Chapter 23: Frances

The labor lasted nine hours, and Nolan was there for every minute of it.

He did not leave the room except when a nurse made him.

Then he stood in the corridor with the door open and listened.

At two in the morning, I told him I hated him.

"That's fair," Nolan said, and he held a cup of ice chips to my mouth.

"I hate you, and I hate your father, and I hate this bed."

"Two out of three."

I laughed and the laugh turned into a groan.

"Which two?" I said when I could speak.

"I'll tell you after."

My mother was asleep in a chair in the corner, with her blanket pulled up and her Bible on her lap.

Vicki had gone to the waiting room, and I could hear her through the wall telling a security guard about labor law.

The doctor from the first day came in at three, pulled on her gloves, and looked at the monitor.

"She's thirty-one weeks and a day," she said. "She's small and she's early, and she's got a good heart."

She smiled behind her mask.

"We've got a team down the hall for her. Are you ready to meet her?"

"No," I said.

"Good. Nobody is."

I pushed.

I held Nolan's hand so hard that something in it cracked, and he said nothing at all.

I pushed again, and I felt the whole weight of the last eight months go out of me at once.

"Head's out," the doctor said. "One more, Avery. Give me one more."

I bore down with a cry I did not know I had.

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