Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 78 - The First Cry

It's just before dawn when I feel the first contraction. It's a dull ache at first, but there's something unmistakable about it. I lie still for a moment, waiting to see if it passes. But then another wave of pain hits, this time stronger, more insistent. I sit up slowly, trying not to panic. The moment I've been anticipating—and dreading—is finally here.

I glance over at Bucky, who is still fast asleep, his body tense even in rest. I've watched him wrestle with his fear these last few weeks, and I know that when I tell him it's time, his worry will skyrocket. I reach over and gently shake his shoulder.

"Bucky," I whisper. "Wake up."

He stirs, blinking groggily, and then sits up instantly when he sees the look on my face. "What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

I take his hand, squeezing it to reassure him, but my voice is steady. "It's time."

For a second, he just stares at me, processing the words. Then his eyes widen, and he bolts out of bed. "Time? You mean—now? The baby?"

"Yes, Bucky," I say with a small laugh, despite the contraction tightening in my belly. "The baby. It's time to go to the hospital."

His face is a mixture of excitement and terror, and I can almost see the gears turning in his head as he tries to figure out what to do next. He rushes to grab the hospital bag we've packed weeks in advance, tossing it over his shoulder while muttering under his breath. "Okay, okay. I got this. We need to—what else? Do we need more stuff? Water? Snacks?"

"Bucky," I say softly, catching his attention. He turns to me, wide-eyed and panicked. "We're ready. Just take a breath."

He exhales sharply, nodding, but I can tell he's still on the edge of panic.

---

We head downstairs, Bucky constantly checking on me, asking if I need anything, if I'm okay. His hands shake slightly as he fumbles with his phone, trying to text Sam to let him know what's happening.

"I'm fine, Bucky," I reassure him again, leaning against the kitchen counter as another contraction hits. This one is stronger, making me grip the edge of the counter for support. I see the concern in his eyes, but I try to give him a smile. "Just... let's get to the hospital."

He nods, but I can see the fear creeping back in. "Right. Hospital." He glances at the keys in his hand, then back at me. "Should I call the doctor? What if something happens on the way? What if—"

"Bucky," I interrupt, keeping my voice calm despite the pain. "We're okay. The baby's coming, but we've got time."

He takes a deep breath, nodding again, though his movements are still frantic as he grabs everything we need and helps me toward the car. I can't help but smile at the sight of him in full-on panic mode—he's trying so hard to keep it together, and even though he's terrified, he's still here, still doing everything he can to take care of me.

By the time we're in the car, Bucky's hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. He glances over at me every few seconds, worry etched on his face.

"How are you feeling?" he asks for the third time in ten minutes.

I let out a slow breath, trying to focus on breathing through the contractions. "Like I'm about to give birth," I reply, half-joking, trying to ease the tension in the car. "But we're okay, Bucky. We're gonna make it."

He nods, but I can see his mind racing as he navigates the streets toward the hospital. His fear is palpable, but so is his determination.

---

About halfway through the drive, Bucky's phone buzzes, and I see Sam's name flash on the screen. Bucky answers it quickly, his voice tight. "Sam, we're on our way to the hospital. The baby's coming."

I can hear Sam's voice on the other end, calm and steady, a grounding presence that Bucky desperately needs right now. "Alright, Buck. Breathe. You've got this. I'm heading to the hospital now to meet you guys."

Bucky exhales, gripping the wheel a little less tightly. "Thanks, Sam. I—I just want to make sure everything's okay."

"It will be," Sam says, his voice confident. "You're doing great. Just focus on getting there safely."

Bucky nods, though I can tell he's still on edge. He glances over at me again, worry creasing his brow. "You're sure you're okay?"

I reach over, resting my hand on his arm. "I'm sure. And thank you for doing this. We're going to be fine."

Sam's voice comes through the phone again, and I hear him chuckle. "Bucky, you're already acting like a full-time dad. Just keep her safe and get to the hospital. You're doing great."

Bucky lets out a nervous laugh, the tension easing slightly from his shoulders. "Thanks, Sam. We'll see you there."

---

The hospital is buzzing with activity when we arrive, and Bucky helps me out of the car, practically carrying me inside as if I might break. His protective instincts are in overdrive, and I have to remind him to breathe every few seconds as we make our way through the doors.

A nurse quickly takes over, guiding us to the maternity wing, and Bucky stays glued to my side the entire time, his hand gripping mine like a lifeline. He's still on edge, still anxious, but I can feel his determination to be there for me, to protect me through this.

Once we're in the delivery room, everything becomes a blur of contractions, nurses, and doctors. Bucky is beside me the whole time, his face pale but resolute as he watches me struggle through each contraction.

"You're doing amazing," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so proud of you."

His words are a comfort, even as the pain intensifies. I grip his hand tightly, breathing through the contractions, focusing on his voice, on the way he looks at me with so much love and fear in his eyes.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the doctor tells me it's time to push. Bucky squeezes my hand, his voice shaking slightly as he encourages me, whispering how strong I am, how much he loves me.

"You've got this, Emily," he murmurs, his forehead resting against mine. "You're incredible."

And then, finally, the room is filled with the sound of a baby's cry, and I feel an overwhelming rush of relief and joy. The doctor holds up our baby—a tiny, wriggling bundle of life—and places him in my arms. Bucky's eyes fill with tears as he looks down at our son, his expression one of awe and disbelief.

"He's perfect," Bucky whispers, his voice breaking. "He's... he's really here."

I smile through the tears streaming down my face, looking up at him with all the love I can muster. "We did it, Bucky. He's here."

We sit there in the hospital room, holding our son, both of us overwhelmed by the enormity of what we've just experienced. For the first time, I see a flicker of peace in Bucky's eyes—a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.