s doing a wonderful a job. The man is a saint for maintaining his sanity while his pregnant fiancée yells profanities at him.

“The epidural man! Where in the fuck is the epidural man! God dammit! I feel like I’m going to shit out my asshole!”

So many things wrong with that latest culmination of crazy statements.

First of all, Ellen is a nurse, so she knows the person who places the epidural is either an anesthesiologist or nurse anesthetist, who could either be a man or woman—not
the epidural man
as she now fondly calls him. And the fact that she is screaming about shitting her asshole out just shows you how much pain she is currently in right now. That sounds like something I would say. Natural-delivery Ellen is a chick I’ve never met. This is like Ellen 5.0, and I’m pretty sure I’m terrified of this woman. She’s angry,
really fucking angry
.

Trent takes a heavy sigh and looks into Ellen’s eyes.

Sweet mother of pearl! Look away!

Don’t look into the eye of the beast!

She’s possessed and right now she might suck your soul right out of your body!

“Ellie, baby. Lucy’s head is starting to crown, so I’m sorry to tell you this, but you don’t have time for an epidural.”

Ellen’s eyes have turned from green to an interesting shade of red. I can see the fumes of fury seeping from her ears and nose. She’s undeniably pissed, and I immediately cower away as she looks around the room with a cold, hard stare.

“I’m getting an epidural! I’m getting a fucking epidural if I have to place the god damn thing myself!” She tries to close her legs shut, and she’s now gone from demonic-like rage to complete panic.

She’s about to lose it…

“No! No! NO! Trent! You’re a surgeon! What good are you! Either place an epidural in my back or take me back to the OR and knock my ass out! I can’t do this without an epidural!” Tears stream down her face as she starts to have an emotional breakdown.

“You can do this, Ellen,” Lizzy calmly encourages beside her as she wipes Ellen’s tears from her cheeks.

“Ellen, don’t lose it now. You’ve got to get it together and push with these contractions and then it will all be over,” I lean down and voice while I’m staring directly into her fearful eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart. I need you to push with these contractions and then you’ll be able to hold our Lucy in your arms.” Trent’s voice is stern yet affectionate. He’s in full-on physician mode, and I’m curious if he did some sort of OB rotation during his residency.

Tony and another nurse have now stepped into the room and informed us that the OB staff is tied up with a few deliveries upstairs. Apparently there was a full moon tonight that has caused all sorts of havoc in the world of pregnant women. Now it’s all making sense as to why Ellen is currently in this wild situation.

“Do you want me to get the ER physician in here, Trent?” Tony asks as he stands off to the side of Trent.

Obviously, he’s trying to be respectful towards Ellen’s current state of vaginal exposure. She’s got her little muff wide open, flapping in the wind, and I’m happy my best friend still managed to keep that thing groomed. Most pregnant women forget all about keeping things nice and tidy, and believe me, shit starts to look jungle-esque if you let your pubes grow for nine months straight without any sort of maintenance.

Note to self: Call Marie for a wax appointment.

What? I can’t help myself. It’s a well-known fact that I take pride in my snatch upkeep, and nothing will have you remembering to schedule your next Brazilian wax like seeing your best friend’s labia spread apart while she grunts out a tiny human.

“Who’s the ER physician that just came on?” Trent addresses Tony with a quick glance in his direction.

“Dr. Simon.”

“Never mind. Looks like I’ll be delivering my own baby tonight.”

Smart move, Dr. Hamilton.
The last thing we need is for good ol’ Bill to be in here yelling sexually explicit comments while Ellen delivers Lucy.

“Isn’t this somehow against Regency’s ethics policy?” Tony questions, visibly uncomfortable.

“Do I look like I give a fuck about Regency’s ethics policy? My daughter is going to be born any minute and the last thing I need is some idiot of a doctor screaming about handcuffing his balls while my fiancée is pushing.” Trent is nearly fuming, and I can definitely understand his irritation. He’s not pissed at Tony; he’s just pissed at the mere idea of Dr. Simon being in the same room as his soon-to-be wife while she gives birth. The notion of that is even making me angry. No way in hell does Dr. Simon need to be in this room right now.

“Understandable,” Tony agrees immediately.

I get that he had to say something. He’s the charge nurse for the ER tonight, and it’s his responsibility to bring up any type of possible issue. And I would agree that this scenario could bring up some ethical concerns.

Ellen is pushing her little heart out with each contraction. She dug deep and has found the motivation to deliver her daughter without any sort of pain control. I think she just became my hero. If I were in her shoes, I would still be screaming for the epidural man while concurrently smacking my fiancé across the face. No doubt, this current delivery experience has me questioning the entire idea of having children. Nothing turns off your internal clock like hearing your best friend scream, “My vagina feels like it’s on fire!”

So that whole ‘ring of fire’ thing they talk about is true.
Go figure.

“Come on, sweetheart. You’re almost there. This is the worst part. Lucy’s head is out, and all I need right now is another push and I’ll be able to get her shoulders out.” Trent remains calm and collected. He still manages to be the picture-perfect physician, despite the fact that it’s his daughter he is delivering.

Me on the other hand… I am internally freaking the fuck out.

My best friend has a baby head hanging out of her vagina and I couldn’t be more terrified for her. I’m silently praying that nothing tears and everything goes back the way it started. And of course, I’m praying that Lucy comes out screaming her little head off. I just know that if I were in Ellen’s shoes, I’d be at least a little worried about my vagina becoming an uncanny resemblance to sliced roast beef. Sorry, I can’t help myself, I had to go there.