Time loses its meaning.
The contractions come harder and faster, each one stealing my breath and making my body shake. I don’t know how long I’ve been laboring—six hours? Eight?
It feels like an eternity.
“I can’t,” I sob at one point, the cry warbling out of me. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Yes you can.” Caelian kisses my brow and grips my hand firmly, never letting go. “You can do this, Nevi. Soon our baby will be in your arms. We’re going to meet our child.”
His certainty gives me strength. It reminds me that while the pain is debilitating and the worst I’ve ever felt, once it’s over I’ll be able to hold our baby. The precious little life we’ve brought into the world.
I nod, gripping his hand even tighter.
“Alright, Nevaeh,” Dr. Tulio says. “On the next contraction, I need you to push.”
The urge comes, primal and overwhelming. I bear down with everything I have, my fingers digging into Caelian’s hand so hard I’m surprised I don’t break bones. He doesn’t even flinch, more focused on me than how I’m crushing—orattemptingto crush—his hand.
“Good!” Miranda encourages. “That’s excellent. Again!”
I push. And push. And push ’til I’m screaming louder than I ever have before, my throat aching. Sweat pours down my face, and my whole body trembles with exhaustion. Caelian’s hand ismy anchor, the reassurance I need as I work to push the little human out of me.
“Nevi… you are so amazing. I didn’t realize you were so strong,” Caelian says in awe. “For someone so small—fuck, Nevi, you’re incredible.”
“I can see the head!” Dr. Tulio announces. “One more big push. Come on, Nevaeh!”
I gather every last ounce of strength and push. The burning, the stretching, the intense pressure culminates all at once ’til I’m sure I’m about to pass out.
…and then suddenly, relief.
A baby’s wail fills the room, high pitched and cranky.
“You did it!” Ms. Poitier cries, tears streaming down her face.
But something’s wrong. Dr. Tulio and Miranda exchange glances, their expressions shifting from celebration to surprise.
“Nevaeh,” Dr. Tulio says slowly. “There’s another one.”
“What?” I gasp, breathless and slick with sweat. My mind struggles to process through the exhaustion. I just want to hold my baby and sleep for hours.
“You’re carrying twins,” Miranda says, staring in wonder. “There’s another baby.”
“What?!” Caelian exclaims. “What do you mean there’s another one? Inside her right now? All this time?”
Before anyone has a chance to explain—or I’ve even had a chance to question them myself—another contraction hits.
I’m screaming all over again as the first baby continues to wail.
My body handles the rest for me. It’s as if natural instincts take over and my body pushesforme, recognizing the second baby must come out.
But it doesn’t make it any easier for me. I’m in hysterics, sweating and sobbing and throbbing with pain.
“I… I can’t,” I cry. “I can’t do this again. I just?—”
“You can, Nevi,” Caelian urges. He presses his forehead against mine. “One more time, mia bella ballerina. One more, and then we’ll have both our babies.”
So I let my body lead. I scream and grunt and bear down as every muscle in my body aches and burns.
Minutes that feel like hours pass, and then… then comes another cry, even higher pitched than the first.
