Kian nodded absently, his hand rubbing his belly in a circular motion.
I hurried to the walk-in and grabbed sweats and a T-shirt and put them on. I also grabbed another pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt from my closet for Kian.
“Shoes.” I grabbed slides and dropped them on the ground, shoving my feet in, and a pair for Kian too.
I’d read during labor, loose-fitted, comfortable items were best.
“Shit.” The first thing I was supposed to do was call Ian. I hurried back to the room, and Kian looked up at me. I kissed his cheek before telling him to lift his arms. Like a puppet, he did as I asked. I pulled his shirt over his head and helped him wiggle out of his soiled pants.
“We’re having a baby,” Kian whispered.
“I know, love, and everything will be just fine, babe.” I kept my voice gentle and calm. “This is the moment we’ve been waiting for, huh?”
Recognition registered once he processed my words, and he started nodding.
“We’re having a baby.” Kian’s voice was awe-filled.
“Yes, my love.” I got him into the clean, dry clothes and then helped Kian stand.
A determined look replaced the dazed one. “Let’s go meet our babies.”
I grabbed my phone and keys to the SUV. I stopped in the nursery for the bags, and we were on our way.
* * *
The contraction subsided.Kian opened his eyes and gazed at me.
“Breathe, baby,” I instructed, pushing his hair back. Kian expelled a deep, cleansing breath.
The birthing suite didn’t really look like a hospital room. The walls were a mint green color. There was a plush couch sat opposite the bed under the large window and a small coffee table.
The room was large enough to hold his whole family and then some, but it was just us. Kian and I wanted to share this moment together.
Of course, the room also had all the necessary medical stuff, but the atmosphere was definitely geared towards more of a homey, comfortable, and incredibly relaxing vibe.
Our Omega Obstetrics department at the hospital was fantastic. We took great pride in catering to our omegas.
As my mate went through contractions, all I could do was stand beside him, holding his hand and mopping his brow.
“How’re you doing, hon?” Patrick, our nurse, who’d been at our side since we arrived, asked as he studied the fetal monitor beside the bed.
“I’m good,” Kian managed between panting breaths.
“And how’s the pain?” he asked.
“Uhm, manageable.” He managed a small smile.
I placed a kiss on his brow. Wishing I could bear the pain for him. “You’re amazing, baby,” I whispered. “I am so in awe of you.”
Kian kissed me and whispered against my lips, “I love you, Gabe, so much.”
“If you want the epidural, Kian, we’re about to reach the point of no return,” Patrick said. “Unlike shifters, you won’t burn it off as fast. It could help.”
“I’m good,” my mate said. “At least I think so.” He laughed. “Let’s hope I don’t regret it soon.”
The next hour or so was spent wiping sweat from Kian’s brow and holding his hand. The contractions continued to progress, growing more intense.
Finally, Ian came into the room, but my mate was preoccupied with a particularly strong contraction. And he groaned and squeezed my hand so much I actually winced.
