"I... I... Dammit!" I cried, withering pain, tugging at every inch of me.
The family had insisted in no epidural, they insisted the birh be as natural as possible. Overcompensating for having a surrogate; that's what they were doing. They wanted a water birth, something I'd politely declined. I wasn't giving birth- especially the first time- in what was essentially a kiddie pool.
"Holly, darling," Ms. Waitsling cooed, gently patting my head. "Do you need anything? Ice chips? Anything?"
"No-o." I moaned, my breaths were labored, as I attempted to refrain from cursing, somehing the prestigious family frowned upon, an demanding drugs. If Joycèe Waitsling, a tall brunette with skin the color of honey, her eyes warm caramel, and her husband, Jared Jonathan Waitsling Junior had come to me shortly after I told one of my friends, a fellow surrogate, that I needed money desperately and I had no desire in selling my eggs. I didn't want any baby running around, looking like me, unless I was raising it.
She'd told me surrogacy was a great choice. Most woman who employed her ha issues with their filopian tubes or their uturus or had lives where pregnancy would be too risky; they needed someone to be their test tube, their oven to stick her and her husband's bun in.
I'd redialy agreed, going through the process, a long, grueling process.
Now I was dying on sheets someone else had given birth on forty-eight hours ago.
"The doctor said it'll be soon." She told me, as her husband readied the video came.
Damn. Some odd couple was going to have a permanent record of what my women parts looked like while a watermelon emerged from them.
"Remember," Jared said, in a gruff voice, "push."
I smiled weakly, nodding. They'd only accompanied me to three times a week birthing classes every week after I hit the third trimester.
"And breath." Joycèe added. "Deep breaths."
"We cannot wait to meet Jared Jonathan lll!" If I ever have children, I refuse to name them after myself or my husband; I found the concept ridiculous, unorgional. Pick something new for the first name; this was why we had middle names, is you can flatter someone, yet the child will never use it if it ends up being terrible.
"Or Jane Joycèe Jaylean June." Joycèe replied. "After my mother, me, my sister, and my grandmother."
4J or J.J. the third.
Lovely choices.
"Alright!" The doctor exlaimed, entering the room, walking toward me. "I think it's time to deliver a baby!"
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