Julian and the Bodily Fluids

“Oh, Julian,” Katie sang from the kitchen. 

“Yes, my love,” he replied, springing up from his chair. “Oh, you’re all wet.”

“Yeah, my water broke,” like it were a daily occurrence. 

“Oh.” Julian turned to find a towel, but it finally registered. “Oh!” Then it really registered, and Julian turned to stone. His hands slowly proceeded up to his head to keep his thoughts from rocketing out of his skull.

‘Oh-my-goodness-we’re-having-a-baby-and-it’s-coming-now-RIGHT-now-’

“Julian? Do you want to take me to the hospital?” She was so calm.

“Um, yes, dear. Let me find my keys.”

“They’re in the key bowl.”

“Got it.”

“And can you get my overnight bag?”

“Your-”

“It’s by the door.”

“Ok.”

“Julian?”

“Yes?”

“Breathe. And maybe I should drive.”

“No, no, I can get it. I got it. The hospital. Keys. Bag. Anything else?”

“Let’s start with those.”

When Julian was done loading up the car, he looked at his wife. She was so serene, even as her labor started to pick up. Julian, on the other hand, was a frantic squiggle of anxiety. He missed all the birthing classes, because the plan had been for Katie’s sister Emily to be in the room when -it- happened. Julian wasn’t indifferent to the momentous event, but he had the propensity to either faint or vomit in the presence of bodily fluids. However, Emily had the gall to get bronchitis two days prior and would have to settle for facebook pictures.

“Julian, the hospital is the other direction.”

“Oh, right. I’ll make a U-turn.”

When they made it to the hospital, Julian dropped Katie off and parked, only to get flummoxed at all the possible directions his bursting wife could have gone. Upon reaching the delivery unit, the clerk recognized his panicked demeanor from Katie’s description and told him that his wife was in room 303. 

Ten minutes later, Katie was being wheeled into the delivery room. Julian kissed her sweaty forehead as she left, then felt a slight surge of acid in his throat, not due to the thought of what would soon happen in and out of the southern region of Katie’s anatomy, but because he was about to miss his child’s first breath on this planet. He was a man, after all, and heaven help him if he didn’t even try.

He leapt up and ran after Katie’s gurney.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!”

Katie pushed for 92 minutes. Julian kept himself vertical for 82. Sitting in the corner with his head between his knees, he finally heard his daughter’s first cry. Something shifted in his head. He was a new man. He rose. Katie, red-faced and out of breath, smiled at the baby, then at Julian. Julian went over to kiss his wife and look at their child. 

Her tiny face grimacing, tiny lungs stretching, tiny fingers clutching his, Julian’s hearing fading, room darkening, floor advancing toward him...