(U is for umbilical and uncle)


When her water broke, Brenna was napping, unable to get comfortable enough for a deep sleep. The trickle on her leg roused her, and she pushed up from the bed. Maybe now the contractions would start in earnest, and this overdue baby would get born.
“Eight days late,” she scolded her round abdomen. “I’m more than ready to meet you.”
Brenna glanced at the other half of the queen bed, still empty. Isaac hadn’t somehow changed his mind and snuck back home. Three months into this pregnancy—she had just begun to show—he decided he didn’t want to be a father. And just like that, she was on her own.
Except for Russ.
Russ was Isaac’s best friend, and then Brenna’s after Isaac walked out.
“You’ll be uncle to Sebastian,” Brenna told him when he drove her to her prenatal visits. He sat with her at her exams, bought her peppermint patties, which she craved, and rubbed her feet in the evening, after a long day working at the greenhouse. She brought him to childbirth classes and introduced him as her brother. She wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted from Russ beyond his emotional support. He wasn’t her husband. She didn’t think of him as a lover. But she owed him for all he’d done for her.
Russ was at her door by the time she had changed clothes and zipped up her hospital bag.
“They’re five, six minutes apart,” she told him.
He rolled his eyes. “Which is it – five or six? It’s important, remember?”
“Probably more like five—“ She stopped and leaned on him, her right hand supporting her abdomen.
After several long moments, she straightened up.
“Bad, huh?” He helped her into his car and made sure she was belted in.
“Let me put it this way, don’t get a ticket for speeding, but get this piece of crap on the road or Sebastian will be arriving on the shoulder.”
Isaac was waiting at the hospital ER entrance.
“What’s he doing here?” Brenna slowly emerged from the car. The contractions had sped up, and she had to pause again before she could walk.
“I had to call him,” Russ said. “He’s the father.”
“He’s a coward and a jerk and I don’t want him around me right now.” She walked past Isaac without speaking to him, her lips set and a frown on her face.
Eight o’clock became eleven o’clock became three o’clock, and Brenna moved into the second stage. Russ rubbed her shoulders, gave her sips of ice water, and whispered words of encouragement, and she pushed, each groan deep and guttural. Her body quivered with the effort. At four fifty-eight, Sebastian’s head crowned. A few more pushes, and he was out. Brenna lay back, exhausted and exhilarated, grinning at Russ. “We need to call my mom. My sister’s driving down right now. Where’s my cell? I’ll text my brother.” She babbled on, giddy.
The obstetrician broke in. “Do you want me to cut the umbilical cord, or does your friend want the honor?”
Brenna squeezed Russ’ arm. “You do it. You’re practically his dad.” Having Russ cut the cord would sever any last tender feelings she might have for Isaac. When he followed them into the hospital, she had forbidden him from entering the labor and delivery suite. “Where were you when I needed you?” She was near to tears. Russ walked him back to the waiting room and left him there.
The delivery nurse handed her a cleaned-up Sebastian, swaddled in a blue blanket, a tiny white knitted cap on his head. He howled with hunger. Brenna, with the nurse’s help, guided his mouth to her breast. He latched on and suckled vigorously.
Russ kissed her softly on top of her head. “Can Isaac see him?”
Brenna sighed. The peace she felt at the birth lingered. “Ten minutes.” Russ stood up. She studied her new son: Sebastian had Isaac’s sweet mouth. “Half an hour,” she said.