Kian drew in a deep breath and bore down.
“That’s it,” Ian praised.
My mate cried, “Ohhhhh.” Until his back hit the pillow again.
Less than a minute later, Ian said, “All right, Kian, here comes another contraction.” I picked up the cloth from the bed and wiped his brow.
“Hee, hee, hee…hoo, hoo, hoo.” My mate breathed.
“Good job with the breathing,” Ian said. “Deep breath and push, Kian.”
I watched my mate do as instructed.
“Push, Kian,” Ian said. And my mate did until he could rest again.
“I take back the whole big family thing.” Kian’s smile was strained. “Two. Two is good.”
I laughed and nodded. “Whatever you want, baby.”
“Deep breath and push,” Ian commanded. “That’s it. We have a head crowning.”
Kian bore down, and a scream was ripped from him. After a deep breath, he growled impressively. “Get ‘em out. Out!” Kian shouted.
“I need another push, Kian. You’re doing so good,” Ian praised. “Give me another big one, and the head should be out. Big push, Kian.”
Kian whimpered and panted.
“Here comes the contraction, Kian,” Ian said. “Big push, let’s get this little one out.”
“Ooooooooooooooooh,” Kian cried without pausing as he bore down.
“Rest, Kian, the head is out,” he said. “Deep breath so we can get the rest of him here.”
My mate did as he was told, and I talked nonsensically to him. There was a plop, and Kian’s head fell back. “Congratulations, it’s a boy.”
A bloody, gooey blob was plunked on Kian’s belly, and instinctively, my mate reached for our baby.
Patrick used something in his mouth and up his nostrils, and I watched his every move. This was my mate and our son. My family. “It’s to suck out the mucus,” the nurse said like he knew how I was feeling. The next thing I knew, a cry filled the room from the beautiful gooey blob on my mate.
“Hey, baby,” Kian sobbed, holding him against his body. The goo was wiped off my son, and I lowered my head to them.
I kissed Kian and whispered, “Thank you.” I stroked a finger down my son’s back. “Hey, baby boy. Is he okay?” I asked Ian.
Gods, my throat was tight.
“Ten fingers, ten toes,” Ian confirmed. “Would you like to cut the cord?”
I met my mate’s eyes, and he smiled and nodded.
I moved so I could grip the scissors Ian also held and cut through my son’s cord.
“You’re doing so well,” Ian praised Kian. “Patrick will have to take him to get cleaned up for you.”
Kian’s forehead creased, and I felt his worry. I looked at the nurse.
“We just need a few minutes; he won’t leave the room,” Patrick said. “We’ll get him weighed and measured. Give him a quick checkup, and he’ll be right back.”
I met my mate’s eye and nodded, and then he finally released his hold on our son.
