Part 7 (1/2)
”Jones,” Hannah said, slightly dazed.
The nurse's mouth twisted skeptically as she wrote. ”Address?”
Hannah gave the address of the Athina. Stan also learned she was twenty-three years old and could name no living relative. She'd been raised in foster homes and never knew her parents. She refused to give any information about the father of the child. Somehow, as the nurse continued the questions, Stan found himself holding Hannah's hand tight, doing his best to give moral support.
When the nurse pulled out yet another form, Hannah doubled over with a contraction. Perspiration flowed from Stan's forehead. He was sure she'd give birth right there at the front desk.
”Can't we hurry?” he wailed. The contractions seemed to be only about five minutes apart at this point.
The nurse was unmoved as she asked about insurance coverage. Because Hannah didn't have any, Stan went through a lengthy song-and-dance during which he agreed to pay basic, everything-goes-like-clockwork costs, capped at $12,000. That it could cost so much to have a baby stunned him. Fortunately, his father had plenty of money.
”We're going to send you up to the maternity ward,” the nurse said. ”You don't need to be in emergency, the baby's got a while yet. They'll take good care of you up there.” She then handed copies of the paperwork to Stan. ”Give this to the receiving desk on the fifth floor.”
”Me? But...” He gazed longingly over his shoulder toward the exit.
”The elevators are to your left.”
Before he knew it, Stan was not only on the fifth floor, but waiting outside the examination room. Everyone seemed to a.s.sume he wanted to stay with Hannah. Rather than argue, he went along. After making sure she was all right, he planned to go straight home.
His own nervousness surprised him, a ridiculous state to be in over someone he'd just met. Someone whose last name he didn't know because whatever it was, it certainly wasn't Jones. She was a stranger to him. Nothing more.
When Dr. Linda Jedlicka peered into the waiting room, Stan jumped to his feet. ”Is she all right?”
”She's fine.” The doctor gave him a rea.s.suring smile. ”The baby's heartbeat is strong. I expect things will be happening in the next hour or two. She's asked for natural childbirth, so we'll move her into a very nice delivery room set up to look much like a bedroom. If anything goes wrong, though, it's just steps away from a full operating room. You can wait for her in number twelve on the right. When the nurse wheels her in she'll show you a b.u.t.ton to press if things start happening more quickly than expected.”
”Me?” Stan felt woozy. ”But, you see, I...”
Dr. Jedlicka's eyes were kind as she rubbed his shoulder. ”Don't worry. She'll be just fine. And so will you.”
As Stan sat in the delivery room with Hannah, he again considered calling Angie. She should take over here for him. Women understood these things. He didn't. Not the slightest bit. Hannah seemed to find comfort by his presence, though, and he decided to wait a while. Big mistake.
When ”things” started to happen, as the doctor put it, all h.e.l.l broke loose.
All Stan could remember was that he'd tried to leave, he really had, but Hannah was holding his hand so tight his knuckles were squished together, and the nurse gave him a fierce glare as she said, ”You aren't going to leave her alone now, are you?”
He edged closer to Hannah for protection.
Before he knew it, he'd been tied into a gown like a sausage, and the dictatorial nurse was instructing him to tell Hannah when to breathe.
”Breathe?” His voice cracked. That was the only word he managed to get out of his mouth when the nurse told him exactly what she thought of men who didn't bother to attend Lamaze cla.s.ses. He was too dumbfounded to speak up for himself, especially when Hannah went into the most violent contraction he'd ever seen.
He took a moment to thank G.o.d he wasn't a woman.
The nurse coached him on how to coach Hannah, and he found himself growing increasingly light-headed as he huffed and puffed along with her through the contractions, and wiped sweat from her brow-and his own-in between them.
After what seemed like an eternity, the doctor announced that the crown of the baby's head was visible.
Up to this time, he'd stayed near Hannah's head, her legs draped with a sheet. Now, though, at the excitement Dr. Jedlicka and the nurse displayed, curiosity got hold of him. He peeked. He thought he'd feel like a Peeping Tom, but he didn't. The sight was too overwhelming for there to be anything the slightest bit s.e.xual about it.
Birth, right there, in front of his eyes.
He felt weak in the knees, but he couldn't turn away. He couldn't miss it. He gripped Hannah's hand, and for the first time, smiled at her. ”Soon, Hannah. Everything will be fine.”
She was surprisingly stoical. He could tell when the pain came hard, but she never cried out. In fact, between contractions, he heard her thanking him for staying with her. Between her thanks and the nurse's frowns, he'd been frozen to the spot.
And scared. Every little order the doctor gave to Hannah or the nurse was like a stab to his heart. What's wrong? He'd wanted to shout. Is something wrong? But he'd been too afraid to ask for fear that the doctor would say yes.
Now, though, now...
His head was swimming when the doctor said, ”Here it comes.”
Stan held his breath as the baby's entire head emerged, and then watched the doctor ease out a shoulder. He had no idea a baby's bones were so gelatinous.
The hospital room began to spin. The baby was coated with some whitish, reddish gunk. Once the head and shoulders were out, the rest followed so quickly, Stan couldn't believe it.
”It's a girl!” The doctor announced.
A girl? His eyes welled with tears.
”She's beautiful,” the nurse said, smiling at Hannah.
”Take the scissors,” the doctor ordered.
From a deep fog, Stan tore his gaze from the baby and realized he was the one the doctor was speaking to. The nurse handed him huge shears.
”Cut,” Dr. Jedlicka said.
The umbilical cord.
Stan moved the scissors where the doctor indicated and pressed down. The cord was much harder than he thought, and as he pressed, he realized that this was living flesh...alive.
Black and purple spots danced in front of his eyes. He wondered if he'd ever forget the sound of the scissors against the cord, the way it felt as he cut through it.
The nurse was cleaning up the baby, he guessed. He wasn't aware of much of anything except that Hannah was no longer in pain. He was watching the doctor, trying to regain his composure, to be cool, suave Stan once again, when the afterbirth came sliding out of Hannah's body.
And that was when Stan-the-Man fell over in a dead faint.
Chapter 8.
Angie was ready to give whoever was pounding at her door before eight o'clock in the morning a good piece of her mind, but her annoyance vanished at the sight of Stan, unshaven, disheveled, exhausted, and babbling like a madman.
His story about helping some woman he barely knew give birth was a half sentence from total incoherence. Angie realized it was the waitress, but still, why would some stranger want Stan Bonnette with her at such a time? No one could be that desperate.
He was going to sleep for a while, he said, and asked if she'd drive him back to the hospital later to meet Hannah and the baby. Of course she agreed. She'd never seen Stan in such a state-troubled, confused, and overwhelmingly elated all at the same time. She had to find out what this was all about.
She thought he'd sleep most of the day, but at noon he was shaved, nattily dressed in a sports jacket, knit pullover, gabardine slacks, and loafers, his hair perfectly coiffed, and ready to head for Marin General.