The first twenty minutes passed slowly.
The second twenty passed even more slowly.
I tried calling Reid.
It rang once before going to voicemail.
I assumed he was driving.
I sent a message asking whether everything was all right.
There was no reply.
I put the phone down and tried to concentrate on the nurses.
Callie adjusted my pillow.
Another nurse checked the monitor.
Someone asked whether I wanted water.
I answered the questions automatically.
My attention kept returning to the door.
At 9:15, I called again.
Voicemail.
At 9:40, I sent another message.
Just tell me you're okay.
I watched the screen until it went dark.
Nothing.
I told myself there were reasonable explanations.
Maybe the emergency had become more complicated.
Maybe someone was hurt.
Maybe Reid was helping his family and couldn't answer.
I didn't know.
That was the problem.
I knew almost nothing, but I kept finding reasons not to worry.
At 10:00, Callie came in to check my progress.
She noticed the phone in my hand.
"Still waiting for him?"
I nodded.
"He had to take care of something."
She didn't comment.
She checked the monitor and made a note.
I appreciated that she didn't ask questions.
I didn't want to explain my marriage to a stranger.
Not because there was anything wrong with it.
At least, that was what I still believed.
By eleven, the pain had become harder to ignore.
The contractions were closer together.
I couldn't finish a sentence without stopping halfway through.
Callie asked me to focus on my breathing.
I tried.
I counted.
I squeezed the bed rail.
I closed my eyes.
But between contractions, I still reached for my phone.
Reid's name remained at the top of my messages.
There was no new notification.
I called him again.
This time, the call went straight to voicemail.
I stared at the screen.
Then I tried once more.
The same thing happened.
His phone was off.
I knew that because I had heard the difference between a call going unanswered and one that could not connect.
I didn't want to think about what it meant.
I placed the phone on the blanket.
Callie noticed.
"Do you want me to try his number?"
"No. I'll wait."
I heard how quickly I answered.
I sounded defensive.
Looking back, that word alone makes me ashamed.
There was nothing wrong with Callie's question.
She wasn't criticizing Reid.
She was trying to help me.
But I had started defending him before anyone accused him of anything.
A little after midnight, my mother arrived.
She came through the door wearing a coat over her pajamas.
Her hair was pulled back carelessly, and she was carrying her handbag in one hand.
She looked at me first.
Then she looked at the chair.
She didn't need to ask where Reid was.
Still, she did.
"Where's Reid?"
I swallowed.
"He had to deal with something."
My mother put her handbag down.
"What happened?"
"Family emergency."
"Is everything okay?"
"I don't know."
That was the first time I admitted it aloud.
My mother came to the bed.
She touched my cheek.
"Have you spoken to him?"
I shook my head.
She looked at my phone.
I could see the question forming in her face.
But she didn't ask it.
Instead, she pulled the chair closer and sat down.
"All right. I'm here."
I nodded.
I was grateful.
I was also embarrassed.
I had imagined this night differently.
My mother had known that.
She had heard me talk about the birth for months.
She knew Reid had promised to stay.
She knew how much I wanted him beside me.
Yet she didn't make me explain why he wasn't there.
That kindness hurt more than an argument would have.
Another contraction began.
I gripped her hand.
She held on without saying anything.
When it passed, I took a shaky breath.
"Do you think something happened to him?"
My mother brushed my hair away from my forehead.
"I don't know, sweetheart."
I wanted her to tell me he was fine.
I wanted her to say he would walk through the door any minute.
But she wouldn't lie to me.
That was one of the things I loved about her.
And one of the things I needed least at that moment.
The next hour was difficult.
I lost track of the clock.
The room seemed to shrink around the bed.
The monitor made its steady sounds.
The nurses came and went.
My mother stayed beside me.
Every so often, she looked toward the door.
I pretended not to notice.
At one point, she asked whether she should call someone from Reid's family.
I considered it.
I even picked up my phone.
But I didn't know who to call first.
And I didn't know what I would say.
Where is your son?
Why hasn't my husband come back?
Why is his phone turned off?
I couldn't make myself ask those questions.
I was still trying to protect him from looking bad.
Even when he wasn't there to protect me.
By one in the morning, Callie told me the labor had progressed.
She spoke calmly.
She explained what would happen next.
I listened, although I barely absorbed any of it.
My mother held my hand.
The chair beside the bed remained empty.
I looked at it again.
The little paper cup had been moved.
Someone had cleared away the things Reid had left behind.
Only the chair remained.
I wondered whether he had forgotten about the phone charger.
I wondered whether he would notice it missing when he came back.
Then I felt guilty for thinking about something so unimportant.
I had a baby coming.
That was what mattered.
I tried to put my attention there.
I thought about Theo.
I imagined his dark hair.
I imagined his tiny fingers closing around mine.
I imagined Reid holding him.
That last thought hurt.
I pushed it away.
He would come.
He had promised.
At 1:30, my mother leaned closer.
"Do you want me to stay right here?"
"Please."
She squeezed my hand.
"I'm not going anywhere."
I believed her.
I didn't have to keep checking the door to know she meant it.
A few minutes later, Callie returned.
She looked at me and then at my mother.
"How are you doing, Maren?"
I almost laughed.
It seemed like such a small question for what was happening.
"I'm scared."
Callie nodded.
"That's all right."
I looked toward the empty chair.
"He's supposed to be here."
She didn't tell me otherwise.
She simply moved closer and checked that everything was ready.
My mother bent her head.
I felt her hand tighten around mine.
For the first time that night, I stopped looking at the clock.
There was nothing I could do to make Reid return.
And there was something happening that I couldn't put off for him.
My son was coming.
Whether his father was there or not.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: At 2:46 in the Morning, I Met the Little Boy Whose Arrival I Had Imagined Sharing With Someone Else
The Empty Chair Beside My Hospital Bed Was the Last Place I Expected to Find Myself Looking for Him
Part 2 of 4
