Birth Plan

VIOLET

I’ve been stuck in this hospital for over two months, and I’m going out of my mind. I’m going cabin crazy.

You’d think I’d be accustomed to being confined to one place. After all, I spent years trapped in my bedroom, living in terror of being abused or assaulted. But my life has taken a dramatic turn since then.

I no longer live in fear of being dominated or abused. I don’t have to worry about speaking out of turn or saying the wrong thing. Or being punished for it. But I do enjoy playing… I love our intimate moments, and I love being spanked or flogged.

I especially enjoy being double penetrated or even triple if one of them takes my mouth at the same time.

Damn, I’m so sexually frustrated.

I never envisioned spending most of my pregnancy bedridden, with my legs elevated, hooked up to machines, and taking pills daily… all to keep myself healthy so these boys could grow as long as possible.

But… whatever the doctors have prescribed and what I’ve done must have worked because I’m officially thirty-four weeks today, which is only one week less than when Ella was born.

They’ve decided to remove the cerclage today. It’s a medical procedure performed in the operating room to remove the stitch in my cervix.

I don’t get to go home, but I no longer have to lie in this damned bed.

I can walk and get on the floor to play with Ella and Tilly, both of whom will be visiting me today.

Sophie has kindly agreed to pick Tilly up from here this evening so Tyler can stay as late as he wants because the doctors made a special exception.

They expect these boys to arrive in the next few days because the stitch is all that’s keeping them inside of me, apparently.

My boys are all allowed to stay tonight, maybe even tomorrow night, so they don’t miss the birth. Which will, unfortunately, be via a cesarean section.

I have a low-lying placenta that’s only partially covering my cervix, among other things that have gone wrong with this pregnancy. I can’t wait for the boys to be out so that my body doesn’t feel like it’s been run over by a ten-ton truck repeatedly.

I have more bruises on my arms than ever. I haven’t stopped feeling nauseous because of the medication they have me on, and it’s been a shit show over the last four and a bit months.

Nothing like I thought it would be.

My contractions have been a constant daily struggle for the last six weeks. They just have never gone away, even with the magnesium they’ve been pumping through my veins.

And since they stopped the magnesium yesterday, they’ve been painful. It’s why they’ve finally decided to remove the small stitch in my cervix. Because according to the machines, my contractions are every three minutes, and my cervix has started to change.

Apparently, it’s already shortened and thinned out a significant amount since yesterday, though they claimed it was short and effaced beforehand, so I don’t know if that’s particularly true.

They think the boys are coming any day now, and they don’t want the cerclage to rip through my cervix…because that would cause future problems like having another baby. And the boys do want another…

Though that’s up for debate after this pregnancy, it’s been one hit after another like a train crashing and all of its cars hitting the one in front before it’s fully stopped, causing a pile-up of problems that are emotionally and physically exhausting.

I know that I’m only thinking this because I’ve been suffering these last few months, but it’s how I feel now and at this moment.

That doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten the deal I made, that I would have at least one child from each of the boys.

I’m halfway there obviously, because Ella is Tyler’s, and these two boys are either Callum’s or Zach’s, so that’s only one more pregnancy that I’ve actually committed to having.

Though if Zach had his way, I’d always be swollen and round with a child inside me.

“Okay, I’m just about to cut the stitch. I am going to have to warn you, Violet, that I may break the water bag because it is bulging on either side of the stitch,” Dr. Fellows tells me from between my legs.

I have Zach’s hand in one hand and Callum’s in the other. And Tyler is sitting just outside with the girls in the buggy. The feeling of a pinch as the doctor removes the stitch, then the warm explosion of what I presume is my waters is present.

“Well, dang it,” he says, physically jumping back as he is soaked from head to toe in the tsunami of gushing water exiting my body.

It’s not like I can even help him out because both my legs are up in stirrups, so that my legs are spread wide, so my lady parts are on show for anyone to look at.

“Violet, how are your contractions?” he asks me while stripping his top from his body.

It doesn’t escape my notice that Zach gives him a good twice over, not that I can blame him because Atticus is what you define as a hot doctor. He’s smart, good-looking, fit, and a doctor.

“Still painful.” I shrug, as painful as they have been for the last few days, at least.

“They might step up a gear now your waters have gone.”

“No shit,” I tell him because I remember the drastic change after Ella’s waters broke.

“Here, Dr. Fellows,” the nurse that I can never remember the name of because she’s so damned quiet passes the doctor another blue T-shirt that matches his now soaked one.

“Okay, so Dr. Samir isn’t here today. So I guess you’re stuck with me,” he says with a grin. “If I’m correct, your labor will move along swiftly, and I am willing to allow you to give birth naturally taking into account baby A is head down and engaged and that placenta had moved up,” he states, looking between the three of us as he helps me get my legs down from their confinements.

