Accidental Surrogate

Ella

I'm gripping my sister’s hand, gritting my teeth and groaning through the first of my pushes, when the door bangs open again.I don’t open my eyes — can't look - Quite frankly, at this particular moment I don’t care who the hell it is - if it's Hank, or Roger, or insurgents coming to kill us — all I care about is the horrible, tearing pain within me as I work to bring my baby into the world.I moan, throwing my head back against the pillows as I pant, feeling the pain subside a little bit.

"How is she?"

I hear Hank ask, and I open my eyes to see him there next to me.I try to give him a little smile, failing a bit.

"Hello, Ella," he says softly, his voice warmer than I'm used to.

"You look like you're doing great." mI murmur my thanks to him as he turns his attention back to Cora, getting a full report, and I shift my gaze to Roger, who stands awkwardly across the room.

"Roger," I say, putting my hand out to him, inviting him closer.

"Hello, Ella!" he calls, awkward.

"Happy...happy birth. Or whatever."

Sinclair starts to laugh quietly.

"Come over, Roger," he demands and Roger sighs, hanging his head and deliberately choosing not to look at me as he comes to stand with his brother.

"What," Sinclair asks him as he arrives at his side.

"More of a cigars in the waiting room kind of guy?"

"Yeah," Roger agrees, giving his brother a little glare.

"I'd say that’s much more my vibe."

"I wanted you here," I say to him, giving him a tired little smile.

"I want you to meet the baby."

"Of course I want to meet the baby, Ella," Roger says, his voice kinder now as he meets my gaze.

"Just...when you've cleaned it up a bit. Gotten some of the goop off." I laugh, a little, but groan when I feel the pain start to return.

Cora climbs up onto the bed for this one, cursing a little at the lack of stirrups and the soft surface of the mattress that makes it harder for her to see what's really going on.

which perversely makes me want to laugh in one

space at my side, Sinclair solid a solid force next to my

moved quite quickly

the contraction ends and

be in the final parts of it now,"

at him a little bit when he says this. I have no idea what that could mean - is there trouble

continues for a few rounds, of me huffing and pushing with all of my might during the contractions and then resting, as

sister calls encouragement to me and my mate is by my side through every

feels like an endless repetition of this pattern,

she says, and the cheer in her voice is

with hope in my eyes and

will be born, and then it’s

for the next contraction and, when it comes and Cora tells me to, I push - absolutely as hard as I can, giving a guttural yell while I do

"Oh, his little head!"

says, smiling at me, "he’s here, Ella! Just a couple more to bring forward his body next!" I nod, eager, and begin to push again. And push, and push. I gasp, laying back and panting as I feel the contraction end, and I look to Cora for instructions. Instead of a happy smile, though, I

to sit up and moaning at the pain

wrong? Where's my

Sinclair asks,

Inaction and the passing of responsibility to another - no matter how

mate wants

"Um,"

"it’s okay, Ella - he’s almost born

baby. I struggle to sit up, to see the child, but my sister shakes her head at me, leaning forward to press

my

you have to tell

she sits back and I see that her face

didn’t make any progress in the past few pushes. Which is sometimes a

"There is some worry,"

such a large

I gasp,

rigid

Hank says

of women experience this with large babies. It’s called shoulder dystocia —

confused, baffled, horribly

"What do we -"

though her worried voice belies her