Epilogue:
Six Years Later…
“Push, baby, just one more push; you’re nearly done, babe.” Ian’s smooth voice whispered encouragingly in my ear. It just pissed me off more. I squeezed onto his hand even tighter as I pushed with all my might. Ian winced as my platinum engagement and wedding rings cut into his skin. As I thought, my pushes were useless. This child was not going to come out anytime soon.
Come on, pee-wee, mummy’s about ready to collapse.
I wiped my right hand over my forehead and sighed loudly. Just like Lamaze classes, Marissa, just keep breathing deeply. You’ve been constipated before, it’s not that different. Except, this time I was pushing out a ten pound baby. I breathed in and out, building up some stamina and energy before readjusting my body as much as I could and gave one big push.
“He’s crowning, baby, you should see this.” Ian said wondrously. His eyes were alight with amazement.
“Keep pushing, honey, it’s nearly over.” The experienced nurse told me and I felt so much relief at hearing those words. I gripped the hospital bed and breathed in and out again before pushing one last time. A little gurgle and soft murmuring met my super enhanced ears. I exhaled greatly and collapsed against the bed. My face felt horribly flushed and my body ached.
“Baby, you did so well. I’m so proud of you.” Ian kissed my cheek repeatedly.
“You want to cut the cord, hon?” The nurse asked Ian. I looked over at my husband and saw a nervous smile appear on his face. He looked down at me and I nodded sleepily. Without being told twice, Ian pulled away from my side and cut the umbilical cord that had given life to our baby.
Ian came back to my side and together we waited to hold our first born child; a boy no less. For a worrying moment I wondered why the nurse carried my baby away from me. I started to fret and opened my mouth and growled at her only for her to turn and tell me she was just going to clean him up. I felt pretty stupid and ran a hand through my greasy black hair. After fourteen painful hours of intense labour I was glad it was all over but I was still itching to hold my baby; to hold my little pee-wee.
When the nurse brought back my little bundle of blue I thought I’d fall off the bed from my excitement. Holding out my arms for my little sweetheart, Ian kissed my cheek and watched my face as I got my first real look at our son.
I gasped and my lip trembled and tears escaped my eyes as I caught sight of the shiny, deep black tufts of hair growing on his pink little head. His deep, sky blue eyes were so similar to his father’s that I felt like crying. His lids were naturally half closed by the heaviness of his dark lashes that made even me feel envious. His rosy cheeks were chubby and his small ears were much like my own.
He looked me in the eyes and blinked once and then twice, taking me in and remembering who I was.
“I’m your mummy, little pee-wee.” I murmured to him, brushing my lips against his cheek. A tiny hand shot up to my face and tiny fingers touched my jaw. I smiled and laughed softly.
“Curious aren’t you, buddy?” Ian chuckled beside me and played with his soft hair. I brought my pee-wee up higher on my chest and took in his scent. He smelt like soap and well, new born baby. It was reassuring.
“What are you going to name him?” The pack’s nurse asked us, trying not to disturb our little moment.
“Ehren Tobias; that was my father’s name and his father’s as well.” Ian replied as he stroked his index finger along our son’s cheek.
“Cute.” She replied before turning around and exiting the room after congratulating us and wishing us well.
“How are you feeling, Mare?” Ian asked softly, probably not wanting to ruin the moment either.
