Any time she woke up crying, he would bring her over to me if she needed to be fed or take her into another room to soothe her. She was currently sleeping in our room until she was big enough to sleep in the crib he had made for her. I didn’t expect having a newborn to be exhausting. She wasattached to one of us like glue.
Felicity was finally big enough to swap her to a bed. She was excited to be out of her tiny jail. Even though she never tried to climb out of it, there was a niggling feeling I had that we were going to get some use out of that crib. After we had swapped her to a different room, one day while she was taking a nap, I was walking down the hallway when I heard crying. It sounded like a newborn. My nipples began to leak, knowing the baby needed me. When I went back into her old room to get one of her toys, there was a baby laying in the crib, crying out.
I picked them up and held them close to me, they nuzzled my skin looking for something to eat. I pulled down my shirt for them to feed. As they began to suck, there was another cry coming from the crib again. I looked down, seeing the same baby as before, still at my breast. What was going on? When I picked them up, I swear there was nothing else in the crib. I looked back down and to my surprise, there was another baby crying out. How was I going to pick them up when I already had one in my arms?
The cries got louder, my breasts leaking profusely to support both babies. I was able to lower the side, somehow managing to grab them while supporting their head, bringing the tiny bundle towards me. They latched on right away, quieting down immediately. I sigh a breath of relief, walking toward the glider we had set up for nursing. As I sit there with my eyes closed, feeding these two babies, another cry comes from the crib. I groan, I only have two boobs!
I had fallen asleep on the couch with her one evening, her tiny body laying against my chest, my nipple in her mouth as she suckled. I woke up from the dream confused and disoriented, milk leaking out of my other breast. I search for Asmodeus, and soon enough, he appears in the living room.
“Are you okay? I felt something down the bond, but wasn’t sure what it was. I came to check on you. Is Felicity okay?”
I nod my head, making sure to whisper, not wanting to wake her up. “Yeah, I’m okay and Felicity is as well. I just had the weirdest dream. Kinda threw me for a loop. It felt weirdly real.”
“What happened?”
“Felicity was old enough to sleep in a bed, so the crib was empty. When I walked down to the room, there was a cry. When I looked in the crib, there was a baby there crying, feeding it. Then another baby popped up in the crib. Once I finally got them situated, I heard another cry coming from the crib. I got angry because I only had two boobs.”
He chuckles at that last part. “Well I can’t say I’m not jealous of these hypothetical babies you were feeding. Your milky breasts are delicious.”
My cheeks darken as I roll my eyes at him. “You’re not the one with sensitive nipples.” There is a pregnant pause in the air before he speaks again.
“And what about having that many babies? How did you feel? Besides being angry because you don’t have three boobs,” a smirk on his face.
“Honestly? Happy… Excited… My body seemed to know exactly what to do when it heard the cries. My body was ready for it as if it was anticipating it.” A look crosses his face but I can’t determine what it is, too many emotions at once. Theonly one I can catch is excitement.
“Can you please take her? I need to go pee.” I lift her up as he comes over and grabs her from me, cradling the tiny bundle of sweetness in his giant violet arms.
I appreciated how much he was helping out because my vagina was wrecked. Even with all the help of his semen before the birth, it still hurt like crazy and stretched me out way more than I wanted. I was extremely sore down there for about two weeks. Everything was uncomfortable: underwear, pants, and peeing. I didn’t want anything to penetrate me either.
We had realized that his seed and fluid were very healing for all stages of pregnancy, even after the birth and postpartum. Since there was no penetration allowed for the first six weeks after birth, to help me, he would jerk himself off over me and then smear his come where I needed it. He was always gentle, rubbing it into my entrance with his fingers without penetrating me. It really did work wonders and helped the healing process speed up. After the fourth week, I felt like my vagina was back to normal, although the rest of me was not.
My breasts were engorged and always full of milk. Sometimes I would need his help with massaging my breast gently to release the duct. Whoever said pregnancy and birth were beautiful must have been on some drugs. Nothing about a head pushing through and destroying my vagina and body was beautiful. My belly was saggy right now, and I still looked like I was pregnant. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror because I wanted to cry.
Every time Asmodeus saw me spiral, he held me in his arms, whispering how beautiful and strong I am, how muchhe loves and appreciates me. He constantly reminds me of how special it was seeing me give birth, that it was one of the best moments of his life.
He worshipped my body at every chance he got. Massaging oil and come into my skin to help my stretch marks and breasts. He doted on me with the utmost care. I felt like I was the baby here. It was a bit frustrating, but I know he was doing it because I was his mate and he sometimes knew what I needed more than I did. Usually, he knew before I could even form the thoughts or words. He was very proactive, and I appreciated it.
Thea had come over and helped us out quite a bit. She brought over some homemade meals, making it to where we didn’t have to cook, she took care of the dishes, and she did some of the other chores around the house, such as vacuuming and mopping. We didn’t ask her to do any of this for us; she offered and really didn’t accept no as an answer. I was forever grateful for that.
She had come over almost every day the first two weeks, and then it slowly went to two times a week, and then once a week after we hit the six-week mark. Any time I had a question or needed help with the baby, she was there. If she was having issues feeding, Thea could help me figure out what was wrong or what needed to change.
It was definitely going to be a learning process, but I was willing to do anything to ensure Felicity was happy and healthy. Trying to figure out what she needed was probably the hardest part since all she could do was cry to tell us something. After about four weeks, we finally got a routine down and understood her cues.
I still had many of my mother’s journals and documents togo through. There was more than I realized, and I wanted to learn everything. The more I read, the more I wished I had shown interest in it when I was younger. But that was the thing, Mom never told me or showed me, just read me stories. Why? It could have been something we had bonded over. I looked exactly like my mom but was closer to my father than to my mom.
It was frustrating having too many questions that I will never have the answers to since I couldn’t ask anyone. My mother and father are dead. I had never met my mother’s mom; she told me they weren’t on good terms, and she had left her home to be with my dad, who she loved more than anything. She said a found family was just as valid as blood family; just because they are your blood doesn’t mean they deserve to be your family.
Since all the chores were being taken care of by Thea and Asmodeus, they told me all they wanted me to focus on was taking care of Felicity, resting, healing, and enjoying the time I had with my newborn daughter. She was absolutely such a sweet baby. She was calm, alert, and very vocal.
While breastfeeding or when she was laying with me and cuddling, I started reading another one of my mother’s journals that she wrote. I figured that might give me an insight, and answer some of these questions I had for her.
Today’s journal starts off with my mother being pregnant with me, she was 29.
We finally saved enough money to buy a small house in Cleveland. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s ours. We saved every extra penny we could so our child could have a home. Brian has been working overtime at theconstruction sites to put away for our daughter.
I’m currently 7 months pregnant and feeling giant. I’m having to work 8 hours a day on my feet and it’s killing me. I don’t get maternity leave, so I have to save every penny for once I give birth. Living in the real world is completely different from the sheltered life I had at home, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. I get to make my own decisions here.
As a teen, I always saw and understood how hard my parents worked. I guess I never realized how much they sacrificed. They had to start from the bottom; no jobs, no money, no place to live. I couldn’t imagine being seven months pregnant and having to stand for eight hours a day at a job.
