“Just relax,” the nurse says. “There are tests we need to do, but we’re delaying clamping so it’ll keep.”
The nurse tucks a baby blanket around our daughter, smiling as she makes sure she’ll remain warm.
“Don’t go too far,” Cassidy gasps, pale from pain.
“Do you need me to check on how things are going?” the nurse asks, changing gloves again.
“No,” Cass rasps. “I’ve been pushing through the ring of pain. This baby is ready.”
Shiloh has already tossed chuck pads all over just in case, and his eyes grow wide as he realizes that Cassidy has just been quietly laboring while Winter was pushing out a baby.
“Alright then,” the nurse says, diving for Cassidy. “The baby's head is almost clear. I don’t understand how you’ve been able to keep so quiet.”
“I do,” I sigh, knowing how high Cass’ threshold for pain is.
“Cassidy!” Winter hisses from bed, but Cass just shrugs as Abbott holds her.
“I’m a pain in the ass,” she admits. “My water hasn’t broken, so?—”
“Sometimes it’s a slow leak, and sometimes it doesn’t really break at all,” the nurse says. “Yours is intact right now. I can tell. If one of your fine gentlemen could grab some towels, that would be lovely.”
Shiloh grabs them for the nurse, and we get to watch our son as he’s born. The bag of waters remains intact until the nurse touches him to catch him, before bursting around us. The nurse simply shrugs, and Shiloh drops towels around us to help with the wetness.
Cassidy’s chest heaves as she looks down at her baby, holding her trembling hands out for him. Shiloh doesn’t hesitate to help, already having snatched a pair of clean gloves from somewhere.
The nurse ignores it as she gets Cassidy and our son into bed, and I can’t help but stand and stare at our new additions to our family.
“And then there were eight,” Abbott breathes. “That was incredible.”
The flurry of activity pulls our attention as more nurses enter the room, and Abbott makes sure to take a few photos to commemorate the births. Forty-five minutes later, our babies are breastfeeding while we sit around the two beds.
“Have we decided on names?” Shi asks.
Our son has very little hair, gray eyes, and an adorable, scrunched up nose. He greedily sucks on his nipple, pulling incolostrum. He worked hard, greeted the world, of course he’s hungry.
Our daughter has lots of curly black hair, deep brown eyes, and little lungs that she’s enjoying exercising. Her noises are loud as she drinks her milk, and she slaps Winter’s skin whenever she unlatches. The nurse showed Cass and Winter how to latch earlier because it’s definitely not intuitive, and our daughter is being very dramatic about it all.
I can’t stop staring at our babies, in awe of what our pack created. I’m sitting near Winter, and she holds her hand out for mine.
“She’s so tiny,” I breathe, watching as she rubs my fingertips over our daughter’s head.
“She is,” Winter sighs happily. “Though an eight pound baby doesn’t feel small when you’re pushing her out of a small hole.”
Bellamy shudders as he kisses her temple, and I chuckle under my breath.
“I also think I have a name,” Winter says, blushing slightly. “I want to call her Helena, after my mom.”
Bellamy grins at the news, and I exchange glances with Cassidy and the guys. That feels right.
“It’s beautiful,” I admit, nodding.
“Mom would love that,” Bell murmurs.
“Helena,” Cassidy says softly, nodding.
We all sit with the glow of our first baby named, until Cassidy takes a sharp breath to speak.
“Ares. His name is Ares,” she whispers.
