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Cruising to a New Life - Part 10 (Final)

Finally... we bring the cruise storyline to a close. Thank you to the few people who have actively been asking questions and giving feedback, all communication is very much appreciated, and always makes me feel like writing is worth it - I hate posting into the void and not getting anything back by way of chats and constructive criticism.

I always write more actively when I'm getting feedback, so please reach out!

Without further ado... here's the conclusion to the tale!

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As we arrived for our evening meal, on the last night of the cruise, there was an air of sadness in the room.  I looked around the tables with Jodie to see a large number of baby baskets by the side of many of the tables, the families gathered celebrating the new arrivals, and the end of the cruise.   Much like ourselves, there were still a fair few pregnancy bumps on display around the room – likely only a few days away from meeting their children, but as we had come to learn all too well, the fickle nature of well... nature means nothing can be guaranteed.

Jodie at least smiled, hand rubbing her bump.  “At least my mum will get to be here when the baby finally arrives.  I was really worried about that.”   I nodded, understanding how much it meant to her.  Perhaps it was for the best that she didn’t go into labour during the voyage.

We enjoyed our meal, savouring it as long as we could knowing it was likely to be the last one that we would have made to this high a culinary standard, at least for a fairly long time, and as the dining room started to clear out as the families with children and babies wanted to head off for an earlier night, we had the good luck to meet the head chef who was doing the rounds.   He came by the table, introduced himself and announced what a pleasure it had been to serve us for the 2 week voyage.   We made polite small talk until he left to meet other guests elsewhere in the room.

As we left the dining room – Jodie’s face grimacing as she heaved herself up off the seat – I whispered in her ear.  “I think I know a fun way to get ready for bed… how about a game of strip poker?”

Jodie’s face lit up.  She was always up for this sort of playful fun, and at least it would help clear the blues of not meeting the baby yet.   Her hand shot down to her belly as the baby inside kicked and wriggled.  “Looks like the baby wants to be involved as well.”

As we got to the room, we locked the door, made best of what we could with the space available in the cabin – chairs on either side of the table in the room, and I went to grab the cards and the bag of chips from our bag.   We weren’t particularly good at poker – lets be honest, if the aim of the game is to get as naked as you can as quick as possible, you want to aim to be bad anyway… but this had been a little tradition we started a few years ago, carrying around a small bag of poker chips, and a pack of cards – easy to store, and ends up being a memory maker between us – who won which game where.

The first round was a comprehensive victory for me, and as Jodie announced she folded, I had a cheshire cat grin on my face as I waited in anticipation of what she would remove.   “I’m only taking off a sock mister… calm your self.” Jodie announced.  “Though, I’ll need your help, there’s no way I can bend over to get it pulled down.”

I laughed out loud as I realised I was already a few points behind Jodie as I glanced down at my bare feet, aware that I had been wearing sandals to the restaurant, and having taken off my shoes when getting into the cabin, I forgot to put anything on in my anticipation for the game. I sighed dramatically as I pushed the table to the side, took one of my wife’s legs in my hand and slowly peeled the sock down her ankles.   She gave a satisfied moan as my hands caressed her leg – probably more for the theatrics than anything else, but I’ll admit, I felt myself get hard at her sounds.

The next game was won by my wife.   I was left with a dilemma.  I only really had 2 pieces of clothes on – my polo shirt and my shorts – well and the boxers underneath – so I’d need to play it cool to get her naked.   I opted to take off my shirt, so stood up, and turned my back to her, lifting it slowly over my head whilst gyrating my hips.   She giggled a laugh as I hummed the music to some sort of stripper tune, lifting the shirt over my head, swaying it around a little (actually swishing it in front of me, because I couldn’t really swish it around my head with the space available) and turning around before tossing the garment at my wife, which landed in her more than ample chest.

We collapsed into giggles as I got the chair back into place and sat back down.  I won the next 2 hands.   The second sock didn’t have anywhere near as much ceremony as the first, but once again, I had to kneel down to peel it off her leg.   My hand took the opportunity to sneak up the inside of her dress where I tugged at the lacy fabric I found underneath.   “I see you’re wearing panties… spoil sport, guess that’s another hand I have to win.”   She waggled her finger at me conspiratorially, announcing that it was all intended to make me work for my victory.

My most decisive victory came on the second though.  I actually managed to beat her by a major margin.   She only had a pair, but I had a flush.  I grinned as I identified that my hand described her well – she was certainly coming over a little red and finding it difficult to find her breath.    She purred in response “just getting ready for what you’re going to do later.”   After losing by that much, she decided that it would be my choice for which piece of clothing would be removed next… but – she hastily pointed out – I need to go from the outside-in.

I laughed realising what she had done.  She only had 1 more outer layer on her, her dress.   It was, by default, the only item I could remove anyway.   My eyes rolled as I realised I had been out played, but sat back as she stood up – grunting once more and having to use the table to help her up – and undid the tie that was keeping the wrap dress around her belly.   She opened it up almost like a flashers mac, arms grabbing the fabric and spreading it wide, where I drank in her maternal figure.   Her breasts, enlarged as they were ready for the milk the baby would need, her bump, hanging low on her now compared to the last few days – the stretch marks showing signs of the work she had done over the last few months in nurturing the baby.   The small line of linea negra down her belly meeting and vanishing beneath her panties.   I wolf whistled and reached out to caress her, where I was met with her own hand slapping mine back.

“Look but don’t touch, you need to win first to get this prize” she shimmied her hips as the fabric draped backwards off her arms and fell to the floor.  She flicked it away with her feet as she got back on the seat ready to play again.

 We were both down to 2 pieces of clothing each.   My shorts and boxers, and her bra and panties.   I must have been distracted, as I soon lost the next hand.   Shorts came off and she whooped with glee knowing she had almost won.   I got the next hand, and sat enraptured as she peeled off her bra, and let her milk laden breasts flop out, resting on top of her belly.

I can only blame being mesmerised by the sight of her on the next hand.  I was too focused on her breasts and didn’t pay attention to the game, so I found myself losing.   As the cards dropped out of my hand and we compared, we both had nigh identical hands.   Both hand 2 pairs… but hers were better.   She soon realised, and shrieked.

I laughingly had to lean forwards and shush her to make sure that no one around us came to see what the commotion was about and as I stood up to reach over the table, she reached out her arms and tugged my boxers down below my ass, exposing my cock to the air conditioned room air.   With my hand on her mouth, she waggled her eyebrows at me.   I removed my hand from her mouth, and in her oh so sweet and innocent voice, she announced “I win!”

I let me boxers fall to the floor, and kicked them away as I moved around the table to hug her, my hips shoving the table out of the way.   We held each other tightly as we kissed and cuddled for a while, enjoying the feel of skin on skin.   I turned Jodie around and we moved toward the bed, my hand sliding down her back to where the elastic of her panties rested.   I swiped down with both hands as the last piece of underwear she was wearing dropped to the floor and she fell back onto the bed.

“I’ll call it a draw.” I grinned as I kneeled and grabbed her ankles hoisting them up so they rested on the bed and forced her knees to splay apart.   She actually hooked her hands around the back of her upper thighs and pulled backwards, in a play of positioning herself as if she was giving birth as my face met her vaginal lips, and I began to gently probe with my tongue.

Her moans and squeals were heaven to my ears as I continued to explore.  I soon felt her shiver and gasp as her orgasm crept up on her and then overtook her, my own ministrations not letting up.  She was soon asking me to stop as everything was too sensitive, but I gave it another minute – and a second orgasm – to be sure.

Jodie made me sit back on the bed once she was able to get her wits together again, and she managed to position herself so she could ride me in a reverse cowgirl style. 

She holds onto my shoulders as she lowers herself down, my still hard cock her obvious target.  She sways back and forth on the head, watching me intently as I let out small gasps of pleasure at the sustained touch in what is my most sensitive point.

Finally she relents and shimmies down.  Our own wetness more than enough lubrication to achieve what she intended.   Her thighs bob up and down with added support from her hands on my shoulders as I feel her ride up and down my shaft – my eyes caught between watching her face and sneaking down to get a good look at her breasts and belly.

My hands extend out and reach for her back, my fingers dancing around and finding their target.  She moans in extasy as I probe the muscles there, my fingers dancing along to a tune only I can hear in my head.

She slows her movements, instead gripping with her own lips and slowly, deliberately lifting up and dropping down my shaft.  The extra tension causes me to gasp with pleasure.   I know I wont last long as I feel the build up and release flow from me into her as she smiles in response, kissing me as she lets me slip out of her – her belly pressing tightly into my own as she feels my orgasmic shivers overcome my body.

We finish the final night kissing and cuddling naked in bed together as she soon falls asleep in my arms, her quiet breaths lulling me into my own sense of calmness as my eyes close and I drift off.

“Fuck, shit!”

I dart awake.   Jodie sits up in bed, dragging the covers off me in the process.  “Whats up?” I enquire.

“I’m in pain… I think… it might have been a contraction.    Nothing like I’ve ever felt before.   Tightening around my middle and radiating all the way around to my back.”

I nod.   Typical that it would be now, on the last night as we were pulling into port that something would happen.  I look over at the clock – it was 2am.   The boat was still moving as we felt the rocking and hum of the engines.

“Lets monitor it a bit… make sure it wasn’t a false alarm.  Lie back down and see if you can drift off back to sleep?”

She nodded as she lowered herself back down into the bed and closed her eyes.  I was on edge though.  Surely the medical facilities must still be in operation, or have they thought about closing down as people readied to get off.   What would it mean if we went to the birthing facility, and everyone was getting off the boat?  Would we just be bundled into an ambulance and sent off to the nearest hospital?

I tried to hold still as Jodie grumbled.  “I can feel another one.   I think its real.”  It had been around 10 minutes since the last one at this point in time.   I swung my legs out of bed and rang the in room phone to the medical centre.  

“Hello, medical.   How can I help” the voice answered after only a ring or two… I would have presumed they weren’t exactly rushed off their feet.

I explained the situation and the team on the other end of the line explained that we were due to dock at 6am.  They would prepare the birthing suite just in case, but recommended that we waited in the room until things were more established, and if there was no immediate need for it, we could leave as soon as the ship was docked and head off to our own choice of birthing location, where the crew would arrange to get our bags transported back to our homes based on the address we provided when checking in.

I relayed this to Jodie who nodded her head in understanding without saying a word.   I could see she was going through another contraction at the time and her mind was elsewhere.   I thanked the team and told them I would let them know before we got off either way.

We just had to get through 4 hours of sailing, however long to get from the port to the hospital, give Jodie’s mum a ring on the way in so she could meet her there, and Jodie would have the birth experience she dreamed of.

Except, it seemed, the baby nestled within her didn’t have the same sort of attitude towards timekeeping as we had hoped.

The contractions ramped up fast.  10 minutes changed to 7 then changed to 6, and suddenly it was soon down to 5 minutes apart and the two of us were starting to get nervous with the clock reading 3.30am.   Sleep was all but forgotten between us as Jodie paced the room, walked out on the balcony, had me rub her back and generally just couldn’t keep still, aches and pains and nervous energy forcing her to keep on the move.

I suspect the fact that she didn’t just try to rest and sleep through things, is what caused the contractions to ramp up in intensity as fast as they did, as Jodie was soon at the point of moaning through the pain, making loud keening noises as the pains ramped up, holding her breath and ultimately trying her hardest to get through each moment and take a small breather before the next contraction caught up with her again.

“We’re going to the medical centre” I announced.  “Theres still hours before we could get off the ship, and I don’t think you’ll last that long.”   Jodie looked up and nodded, giving a small verbal acknowledgement which sounded as much like a grunt as anything else, but I knew what she meant.

