I yanked off my shoulder pads and hockey pants and dropped to my knees. “How are you doing?”
“I’m scared and every part of me hurts.” He gripped my hand so hard I winced as another contraction wrapped itself round him. “What if something goes wrong?”
“Everything will be fine.” I hoped I sounded reassuring because I was scared too. “Your body knows what to do.”
When the contraction ended, he said he wanted a warm shower. I took his arm, and he shuffled beside me toward the bedroom where we’d prepared everything. There was a mattress protector on the bed, a birthing ball and towels within reach, along with herbal tea the healer had recommended that would help labor progress.
Stan paused and gripped the doorframe while breathing through another contraction. After it passed, the shower was forgotten, I helped him kneel, and he draped himself over the birthing ball because the position removed pressure from his back.
“That’s a little better.”
I got beside him and rubbed circles on his back. I pressed hard as the healer had shown me.
“It’s funny, when labor started and progressed so quickly I was like, ‘No, this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be,’ and now I can’t imagine spending a day or more in agony.”
As the contractions continued, Stan changed positions from the ball onto all fours on the bed and then draped his arms around my neck while swaying his hips. Between contractions he rested on me and talked about if the baby was a boy or girl and whether they’d be a fox or wolf shifter.
“We’re going to meet our baby today.”
Stan’s hair was soaked with sweat, and I wiped his flushed face with a cloth.
“Best day of our lives.” I was trying to sound upbeat.
Another contraction took hold of my mate. This one was longer, and when it was over, he mumbled that it was different.
“It was stronger than the others, and I want to push.”
We shared a glance, both of us aware of what the healer had told us. Pushing the baby out would be hard and exhausting, and I had to support Stan so he could deliver our little one.
“Our baby’s getting closer.”
Stan got on all fours with me behind him but said it didn’t feel right, so I helped him onto his back, supported by pillows. When the contraction took hold, he bore down.
In the movies, it always appeared like after a few pushes the baby would appear. But we fell into a rhythm of contraction, push, and rest. I was in awe of Stan’s strength, determination, and grit.
My wolf had been pacing since we got the call, and if he’d been able to bite his claws he would have. He kept asking where the baby was. I told him to be proud of our mate who was bringing our child into the world.
“It’s so painful.” My mate’s red face was scrunched in agony.
“It’s the baby’s head, love. Not long now, and our little one will be here.”
His expression changed. He reached between his legs and placed a hand on the baby’s head.
“I can do this.”
Two more pushes and the baby’s head emerged. More pushes and our little one was born. I held the tiny, slippery, screaming bundle before placing our baby boy on Stan’s chest, and he cradled our newborn.
“We have a son.”
My wolf was howling with joy as Stan examined our little boy. I kissed my mate and the baby and sniffed our newborn so I could place his scent beside my mate’s in my memory bank.
I grabbed the towels and cleaned up our newborn and Stan.
“Look at him, Ax. We made him.”
I made a sandwich for Stan, and he took his usual tiny bites while clutching the baby. Would our son eat a sandwich like that? I hoped so. It’d be so cute.
Stan giggled. “Nice to see you dressed for the occasion.”
