At First Sight - Nicholas Sparks [99]
“Okay,” the nurse finally said, “just take a seat and we’ll call you when we’re ready.”
“We have to wait again?” Jeremy exclaimed.
The nurse eyed him over her glasses. “Let me guess. Your first baby?”
“As a matter of fact, it is.”
The nurse shook her head. “Take a seat. Like I said, we’ll call you. And put the wristbands on.”
A couple of years later, Lexie’s name was finally called.
Okay, it wasn’t that long, but it seemed even longer. Lexie had already started another contraction, and she pressed her lips together, hands on her belly.
“Lexie Marsh?”
Jeremy stood up as if his pants were on fire and hopped behind the wheelchair. In a few quick steps, he was nearly at the swinging doors.
“Yeah, this is she,” he said. “We’re going to the room, right?”
“Yes,” she said, oblivious to Jeremy’s tone. “This way. We’ll be going to the maternity ward. It’s on the third floor. You doing okay, honey?”
“I’m fine,” Lexie answered. “I just had another contraction. They’re still about eight minutes apart.”
“I think we should go,” Jeremy said, and both Lexie and the nurse turned toward him. Granted, his tone might have been a little snappy, but this wasn’t the time for chitchat.
“Is that your bag over there?” the nurse asked.
“I’ll get it,” Jeremy said, mentally kicking himself.
“We’ll wait,” the nurse said.
Jeremy wanted to say, Gee, thanks in his most sarcastic voice but thought better of it. For all he knew, this was the lady who would be assisting with the delivery, and the last thing he wanted was to get on her bad side.
He rushed back and grabbed the bag, and they headed through the maze of corridors. Up the elevator, down the hall, and into the room. Finally.
The room was empty, sterile, and functional in the way all hospital rooms were. Lexie got up from the wheelchair and slipped into a robe before climbing carefully into bed. For the next twenty minutes, nurses bustled in and out of the room. Lexie had her blood pressure and pulse taken, had her cervix measured, answered the same questions about the duration of her labor and the timing of the contractions, when she’d had her last meal, any complications with the pregnancy. Toward the end, she was hooked up to a monitor, and she and Jeremy stared at the speedy rhythm of the baby’s heartbeat.
“Is it supposed to be that fast?” Jeremy asked.
“It’s just right,” the nurse reassured him. Then, turning to Lexie, she hooked the chart at the edge of the bed. “I’m Joanie, and I’ll be checking on you as the morning progresses. Since your contractions haven’t started getting closer, you might be here for a while. There’s no way to tell how long labor will last. Sometimes it suddenly clicks and goes fast; other times it’s more of a slow and steady progression. But don’t feel you need to stay in bed. Some women find that walking around helps, others like to sit, and others find that going on all fours is helpful. You’re not ready for the epidural you requested, so just do whatever you think you need to do to stay as comfortable as you can.”
“Okay,” she said.
“And . . . Mr. . . . ,” she said, turning to Jeremy.
“Marsh,” he said. “My name is Jeremy Marsh. And this is Lexie, my wife. We’re going to have a baby.”
The nurse looked amused by his response. “I can see that. But your role for the time being is to support her. Down the hall there’s an ice machine, and feel free to bring her as many ice chips as she wants. There are some washcloths by the sink that you can use to wipe her forehead. If she does want to walk around, just be there to support her. Sometimes contractions hit just right and the legs get wobbly; you don’t want her to fall.”
“I can do that,” he said, mentally going through the list.
“If you need a nurse, just press this button. Someone will get to you as soon as they can.”
The nurse started toward the door.
“Wait . . . You’re leaving?” Jeremy asked.
“I’ve got to check on another patient. And there’s not really anything else I can do right now, except to put in the call to the