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Sighing, I sit beside him, arranging myself so my button up shirt isn’t pulled too tight against my belly. Just about two more weeks and we’ll get to meet little baby Stewart. We still don’t have a first name for him. Tanner told us he figured out what he wanted to name him but won’t tell us. “I need to h-h-h-have options in case you p-p-p-pick a name I chose.” The kid is more prepared than us.
“How are you feeling?” I ask him, gripping his hand.
“Excited.” His eyes dance and I can’t help but smile.
“Me too.”
Rome walks in, sliding into the bench seat beside us. “Sorry I’m late. I had to turn the paperwork into the legal office downstairs. The judge should have it now.”
I nod and give him room. We sit for a little while more, then the door opens. Everyone stands while the judge takes his seat, taking papers from a leather portfolio and laying them out. We sit down when he tells us to and wait for him to get started.
We’re number three on the docket, so we watch two other families laugh and cry with joy as they adopt their children. I can’t help the happy tears that leak from my eyes. I’m seriously the most emotional pregnant omega around. Rome throws an arm around my shoulder, kissing my curls lightly. “Almost, baby.”
I nod, unable to speak through my tears.
“Mr. Stewart and Mr. Hendrix,” the judge calls. I inhale nervously, then stand when Tanner slides out of the courtroom seat. We make our way to the front of the courtroom, going through the swinging door and sitting at the table assigned to those adopting.
The judge looks over the paperwork. “You’ve been fostering for three months?”
“Yes, your honor,” Rome answers, knowing I probably won’t be able to push any words through the tightness of my throat.
“Are you prepared to take custody of this child, one Tanner James Stewart?” My heart leaps, hearing Tanner’s last name. Gods, this is a dream come true.
“Yes, your honor. We’re more than ready.” Rome chokes up and I squeeze his hand, hoping to give him a tiny bit of strength. “He’s a great kid and we’re honored to be his parents.”
“Very well,” the judge says, signing with a flourish. “Tanner, how are you getting on with your foster parents? Be truthful. It’s very important that we know if there are any issues before we grant this adoption.”
Tanner looks at us with a smile. “They’re the b-b-b-best, your honor. I love them.” I mouth that I love him too, the tears a permanent fixture on my face.
The judge’s stoic face transforms as he grins down at us. “I wish I could do this all day, putting families together. You all look happy. By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I hereby grant this adoption approved.” With another flourishing signature, the judge makes us a family.
Breaking down, I stand and wrap my arms around Tanner. I feel Rome’s strong arms around me and our son, squeezing us both tightly. I’m not the only one with tears streaming. We’re all blubbering messes, me more than them.
The judge allows us to stand and hug for a moment, then we get ourselves together and make room for the next family. We walk out, hand in hand, grinning the whole way.
Until we get down to the second floor and I feel a lurch in my stomach. It brings me up short and I have to bend at the waist, leaning against the wall for support. It happens again and I hiss, trying to breathe through my mouth.
“Babe?” Rome says, bending down to look at me. “What is it?”
“Baby is kicking,” I say to assuage his fears, though these don’t feel like normal kicks. I feel it all in my back now, not my side where this little guy likes to lay on my bladder.
I stand up straight, my hands going to the small of my back to try to alleviate this pain. It’s a rolling throb that isn’t letting up. I take two steps and feel wetness on my legs, like I’m peeing my pants, even though I’m not.
“Oh fuck,” I mutter. I look up at the shocked faces of Tanner and Rome. “I think my water just broke.”
The drive to the hospital is a blur. Tanner sits in the back with me, holding my hand and telling me it’s alright. I want to believe him, I really do, but it’s too early. I’m only three and a half months into my four month pregnancy. Baby Stewart isn’t due for another two weeks. And this back pain is terrible. I clench my teeth and grip the poor kid’s hand tighter than I should. But fuck, it’s terrible. This pain fucking sucks.
Rome pulls into the hospital entrance, running around the back to help me out. I take his hand, leaning on him for support. This is one of the times that I need my alpha and I don’t mind him taking control. Tanner walks beside us, looking at me every now and then with a worried expression.
“I’m okay,” I say softly, trying to put him at ease.
When we get to labor and delivery, the nurse takes one look at me and rushes around the desk, putting me in a wheelchair and taking me to an empty room. He gives me a gown to change into, asking me questions and taking my vitals all the while. Tanner turns around while I change—bless him—and Rome tries to answer some questions the nurse asks.
“Who’s your primary care doctor?” the nurse asks, putting a monitor around my belly.
“Dr. Liam Dorchester.”
“I’ll give him a call and let him know you’re here.”
