Cal’s voice cracked. “Please. Let me see you. Let me...”
“No.” Tears spilled again. “You lost that right when you let her touch you.”
He made a broken sound. “I didn’t.... I wasn’t thinking. I was high. I was fucked up. I’m so sorry.”
The contraction hit full force. I cried out, curling in on myself. Zariah squeezed my hand harder.
“Out,” she told him. “Now.”
Security appeared, two big guys. “Sir, step back.”
Cal resisted for a second, then let them guide him away. I heard him in the hall: “That’s my wife! That’s my kid!”
Jake stepped into the doorway. “Cal, come on. Give her space.”
“I can’t just sit out here...”
“You have to,” Jake said quietly. “She asked.”
I didn’t hear the rest. They wheeled me into the delivery room. Bright lights. Beeping monitors. A doctor in scrubs introducing herself, Dr. Ellis. She checked me quickly.
“Eight centimeters,” she said. “You’re moving fast. We might not have time for an epidural if you want one.”
“I don’t care,” I panted. “Just get him out safe.”
Zariah stayed by my head, wiping sweat from my forehead with a cool cloth. “You’re so strong. You’ve got this.”
The contractions were relentless now, no break, just wave after wave. I screamed through them, gripping the bed rails until my knuckles bleached white.
“I can’t do this,” I sobbed between pushes. “It hurts too much.”
“You can,” Zariah said fiercely. “You’re almost there.”
Dr. Ellis coached me. “One more big push on the next one. Head’s right there.”
I bore down with everything I had, screaming, crying, shaking. Pressure built, unbearable, then released in a rush.
“Shoulders!” Dr. Patel called. “One more!”
I pushed again.
And then, a slippery, warm weight between my legs. A cry, sharp, indignant, alive.
“Boy,” Dr. Ellis announced, lifting him up. “Healthy little boy.”
They placed him on my chest, warm, slippery, perfect. Tiny fists waving, face scrunched and red. Dark hair plastered to his scalp. He cried louder, then quieter as he felt my skin.
I stared down at him, tears streaming. “Hi, baby,” I whispered. “Hi, sweetheart.”
Zariah was crying too, laughing through it. “He’s beautiful, Hads. Look at him.”
I counted fingers, toes. Ten of each. He had Cal’s nose, small, slightly upturned. My lips. A perfect mix.
They took him for a quick check, Apgar scores, weight. Eight pounds, two ounces. Twenty-one inches. Perfect.
I held him again, skin to skin under a warm blanket. He latched almost immediately, tiny mouth working. I watched him nurse, chest aching with something bigger than pain.
Zariah kissed my forehead. “You did it. You’re a mom.”
