"Enzo, it's time!"
The bedsheets are ripped away from me, the air conditioner blowing over my warm, overly-pregnant body. My husband still half-asleep when he stumbles around the bedroom, hopping on one leg as he attempts to put the other through the sweat pant leg. I take some deep breaths as the muscles in my stomach contract in an excruciating rhythm.
"I'll call an ambulance," he says, shouting out loud.
My fingers grip around the duvet and I envision it being the hair of the nurse who told me to go home and rest. I said I was in labour and she didn't believe me. I hope she's on duty when we get to the hospital because I'll give her a piece of my mind.
"No, don't bother with an ambulance," I pant, wanting to rip the duvet apart.
"It'll be easier with London traffic, sweetheart," he says and he's right.
We could be stuck in traffic for hours before getting help.
I pant, noticing how close together the contractions seem to be. "It hurts so bad."
Enzo comes to sit beside me, hand in mine. "I'm so proud of you. So incredibly proud. I'm calling them now. Help is on its way."
As he talks to the operator, I try to think of calm images. Sheep in a field. Baking a cake. Someone ripping my insides out.
"Please hurry," I hear Enzo say, my body moving from side to side as I try to get comfortable.
I squeeze his hand. "Ow, Ow, Ow, Ow, Ow!"
"They say they're almost here. Remember to breathe, sweetheart. In and out. In and out. One. Two. One. Two."
Two minutes later the operator is telling us that the ambulance has arrived and Enzo runs down to meet them at the complex entrance way. I'm in agony when they eventually get up to our bedroom, the room turning fuzzy.
Enzo is talking to me, but I don't answer. My brain focused on escaping the contractions. The paramedics don't waste any time in getting me into a wheelchair, using the lift to get us downstairs, telling Enzo to follow in his car.
Inside the ambulance it's a blur of questions and gas and air, the medicine not touching the pain one bit. I hear myself tell them that there's a weight in my pelvis, that I think I can feel the head.
I need to push.
I need to push.
No.
It's too quick.
If the sodding nurse believed me when I said I was feeling strong contractions in the first place then none of this would be happening.
I'd be in my private room on the maternity ward, pain free on the juice of an epidural, chewing on ice chips.
But, no.
I'm traumatised without my husband telling me everything will be all right.
"We're approaching St Mary's hospital," the driver shouts through to us.
"You hear that, love? We're almost there."
Pain.
I need to push.
Enzo meets me at the ambulance doors and I'm grateful he managed to get here on time. He wraps his fingers around my elbow. "I drove like a maniac to get here. I think I'll be getting a speeding ticket."
"You're here. It's the main thing," I respond, clutching my hard belly.
The paramedics wheel me into the hospital, heading for the maternity ward. The sound of Enzo's footwear slapping on the floor is all I hear over the numbers in my head. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. One...
〰️〰️〰️
I'm propped up in the hospital bed, a small swaddled bundle of gorgeous baby in my arms. Enzo is laid on the bed with me, arm supporting my upper back as we stare down at Isabella with a crazy amount of love.
Our baby girl is here.
I peel my eyes away from my daughter to glance up at her daddy. "En, she's your double."
The tears on his cheeks still shine bright, his sniffles filling the room. "She's absolutely perfect. I'm so in love."
It wasn't long after they got me into my room on the maternity ward and checked me over that we realised Bella wasn't waiting around for anyone.
The pushing was hard and something I wish to forget, but it was all worth it to hear her beautiful cry. I lost myself when they put her on my chest, the mound of black hair on her head shocking me for a moment.
And then when Enzo collapsed next to me, sobbing his heart out, whispering his love and thanks on repeat, I knew all the pain was worth it.
Isabella coo's scrunching her hand open and closed, wanting the swaddle blanket off her body.
I lift her up and kiss her chubby face, wishing that she'd open her eyes. "Come on, Bella, show mummy and daddy your eyes."
Enzo strokes his hand over her tiny body. "I think she's tired."
"I'm not surprised after all the milk she just guzzled," I whisper, admiring her olive complexion. Daddy's girl.
"You sore, Am, sweetheart?"
I tilt my head up to reach his lips, smoothing mine over his until he reacts. "I am, but I don't care."
Enzo pulls back, pecking his lips back and forth until I giggle and he stops. "You were a real trouper back there."
My cheeks heat when I remember how out of order I was towards the end. "I swore at the midwife. Ten times."
"I'm sure they're used to it."
I pull a face as the memory of my hysteria assaults me. "Remember to get her name. I'll send a present."
"Sweetheart, I'm sure there's no need," he scrapes my hair back from my face. "But, if it makes you feel better then we'll organise a food hamper or something."
"Good plan," I reply.
Knowing that I'm hogging the baby, I start to hand her over, secretly loving the distressed squeak she lets out. Gosh, she's a pudding pie. Enzo acts right away, shielding her to his chest like a pro.
"Hello, Isabella. It's daddy here. Can you remember my voice, baby?" he says and my entire body melts to a pile of mush.
The nails on the edge of her tiny fingers glitter in the artificial light. I can't help myself when I pick them up to study each one, wanting to kiss her baby soft arm.
"Couldn't you just eat her?" I whisper, gritting my teeth slightly.
Enzo snorts. "I know what you mean. We make cute babies."
I have to agree. Of course. "Big ones too. Can you believe she was eight pounds?"
"No, not when I'm holding her now. It's as if she weighs nothing."
I tuck the top of her sheet swaddling together so it doesn't unravel. "You wouldn't be saying that if you were the one having to push her out of your body. I'll never walk again."
"Then I'll carry you until you do," he replies, bending down to kiss the top of my head.
I smile, not answering with words.
Isabella squeaks a little louder this time and we both glance over her head, gasping when her eyes slide open.
Ocean blue.
Just like her mummy.
The End.
...
I can't tell you how much I have appreciated your support on this story! It means so much to me!
I've had such fun writing this book, and I feel upset to have to let the characters go!
Look out for the Epilogue tomorrow!
Biggest hugs,
Holly ❤️