I pressed the red button on my puck, and my phone was ringing within a few seconds.   I explained the situation, and was told to bring Jodie up to the medical centre, they would take a look at her.   They confirmed there was a chance that she would of course have to be transferred to hospital should the ship dock and she wasn’t looking likely to give birth soon, but we would deal with each thing as it comes.

We didn’t want to take too long to get dressed for the walk, so Jodie chose one of the large fluffy bathrobes to wear – it would be easy to remove, and would help with the chill from the sea breeze at night as we got to the medical centre.  I just threw on yesterdays clothes which were crumpled up on a chair, and sooner than we realised, we were off.

We weren’t very talkative on the trip up.   Jodie knew exactly where she had to go to, and we trudged in silence, stopping half way there as she had to lean over the railings on the deck and groan out into the inky blackness surrounding the ship.  The silence at this time of the morning was eerie – the swishing of the boat through the sea, the lack of any other human presence – and the sound of my wife making her best impression of being a banshee wailing out to sea.

As we got to the medical centre and got checked in, Jodie asked how close we were to shore as she got undressed to be checked over.   The midwife team on duty checked her watch.   “We’re about an hour away at the moment.   Should dock around 5am I think.   Cleared for getting off she ship from 6am.”

Jodie nodded as she laid back and watched the midwife lube up a glove as she inserted a finger in to check on the progress of the labour.   As she winced, closing her eyes and puffing out a breath of air, she asked “Can you contact my mother?   I want her here if she can witness the birth.”

The midwife nodded, adding “I’ll do what I can… but she will have to rush… you’re at 8cm already.”

To say my jaw dropped would be an understatement.   Jodie’s too.   She shook her head.  “I mean it hurt… but… but” she was speechless.   I hugged her and just told her to focus on the birth, she knew she was so close to getting her mother here to attend the birth, then suddenly to find that she might miss it I knew might make her worry and effect the birth process.

The knowledge that she had progressed so far must have flipped some sort of switch within her body as she suddenly howled, startling everyone in the room as liquid flowed out from between her legs.   Her water had broken.   Jodie suddenly panicked and reached out for my hand, so I grasped hers and told her it would be OK.  Everything’s going as it was supposed to.

She nodded and took a deep, calming breath as the nurses fussed around us, cleaning up the mess, hurriedly putting a pad down under Jodie’s behind in case there was any more leaking.  The next second she was gripping my hand for dear life as she started to push.

“No… don’t push, not yet.  You need to get to 10 first” I plead to her.  

She nods her head, panting breath out desperately to try and stop whatever her body was trying to do.   “I can’t not push.   The heads right there.  I can FEEL it.” Jodie was basically pleading to the room at this point.

I stroked her hair and told her “follow my breathing.”  She nodded.  I breathed deeply, held it and exhaled.   She followed suit.   Soon she calmed down, whatever contraction she was feeling had passed and she had a moment to collect herself.

The midwife’s phone rang.   We both heard half a discussion, and it sounded promising from what we could gather.

“Captain LeGrande has taken this on personally to contact your mother.  He said he managed to reach her, and she is rushing to the port now.   Once the ship is docked, he will personally collect her, escort her through security and bring her on board to come here.   If things go our way… your mum will get to meet her grandchild!”

That seemed to lift a layer of tension out of the room.   “Now all we need to do is focus on letting you stretch and relax… nice and calm, let the baby come slowly!” I announce to Jodie.   She nods.   I’m sure she comprehends, but I’m not very sure she has much of a say in what her body wants her to do.

She’s soon breathing big panting breaths.  “Hoo-hoo…. Don’t push.  Don’t push.  Hoo-hoo”.   She was repeating it over and over again, not acknowledging anyone in the room.

I get in close to her and whisper that she’s doing a great job, doing everything she needs to do, and offering her brow a damp cloth (handed to me by the midwife) as a moment of respite from the contractions as they ebbed away each time.

Jodie in turn howled as the contractions ramped up.   She gripped my hand for dear life as the other grabbed a rung on the bed and tensed up, I felt her entire body stiffen each time.   Her teeth were clenched, the tendons on her neck stiff and pronounced.   You could see she was fighting her body.   Presumably trying to hold back.   Doing everything she could not to push.

I moved around to face her, and with my free hand, rubbed her belly.   “Just let our little one come.   Just think, we get to meet our baby today.   Let it happen.”   She sagged and it was almost as if she gave up trying to hold back.    The rest between contractions was relaxed, panting… she seemed ready.

A quick moment of checking later and suddenly “You’re good to go, push when you want to!” was announced by the midwife.   Jodie got herself onto the bed, onto her hands and knees, and gripped a rail on the headboard of the bed.  She faced towards the back of the room, and I moved into position behind the bed to offer her support.   Placing my hands over hers as gently as I could I managed to touch my forehead to hers over the back of the bed as I whispered “Go… push our baby out.”

She gave a roaring push.   My ears were ringing as she stopped.   Not quite sure how loud I spoke back to her (you know how you cant regulate your own volume when your ears are ringing… yeah) that she was doing great, looking beautiful, every single positive statement I could think of to keep her focused on pushing.

The midwife in turn was out of sight positioned behind my wife’s butt.   She stood up and gave me a curt nod every few minutes as if to say everything was looking good, administering wipes, applying a little oil here and there.

I couldn’t see anything from my position other than a view of the midwifes back reflected from a large mirror in the room, but suddenly she was stroking my wife’s thigh and telling her she was doing a good job – she could see the head.

She stepped to the side to grab something, and suddenly I saw it reflected in the mirror – the dark circle of hair between my wife’s stretched lips.   Announcing I could see the head had my wife giggling in response, though it was short lived as she was soon back to dealing with a contraction.

The midwife seemed to get wind of what I was saying, realising the position of the mirror and moved her body so she wasn’t blocking the view.    It meant she was leaning off to one side, but she kept a close eye on things without keeping her hands in view.

I described it to my wife as she pushed.  I’m quite sure she was listening, as her roaring pushes were soon replaced with throaty grunts.  She kept her mouth open, as she had picked up from others on the cruise, but her eyes were closed, focused.

I described how each push was doing what it was supposed to be doing, the small disc of hair growing and growing as each push brought it further and further out.  I think she knew instinctively that of course it slipped back in after each contraction finished – she’d seen a few births on the cruise now to see it happen – but I left that little tidbit out of our conversation – best not to leave her disheartened.

The midwife was lending her support with “just like that” and “that was a good strong push” and other supportive phrases when suddenly my wife looked up at me – she had honest tears in her eyes and announced that she was feeling the ring of fire.

“It burns, oh fuck, it burns, make it stop… please… this hurts more than I would ever thought possible” she yowled at me, blinking back the moistness in her eyes.  

The midwife shouted up from behind her in a commanding tone “You have to push through it now dear.   Big and strong.   Put all that pain into force between your legs!”  I’ll admit I was useless at this point, seeing my wife in pain, and unable to help, just watching this dark shape surrounded by the red, angry stretch of her lips.  I could see the head was almost crowned.   She certainly was stretched to a point that seemed to be almost impossible.   She had to push the head out soon or else I felt she was going to rip open.   I held my breath, hoping this wasn’t obvious to her.

Then suddenly, accompanied by a horrendous shriek from my wife, the mirror showed the baby’s head hanging out of my wife, caught in the skilled hands of the midwife, who moved to wipe it down.

Jodie was panting, tears streaming down her face.   “Am I ok… did I tear… that felt like something damaged.”

I saw no evidence of blood in the mirror, though most of the view was blocked by the midwife plying her trade.   It only took a moment for the midwife to confirm “No dear… nothing damaged.   You did everything perfectly.”   I heard a sign of relief from my wife which had me at ease.

Then there was a gasp from the door into the room.   My mind registered a new presence, but something – adrenaline, who knows – took a moment to register that Jodie’s mother had made it.   I looked back behind her to see the figure of Charles giving me a nod and stepping away from the door to leave us to it.

Jodie’s mother – Helen – dashed over fussing all the while about her own baby becoming a mother, and soon replaced me facing her.   I was somewhat unceremoniously pushed to the side by the mother hen and, following a quick wave from the midwife, I positioned myself behind my wife and took over supporting the babys head, which had managed to rotate itself ready for the next stage of the delivery in the intervening minutes.

“We’re docked now I take it?” I said to the room in general.

“Well… I certainly didn’t swim” came the joking voice from Helen as Jodie succumbed to the next contraction.

I held onto the baby as the midwife gave me instructions to press and pull gently to free up the shoulders – and suddenly my arms up to my elbows were covered in fluids, the yell of my wife, and the shout of triumph from my mother in law signified the baby now in my arms had been born.    The baby took no time in announcing her – our daughter’s – arrival to the world with a howling scream of her own.

I passed the baby between my wife’s legs as she leaned back on her haunches and pulled her up to her chest.   Both Jodie and Helen were sobbing with happiness and managing to talk over each other with statements of either disbelief or congratulations.  The midwife rubbed the back of my arm affectionately as she wished me well before going to check on the baby.

By the time we had gotten cleaned up and discharged from the medical centre, we were the last passengers on the ship.  It had seemed to suggest that our little drama had went by unnoticed by the majority of the occupants of the ship.

It was well into the middle of the day before we walked towards the atrium to meet Charles and Adriana – and their own child – to wave us off the ship.   The mothers spent a little while chatting about the birth, and Helen was introduced to the other family as the greetings were a little rushed earlier.

We all agreed that the maiden voyage of the cruise had been a success, and whilst it would be difficult to break maritime rules to have late stage pregnant women at sea in a commercial setting, the couple decided they would run this private cruise on a yearly basis – and we had to contact the family should we find ourselves in the need of their services again.

2 years later, we returned to the ship – now named the “Mother Of The Sea” with our toddler in tow, and Jodie’s twin filled belly proudly on display in the atrium.

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Finally put (digital) pen to paper and made a start on the finale of my cruise story series. Let’s hope that it gets finished before the end of the year.

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This is going to be a first for several years… going to be all by myself over the weekend. Need to find something fun to do to occupy my time.

Any suggestions?

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We heard it through the walls.

We stumbled into the room at the end of the evening, day three of our honeymoon at a 5 star all inclusive resort, two young lovers enjoying each others company. We had just eaten an exquisite steak dinner, and fell into the bed in each others arms, kissing and cuddling – ready for where the rest of the night would take us.

It was then that the sound reached us. A groaning noise, and squeaking of the bed next door. We giggled, sounds like whoever was next door had similar plans to us. Maybe we make a competition of it – see who could make the most noise.

As I pinned back my wife’s arms above her head, my legs straddling her petite waist we heard it again. Another groan, longer this time. It caused us to pause in what we were doing to listen out. We both held our breath, waiting in anticipation for the noises from next door.

It didn’t take long… maybe a minute or so, but there it goes again, another groaning noise. It was strange, all the noises were coming from the lady in the room, whoever was with her making her make those noises was a lot more reserved, we didn’t hear a peep out of any second person in the room.

Suddenly she yelped out, an expletive on her lips. I looked at my wife, and she returned the puzzled look I’m sure I sported. It was soon followed with cries of “Oh fuck, oh fuck, what do I do…”

When we were certain that there wasn’t another person responding to her, we decided to investigate. Or at least I was sent to investigate. My wife’s mind had went into overdrive and had thought that maybe she had killed her lover in a moment of passion, hence the quick turn of panic.

I walked out of our room and down the corridor to the adjoining door, feelings of trepidation washing over me, as I was completely unsure what I would find. I knocked, three times. There was no answer. I waited around 10 seconds more and knocked again, shouting out “Hello… I’m from next door, you sounded a little panicked. Is everything OK?”

