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.

groan as he turns away, which perversely makes me want to laugh in one of the more painful and trying

space at my side, Sinclair solid a solid

quickly through this,

and

But you should be in the final parts of it now," he says, patting my knee and giving me an

note, interestingly, that Cora rolls her eyes at him a little bit when he says this. I have no idea what that could mean - is

a few rounds, of me huffing and pushing with all of my might during the contractions and then resting, as best I can, in the short spaces between them. I can feel my baby moving inside

mate is by my side through every moment of

an endless repetition of this pattern,

cheer in her voice is a balm

at her with hope in my eyes

and his head will be born, and

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 in

"Oh, his little head!"

I nod, eager, and begin to push again. And push, and push. I gasp, laying back and panting as I feel the contraction end,

up and moaning at the

wrong? Where's

something wrong?" Sinclair asks, suddenly tense next

to let the doctor's do their work. Inaction and the passing of responsibility to another - no matter how much they outstrip him in their expertise - has never been his

mate wants to be

"Um,"

Ella -

up, to see the child, but my sister shakes her head at me, leaning forward

beg, my eyes fixed

you have to tell

sits back and I see

past few pushes.

"There is some worry,"

continues, "that because he’s such a large baby, that he could

I gasp,

goes rigid

common," Hank

this with large babies. It’s called shoulder dystocia — we think his

confused,

"What do we -"

her worried voice belies her