Dr. Laurier had explained first babies often came late, which I already knew having read so much medical literature. I was secretly hoping she'd wait a few more days because there were more boxes to unpack and the nursery wasn’t quite ready. Everything had to be perfect before she arrived even though Roscoe had repeated, “We have what we need and that’s love.” But I wanted every onesie to be folded just so, the socks put away and the diapers piled high.
Roscoe was downstairs making coffee, and just as he had that morning when he’d slept onthe couch, the aroma drifted up to our room. I was excited to get down to our renovated kitchen, even though I hardly cooked, ‘cause it was gleaming with shiny new appliances and a huge sink.
The renovation had been better than I’d dreamed and while so much of the house was new, everything I loved about it was still here. Even Aunt Mollie's books were on the shelves and where my name was carved in the doorframe was now part of a mudroom. Our daughter’s name would be etched in the same place.
I experienced another wave of back pain as I made my way to the bathroom,and I rested my head on the wall until it passed. Today, I’d take it easy by sitting on the love seat in the nursery and directing Roscoe to organize the kids books on the shelf and hang the cot mobile.
“Morning,” my mate’s greeting cheered me up but if I didn’t have so much to do, I would have taken the coffee he offered me and gone back to bed.
“My back’s killing me. Maybe I pulled a muscle while moving those boxes yesterday.”
Roscoe hissed and then made that clicking sound I associated with reindeer. “That’s my fault for letting you convince me you didn’t need to be on bed rest. My reindeer is kicking my ass for that.”
“Bet it doesn’t hurt as much as my back.” When hequirked a brow, I added, “My sore back beats a hoof whacked on your behind internally.”
“He’s not… you know, never mind.” He rubbed his butt even though I understood what he was saying.
I waved off his worry, saying I had to walk around and ‘work out the kinks’. That had him waggling his brows and wiggling his butt. I rolled my eyes. Unless he was going to give me a blow job, there’d be no steamy action happening.
My mate offered to run me a bath in our new bathroom but even soaking in warm water didn’t entice me. I didn’t know what I wanted, only that what I was doing wasn’t helping.
“After breakfast.” I picked at a piece of toast, wishing we had gummy bears but I’d finished them yesterday. “I want to finish organizing the nursery first. I haven't sorted the clothes by season. Can you help?”
He was on paternity leave so wasn’t rushing out the door but the look he gave me suggested having the clothes organized according to season wasn’t his top priority.But smart man that he was, he understood the nesting instinct. Not only had he witnessed it in his pack omegas, but he’d had a front row seat to mine for months.
I made it through breakfast and was halfway through my nursery organization project before the next wave of pain hit.
“Ouch!” That was different. Not back pain but one that wrapped around my belly.
My mate looked over from where he was arranging onesies by color and size. “What was that? A pinched nerve ouch or another kind?”
My lips were pressed together and I couldn’t speak, so I held up a hand and when the pain had gone, I panted, though panting might have been more sensible during the pain.No, it can’t be. First babies were always late. Everyone said so.
Roscoe gave up on the onesie conveyor belt and kneeled at my feet. He asked if it was back pain or a contraction and while I wasn’t a doctor, I was pretty sure our daughter had begun her journey to meet us.
“Maybe a contraction.” I winced as another cramp squeezed my belly. Holding out both hands, I urged my mate to pull me up. Painful as the contractions were, everything I’d read suggested sitting wasn’t the most comfortable position.
“It hurts.”
Roscoe cradled me as the pain passed but I was worried because the nursery wasn’t finished.
“Our daughter wants to meet us and we’ll bring her from the hospital to our home where she’ll be safe and warm.” He rubbed my bump. “And she’ll be loved by us and the pack. She won’t care that the blankets aren’t in a neat pile.”
“They aren’t?”
My mate ignored that question and got the bag we’d packed weeks ago. He called the hospital and grabbed his keys and phone. Despite the pain, I understood why Zelda’s mate had designated him as his heir. He was calm and efficient and he did what I asked or yelled when the contractions came.
I didn’t recall the drive to the hospital but remembered where we were when my belly tightened with each cramp. The next few hours passed in hospital rooms, with Roscoe signing forms, me breathing, and pain. The interval between contractions shortened and I longed for a break so I could sleep. But through it all, my mate was at my side, massaging my back, feeding me ice chips, breathing with me and encouraging me.
But just as my world consisted of nothing other than agony, Dr. Laurier announced he could see the head and Roscoe whispered I was almost there. The words ‘almost there’ echoed around me and I bore down, determined to get the baby out so we could meet her.
My mate’s hand was in mine, everyone in the room was encouraging me and I pushed so hard. Someone said the baby’s head was out, and then the shoulders and finally relief and the most beautiful sound filled the room.
Our daughter's first cry.
A tiny, crying, squirming bundle was placed on my chest and I joined in the weeping. Our daughter wasn’t happy that she’d been evicted from her home but I kissed her damp head and whispered how much I loved her. Maybe she recalled my voice because she stopped crying and Roscoe was kissing us both, his tears mingling with mine.My mate gave our daughter a finger and she curled her tiny fist around it.
Even though she hadn’t been cleaned or weighed, the name we’d picked for her suited her. We’d met during the Christmas season and she'd been conceived in the lead up to the big day.