I heard shuffling feet approach the door, and it opened a crack. A head peeked through the door, her body hidden behind the solid door. I recognized the lady immediately – we had spotted her about the place. She was a heavily pregnant woman, who never seemed to have any partner with her. I had commented with my wife in the past that this would be a perfect place for a babymoon… but it seemed strange that she was never with anyone, friends, family, or the father of the child (or who knows, maybe even a lesbian partner as well)

She did look a little pained as she croaked out “Hi… can I… help you?” she asked.

I put on a smile which I hoped would be welcoming and at least try and diffuse any situation that she may be in, as I answered “I’m from next door. You sounded panicked. Just wanted to make sure everything was OK and help if I could?”

“Oh Thank you, but I don’t need any…” she didn’t even manage to finish the sentence before she scrunched up her face and pressed her hand against her belly. The movement forced the door to swing open and I finally caught sight of her and her room. She was wearing a top which was pulled up and over her belly, the fabric scrunching up and caught in the limited gap between her breasts and her belly. Her bottom half was completely naked. I tried not to stare, so looked around. My eyes caught sight of the large damp puddle on the bed, staining the sheets.

Now I know I was a little inebriated from my wine with my meal, but it wouldn’t exactly have taken Sherlock Holmes to figure out what was going on. I still stuttered over the fact though. “Are you… is that… baby… labour?”

She nodded in response, not able to say anything but grabbing my hand and pulling me into the room. I didn’t exactly resist, though my brain was going through the motions of ‘am I going to die – is she doing this to trap me whilst someone else in here robs me?.’ As the door slammed closed behind us, I frantically scanned the room. No one, nothing coming at me. Just her in the room. The bathroom door had its light on and there were towels on the floor, with water splashes on the shower – obviously something she had tried to relieve the labour pains.

As her fingers dug into my forearms and she grimaced more and more, I tried to make sense of the rapid change in events. “Was that your water breaking that caused you to panic?” I nodded towards the bed, though I’m unsure if she registered the gesture. She gave a weak grunt by way of a response. “How long have you been in labour? Why don’t you get an ambulance?” She shook her head and gestured a finger up in the air, a sign to wait. She panted out a breath as the contraction she was going through seemed to let up, and managed to speak.

“8 hours. I’m a surrogate for the owner and his wife. One of the stipulations is that I can stay here free of charge as long as I give birth to the child here on the site. I thought I could do it, but I can’t handle it anymore. I need help… please!” She unashamedly grabbed my upper arms to hold on to me as she widened her stance and growled a sound which suggested she was pushing. Her fingers dug into my arms again and I struggled to take in the events.

“Erm… good, well done. Keep on pushing?” I ventured. It got no response. She was lost in whatever mental area she had retreated into. She kept at this for a good 30 seconds, growling as I felt her knees bend and she lowered herself down a fraction, before panting out a breath and going back to it, a second and third push following that one. Her head sagged against my chest as she came out of whatever trance like state she had been in and apologized.

“Sorry…” she muttered. “I don’t think this was exactly on your cards for tonight? Look… I don’t know how long I have to speak between these surges, but my name is Selena. I’m a surrogate as I have said. Once the baby was born, I had to ring the parents, hand over the child, and I would have enough money to see me through for the next 10 years if I didn’t go wild spending it. They haven’t been involved, other than this…” I followed her eyes downward to find a tracker strapped around her ankle. It seems the parents-to-be had made certain they could find her.

“I… can’t leave the site. I mean I don’t want to, I have everything I need here, but all the medical staff are brought over for my check ups. If I try and leave, an alarm sounds as I approach the exit and the security team escort me back. I’m in no state to be running away from guys who look like Arnie in his prime. So I’ve accepted my fate.”

“That cant be legal?” I say. She shakes her head.

“May be not, but what am I going to do about it. An orphan, no real money or savings to fall back on. Very few friends… this was my ticket to an easy life.” She was cut short by her needing to squat and push again. Her roar caught me unaware and echoed loudly in my ears.

“Oh Fuck…fuck, fuck, fuck.” Her hand reached down and planted firmly between her legs.

“Whats up? Whats wrong?” I was a little concerned at the announcement.

“I felt he head between my legs, but I can’t feel it. I swear it was coming out. Now its not.”

I nodded understanding. “Ahhh… OK. Sorry, I can’t say I’ve got any personal experience of this to fall back on, but as I understand it from my school age biology stuff… the baby slips in and out until it… crowns?” I sound a little unsure of myself. “Yeah that’s the term I think. You have to push it out until it gets to the widest part, then it doesn’t go back in anymore.”

She wailed “And how long will that take? I don’t want to do this anymore. It hurts too much!”

“Can you not ring for medical help. I’m sure the baby’s parents would want to be here? Even if they don’t want you to leave, I’m sure they will get a doctor to come to you?” I asked, tiptoeing around the subject.

“I rang for help. I did. 5 hours ago. I’m still waiting for the help to come. Every time I have rang since, it just went to voicemail. I don’t know what to do!” she sounded a little frantic. “Here comes another!” she wailed as she resumed her half squatting stance, still holding on to me for dear life as she pushed.

I did what best I could, wrapping my arms around her and holding on to her hips, as she swayed side to side. I followed the motion, swaying my own hips with her movements and whispering to her that she was doing good and doing everything she needed to, the baby would be here soon, and I wouldn’t leave until she had given birth.

I panicked at that. I couldn’t really promise that. My wife was next door. She’ll be coming looking for me soon. She might honestly think that I’ve been attacked if I don’t go back to our room. I started getting flustered.

Selena met my gaze as the contraction passed, thanking me. She asked if I could help her remove her top, as it was giving her feelings of being constrained. I was a little reluctant, I had to say. I’d seen her with nothing much on than a small bikini already and yeah, I’m a hot blooded man - I’m not sure what pregnancy did to her bust, but ‘more than a handful’ was an understatement… but I couldn’t exactly refuse the poor woman, could I.

I gulped, and just nodded my head, not verbalizing an answer. She stepped back just enough to let me hook my fingers under her top, and with it being trapped beneath her breasts, my fingers were in direct contact soon enough. I lifted the top up and I felt my fingers slick up on her nipples. They were damp. I apologized as much as I could when she gasped at the touch but she shook her head. “They’ve been so sensitive, anything sends shivers down my spine…” she hesitated a moment and added “though I do really enjoy the sensation of truth be told.” She blushed, or at least her cheeks seemed very flushed – it may have been the exertion, I can’t say I’m certain.

“Can you do me another favor… I need a hand…” again she paused. I wondered where she was going. I was about to apologise and say I was married when she found the next words “… to the toilet. I need to go. There’s so much pressure down there.”

I shook my head. “Sorry… that’s a little too personal. I’ll wait outside.”

She gasped, the next contraction picking up. “Please… help. I don’t want to go on the floor. That’s not what I want the cleaners to see!” She sounded desperate. “I can’t do anything but stand here right now… I’ll collapse.” She soon resorted to pushing again. Between gasping breaths her eyes looked at me, wide and pleading “please!”

As the contraction passed I took pity on her and lead her – surprisingly slowly with her plodding, wide legged steps – to the bathroom. I held her hands as she lowered herself down onto the toilet. I didn’t quite know where to look until her eyes scrunched up again as she cried out “no… I’m pushing again” but this was punctuated by a screeching sound soon followed by “the head… the head. It’s out. It’s out… shit. Help, help, help.”

I looked at the space between her legs and sure enough, there was the baby’s head dangling between her legs. I would later learn through looking things up online that opening her hips as she sat down must have cleared enough room, one strong push, and pop – out comes the head. It also explained the feelings of needing to go to the toilet.

She reached out to me as I heaved her up but she slid down onto her knees, howling all the while. I watched as the shoulders slid out from between her legs soon followed by the rest of the baby. I spotted the cord was around the neck and – admittedly with no medical training – figured that shouldn’t be there, so slid the baby around to slacken it off… only to realise exactly how slick and slippery a newborn baby could be.

I grabbed the damp towel from the bathroom floor next to me and did what I could to wipe the baby down and get rid of the blood and vernix on its body.

It was soon crying – the little baby boy – and I handed him up to the mother (or I suppose surrogate) who was openly weeping at the relief.

It was only a minute or two later that 2 people walked through the door. One man dressed in a suit and another holding a bag. The man with the bag went to check on Selena and the child whilst the other man explained that he was the owner and intended father - he had come with one of the medical staff to assist.

As I left them to look after Selena and the child, I couldn’t help but have a suspicion that their ‘convenient timing’ was a little too convenient… and wondered if the owner had the room bugged waiting to see what had happened with the birth.

Either way, I returned to our room, washed my hands and explained the situation to my wife. She grinned, saying that she heard everything through the wall, and as she pulled me in for an embrace, calling me her big strong man… we conceived our first child on that hotel bed that night.

When we checked our bank account a few days after we got back, we found the cost of the honeymoon had been credited back to us, that was when we first decided to set up a savings account for our first born, and decided we would never go back to that resort ever again.

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A question for my readers… do you feel the stories I write have enough variety in the ‘birth scenes’ ?

One of my biggest ‘writers block’ situations is trying to think of new and interesting ways to describe someone pushing out a baby - I can often think of loads of starts and overviews to stories but when it comes to fleshing it out with the detail I often get so far through and just think ‘it’s the same thing as last time, just packaged differently.’

Now that may be just what people want. I know I can for instance watch the same thing happen a dozen times in videos and enjoy it.

Just hoping for some feedback?

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Thinking about going into labor while at work. The silence and keyboard clatter being interrupted by heaving and pained moans, everyone’s attention suddenly turning to the heavily pregnant woman clutching the sides of her stomach… imagine the mess of the water breaking as people try to help her get comfortable, but it’s no use. not when the contractions are that bad and getting worse by the minute.

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This looks like it would be an interesting alternative pushing position. Lean forwards, hands in the ground and squat down as you push. Release and flex back to being bent forwards. When you push again, flex your hips down into a squat.

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Home Videos

As its mothers day in the UK, I couldn't let the day go without a story of someone becoming a mother. So here's one I saved up from a while ago from a roleplay I did with @allkindsofpreg. Hope you enjoy it.

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Some people would call it… unconventional, but it’s just the way we are. My phone is streaming birth videos to the tv, one after another. You give a little grunt. I look over and you give me a weary smile. We started our video marathon four hours ago after the third hour of contractions, both of us confident that this was the real deal. We had watched countless babies being born and right at this moment you were sitting on a towel, your trousers and underwear discarded, your fingers rubbing tight little circles on your clit as we watched the mother pull her legs back. You pull your top up and expose your belly, the fabric scrunching up under your breasts. I lean over and wrap my arm over your shoulder, my other hand reaching down to follow the route of your fingers. Your head lolls back as you sigh, the contraction finally passing.

“They make it look so quick,” you grumble, leaning heavily against the headboard as another head crowns and pops free on the tv.

I chuckle and move my hand to cup your firm stomach. “Movie magic, love,” I assure you. “We can edit ours to look that way too if you want.” The idea of going back later and rewatching the birth of our child together sends a shiver of excitement through us both. “Could maybe speed things up though.” My hand moves up to brush your nipple and you arch into my touch.

With some assistance, you get your legs folded underneath your ass and get to your knees. I follow. Your belly presses into mine and you loop your arms around my neck. Our lips find each other and my other hand reaches between your legs, the long, lazy strokes causing you to pant and moan along with the woman on the screen.

You don’t pull away as your core begins to tighten, just move to rest your head on my shoulder. Your hips sway in time with my movements until you're practically riding my fingers. I can feel when you stiffen, and gently nudge you back into rhythm. “Keep it loose. Just relax and let the baby move down on its own.”

