I called Layla. “I think something is wrong,” I said as soon as Layla picked up.
“I'll be right there.”
Click.
A few more throbs came and went before Layla let herself in.
“Tell me what's going on,” she said as she walked in.
I told her, and as I was telling her, she began walking around the apartment like she was looking for something.
“What are you doing?” I was confused as I watched her flit around the apartment, like a bee going from flower to flower.
“I'm looking for your go bag.”
“My what?”
“Your hospital bag. I'm pretty sure you're in labor.”
“I don't have one.” Layla stopped in her tracks.
“What do you mean you don't have one?”
“I don't have anything packed.”
“Why?” Her voice was quickly turning into that matronly voice adults get when a kid does something not necessarily wrong, but not smart.
“I don't know. Figured I’d throw some stuff together when I needed to.” I shrugged my shoulders and sucked in a deep breath as another sharp pain came.
“Oh. Kay. What do you want to pack? Just tell me and I'll get it.” I told her the usual items: toiletries, extra clothes, a pillow.
“Where's the baby’s coming home outfit, blanket, car seat, diaper bag?”
“I don't have it.” I looked at her ready to burst into tears.
“What, you don’t have an outfit? Oh, no worries.” She waved me off.
“No, I don't have any of it”. By this point, the tears began to stream down.
Oh my gosh. I'm an awful mom. Before the baby's born. I have nothing. The crib is set up. That's it? The tears fell harder.
Layla could see my thoughts across my face and ran to me and took my hands.
“No, you are not horrible. Listen to me.” She pulled my hands to force my body to face her and looked me in the eyes. “You are not bad. You've had a very rough few months. You've been in pure survival mode and that is okay. Don't worry about that. We'll help you. You'll figure it out. Hey, it's okay.” She hugged me, shushing me and my tears as I silently balled. Another stabbing pain broke the moment.
“Okay. We have the basics and that's fine. Once you can stand, we'll head out.” She squeezed my hand.
By the time I got settled in my labor and delivery room, Dale had showed up, but it wasn't until I saw Isaac that I really cried. I mean, ugly cried. It had been the first time I had seen him since he got back. I had missed a welcome home ceremony.
“How am I supposed to do this?” I asked through ugly sobs and contractions.
“Like every other woman on the planet has done since the dawn of time.” Layla wiped my face.
“No. How am I going to raise this child? I can't do this on my own. This baby is never going to know who their father is or was. I can't do this.”
In stereo, Dale and Isaac answered. “Yes, they will know who Colin was. We all will make sure of it.”
“You can do this, Joleene, and you are not alone. We are all here.” Layla had never called me Joleene. Not in all the years we'd known each other.
“You’ve never called me that.”
“What, Jo? I've always called you Jo.”
“No, you said Joleene. In fact, no one ever called me Joleene except Colin.”
But before any of us could think about her slip of the tongue, another contraction hit, causing me to yell out as my doctor came in.
“Well, now, looks like we have a full house. Who do we have here?”
“Hello sir.” Isaac piped up before I could even form a thought. “The father was my best friend and I wanted to be here for Jo. She's family. And this here,” he continued, pointing to Dale, “is her brother.”
“Oh, that's nice of you two to stop by.” Then, turning his focus on me, he asked, “How are you feeling, Jo?”
Trying to take a deep breath was no easy feat. “I'm okay. I guess.” I was struggling to adjust to a more comfortable position.
“Well, let's check how you're doing.” As the doctor went to check on my progress, Isaac and Dale averted their eyes.
“We’ll be right outside if you need us, Jo.” They both about tripped over each other trying to get out of the room while looking at the ceiling. It was quite comical to watch.
After checking me, the doctor said, “Wow. You're about seven centimeters. I'd say within the next few hours, you will meet your little one. Let's get a hold of anesthesiology for an epidural stat and make sure we are fully prepped,” he called to the nurses. “Don't worry, Jo. We'll see if we can't help you be a little bit more comfortable.”
“Okay”—my response was cut off by another contraction.
A little while later the anesthesiologist showed up, but before he could administer my epidural, my water broke and the nurses began checking to make sure everything was fine.
“Get the doctor! This baby is coming. Now!” Evidently I had progressed faster than anyone anticipated, myself included.
Ten minutes later, Layla was cutting the cord and the nurse was placing my newborn on my chest. Tears flowed like a waterfall.
As I held this precious baby in my arms, all I could think of was how amazing this child already was. Just as the nurse was asking for his name, he opened his eyes. My breath caught; staring back at me was Colin.
“What?”
“What is his name?”
“His name? I have a son?” I stared
