"I know. I called you first. Now I'm calling a car."
He heard a voice in the background.
"Actually, Nate is calling me a car. He's panicking. Hang on." Mike heard her speak sharply to Nate. "No! Do not call 911. That's ridiculous. This isn't an emergency!"
"Want me to handle it?" He had two car companies on speed dial for this very purpose. And the dog-eared pregnancy book on their bedside table at home had warned that contractions would kick in pretty hard after her water broke.
"I've got it. Seriously. Just figure out when you can get on a plane for home."
"I'll do my best, baby! Hang in there. Love you."
"Love you, too." There was a click and she was gone.
He stood there a moment longer, phone in hand, just trying to catch up with the sudden U-turn his day had just made. Then he spun into action. "Becca!"
She came running. "What is it?"
"Lauren went into labor. I need to get home."
Becca gave an excited little shriek, and pulled a tablet out of her bag. "I'm on it. Give me five minutes to find you a flight."
"What's this I hear?" Silas asked, walking up and giving Mike's shoulder a squeeze. "Is this the call I think it is?"
"You're playing tomorrow night in Toronto. You ready?"
"Of course. Don't worry about a thing. I'll go tell Coach." Silas jogged off, a smile on his face. The team would call up a third goalie from Hartford to fly to Ontario as Silas's backup. The team would survive without him for a game. He had more important business to attend to.
Mike turned around to find his carry-on. He'd forgotten about the two stuffed toys clutched in his fist. But now he marveled at them. The pig was pink and silly, the bulldog a little more serious, with big eyes.
He knew a good omen when he saw one.
• • •
It took him five hours to get to New York, and another hour in traffic to NYU's hospital. She'd texted him her room number on the labor and delivery ward, but the place was a maze, and he ran through the corridors feeling like an idiot.
Finally he found room 412, popping his head inside to find Lauren in a bed wearing a hospital gown and a freaked-out expression. "Hey!" he said, dropping his duffel and sitting on the edge of the bed. "What did I miss?"
"I'm so happy to see you," she said, grabbing for his hand. "You didn't miss much. They keep checking me, but I haven't made it to ten centimeters." She pointed at an IV bag which dripped a clear fluid into her wrist. "That's Pitocin, to move things along."
"All right." He kissed her forehead. "How's your pain?"
"Well . . ." she sighed. "I don't know why I didn't expect it to hurt so much," she panted.
He removed her suit jacket and hung it on a hook. "Do you want the anesthesiologist?"
"I think I do. Oh . . ." she gasped. "Here we go again."
As he watched, her face creased from pain. She took a deep breath and blew it out.
"I got you," he said uselessly, pulling her big belly against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his back and groaned. He rubbed her lower back, and she seemed to relax a little.
Eventually she sat back and let out a sigh. "I think that was four minutes since the last one."
A nurse ran in. "Oh, hello there!" she greeted Mike.
He shook her hand and introduced himself. "She says she's ready to talk to the anesthesiologist about an epidural."
"I'll just page him," the nurse offered.
"I thought if I didn't get it yet, the baby might wait for you," Lauren said, sighing against her pillows.
"Why?" It killed him to think of her in pain because of him. "Hey, I like your game jersey." He fingered the hospital gown, which had bunnies on it.
She gave him a weak grin. "Thank you for being funny right now. I'm freaking out. I hate freaking out."
"You are going to be fine. And so is the baby." He kissed her forehead two more times, just for luck. "But if you want the drugs, just go for it. There's no championship cup for suffering."
"I know," she mumbled against his shirt. "Mike, can I just say that I'm really happy you've done this before? At least one of us knows what's happening."
"Aw." He put his chin on her shoulder and reached his arms around, stretching to rub her very swollen belly. "That's not why I'm unafraid." He rubbed his new baby through her taut skin. "We don't need to know anything, because there are a dozen doctors and nurses on this floor who do this every day."
"Mmm." She relaxed against him for a couple of minutes. Then he heard her suck in her breath.
Beneath his hands, her tummy grew even tighter as the contraction hit. Wow. The human body was astonishing. "Breathe, baby."
She exhaled in a great gust. "Fuck, that hurts."
"I know." Though he didn't really. And the last time he'd sat in a hospital room with a laboring woman, he wasn't even legal to drink. All he remembered from that experience was Shelly screaming at him, and then his first sight of Elsa's tiny face, red and wet and shrieking right after she was born.
It wasn't terrifying until they'd handed him that tiny baby, and he realized that nothing would ever be the same. From that point on, he was responsible for three lives, not just his own.
Fast forward almost a decade and a half, and he knew now that this right here was the good stuff. Responsibility is the flip side of joy.
"How are we doing today?" a smooth-faced doctor asked on his way into the room.
"Well, I'm feeling pretty good," Mike joked. "You?"
"Ouch," Lauren panted.
The younger man grinned. "That sounds about right. I'm Dr. Phelps, the anesthesiologist. Do you want to talk about an epidural?"
"Let's skip the talking," Lauren panted. "I'll take it."
Dr. Phelps smiled again. "All right. I'll be back in a few minutes with my cart."
Doctors and nurses came and went as Lauren breathed through contractions, waiting for her body to push the puck toward the goal. The only scary moment was when the anesthesiologist asked Lauren to brace herself against Mike's chest and hold still so he could perform his procedure.
Mike held tightly to her body and stared pointedly at the doctor who was busy inserting the needle into the spine of the love of his life. Careful, he inwardly threatened.
But it went fine, and Lauren was able to relax as her pain became more manageable.
Mike left the room only once to make some calls. He let Lauren's mother know the baby was coming. He called Hans to make sure he'd made it to the house to stay the night with Elsa. Their favorite manny was living in a different Brooklyn neighborhood with his boyfriend, but he frequently came over for practice sessions with Elsa, or just for dinner.
When the OB decided Lauren was ready to push, a lovely nurse came to perch at Lauren's side. Mike's job was to hold one of her knees for each contraction.
It was two in the morning. He and Lauren had both been up for twenty hours. She grimaced with every push, and a sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. Yet she'd never looked more beautiful to him, and he'd never been more at peace. It was pitch dark outside the hospital window. In spite of the presence of the doctor and the nurse, he felt as though he and Lauren were cocooned here together. A championship team of two.
"It burns," Lauren panted.
"The baby is crowning," the doctor announced. "Do you want to feel the head?"
"No," Lauren gasped. "Let's just finish this up."
The doctor laughed. "Two more good pushes and you'll hear your baby cry. Ready?"
Tears welled in her eyes during the next contraction.
"Almost, honey," he whispered, wiping sweat off her forehead with his shirt sleeve.
But she didn't seem to hear him. She closed her eyes and dug deep and bore down. He braced her heel in one hand and rubbed her back with the other.
"That's it!" the doctor encouraged. "I have your baby's head in my hand. One more push and you'll know if it's a boy or a girl."
A boy. Mike thought of the blue bulldog in his duffel bag, and just knew.
Lauren made a low noise from deep in her chest and tensed her face.
A minute later the doctor said, "Baby boy, time of birth two thirty-seven A.M." The nurse handed him a towel. "Come and cut the cord, Dad."
The next sound he heard was a thin little cry. Lauren closed her eyes and smiled. And the room went a little blurry.
• • •
Later, Lauren wouldn't be able to remember the next hour. She was just too tired. The moment she heard her son cry, she relaxed against the pillow and let everyone else take over.