Learning Lucas: Part 1 of 4

Dear Diary,

When I became pregnant with Lucas, my now ex-husband, Luke, and I were ecstatic. Our first child was going to be a boy. Luke would spend hours talking about all the things he couldn’t wait to share with him—playing little league sports, going fishing, restoring vintage cars, and attending St. Louis Cardinals games.

Lucas’s birth was anything but ordinary.

He was born on the hottest day of the summer. The air in our apartment had gone out, and I was waiting for maintenance to come fix it. I sat in one spot—the living room, on the couch, directly in front of a large oscillating fan—eating Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked ice cream and trying not to melt.

The maintenance guy final arrived.

As I got up to answer the door, I felt a sudden pain in my side. I brushed it off as the heat…maybe dehydration. I opened the door, already thinking about grabbing a glass of water on my way back to the couch.

“Mallory Speaks?”

“That’s me.”

“Hi, I’m Owen. I’m here to repair the….Oh my God! Oh my God! What…just…happened? Are you ok? Oh my God!”

As Owen paced nervously in the doorway, I stood there in disbelief unable to speak.

Did I just pee on myself in front of the maintenance guy? Or did my water just break in front of the maintenance guy?

I was about to answer him when suddenly I doubled over in pain, unable to move.

Contractions - and they were coming fast.

I heard stories how every labor experience is different but this was ridiculous.

“Let me help you to the sofa. Is there anybody you want me to call? A husband? A boyfriend?”

“How about calling 911!”

“Yeah…I’ll call 911!”

While Owen was on the phone with the dispatcher, the contractions were closer together.

This couldn’t be happening to me. Everything was happening way too fast.

I was supposed to be at St. Joseph Hospital—in a birthing suite—with Luke by my side and an epidural on standby.

Everything was wrong.

I started cry hysterically.

Owen hung up the phone and tried his best to comfort me.

“Please don’t cry! The paramedics are on the way. Can I get you anything? A heating pad? A cold towel? Anything at all?”   

Suddenly the tears stopped.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Owen and I locked eyes.

“I have an urgent need to push.”

“Oh, hell no! You can’t do that! The paramedics will be here any minute! Do not push! I repeat, DO NOT PUSH!”

Another contraction hit.

 I grabbed his arm.

“Owen, this baby is coming whether we’re ready or not!”

By the time the paramedics arrived, Lucas Owen Speaks was born.

~ Mallory ~