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“No, but they seem like they want to. Like they’ll hurt in a minute.”
“You’re not in giraffe form for this?”
“Doesn’t seem to help when it comes to labor.”Okay. Okay. Be calm, Trevor. Everything’s fine.
“You mean you’re not gonna, like, let them drop twelve feet to the ground and bang their head first thing?” Byron gave me the absolute nastiest look I’d ever gotten from him. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.” He shifted one massive hoof and pulled it back like he was ready to swat me with it. One little swat from him would take my head off.
“Babe, please don’t do that. I really wanna live to see the kid, and you know that when you threaten me with that hoof, it really turns me on.” Luckily that got a laugh out of him, and I was back on his good side as we prepared for his labor to get serious. I called our private medical team, who’d been on standby the past few days, and told them to get their asses down here.
“Do you want stick to the birth plan and have the baby here?” I asked.
“Yep. Right here. I’m not leaving this room until this baby is out of me.”
I nodded. “Roger that, Captain.”
Byron’s hand shot out, and he grabbed my shoulder and squeezed. “I think they might come out sooner rather than later.” I gulped.
My private team milled around getting set up, with the world-renowned doula I hired guiding Byron through the progressing stages of labor and delivery. I thanked my lucky stars and endless bank account that I was able to pay for that doula, because that gave me much less of a chance to look incompetent. I could stand around feeling helpless and useless, keeping my mouth shut unless I was offering words of encouragement or a hand to hold. As long as I was doing what Byron needed most from me in order to support him, I’d push through the feelings of inadequacy and do my best to just be there.
Eventually, Byron changed into a loose t-shirt, sweatpants and some thick socks. He got out of bed and paced around, groaning and grimacing.
“Ooooohhhhh,” he moaned low in his throat. He put both his hands to his low back and pushed his hips forward, leaning back at the same time. His long form arched like a bow. A bow with a huge belly attached to the front, sticking out and hanging low and making him look a little like the letter “P”. The way the t-shirt draped off emphasized the belly’s size, which turned me all the way on. I’d miss seeing him pregnant. I took one last long look to add to the spank bank for later. I smiled to myself. No need for him to know that, though, it would be my little secret.
The next couple of hours passed slowly, and it was hard to see the pain getting worse for him.
“This is not okay,” Byron groaned. “People told me labor would hurt. I heard it from other omegas all the time. I saw them screaming in the movies. Why didn’t I believe them? Why did I decide to find out for myself?”
“Um, because you thought the world deserves more people who carry my genes?” Byron stopped and swung his head over to me, his eyebrows slamming down in a nasty glare. “Yeah, that was the wrong thing to say, wasn’t it? Not the time for your jokes, Trevor, I get it.”
Byron didn’t sit down. Instead he kept moving, and soon he was pausing every few steps to push. We followed him back and forth, the doula on one side, me on the other, Mom bringing up the rear, and the medical team on standby.
Finally, he braced himself by putting his hands on the back of a chair and leaning forward. “Quick, quick, baby’s in my pants.” Our doula rushed to yank his sweats down, and there was, indeed, a stream of fluid tinged pink running down his leg, and a baby coming out of him.
It was a real head trip to see my baby being born. Byron bent and straightened his legs and let out a scream as he pushed the baby’s head out.
“You’re doing so good, Bye,” Mom said.
“Yeah, so good, hun,” I said, parroting Mom as my knees wobbled in shock. Bryon bent his legs and uttered one long, low moan as the baby slowly emerged, first shoulders, then their long torso.
“It’s like he’s going on forever,” I said. “My kid’s a fruit-by-the-foot.”
“You’re telling me,” Byron groaned. After one more big push, the legs and feet were out and we had a baby on our hands, literally. The medical staff clapped and whooped as the baby tookherfirst breath. It turned out she was a she.
I helped Byron to the bed, and he gratefully laid back on it. From there the doula put the baby on his chest and I cut the cord.
I was giddy and delighted, jumping up and down like a kid on Christmas morning. “Look at her. There has never been a cuter baby in all of existence, ever.” Her face was smushed and she looked a little like a potato except red all over, and yet she was still the most beautiful creature I ever saw. I touched her tiny foot, amazed to see her move. “She’s, like, really long. Or really tall? Or long? Or tall?”
A nurse answered me. “We say long, since they’re horizontal at this stage.”
“Got it. My daughter’s really long. She’s gonna be a tall guy.” I had a realization. “Oh, no. She’s gonna grow up one day.
Byron reassuring me by squeezing my hand. “We’re gonna enjoy her now.”
We nuzzled and canoodled until I realized something.
“You still kinda did the giraffe thing.”
Byron laughed. “I did, didn’t I? I didn’t drop her, though.” We both shared a laugh as we watched our baby flex her long legs on Byron’s chest.