“So heavy,” you mumble against my skin, and my grip moves to lift your belly. The relief is instant, gravity no longer pulling constantly at the small of your back, and you pull tighter against me. “Thank you.” you hum in acknowledgement, but it’s soon drowned out by your string of curses as the contraction crests.

“Fuck, shit, ow, ow ow ow.” You sink lower and lean forward, hips widening and belly lowering to rest on the bed. From here it’s easy to see how much I'm enjoying this, and you almost laugh when my hard cock twitches in response to your panted breaths.

“Done?” I ask, eyes questioning as you straighten up with a smile.

“It’s only just beginning my love.” A particularly wild scream draws our attention back to the playlist and your hand instinctively searches your own opening as the woman struggles against a massive bulge. “Check me,” you plead, desperate for some sense of fullness as you wait to be where she is. My palm cups your pussy, and all you want to do in that moment is fill it with the head of our child.

I move to get behind you, as you shuffle your elbows forward and hitch up your ass to give me better access. “I’d better remember this position for next time, seems like a perfect height for my hips…”

You turn your head, blowing out a breath in turn as you grunt “don’t think about next time… right now I’m thinking this time”

“I know baby you’re doing really well” I say automatically in response, all the while my fingers were cupping your opening. You grunt an acknowledgement and prompt me with “you were checking” as I giggle “yes dear!”

You suck in your breath as you feel my fingers slip in and probe deeper, feeling around. “You’re… you’re doing very well baby.” My obvious skirting around the number and tone has you picking up on it. “How much?” You gasp, puffing out the breath you were holding.

I try and sound cheerful “you’re at 6, almost there” I say. We both know you were at 5cm 2 hours ago and hadn’t really progressed.

You grunted a ‘damn’ as you elbow walked back and with my help got you back upright.

I glanced over to the four cameras we had placed over the room to record things, all were still blinking their lights showing they were still recording.

“Do you need to do anything with those?” You ask, pushing your top back above your bump and rubbing circles against the skin.

“No, not yet, they can do 6 hours each on the cards. If needs be and we get to 5 hours I’ll make sure I swap them over before anything spicy happens”

We started recording when we set the movie marathon away 3 hours ago.

“So speaking of spicy” you say coyly… “it sounds like we need to get things moving.”

I smile and run my hands down the length of your thighs. “You just want me for my sperm,” I tease. We’d read that it could help soften the cervix, and you’re desperate for anything that might speed things up.

“Mm,” You hum unapologetically and crane your neck back to look at me. “Kind of how I got into this mess in the first place, yeah?”

I lean forward and capture your lips in a kiss, then gently lower you down so you’re lying down on the bed facing away from me. Grabbing a bunch of pillows to nest and wedge around your awkward aching body, we manage to get your belly supported and knee propped forward and up enough to give me adequate access from behind. I wrap my body around yours, kissing down your neck and shoulder as my hand caresses down your curves, inching lower and lower until it finds your clit. I start torturously slow, effectively distracting you through several more contractions.

“I’m close,” You warn, and I nip playfully at your skin to keep you from tumbling over the edge just yet even as my fingers move rougher, faster. You whine in protest when I stop, but the stimulation quickly reappears at your opening. I drag my stiff cock up and down between your folds and you're already so wet it doesn’t take much before I’m prodding, pushing, thrusting.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan as I bury myself deep inside you. Your ability to move is limited, so you’re at my mercy as I slide in and out, in and out, adjusting the angle slightly each time until I find the one that makes you gasp and shiver and beg, “Please. Please.”

“Please what?”

You can only whimper as your own fingers find your clit. Another contraction is building and you know I can feel it too as I struggle to hold back from release as your internal muscles clench and spasm around me. My pace quickens and my arm wraps around your belly, giving me a bit of leverage to hit just a little bit deeper and sending us both over the edge.

The pleasurable muscular contractions from the orgasm mingle with the painful ones from labour, heightening both sensations and causing you to cry out. You intertwine your fingers with the ones I have moulded to the curve of your stomach and pant harshly until the vice loosens. There’s a new persistent twinge in your back and your other arm is beginning to go numb.

“Maybe you should stand for a bit - help the baby move down some?” you manage, panting from the exertion all the while.

I give you help to get up, your “oooh” of appreciation towards letting you straighten your back echoing in my ears. We position ourselves face to face, your arms wrapped around my shoulders loosely and my hands holding either side of your bump as we begin to sway with each other, the next contraction building. We rest forehead to forehead as I whisper to you “keep it going you’re doing great”. You don’t respond straight away, focusing on the pain until it finally releases, and you blow out a breath. Then, with a grin, you tilt your head back and look me in the eye as you say “you’re running down my inner thigh.”

We both burst into giggles as I rub my knee up and down your inner leg, moving it side to side to separate your knees, sure enough I feel the wet sloppiness against my skin.

“Will just have to break your waters and wash it all away” I reply.

“Don’t you dare, this baby comes when this baby comes” you groan as the next contraction picks up. Just before you go inward and focus on the contraction you whisper “though I think it might come pretty soon.”

We dance around in circles for the duration of the contraction, my eyes checking back on the tv screen. The lady on there is squatting down pushing hard, not making a sound other than occasional grunts as she pushes. “Staying upright seems to work for her, perhaps we should give it a go.”

It’s harder than you expect to stay on your feet, the full weight of gravity adding to the strain and pressure in your back, hips and legs. But I'm always there to support you and the freedom to pace and sway and bend and squat is easily worth the effort.

You lean forward, pressing your palms into the edge of the dresser as another contraction begins to build. I come up behind and trace my fingers up your sides to cup your breasts. I give them a gentle massage and the pain ratchets up a few notches in response. It takes your breath away in a high pitched moan and your legs widen out of instinct, though it does little to alleviate the mounting pressure.

“It feels like I’m about to pop,” you manage to make out with a little bounce and sway, as if that might have any effect on your waters. “Come on, baby, I know you must be ready to come out.” The only response was a sharpening of pain that had you doubled completely over.

“Hey, remember the woman on the tv,” I whisper, a gentle suggestion.

You turn your head and again am faced with the mother in a deep squat struggling hard against her child’s large head. You nod, and I help lower you so that your ass is almost to the floor. Your knees flare out to the side, your hard stomach rounding out between them like a huge bowling ball. You ride out the rest of the contraction this way before returning your eyes to the screen.

“Pretty soon there will be a head between these legs,” you say, your hand reaching back to search for mine.

I find it and kiss your cheek. “Very soon, my love,” I assure you as I help you back to your feet.

You turn to look into my eyes - they are a mixture of excitement and adoration and lust. You take one of my hands and position it between your legs. “Here is where the head of the child we made together will be. My legs wide open for you, just like they were on the night of conception, skin bulging into a tight dome, hole burning and stretching, being born right into our own hands.” This is our idea of dirty talk and it mixes with the desperate whines of the birth video and my fingers once again dance and stroke between your folds.

You don’t want to move as the next contraction picks up, so you grab onto my shoulders as ripples of sensation flow through your body. I know you so well that I somehow bring you to the precipice once again and your body clenches at the same time the contraction peaks and there is such a massive release that your knees buckle and you would have certainly fallen to the ground if I didn’t catch you.

When you come down from the high after a few breaths, you notice that it’s not just my hand that’s wet, but your legs and the floor as well. “Either that was one hell of a squirt, or my water just broke.”

The splash you just released was audibly loud, but lost on you as you gasped at the same time. My ankles and feet were soaked, caught in the splash back but to my inexperienced eyes it certainly looked like your waters had broken. The next contraction came fast - much sooner than any previous ones leading up to it, and based on the howl you made, was certainly more noticeable. Your fingers clamped down on my arms, my biceps feeling like you were trying to rip them out of place. I grimaced as you continued to yell at the unexpected intensity. My hands found a way to either side of the small of your back and you fell into the embrace, your forehead burying into my chest as you screamed into it. Finally after the longest 30 seconds of your life you managed a sniffling gasp, the contraction over.

“That one was hard?” I enquired. You just nodded, eyes filled with tears. Finally you gave a shuddering sob and said that the waters being gone meant you felt the full weight of the baby, with no cushioning… and with gravity adding to it… it hurt, bad.

We agreed we would get you down onto your hands and knees on the bed and see how the next one felt. It took a few moments of clambering to get you repositioned but eventually you settled as you gave a warning “it’s starting again.”

Thankfully this contraction wasn’t as painful - not sure if it was simply because of the fact you knew what to expect or indeed not being upright did help, but you vocalised with loud moans and groans whilst rubbing your belly, your weight supported on one hand and your knees. I pulled your hair back and tied it into a ponytail as I kneeled next to you, one hand wrapped over your shoulder, the other on top of your hand rubbing the belly, and my lips kissing the side of your neck.

Shortly after the moans and groans subsided as the contraction let go. “That sounds like it helped?” I asked.

You nodded, still certainly feeling more and more pain compared to before your water broke. “I feel the head behind my pubic bone” you say, your voice shaky. “It’s moving down.”

“Ahh” I say, racking my brain to think of something we had watched in a preparing for birth video. “I saw something about putting your knees together and lowering your ass to the ground, that opens the pelvis.”

You nodded as you rested whilst you could. I looked at the clock in the room, muttering under my breath.

“What’s up?” You asked.

“Cameras need to be played with.” I said. “Can you believe we’ve been at this for 5 hours now?”

Your head turns toward me “Yes!” you yell, mentally recounting the aches, pains and orgasms you’ve experienced so far.

“Don’t go anywhere” I say as I scramble up to swap the cards and check on batteries for the cameras. The ones in three corners of the room were straightforward, but the one we mounted above the TV unit - intended to give a nice wide angle shot of the room and hopefully catch you pushing - needed to grab the steps from the corridor. As I set them up you ploughed your head into the pillows and groaned, yelling at me to hurry back, the next contraction building.

I fiddled and fumbled with the camera, pulling out one of the SD cards and dropping it in my haste to put the other one in and start recording again. I glance down and couldn’t see it, mentally noting that I’d have to look for it when everything was over.

Jumping down off the steps I rush back over to you and catch a glimpse of your pussy exposed on the bed. Where it had been smooth before it was now noticeably bulging - your gasping cry announcing “I felt a pop I think the head got past my pelvic bone.”

The contractions are relentless—long, intense waves that crash over you one right on top of the other. You couldn’t move from this position if you wanted to, and I support you the best I can but your whining moans are constant.

“Too fast. It’s too fast.” You keep repeating it over and over, as if your labouring body would pay any heed to your concerns. But an invisible force has hold of you, and it seems to be reaching up inside, clenching and squeezing a battering ram slowly but forcefully against a hole far too small for it to pass through.

“What can I do?”

You don’t have the mental strength to turn your head to look at me, but you can hear my concern in my voice. You give my hand a little squeeze to let me know you’re okay. “Hot compress, please.”

I check the bowl of water we had prepared earlier for just this situation.  The water wasn’t quite as hot as it had been, but squeezing out the facecloth inside it still felt warm to my fingers.  The cloth was warm and comforting on your aching pussy and you press back further into my palm. Perhaps it slowed the descent to a more bearable pace, or perhaps it was enough to give you some illusion of control over the primal roiling in your body; either way, you were able to come back to yourself and focus on your breathing, on my touch, on the incredible, if terribly painful, sensation of our child’s head moving through your hips.

It takes a good half hour for the contractions to begin to slow again, and once there’s actually enough space between them for you to rest, you sigh deeply and slump over onto your side.

Your face is red and damp and lined from being buried in the pillows for so long, but I'm there with a cool washcloth this time, placing it on your forehead and giving you an adoring smile.

“Well that was intense,” you say with a chuckle, reaching out to brush your fingers against my jaw.

I take your hand, twisting it to kiss your palm. “You’re doing amazing, mama.”

