“Either way, you’ll be wrapped around their finger,” she says, smiling. “But, yes, every hour on the hour, the little one was having a full-on disco in there. And now?” She sighs. “As still as the ocean on a summer’s day.”
“The midwife said that’s normal,” I remind her. “Your body’s just getting you used to less sleep.” I take a sip of my coffee. “You ready for today?”
She groans. “Birth plans. Labour talk. Not really.”
I place my hand on the table, not touching her, just there, an unspoken invitation. After a second, she takes it, and I close my fingers around hers.
“You’re going to do amazing,” I tell her quietly. “Today’ll help things make sense, get us ready. And if we’ve got questions, Jan’ll answer them.”
She nods, grateful. “I know. You’re right. It’s just . . . hearing it all laid out properly is still scary.” She hesitates. “Are you free for lunch after? Just to decompress?”
I hesitate, and she notices immediately.
“If you’re busy, it’s fine,” she adds quickly. “I know it’s short notice.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I say carefully. “I’m meeting D.”
“Oh.” Her voice softens. “Right. Okay.”
“He’s coming to pick up my bike.”
She frowns. “Why?”
I shrug, keeping my tone light even though my chest tightens. “I’m not really using it much here. Everything’s within walking distance.”
She doesn’t respond straight away, just nods slowly, like she’s filing the information away somewhere important.
We arrive at the class, and Eden immediately goes to speak to Jan. I can tell she’s nervous today. The birth is closer now, more real, and the weight of it sits heavy on her shoulders.
I take my seat and glance around the room, my jaw tightening. The other men are exactly who I used to be. Some stare at their phones like they’re waiting for the whole thing to be over. Others sit stiff and detached, eyes unfocused, like this is happeningaroundthem instead oftothem.
I hate that it took something so catastrophic—Eden getting hurt, almost losing her entirely—for me to understand what I had. How fragile it was. How precious.
Eden slips back into the seat beside me, her thigh brushing mine as she settles. The contact is brief, accidental, but it’s enough to snap me fully back into the room.
“Jan thinks a water birth is more than doable,” she says, smiling. There’s hope in it. Nervous, careful hope. “I just have to pray that the birthing pool’s free on that day. There are only three at the hospital.”
I nod slowly. She’s been circling the idea for weeks now, warming to it, picturing it. I know better than to dismiss something she’s quietly committed to.
“If you want a water birth,” I say quietly, turning to her, “I’ll make sure it happens.”
Her smile falters just a little. “How?”
I shrug, keeping my voice calm. “Leave it with me.”
She studies my face for a second, then turns back to the front as the class begins.
Jan talks us through the stages of labour. What to expect. What’s normal. What isn’t. I listen, committing every word to memory like it’s a survival manual.
An hour passes before Jan asks us to collect mats and move to the floor.
“Birthing partners,” she says, “sit first with your legs apart. Mums sit between their legs and rest back against them for support.”
I sit down, my heart pounding harder than it should. Eden moves carefully, lowering herself to her knees before easing back until she’s settled between my legs. She scoots closer, inch by inch, until her back presses fully into my chest.
The contact steals my breath.
I close my eyes briefly and inhale, the familiar scent of her fruity shampoo grounding me. It’s the closest we’ve been in a long time.
