Zach gives me a look that’s half exasperation, half fondness.“Maybe because she’s eighteen and terrified?Get dressed, X.Our daughter’s about to be born.”
Our daughter.The words still send a jolt through me every time I hear them.I grab the clothes I laid out last week for exactly this moment, comfortable jeans and a soft button-down that won’t irritate a newborn’s sensitive skin.Practical clothes for what might be a long day.
“The bag,” I remind Zach, who’s already one step ahead of me, hefting the duffle we packed with everything Daphne might need for her hospital stay.
“Got it.Keys are on the hook.I’ll warm up the truck.”
He’s gone before I can respond, footsteps heavy on the stairs.I take a single deep breath, steadying myself against the dresser.This is happening.After months of preparation, legal paperwork, and nursery decorating, our daughter is about to enter the world.
I find Zach in the garage, the truck’s engine already rumbling.The clock on the dashboard reads 3:53 AM when I slide into the passenger seat.Six minutes from dead sleep to on our way.Not bad for soon-to-be parents.
“Nervous?”Zach asks as we pull out of the driveway, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“Terrified,” I admit, watching the familiar streets of our town slip by in the darkness.“You?”
His hand finds mine across the console, fingers interlacing with ease.“Beyond words.”
We drive in silence after that, the weight of what’s happening settling between us like a physical presence.Daphne moved into the club’s guest house two weeks ago so we could be close when this moment arrived.Shaylin has been staying with her, acting as both protection and support.
The hospital parking lot is nearly empty at this hour, making it easy to find a spot near the entrance.As we walk through the automatic doors, I feel a strange sense of déjà vu.How many times have I entered this building as a doctor, confident and in control?Now I’m just a terrified soon-to-be parent, as helpless as any other civilian.
The maternity ward is quiet except for the soft beeping of monitors and the occasional voices of night-shift nurses.Shaylin meets us in the family waiting area, her usual composed demeanor slightly frayed around the edges.
“She’s doing great,” she tells us immediately, correctly reading the concern on our faces.“The doctor says everything’s progressing normally, just quickly.She’s asking for you, Xavier.”
“Me?”I’m surprised despite myself.Daphne and I have grown close over the course of her pregnancy, but I assumed she’d want Shaylin with her during the actual birth.
“She wants her doctor,” Shaylin says with a small smile.“And the father of her baby.Room three hundred seven.”
Zach squeezes my hand once before letting go.“Go.I’ll be right here.”
I find Daphne propped up in the hospital bed, face flushed and hair damp with sweat.Her eyes, bright with pain and determination, find mine as I enter.
“You came,” she says, relief evident in her voice.
“Of course we came.”I move to her side, doctor’s instincts taking over as I check the monitors displaying her vitals and the baby’s heart rate.Everything looks good, strong, steady rhythms despite the stress of labor.“How are you feeling?”
“Like I’m being torn in half,” she admits with a grimace that quickly transforms into a gasp as another contraction hits.I offer my hand without thinking, and she grips it with surprising strength, her nails digging half-moons into my palm.
“Breathe through it,” I coach, falling back on my medical training.“That’s it.In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
When the contraction passes, she collapses back against the pillows.“I can’t do this,” she whispers, suddenly looking very young and scared.“I’m not strong enough.”
“You are,” I tell her with absolute conviction.“You’re one of the strongest people I know, Daphne.And you’re not alone.”
Her eyes fill with tears.“Will you stay?When she comes?I want you to be the first one to hold her.”
My throat tightens with unexpected emotion.“If that’s what you want, yes.But Zach?—”
“He’ll understand…” she says, another contraction cutting off her words.This one is longer, more intense, her face contorting with the effort of bearing down.
The next hour passes in a blur of contractions, coaching, and quiet moments of connection between them.The labor and delivery nurse checks Daphne’s progress, nodding in satisfaction.
“Time to call the doctor,” she announces.“This baby’s ready to meet her family.”
Everything happens quickly after that.The room fills with efficient activity: the doctor arriving, equipment being readied, Daphne being positioned for delivery.Through it all, I stay by her side, one part doctor monitoring her condition, one part family member offering support.
“Big push on the next contraction,” the doctor instructs, positioned at the foot of the bed.“We can see the head.”