The word sends a thrill through you, and you reach around your belly to the space between your legs. You’re surprised at how different it feels, the soft mound of your lips domed out by a harder object trapped behind them. You try to slip a finger inside to see if you can touch the head, but the angle and your current physical limitations make that difficult.

“Can you feel it?” You ask, finally giving up your own efforts.

I give you a quick peck on the lips before sliding my fingers into the spaces you couldn’t reach and stop just shy of the base. “Oh, baby. Hi, baby,” I coo, and your eyes well up.

“You’re touching our baby right now?”  I nod in response.

The next contraction begins to build and the force of it alone pushes my fingers a little further out. “Won’t be long before you do too. Feeling the urge to push yet?”

You were going to say no, but your body answers for you as it curls in on itself and you let out a strangled, surprised yelp and bear down into your first real push.

“I can’t help it” you gasp as you come up for air after the involuntary push. “My body just won’t refuse… I can’t NOT push.”

I scramble around to sit next to you and rub your back as you gasp and once more bend forward, gritting your teeth, scrunching up your face and putting in the effort. In between contractions I dash out to the bathroom and bring a dish with a washcloth, ring it out and lay it on your head.

I lean back and grab the tv remote, turning off out little movie marathon… looks like it’s time to make our own.

Another two pushes like that and you’re panting. Finally though it seem to have released you from its grip, giving you some respite.

You collapse back, breathing deeply, my eyes drawn to your heaving breasts, moving up and down with your laboured breathing.

“That hurts more than I could have imagined” you say to me, in between your breaths. “I need something to take my mind off it… something top drawer.”

I know exactly what you mean and jump up off the bed, scuttling around to your side. I slide open the bedside drawers and pull out your pink vibrator - your favourite.

I flick it on - the buzzing sound coming on announces that the batteries are charged - and get back into my position.

“Hurry, hurry… I’m pushing… I’m pushing!” You trail off the last syllable lost to an anguished moan. I turn the vibe to low and rest it on your clit. The effect is immediate. You jump at the added sensation and let out a howl. Thinking I have hurt you in some way I pull it away rapidly and you practically hiss at me “don’t you fucking dare take that away until I say so.”

I gently lower it back onto your bud and press lightly, your howl turning into a moan of pleasure. “Faster, the contraction is ramping” you say as you hold your breath and push, my finger rubbing the control button with an audible increase in the vibrations.

Your hand darts out to the side and grabs me, the other gripping the sheets. Your vice-like grip clamps down at the first part of me you grab, wrapped firmly around my cock which had been hardening since watching the show.

I gasp in surprise—and maybe a tiny bit of pain—and you force your hand to loosen, to stroke, to tease. The contraction still has you in its grip, but there’s an undertone of familiarity in this mutual pleasuring. It gives your mind something else to focus on even while your body moans and tenses and struggles and heaves.

When the pain begins to recede, you take over the operation of the vibrator and I scoot to the end of the bed. I hastily prop you up with a mound of pillows and position myself between your knees. Your ass is practically hanging off the bed as you wrap your legs around my hips, pulling me closer. I press my palms into the bed on either side of you and lean forward over your belly to give you a deep kiss before pressing my cock against your pussy.

There is no longer enough space in there for both me and the baby, but you're wet with arousal and birthing fluids and the vibrations from your toy send shocks of sensation through us both. I begin to slide slowly through the rift between your folds, coating the length of me. As the lubrication increases, so does my speed and intensity, desperate to maintain that delicious friction.

Another contraction begins and I pause, eyes a bit glazed and breathing heavily but nonetheless more concerned with your pain than my pleasure. You uncross your ankles to let your knees fall open and pull back on your thighs, tossing the vibrator to the side for the moment. You throw your head back and push hard, biting back a guttural groan at the intense pressure that comes with it.

While all your focus is on pushing, I can’t help but be mesmerized by the feel of the baby’s head bowing out your skin as you push. My hips are still flush with yours and it presses against my dick. After several more pushes the contraction dwindles and I pick up where I left off with renewed fervour. I'm practically on top of you when you jam the vibe back to its intended location, hips pumping and jerking furiously and releasing increasingly enthusiastic grunts.

I finish first, but immediately click up the vibration intensity up to the max as my mouth goes to your breast, licking and sucking and nipping until you come tumbling over the edge after me.

The nipple play brought on another contraction quicker than expected and you wail in surprise as your loosened muscles allow the head to surge forward quickly with the next push.

“Uhhhnghhh,” you moan, helpless against your body’s instincts. “Oh, oh, ngh!” You try to catch your breath, but your abdominal muscles won’t release. “Fuck, babe. Fuck. Fuck!” You’re almost panicked now, your knees reflexively trying to snap shut.

My firm but tender hands keep them in place as I remind you, “Slow, love. Gentle pushes now. Your body knows what it’s doing.”

If it did know, it wasn’t sharing that information with your brain, but you nod anyway. You let out an almost meditative hum, and the controlled release allows you to draw in a long deep breath.

“That’s my girl,” I say approvingly, giving your leg a little squeeze.

When it’s finally over, your eyes find mine and there’s a hint of excitement in them. “What is it?”

“I saw the head on that last push,” I reveal with a grin. Your hand automatically reaches out to feel but I shake my head. “It’s gone back in now, but it means you’re so close, babe.”

You pout and flop back into your nest of pillows. “I want to see too,” you whine, somewhat petulantly, and it gets a chuckle out of me.

“I thought you might feel that way, and I’ve got a bit of a surprise for you that I think might help.” I get up and rummage around in one of the dresser drawers, pulling out a small camera and flicking the tv on as I walk back to the bed. I position the lens right in front of your pussy and then flip the switch to turn it on. The tv suddenly lights up with a big screen projection of your bulging, gaping hole. “Now you can stand or squat or sit or be on hands and knees and you’ll still be able to see exactly what’s going on down there.”

“You’re… you’re recording this feed too, right?” You ask, transfixed as you open your legs wider and use your fingers to tug at the stretched skin to see if you can see anything in there.

I prop up a ring light and flip it on, adjusting it until it illuminated the area perfectly. “Of course.”

“Good,” You gasp, setting your eyes on the large screen,” because the next contraction is starting.”

You grunt as the contraction rapidly picks up, trying your hardest to focus on the screen and not close your eyes. In front of you is a crystal clear, 42 inch high definition image of your lower half, and you are suddenly in awe.

The picture is so clear, you see the rivulets of my previous load dripping down between your legs. I grab the washcloth and wipe the mess up, as you grunt and moan a hurried “get out the way” in between contractions.

As I whip away the cloth, we’re both taken aback by the large scale image of your slightly parting lips, and the white mass in between… you squeal, the revelation magical to you, and watch as the head slips back as the contraction fades away once more.

“That… that was something” you pant, trying to recover your breath. “But I need you to help me.”

I nod, giving you a kiss as I move to kneel down between your legs, as you rush to stop me.

“No!” You squeal when you realise I’m blocking the camera. In my haste I hadn’t realised.

“Get behind me… I need to…” and once more you pulled your legs back and held your breath, this time eyes closed in concentration.

I climb up onto the bed and squeeze in close behind you, scattering your pillow nest around the room as I get into place. I get onto my knees, and rock back onto my haunches as you flop back against me at the end of the push, your breathing ragged as you gasp for air.

My hands wrap around under your arms and rest cupping your breasts, where once more I start to massage the pronounced nubs, resulting in wet fingers as your milk starts to flow around them.

As the contraction rapidly builds, I look over your shoulder and stare at the screen, my eyes wide at the image. “Look, look baby… you’re doing it, you’re doing it.” I’m full of enthusiasm as I see more and more of the head peeking out, and finally your lips going from flesh coloured to puffy and red as they stretch to accommodate the mass behind them.

Your hands rush to instinctively cover your opening as you whine about the burning as you push but as you lower your fingers once more we see the results of your work - the teardrop shape of the head in place - the previous white skin back to a more satisfying pink colour visible between your lips as the pressure is finally released on the head and you get a moment of respite.

You use the precious time between contractions to catch your breath and massage your opening. It’s strange, exploring this intimate part of yourself that’s so familiar and yet, at the moment, entirely unrecognizable. It’s round and heavy and stinging, and there’s a patch of skin right at the centre that’s not your own.

“There’s our baby,” You sigh, resting your head back against my shoulder and stroking the small patch of exposed head with the pad of your finger. “Can’t wait to finally meet you.”

Your hand moves higher as another contraction starts, pressing into your clit as the skin beneath presses painfully outward. You push and the dome distends out impossibly far, but the crown remains stubbornly small. You don’t want to force anything before your body is ready (or, frankly, obstruct the view), so you stay this way, relaxed and removed from the pain, and let the reflexive force of your muscles do most of the work for the next few contractions. I help by keeping your knees pulled out and back as you groan and tense and hiss and shake, helping with the stretching in the quiet moments between.

There’s a much more circular, but still quite small, opening that our child is trying to force its way through when some primal desperation kicks in. Why is this taking so long? Why are you not opening up enough? What if the baby won’t fit? It already hurts so much, what if you can’t handle the rest of the birth?

You are anything but calm when the next contraction comes and your sudden panic - strangled whines and restless thrashing - takes me by surprise.

My eyes immediately go to the tv screen, but all seems just as it was to me. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You can’t put it into words. You just grip my thighs in an iron fist and throw everything into a wild push. The head surges forward and you scream as your hole stretches violently wider in one quick motion.

“Whoa, easy, easy!” I scramble for a warm wet cloth and leaning over your shoulder, press firmly against the modest crown. You try to squirm away from the counterpressure - at that moment you want nothing more than for this to be over with as quickly as possible - but of course I'm pressed up against you from behind as well; there’s nowhere for you to go. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, and you’ve got this.”

You shake your head and attempt another monumental push, but this time I’m ready. In fact, I have to press so hard against your efforts than when the contraction is over and you finally stop pushing, the head goes most of the way back in and when I pull my hand away, you're back at a teardrop.

“No, no, NO!” You yell, taking me by surprise. I stroke your hair, telling you it will be ok but you just shake your head.

“It’s so hard… I just want to push it out but my lips won’t let it.” You’re frustrated, in pain, tired and getting a little too grumpy for your own peace of mind, so sigh, shaking your head and taking a deep breath, trying to get your focus back.

“You’re doing so well baby… just pant when it gets tight if you feel your pushes aren’t doing anything - let your body do some of the work.”

You nod, taking another glance at the tv as the contraction builds. Your eyes close and you mutter under your breath “come to mummy” as your lips bulge and your fingers trace circles around the tiny peak of skin between your legs.

I watch as the head bulges out again, your red, flared lips hugging it tightly. Once more you reach a peak of pain and start to yell as I remind you “pant, pant.”

You gasp, realising how much on autopilot you were acting and do just that, huffing giant gulps of air. The head stops retreating when you let go of the push.

“Baby’s on its way!” I cry out, you can’t help but have a giant grin on your face as the contraction finally releases you.

You’re fascinated by the way your pussy looks like this. There is still pain there—of course there is, with the amount of bulge there is right now—but there’s also hope, excitement, awe, maybe even a bit of arousal. You remember the promises I made when we were trying to conceive, promises to fill you up with a big baby and then watch as you struggle to push it out. And now you’re doing just that.

Another contraction starts and you begin to pant along with my coaching. The head pushes out further, but your hole doesn’t get any bigger. You hold your breath in an experimental push, but it just has you crying out and I suggest you go back to breathing and moaning and letting your body do the pushing.

You can’t disagree, but it’s so much more agonizingly slow this way. It’s probably another twenty minutes before there’s a noticeable size difference, and by then the pressure is unbearable.