“Are you serious?” I ask excitedly.

“Their placenta is still low-lying, but it isn’t obstructing the cervix anymore. So as long as babies are happy and you don’t get too tired and providing your blood pressure remains stable, I think you have a good shot at a natural birth.”

I grin, almost squealing.

“I’m not too tired. I’ll be fine.” It’s been a long time of worry being on an operating table cut open to give birth to my boys.

I would do it for them if I had to, of course, but I don’t want to be cut open. And I certainly don’t want that huge needle…being inserted into my back, no fucking way.

My contractions remain evenly paced, at three minutes apart for one hour after my waters broke.

Dr. Fellows, whose first name is now on my baby’s list of names for the boys, comes in to start a drip of Pitocin to make sure things move ahead at a steady pace. Apparently, we don’t want an infection starting up.

“You sure you don’t want the epidural? This medication will speed things along painfully,” he tells me seriously. I shake my head profusely toward him, not really knowing what I’m denying.

“Nope, I’ll be fine.” He nods, smirking to himself as he sees all three of my boys and Ella and Tilly on the floor playing with some bricks.

“You’ll soon be home with your family. Ring the bell if things get too painful, won’t you?”

“Sure I will…” not if I can help it.

“You little liar,” Callum jokes as the door clicks shut.

“Have you seen the needle they wanted to put in my back? No, thank you,” I comment dryly.

True to the doctor’s words, my contractions do become more frequent and more painful over the next few hours. So much so that we had to call Carla to come and collect the girls because I was moaning too much and upsetting them because I was upset.

“Guess these boys are coming?” she said as she picked up Ella and held onto Tilly’s hand, smiling my way while I was trying to keep in the milk-curdling scream that was sounding itself in my head.

“I think so, Ma,” Zach had replied, walking the three of them out.

Tilly’s walking now, and she just had her first birthday party at the end of October that I had missed. Though I did FaceTime her, and she looked as if she was thoroughly enjoying the soft play center that Sophie and Tyler had decided upon, I still felt like I had failed her, though.

“Oh fuck,” I swear into Callum’s chest as another wave of excruciating pain takes hold of my tummy.

If I thought Ella’s labor was bad, it had nothing on this one. Jesus, Ella’s pregnancy was nothing compared to this one.

“You sure you don’t want something for the pain?” Tyler asks from my left. I grab his hand, squeezing as hard as I fucking can until the wave of pain subsides. His face pales at the pain of my grip on his hand, but he’s wise enough not to complain.

“They are not putting that needle in me. I’ve had far too many already!” I state with no room for argument.

Tyler and Callum exchange a knowing smile, their eyebrows raised in anticipation. I lean back, trying to catch my breath, bracing myself for the next wave of pain. It comes, stronger than before, and I can feel the unmistakable pressure of our first son making his way down.

“I think we should get the doctor,” I manage to gasp out, clutching at Callum’s neck for support. My legs are shaking uncontrollably, the pain reaching a new, unbearable peak.

“No need, Violet. The machines have already alerted me. You’re transitioning,” Dr. Fellow announces, striding into the room with Zach and the nurse, Millie, trailing behind him. “Looks like it’s baby time after just three hours. You’re making this easy for me, Violet.”

Zach takes my hand, replacing Tyler’s. He’s always been better at handling pain than Tyler. Tyler doesn’t complain, though. He just moves to the foot of the bed, watching as the doctor dons his gown and gloves.

“Where are the neonatal nurses?” I ask, my voice shaky. They were supposed to be here, ready to help if the boys needed it.

“It’s just us, Violet. Don’t worry,” Dr. Fellow reassures me, a smirk playing on his too-handsome face. “Dr. Samir tends to overthink things, like you. I’m more of an optimist. Your boys are big and strong. They’ll be fine. But I did call for backup, just in case. Someone will be here soon.”

“We had a plan,” I protest weakly, the next contraction seizing me. Panic sets in as I realize our carefully laid plans are falling apart.

“She’s right. We had a plan,” Callum echoes, his hand tightening around mine.

“Let’s concentrate on bringing these little guys into the world, alright?” Dr. Fellow proposes, his voice carrying a hint of levity.

“If I wasn’t hurting so much right now, I’d sock you one,” I retort, the familiar sensation of pressure mounting once more. I can’t prevent my body from pushing. I’m left with no option but to comply with the doctor’s revised strategy.

“Let’s see how you feel after these boys are born, shall we?” Even Millie can’t hide her grin, keeping herself occupied by readying the warmed cribs for the twins.