My Husband Told Me to “Handle It Yourself” While I Was in Labor So He Could Stay at His Mother’s Birthday—Then I Made One Phone Call
“Thirty-eight weeks is full term.”
“I know, but what are the chances?”
Apparently excellent.
I grabbed my phone.
Another contraction tightened across my stomach while I dialed him.
Music blasted through the receiver when Brandon answered.
People laughing.
Glasses clinking.
“Hey, babe.”
“Brandon.”
Something in my voice made him pause.
“What?”
“I think the baby is coming.”
Silence.