“I have to push. I have to- I have to push!” You yell as the next contraction begins to build. It’s not a decision so much as a warning and your body trembles with tension and anticipation.

“Just wait until you absolutely can’t keep from pushing for another second.” Your breathing picks up to an unsustainable pace and your vocalizations reach new heights and your feet are off the bed, knees pulling back of their own accord in preparation. “Go for it babe,” I urge.

And you do. You give a mighty roar, but you're doing it. You swallow your fear of the pain and the chaos and you train your eyes on the taut round ‘O’ on the screen. At the slightly downward angle of the camera, you can see just how distended and round the head is behind your opening. With another push, it’s like you can see the whole outline of it and once again it doesn’t seem possible, but it is. I tell you over and over again that not only is it possible, but it’s happening.

It takes another few contractions of full on pushing when the animalistic part nearly takes over again. The slowly building fire is suddenly a full-on inferno between your legs and you slam back into me as if trying to retreat away from your own body, head thrown back in a silent scream and a few tears of pain falling down your cheeks as the fading contraction does nothing to douse the flames still raging on between your lips.

“It’s crowning now,” I tell you, since your eyes are closed.

“Mmhm,” You manage weakly, though when you look at the screen you find that it’s still not quite to a full crown. “Maybe… maybe I need a new position.”

“Do you want to squat, let gravity do a bit?” I ask, and you nod your head without uttering a word. Knowing that time is very much against us in between contractions, I lift you up under your shoulders, a difficult task as you’re unable to help pull yourself up from your position, but with a strong tug, and your legs scrabbling under you in their wide-open gait, we manage to get you upright.

The weight between your legs is immediately noticeable with the added effects of gravity causing you to yell as the next contraction picks up. Your hands grab onto my arms, the only thing keeping you upright right now, as your head pushes back into my shoulder, your roar loud and free of any inhibition.

I can no longer see any sign of the head glancing down between your breasts and belly so look frantically at the screen - your back arches back toward me as you push, trying desperately to move things along, but perhaps more importantly, that results in your crotch poking forward, still on display on the screen.

Your pussy is stretched tight, the head bulging out, the baby’s forehead starting to appear.

I think back to the videos, most of them showed the head shooting out soon after it crowned, but for you, it was moving with an agonising slowness, but it was moving. I’m sure with the next contraction it’ll get past the nose and ears, and surely that would mean there are no other protrusions keeping the head in place.

You scream in frustration as yet another contraction passes, you sag your weight against me. You’re panting heavily, exhausted at the effort.

“You’re doing great baby, almost there, maybe on the next push” is all I can offer by way of encouragement.

Nothing can compare to the fullness you feel. There is so much weight still pressing at your back, in your hips, and of course behind your opening. You can see it on the screen, the way your skin is drawn out taut and tight and so thin that you can see the ridges of the baby’s features just below the surface. The pressure built up behind is almost unbearable, and you’re panting desperately just to keep from pushing before it’s time, before your body is ready.

You moan when another contraction begins to take hold and I tighten my grip on you as your knees bend and you sink into a deeper squat.

“Mm, please come out, baby,” you beg, waiting for the urgency to build. “Hmmm. Oooooh. Ngh!”

The pressure peaks and you bear down hard with it. The dome bulges out comically far as your abdominal muscles war with your tight pussy. It retreats a bit when you release your breath, then pushes out again when you do.

“Do you want me to help ease the skin back?” I offer after another fruitless contraction.

You shake your head, determined to deliver the head without intervention. You stay in a deep squat this time, not risking losing any progress, and I settle onto my knees behind you—I’m more steady, plus the camera angle is better for both of us this way.

I nuzzle into your hair and kiss your neck. “You’re doing so well, baby.”

“I’m tired and it hurts,” You pout.  I hum in sympathy, but my eyes never leave the screen and you can feel that I'm hard again. “At least you’re enjoying this part.”

I kiss you again. “You know what those sounds you’re making do to me. How hard you’re working and how beautifully you’re opening up. All for our baby. Can’t help it if I’m excited.”

You know you will be too, watching this back. But right now, another contraction slams into you and you tug your knees back as far as they’ll go. You're shaking with exertion, but finally there’s movement and you howl as your skin stretches over the nose. The movement stops when you release your push and I urge you to keep going.

“Baby’s almost here, you can do it! Pushpushpush!”

With considerable effort, you suck some air into your lungs and hold it there, putting your chin to your chest and heaving another massive push. A desperate high-pitched squeal escapes you as you cross the mouth and chin, but you manage to hold onto the push until finally…

“Head’s out! Oh my god, the head’s out. You did it, baby, I’m so proud of you.”

Fluids leak out around the head as I check for a cord. The baby turns in my hands just before another contraction picks up—now you just have to get through the shoulders.

You’re stunned, the feeling of the “pop” resonating around your entire being as you felt the head come free. You’re panting, waiting for the immediate urge to push to finish all the hard work and effort you had put in today, but your body wouldn’t let you.

You relax, waiting for the contraction to build. Taking a moment you reach down, whilst simultaneously looking at the view of the head resting between your legs. It looks so… calm, considering the effort leading up to it.

Your hand strokes the baby and you mutter under your breath “I can’t believe it”

You can’t keep your elation in check. All of the last few moments passed in only a heartbeat in real time but for you the moment lingered for what seems like minutes. You snap out of it when I land a kiss on your forehead and join your hands holding the baby.

Suddenly the peace is shattered as the next contraction builds. You push, effort renewed, you go deeply inward wanting things to be over, but the hoped for release doesn’t happen. You expected the shoulders to slip out.

Another push, once again no movement. You start to fret a little, you yell with the next push “come out!”

I’m started at the exclamation as I look down between your legs and we see the baby’s hand poking out from under its chin. The next word summarises the moment perfectly… “fuck!”

You give a mighty heave, and panic slightly when progress halts and the pain ratchets up unbearably. You scream, partially in frustration but also very much in agony, and I immediately drop to my knees for better access to what’s happening between your legs.

“Wait, stop, stop pushing!”

The urgency in my tone is the only thing that could give you pause in that moment, and you look down to see a small trickle of red down your leg and absorbing into the pad beneath your feet. You try panting to keep from pushing and squeeze my shoulder. “Did I- shit, did I tear?”

I’m quiet for a moment, my hands gently supporting your skin and holding the baby firmly in place. “No, no I don’t think so,” I finally say, giving you a bit of a nervous smile. “But you’ve gotta go really slow now to stretch around the arm and the shoulders.”

“Right. Slow.” You glance down at my awkward crouched position, and yours is not much better. “Maybe I should try lying down again.” That had certainly slowed down progress before.

Bracing yourself with one hand on the mattress, you lean down onto your hip, then fully onto your side, keeping your other knee flared out and open as I adjust to accommodate the baby’s head. You grab a pillow to support your belly. You shift restlessly when another contraction starts and pull your leg back towards you.

“Easy, controlled pushes now,” I remind you, giving the inside of your thigh an affectionate stroke. “You’ve got this.”

You nod, more to yourself than to me, and slowly contract your abdominal muscles. Your breath leaves in a low hum with the effort as your stomach squeezes and compresses. You can feel the pressure build up behind your opening, but much like before, nothing progresses further into the world.

Several more contractions later and you’re starting to get tired and discouraged. “I don’t care about tearing anymore, I just want this baby out,” you whine, close to tears.

I run my free hand up and down your shin comfortingly. “You don’t mean that. And besides, you’re doing great.” When I see you grab your knee and curl forward again, I say, “Alright, this is the one, I can feel it.” you have your eyes squeezed shut, but I lean forward to brush your cheek and point your chin toward the TV. “Just look at how beautiful you are, how amazing your body is.” You’re stretched so impossibly wide and the head is so big, it really is a miracle the delivery has gone as well as it has so far. “You were made for this; now just let it happen.”

With your eyes on the screen, you join your hand with mine under the baby’s head, and push.

Your grunt starts low in your chest and builds and builds as you apply more and more pressure between your legs. I lean to the side so the overhead camera gets a good view - as the hand and shoulder slide out from between your legs. You’re obviously aware of it as you let out a joyful whoop of success.

“Keep going baby” I offer as you once more grunt and heave. I adjust my arms to support the weight of the baby as its second shoulder slides out, then suddenly without warning, once all the things blocking it leaving were removed, the baby’s torso and legs shot out, taking both of us by surprise.

Your eyes shot wide open. “It’s over?” You gasped.

“We have our baby… a daughter” I smile as I lift the - surprisingly large - baby up between your legs and lay it on your chest. Tears are flowing freely from your eyes now, the sense of success and relief washing away all of the last few hours.

I take a glance around the room, all camera lights were still blinking. I give a thumbs up gesture to be captured for posterity as I get up and move to your shoulders to coo over the baby who is now crying up a storm.

“Can’t wait to see how the video comes out.” I grin.

[tbgblr2]

She’s my goddess. Her pregnant form is ripe… no… fecund. The word seems more meaningful.

I’ve got a front - and let’s be honest, only - row seat to her performance.

She has her legs pulled back. She has a look of concentration in her features. She grunts with effort. I sit and watch, slack jawed, enraptured.

She scowls. “Get your fingers to work.” She says it with a sense of urgency.

I of course have the attitude of what the lady wants, the lady gets, and I set to work. My fingers tracing around the circumference of her strained lips. I feel the bulge of what is inside just behind those same lips. She whimpers whilst letting out a groan. My finger finds her clit. “Just there… right there.” She certainly seems to appreciate that.

She closes her eyes and pushes. I see her lips part. She’s panting then gets back to it. Another push. Opening up a little more. She gasps and it slips back in.

“Oh I felt it move. I don’t know if I can get it out.”

I reassure her “You’ll get it out baby. You know you can. I love you.” That at least gets a smile on her lips.

She’s back at it, pushing, pushing, pushing. She’s certainly trying her best. I see the dark shape spreading her wide. She’s letting out a sound which is a mix between a wail and a moan but it’s working.

The bulge between her legs gets bigger and bigger until it’s almost at the tipping point. She’s stretched wide and far and surely it’s at the widest point. I’m encouraging her - she’s a natural at this.

There’s a gasp of relief and everything happens at once. It’s out. There’s a trickle of liquid dripping from between her legs. The black inflatable she was pushing out sat bulbous and slick as I picked it up and rubbed it gently between her lips. She squealed with joy.

Yeah I think she’s ready for the real thing.

[tbgblr2]

A Halloween to remember

This is a story I was asked to write for @tara-b who asked me to write an account of the day her twin sons were born on Halloween 2023. Part detailed by her, part artistic licence I hope you enjoy the story.

Here we are again… 31st October, 2023. Halloween. Once again we’re putting the finishing pieces together for our party, which we have ran for family and friends since we got married 3 years ago.

However there’s a difference right now… I’m pregnant. Really pregnant in fact, due tomorrow and might be having contractions really pregnant. To make matters worse we’re expecting twins… and my belly certainly doesn’t hide the fact.

But I can’t just stop and give up on the party, we’ve confirmed to everyone we were still going ahead and the guests are starting to arrive.

I’m out in the back garden blowing up an inflatable spider…. To be honest a big breath in and a big breath out is really helping the pains I’m feeling. Just have to get through the next few hours, we can wave goodbye to the guests, fill up the birthing tub and relax into it, get the birth I’d dreamed of. Only a few hours.

In through your mouth… hold it a second… and breathe out. It’s not efficient to blow up a balloon, but it certainly helps.

I stand up and groan, one hand supporting my back as I realise I was stooping over. The other holds the spider. It looks like it’s done. Just need to set it down over…. Shit. That was a feeling of a gush. My panties are soaked… it’s running down my leg. My heart races… that must have been my waters. Must have been my waters… oh hell… babies are coming, babies are coming… it’s all so real now.

