Stacie glared at Adam, felt a rush of anger flooding through her.

"You can do this," he said. "I know you can. You're so beautiful."

She shook her head. "You did this to me. You did, and I will never forgive you as long as I--"

"Stacie--"

"Stop. Talking."

The nurse perused one of the cabinets, finally emerging with a flashlight. She came around to the foot of the bed and lifted Stacie's gown.

"I need to push," Stacie begged. She'd never wanted anything so badly.

"Not yet."

"Why?" She could feel the nurse's hands probing under her gown.

"You're almost fully dilated," Herrick said. "I can't believe how fast you're progressing. Wait until the next contraction, and when it comes, you grab your husband's hand and push like you've never pushed before. But not on this one."

She thought about crushing the bones in Adam's fingers and this made her briefly happy.

"Don't push," Herrick warned.

"I'm not! Adam?"

He was suddenly right there.

"What, baby?"

"I'm never doing this again."

"I know."

And suddenly she could breathe again, her chest heaving, sweat running down into her eyes. A break between the bouts of torture.

She could hear more gunshots blasting in the hospital.

"Are the doors out there holding?" she asked.

"Don't think about it," Adam said.

"Please check."

Her husband hustled out of the room as Nurse Herrick fed her another ice chip. "This is the threshold, Stacie," she said. "I've seen a lot of women at this point, where you think you can't go on, and you know what?"

"What?"

"Babies get born, every day."

"So what do I do?"

"You breathe through it. Just breathe. The baby's coming no matter what you do."

Adam returned. "The barricade's still in place."

And then it came, a contraction a step above all others, a new revelation of pain, and Stacie felt the ring of fire her girlfriends had joked about--nothing in the history of language had been so aptly named--and the voices in her ear all swirling, yelling, Push! The head's coming! You're almost there! Just a little longer!

Three minutes of the most intense pain of her life, and all she could think was, There better be a motherfucking baby at the end of this contraction, and when it finally, mercifully passed, it was like coming up for air after three minutes underwater.

She didn't hear any crying, just her husband's voice in her ear, distant and echoey, telling her how great she was doing.

Nurse Herrick was right at her ear.

"The head is halfway out. Baby's in a good position. You push it out next contraction."

Next?

She was nodding, and before she could wrap her head around the concept of "next" she was pushing again, her throat raw from screaming, screaming for what seemed like hours through unending pain, and then her head fell back into the pillow. She was done. She had nothing left. She quit, because the contraction was over and still this thing was inside of--

A small, precious cry brought her head instantly up off the pillow.

Nurse Herrick stood at the foot of the bed, holding a tiny creature, suctioning its mouth and nose, and then a baby-cry erupted and this living, squirming creature was on Stacie's chest, blue and covered in vernix, all the anger, fear, and pain replaced by a shot of the most all-encompassing joy she'd ever known, and Stacie was sobbing, and Adam right there with her--strong, beautiful, loving, perfect Adam--and he was crying and patting their baby's back.

"You're amazing, baby," he said, laughing. "Both of you."

She could feel the umbilical cord pulsing against her stomach.

"I'll leave you two for a minute," Herrick said, and as she slipped outside, Stacie looked at Adam, touched his blue-lit face.

"Should we check?" she said.

"Check what?"

"If this is Matthew or Daniella."

Adam laughed. "I hadn't even thought of it."

"Introduce us," Stacie said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Stacie turned her head away as Adam lifted their cooing baby and then eased it back onto her chest. He had tears in his eyes when she looked back.

"Stacie," he said, and she looked down into the little face, eyes struggling to open, staring cross-eyed right into hers. "I'd like to introduce you to your daughter, Daniella."

"Hey, baby girl," Stacie said, touching the back of her finger to Daniella's little cheek. "Meet your mom and dad. We're going to..."

"Stace? You all right?"

She was. She was great. The pain was gone, just a little dizziness. Well, maybe a lot of dizziness, and it was coming on stronger with every passing second.

"Yeah, I just...little light-headed."

Adam moved around to the end of the bed, said, "Oh, God," and Stacie watched him rush out of the room, heard him calling Nurse Herrick, something in the tone of his voice that unnerved her. She couldn't take her gaze off Daniela, but she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open now, and the last thing she noticed before she descended into unconsciousness were the bloody footprints--Adam's--leading out into the corridor, dark as crude oil in the lowlight.

Adam

HE found Herrick at the nurse's station, making entries in a chart by flashlight.

"She's bleeding," he said. "A lot."

Herrick dropped her pen and came around the desk into the corridor, practically ran down the hall.

"Is this normal?" Adam said.

They passed through the open door into Stacie's room and Herrick stopped, staring at the bloody sheets, the dark drops falling into a puddle on the floor.

"Stacie!" she yelled, and Adam followed her to his wife's bedside. "Stacie. Can you hear me?"

Stacie still held the baby in her arms, but her eyes were closed, and even in the lowlight, Adam thought she looked pale.

Herrick lifted Stacie's wrist, checked her radial pulse.

She turned on her flashlight and lifted Stacie's hospital gown.

"Is she gonna be okay?"

"Shhh."

A beat of terrible silence, and then Herrick turned and faced him.

"She's postpartum hemorrhaging."

"What does that mean?"

"She passed the placenta immediately following birth. What I'm guessing is there's still a piece of it in there."

"Why is that bad?"

"Because it's stopping her uterus from contracting."

"How much blood has she lost?"

"I don't know for sure, but at least half a liter, which is past the point of being okay."

"Oh God."

"Listen to me."

"Can you fix her?"

"Yes, but I need your help."

"Anything."

"I think I can stop the bleeding, but she's lost so much already, she's gonna need a transfusion."

"Okay."

"You have to go down to the blood bank."

Adam felt a tremor of fear ride down his legs.

"Where's the blood bank?"

"The basement."

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, are you fucking kidding me?"

Herrick actually took a step back from the minister, her eyes going wide.

"Sorry about that," he said.

"It's quite all right, pastor, we're all under a great deal of stress. You'll need this." Herrick lifted his overnight backpack off a rocking chair. Adam overcame the tremor in his hands, finally managing to unzip it and dump the contents--a change of clothes and some toiletries.