It was the eve of Christmas, and Melanie was five days overdue, enduring the discomfort that comes with late-stage pregnancy. Outside, snowflakes drifted gently down as she reclined on the couch, her belly large and pronounced. A small plate balanced precariously on her protruding bump. Everything had been meticulously prepared for this moment, a month's worth of readiness. Brimming with excitement, the children relentlessly inquired about the impending arrival of baby Ian, particularly Kirsten, who celebrated her seventh birthday in October.
Since Grant's phone call from jail, he had fallen silent, leaving me to grapple with the conversation where I had inadvertently implicated him. While he knew my reluctance to harm Troy, he had a persuasive way about him, ultimately leading me to compromise my values. The guilt had consumed me in the days that followed, every doorbell ring or knock sending shivers down my spine as I dreaded the arrival of the police. Nevertheless, I had taken precautions. No one, not Grant nor anyone else, would jeopardize my budding romance or the imminent arrival of our baby.
Later that night, I jolted awake at the sound of Melanie's gasp. "My water just broke!" Her voice trembled as she stood at the foot of our bed, her gaze directed downward.
"All right, let's go!" I rouse the kids, who had their suitcases ready for this moment, meant for a visit to my parents when the time came. "Ian is on his way," Kirsten gleefully skipped toward the car. According to my watch, it was nearly 3:30 a.m., with Christmas looming just two days away. I silently cursed the timing.
As we sped towards the hospital, Melanie's moans filled the car. "These contractions are really intense."
"Hang in there, just a few more minutes."
Upon our arrival at the hospital, the orderlies whisked Melanie into the Labor and Delivery unit. I handled the check-in process, and upon entering her room, I found a plump nurse with short red hair, thick-rimmed brown glasses, and green eyes examining the contraction monitor.
"You're making great progress, Melanie. Contractions are strong, about every 4 minutes now. I'll call the doctor in to check on you soon," she assured us before departing. I glimpsed at her name badge as she left – Nurse Warner – and noted her thorough hand sanitizing routine.
"Did you hear that? We're almost there," I said, gently wiping Melanie's perspiring forehead. "Would you like some ice chips?" She nodded, moaning once more. I hurriedly sought out the nurse, procured a cup, and filled it with ice chips. Upon my return, she grasped an ice cube, rubbing it against her forehead and face before downing the entire cup.
"It's so hot," Melanie murmured, kicking off her covers.
A doctor, not Melanie's regular one, entered the room. "Hi, Melanie. I'll be delivering Baby Ian today, as Doctor Bradford is on Christmas vacation. Let's check your progress, shall we?" Dr. Bradford donned latex gloves, his silver hair glistening under the bright light he adjusted. Towering in stature, he positioned himself and examined her, a warm smile gracing his face. "You're dilated to a 7 now, so it won't be long," he informed us, prompting another pained moan from Melanie.
"It's painful. Can I get an epidural?" Melanie inquired, her voice tinged with desperation.
The doctor's expression turned apologetic. "I'm afraid it's too late for that now. You're too far along. But, considering your progress, Ian will be here soon." Melanie sighed, closing her eyes, visibly attempting to regain her composure.
Around twenty minutes later, Melanie uttered, "I have to push; he's coming." Her voice quivered with fatigue. I rushed out of the room to summon the doctor. He arrived promptly, examined her, and confirmed that she was fully dilated and ready to push.
At 4:42 AM, Ian made his entrance into the world, his cries filling the room. He boasted a full head of dark brown hair, reminiscent of Jayden's birth. As I studied his tiny features, I couldn't help but notice the similarities – his nose and lips matched mine. The realization hit me like a thunderbolt. It was my birthday, and we had been intimate for the first time in a long while. She had done it as a birthday gift, but I had been oblivious to her affair with Troy.
Ian might be my son.
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