The spider just gets dropped where I stand and I figure I look like a deer caught in the headlights as my eyes shoot wide. I look around. No one saw me. Good… good. Hopefully we can stick with the plan. Can’t let the party be ruined.

I walked inside to find my husband and our neighbour chatting in the kitchen - they were plating up canapés ready to take in for the rest of the guests. We got on well with our neighbour… he was a nice guy. Both he and his wife had offered to babysit for us when the babies were born.

“You look like you’re ready to pop any minute now” he grinned as he saw me approaching. I don’t think he realises just how true that statement is.

I was dressed as cleopatra with my husband as Mark Anthony. My dress had a cut out for my belly - there was no way the standard costume could fit me in my current state. Our neighbour opened his arms wide to give me a hug - he quite liked giving hugs and if I’m going to be honest, he gives really good ones - and took the opportunity to rub my belly. I know some people may consider that a bit forward, but we’d already discussed this in the past and he actually had a way of making the babies calm down inside of me so I wasn’t going to complain!

“Little angels kicking up a storm today?” He enquired after a few seconds of contact.

“Yeah, something like that…” I didn’t go into too much detail but I was scared that he would feel a contraction. Pretty sure it would feel a lot more different to what a kick felt like from the outside.

My wince gave it away as I visibly saw my stomach tighten. I watched his eyes blink and he pulled his hand away. “Braxton Hicks” I grunted, a little winded. He nodded understanding. He and his wife had 2 children of their own and they had seen all this before - though not 2 at once !

“Look after yourself and don’t work too hard” he said as he grabbed 2 plates and went back to the main room leaving just my husband and I in the kitchen.

We kissed. “You sure you’re ok? You look a little flushed?” He asked. I smiled and gave the best effort I could under the circumstances.

“I’ll be ok” I said “just very pregnant if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh… I’ve noticed all right!” He was grinning as he kissed me, and for that fleeting moment everything was all right in the world. “We finish this party, get rid of the guests and I promise it’s just you and me together until the babies come.”

I grinned “I like that idea, I like it a lot.” I emphasised the belly by pressing my hands into the small of my back and sticking it out with a groan, masking the start of another contraction. Was I imagining it or were they getting faster… no… can’t be.

“Duty calls… let’s go meet our guests” my husband smiled as he grabbed the other plate and walked through leaving me alone.

As I stood in the kitchen, readying myself for the onslaught of people and well wishers, I rubbed my belly. “Just hold out a little longer… mammas got to do some things then you can have your grand entrance. Please little babies… please “

The first few hours were manageable. The constant moving from guest to guest took my mind off my predicament, and I began to wonder if it was just a false alarm after all. I had a few glasses of water and I’d learned during my midwife appointments that hydration levels could affect things later in pregnancy. I was certainly the definition of late pregnancy at this stage.

As the party goers got more and more drunk as the night wore on, the well wishers went from “you look glowing” to “let me touch your belly for good luck” like I was some sort of Buddha statue. I laughed along with it with good grace, but as the night wore on the contractions came back with full force and it took a lot of careful avoiding to make sure no one saw anything too obvious.

My husband was certainly getting into the party spirit. He had promised to have a drink but not have too much just in case we did need to leave the house in an emergency but after the 10th person asked him to “wet the babies head” with them… he started to misbehave as well.

There was a sudden crash as a bowl we had set out got knocked over and smashed. Instinct had me rush toward it to clean up the mess but my husband was quicker and shooed me away. “Can’t have you bending down in your condition. I’ll clean this up, can you go fetch another bowl from upstairs.” We had some spare cutlery and crockery stored in a cupboard out of the way.

It was when I turned around he tapped me on the shoulder causing me to flinch. “Darling… I think you may have had a little accident. You’ve a wet patch on your skirt”. I gasped at the revelation. I was almost certain it was my waters. Perhaps the initial gush wasn’t all of it and I’d continued to leak for hours… or perhaps it had always been there and people either hadn’t noticed or were too polite to say. Either way I went red with embarrassment and said I would get changed when I went for the bowls.

I made my escape without much fuss. Completely forgetting the bowl I scrambled into the en suite bathroom. My hands slipped under my skirt and pulled down my sodden panties which slapped to the floor with the added weight of the liquid they were doused in. I don’t know if my body saw this as a sign, but I suddenly had to push and I almost doubled over with the unexpected sensation.

I went with it, closing my eyes and widening my stance involuntarily by sidestepping, grunting as I strained with effort. I gasped and strained again. Finally the contraction ebbed away and I had to re-assess the situation.

I had left my phone downstairs and shouting down would cause a panic no doubt. I would do this myself and surely my husband will come to check on me soon. I used the time I had to get out of my dress and bra, turning on the shower to full force. I checked the temperature just as the next contraction started and I stumbled in, turning my back to the shower jet and spreading my arms and legs like a starfish to brace me.

Prior to the need to push coming over me, I’d wondered if there would be obvious sensations to tell me to push… all I can say is that given the option between pushing or walking (or basically any other activity that I could possibly do) at that time… I had no choice.

The roaring water encouraged me to let go, I roared with it. I yelled. Part of my brain presumed the whole house would come running at the commotion but there was nothing. Another push - keep going girl, this is all on me now - and I felt weak at the knees with the effort. I had to get down to the ground before I slipped or fell.

My brain was focused on the need to push, and before I realised I was on the floor with the shower water gushing over my head. I can’t actually remember climbing down but logically that’s what must have happened. My feet were flat on the floor but something came to me. Leverage. My legs swung up at my hips and braced against the wall of the shower. It gave me something to push against.

A side effect of the reposition was that the shower water - once blasting me on the back and top of my head, instead washed my belly and between my legs. Good for making sure there was no mess… I’d seen the blood and who knows what else coming out during birth videos I’d watched… but part of me was worried for the baby with the water streaming down my belly and between my legs - right into the path where they babies were going to come from.

I shook my head. Idiot. Babies are born underwater. These babies were going to be born under water. I guess I kind of get a water birth after all.

Logical thought left me again as the contraction ramped up and once more I was left with the entirety of my conscious thought being “PUSH!” I closed my eyes and yelled out with abandon, I could feel the movement of the baby passing through me. I realised I couldn’t see… couldn’t check how well I was doing, couldn’t judge how much of the baby I’d pushed out. I had to rely on the feelings and the power of touch.

My hand groped down between my legs and I was honestly expecting to feel the head there… I mean it was certainly painful enough to warrant the labour being progressed almost to completion… but as my hand groped down I felt closed lips. I slipped my finger between the folds and that’s when I felt it… my first baby. It was certainly an alien feeling compared to years and years of exploration I’d done with my fingers before getting pregnant.

Still… feeling something there certainly had me buoyant. I knew I was doing it. The first baby was coming. I was going to be a mother. The contractions came thick and fast, at least in my opinion, as they seemed to be on top of one another with hardly time to catch my breath before the next hit me… but I was getting rewarded for the effort. I proved once more with my fingers, and as the burning sensation between my legs was testament to… the baby was starting to emerge.

Push, push, push again. Rest whilst I can, push once more. I was lost in it. I lost count after 10 sessions of pushing, my mind was too focused on the thought of getting the baby out than keeping track.

My grunts, roars, and occasional screams still went unanswered by my husband or any of our guests. How long had I been gone for. Was it minutes… was it hours… no don’t think, just PUSH!

I felt the head with my hands as I realised just how wide I’d been stretched when I got the ring of fire. They call it that, it might as well be the crotch supernova. I was crying at this point, though the tears were unidentifiable among the shower water. I wanted to push but I recalled from a video about panting through this stage, trying to avoid a tear by going to fast. I opened my mouth wide and blew out. Hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo… then a gasp as the head reached the tipping point and shot out of me.

When I felt the… what could only be described as a ‘twang’ of my stretched lips springing back to place as the widest part of the head passed through me, I made a sound which I can only describe as a banshee wail. It knocked me senseless, to the point of where I lay sprawled on the ground of the shower panting heavily wondering just what happened.

Then panic set in. I hadn’t thought this through. Someone needed to check the cord was free… and there was no one here. I yelled out my husbands name, and there was no answer. I didn’t know what to do… what if I hurt the baby. I reached forward but couldn’t tell what I was feeling. The only mirror in the room was mounted on the wall and there’s no way I can do the acrobatics needed to get a glimpse between my legs. I felt my heart beating faster and faster when suddenly I felt a gushing release and then the baby was out and on the floor of the shower. Whilst in my panicking state I hadn’t realised the baby had turned and after the contraction forced out the first shoulder the rest came easily.

That’s it. I’d done it. This squalling, wriggling thing between my legs was my baby. My first child. I was a mother. I’d done it. I’d survived.

I rolled and adjusted my body to get onto my knees and that in turn would let me pick up the baby. I was very careful not to step on or damage the umbilical cord. With the baby in my arms I crawled on my hands and knees over to the bathtub where I grabbed onto the side with my free hand and finally managed to get to my feet. Turning off the shower to avoid any more water spraying on the floor I stumble into the bedroom, in a complete daze.

I knew from watching the preparation videos that the placenta would come out soon and as I didn’t have any tools to cut the cord I just flopped down on my side on the bed and admired my baby with him still attached. That child had so many kisses in its first few minutes of life…

Until the contraction brought me back to reality. The realisation that I was having twins and I’d need to do it all over again. I’m not afraid to say that my spine turned to ice in that split second moment of realisation.

I checked the bedside clock. Only 30 minutes had passed since the bowl was smashed. To me it felt like it could have been hours. Hopefully only 30 minutes or maybe even less to go. I was already stretched, I hope the second baby follows the same path as his… I guess big brother.

The next contraction had me feeling like pushing again so I hefted up a leg and pulled it back whilst I was on my side. I’d seen that position on a video, but for whatever reason I just couldn’t get it to feel right. After a few false starts, I decided to go on my hands and knees, straddling the first baby. I don’t mind saying that I was a bit concerned about slipping and squashing the baby, but unless he has his cord detached there was nowhere else really that it would stretch to.

So that was me for the next contraction. Knees and elbows dug into the mattress, my fingers finding a pillow to grab and squeeze and the baby seeming to drift off to sleep underneath me. I suppose the poor dear has had a trying day.

Until of course I was forced to yell out. This startled the baby who in turn screamed at the top of his lungs at having his sleep disturbed. That’s when the bedroom door opened.

My head darted to the side to see my husband partially silhouetted against the door. He yelled out and dashed into the room when he saw what was happening.

“You didn’t tell me!” He yelled.

“I couldn’t… no phone, couldn’t move. Baby… baby coming.” You gasped out as I closed my eyes, scrunched my hands into the pillows and heaved an almighty push.

“What can I do” he asked. The situation certainly catching him off guard.

“Can you…” I couldn’t get my words out between the need to push. I focused on that and left the sentence unfinished. After gathering my breath once the contraction disappeared I quickly managed “cut the cord and get the first baby.”

He nodded and dashed out of the room to get the birth bag we had prepared. I looked down at the wriggling infant below me and couldn’t help but smile at what I’d managed, that perfect little baby that we had made. Soon the need to push was back again though, and I was back to focusing. I didn’t realise my husband had returned to the room brandishing a bad of surgical clamps and some scissors. He stopped dead in his tracks as he got behind me.

“Baby’s… baby’s head. It’s there. Baby’s head.” He was stuttering and stammering at the shock, or perhaps wonder of seeing my lips parting, bringing forth new life. I could only grunt in acknowledgement as the contraction still had me seized it’s its grip.

I could feel the burn starting. I knew the head was filling me and I couldn’t stop it progressing to its inevitable conclusion. I felt him behind me, my eyes clamped shut focusing on both the pain between my legs and the need to make sure I stay supported by my arms in case I collapse on the baby beneath me. There was a tug, another tug, and I sensed, more than heard a snip as the first umbilical cord was snipped.

“Get… the… baby.” I gasped, my hand waving to the child below me. My husband grabbed our son and held him to his chest.

“Can I help with this one?” He seemed eager. I quickly shook my head.

“Get that one somewhere safe he won’t roll off then come back… I’ve… got this” the last 2 words were strained as the need to push overcame me. As my husband stepped to swaddle the first baby and lay him down the head of our second child emerged more and more.

I was sure these were not identical. Sure this one’s head was bigger. Sure I was putting in more effort… but knew deep down that it was just because I was simply exhausted. Still, I knew what needed to be done, and set my mind to it, focusing on nothing else but the sensations of the stretch.

Suddenly cool hands were supporting the burning sensation between my legs. I gasped at the sudden sensation, not expecting it. A finger slipped around the circumference of the head, gently stretching my skin. Another big push. Another… I felt the hands pushing back my lips, and then with a yelp, the second head was free.

I couldn’t do anything else but cry. The tears were streaming down my face, the exhaustion, the overwhelming sensations, they were nearly at an end. I recall the time between the head and the rest of the body coming out earlier, the panic whilst I felt around for the cord. There was no delay this time - my body wanted this baby out. Another long, involuntary groan and the body of our second son slipped into my husbands waiting hands.

I managed to get back onto my haunches as the baby was passed between my legs into my arms. The tears were still streaming down my face as - when I looked up - I realised the same was true of my husband.

He wiped the baby down who burst into his own fit of crying… with the first baby going too. It was a bit of a cacophony in our usually quiet and serene bedroom.

To say the guests were shocked at the new arrivals would be a bit of an understatement.

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Christmas Morning - Part 3

I pushed. I felt the cool breeze of the bathroom air against my skin and I pushed again. I roared… somewhere in my mind I remembered from my first labour “open your mouth to open wide… keep the sounds nice and low and the baby will move down” - I don’t know how true it was, but it worked once and this time there wasn’t a midwife to guide me only my own instincts, so I went with my gut (and let’s be honest, right now there was plenty of that.)

I remember feeling my hands slide down the slippery glass of the shower cubicle so I heaved myself back up on my thighs and grabbed the top of the cubicle walls and hung off it. I had a half moment to think ‘I hope this will hold my weight’ before I pushed again - not like it was a conscious choice at this point.

I remember hands, they were on my outer thighs, then my inner thighs, touching me between my legs and then my belly. I looked down, even past the belly and boobs I saw a bedraggled husband completely soaked from the shower water streaming out of the cubicle from the open door.

“Get some towels…” I grunted between pushes. “We’ll flood the place… DON’T turn off the water!” I realised he had said something - probably confirming that’s what he was doing, before he backed up and dashed out of the room. As the next push came on me, I screamed at him to hurry back.

The commotion brought our son up to us. He stood wide eyed at the bathroom door watching me give birth. Thankfully he didn’t cry or freak out… small mercies as neither myself or the husband could likely do anything about it and who could we call to look after him.

“Mammy…” he whimpered.

“Mammys OK baby…” I panted, sounding exhausted even to myself. “Santas just brought you an extra present… he’s bringing your baby sister to you now. Just mammy has to push her out. Don’t be scared, mammy just has a lot of work to do it.”

My husband came back and dropped the towels on the floor to soak up the overspill as he took our son into his arms and cuddled him in close.

“I want you to be a nice and brave boy” he started… I saw our son nod his head. “Soon mammy will be shouting again but be strong for me. We can make it a game. Look between her legs. Shout when you can see the baby. You’ll see her head coming out.”

I had a smile on my face which soon turned to a grimace, then finally to a groaning yell as I felt my insides clamp down. “It’s coming! I can feel it parting me!” I groaned in between breaths.

My thighs were burning by this point and I had to get down. I think I made my point clear to the husband who leaned into the shower and supported me - getting showered on all the while - whilst I got down onto the floor of the shower cubicle.

I had to poke my legs out of the door as there was no room for me fully within the cubicle but after a few minutes of chatting between grunts and groans we managed to find something that worked… I sat scooted forward with my butt just inside of the door which let me place my hands behind me and lean back, the shower water still spraying over my belly, breasts and face as I reclined. My husband was between my legs kneeling on the towels to help keep him comfortable and my feet were resting on his knees giving me some leverage for pushing.

Behind my husband, practically crawling over his shoulder to get a look in was our son. As soon as he knew about the baby sister he was laser focused on seeing her. Getting splashed didn’t seem to bother him.

The next push felt productive. I mean it felt like it burned. A lot. For the first time I held my breath and leaned into it. I lost track of time, trying to focus entirely on me, pushing when my body needed me to - again and again. Each push brought more of a feeling of opening… and suddenly a shout “there, do you see it!”

That was my husband pointing out the baby’s head to our son. I knew we were progressing and I urged myself on. I felt exhaustion in everything I did, but I also felt elation. One, push, another. Another. One more. I felt my husbands fingers slide around the opening. I had to help… PUSH! Keep it going… PUSH!

I screamed. The burning was getting too much. I heard his voice. Almost there he said. Almost. One more push. I gave it my all and suddenly… release.

“The baby!” That was our son as the head was born.

I had a moment to rest, finally as my body caught up. I got the husband to stand and turn off the shower as the boy dipped through his legs and got very close to the baby.

“You can touch her if you want, but be gentle” I said as he gingerly ran his finger over her hair and cheeks. My husband had to step backwards to avoid falling over our son but he eventually stood there completely smitten watching the bonding moment.

I felt the sure fire signs of things starting again. “Ok time to step back and let daddy in” I managed, only just managing to finish the words before I had to push once more. I sensed more than seen the scrambling around my legs as I leaned my head back again and pushed, as hard as I can. Another, then a third. For each push I felt a major movement, baby’s shoulders each time and finally the feeling of the baby’s legs and feel getting pulled out by my husband.

It was over. It was certainly unexpected… and by god it was fast. But it was also the best Christmas present I could ever wish for. Poor kid’s always going to suffer with a joint Christmas and birthday though.

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Christmas Morning - Part 2

I sat there without moving for what seemed like forever trying to get my brain to process what just happened.   It was only when my husband shouted back upstairs asking if I was coming down did I glance at the clock and realise that 10 minutes had passed since they left the room.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes, just want to dive into the shower first?”   the statement, after it left my mouth sounded more like a question, the final word coming out a much higher pitch than I expected.   It was then, as I heard my husband trudge up the stairs again that I cursed under my breath.

He poked his head through the door.  “You sure you want to go into the shower?  Can it not wait?  The little man wants to open his presents.”

I shook my head.  I don’t know if it was the look of shock on my face or whatever, but it must have been convincing as I said “I think I’ve had a bit of an accident, I want to get cleaned up.”

“Shit… sorry love.   OK you go do what you need to do and I’ll sort out some breakfast.  He can just watch cartoons until you get downstairs.   Don’t worry about the sheets, let me sort them later.”

I nodded.  “Thanks… love you!”

He smiled as he ducked his head back outside the door “Love you too!”

That bought me a few more minutes at least until I could figure out what was happening.  I swung my legs out of the bed, and did my best impression of a beach ball as I rolled myself over until my feet touched the carpet of the bedroom.   Hands down next to me, I heaved myself up and finally, I was upright.

That’s when the pains decided to hit again.   My knees buckled and my hand immediately dropped to the bed as I inhaled a breath at the unexpected tightening, my hand ended up slapping straight into the wet patch I had created earlier.   Once more I swore under my breath as I straightened up against all the signals my body was sending me, and I wiped my hand on my pyjama trousers.   I turned and took a step forward, bracing myself on the wardrobe as I pulled open the door, took out my dressing gown and tossed it on the bed, making sure to avoid the wet patch.

Another few deep breaths, somewhat loud exhales and I felt myself again, the tightening finally passing.

That must have only been 15 minutes I figured… looking over at the clock in the room and doing the mental arithmetic.   That can’t be good.   I had come to terms with the idea that the baby was coming, not much that I could do about it.   Now it was a panic to figure out if I could get to hospital or not.   Who would look after the boy?  I mean it was Christmas morning.  Its not like I could call on a friend, they would all be busy.

I busied myself taking off my pyjamas and throwing them into the hamper, and putting on my dressing gown.   The soft, fluffy fabric felt glorious against my skin, and – as we had bought it specifically for the pregnancy – it was wide enough that it could wrap around me and still fasten.

After taking another quick tug at the ties to make sure it was secure, I waddle out of the bedroom and across to the bathroom.   Closing the door behind me, I put the shower on and suddenly there’s another pain.   The whooshing sound of the water masked my voice as I groaned.  It was getting that bad that I couldn’t just breathe through this anymore.   There was a definitive feeling of fullness between my legs that wasn’t there from before.   I know they said that second babies came quicker… but this was just crazy.

I unwrapped myself from the robe and let it drop to the floor as I stepped into the shower.   The waters were thankfully warm, and – as I rested against the glass sides, my head pressed against the cool material – I felt my body relax as the water streamed over me.

Whilst I sat in the shower I lost track of time as I felt contractions pick up and drop off until suddenly I felt the need to push.   It came on so suddenly and unexpectedly I didn’t even know how to process the sensation and I screamed out at the top of my voice.

The reaction from downstairs was immediate.   I heard my husband rush up the stairs and suddenly he had barged into the bathroom.   His eyes took in the sight – I had my arms splayed wide, pressed against each side of the shower cubicle.   I was in a part squat, my knees spread wide and my feet as far as they would go in the confined space.   My eyes met his as the door swung open.

“The baby’s coming!” was all I could manage.   I wasn’t sure if he had figured that out, or not, but if not… I wanted to make it clear.

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Christmas Morning

It’s Christmas morning. 4am or so. My husband is snoring soundly next to me but otherwise the house is calm and quiet. I suspect my 5 year old son will be up soon, excitement for Christmas getting him up much sooner than he normally would.

I went to bed at the same time as our boy - around 9pm or so, my heavily pregnant ass completely exhausted, and let’s be honest, in a bit of pain. The Braxton hicks contractions were getting worse and with my due date just 3 days away I was getting what rest I could.

My husband came to bed around midnight - he’d been up getting the toys ready for the morning. I didn’t want to tell him I’d been woken up at least every hour with pains. Nothing unusual I thought. Just a side effect of being very, very pregnant.

There it goes again. The ache radiating around my middle, taking my breath away. 30 minutes now since the last one. They’re certainly getting faster. Damn… perhaps this is the real deal… can’t be having it happen on Christmas morning rushing off to the hospital and ruining Christmas for the boy. No let’s just see what happens. I mean it was like this last time… wasn’t it? Damned baby brain… I just can’t remember.

My hands explore my bump, feeling every poke and judder of the little girl we are having inside me. I stroke the outside gingerly, whispering shushes under my breath, whispering to the bump to calm down and don’t get too rowdy… but keeping it quiet so as to not wake mr snoresalot over there.

No sooner had the aches around my middle calmed down again when I heard the pitter patter of tiny feet (or well, the thump thump thump of them at least) as an excited child barges into our room.

My husband jumps up with a start, our bedroom door swinging open and slamming against the wall as our rambunctious little child bounds into the room screaming about it being Christmas and we needed to see if Santa had been.

We spent a few moments watching him bounce from foot to foot, desperately wanting to go to the living room and see what had been left under the tree. My husband, any hope of sleep now pushed to one side threw on his dressing gown and told our son he’d take him to look and maybe open one or two presents as long as he gave mammy some time to get ready… she needed extra time with baby sister in her belly.

I laughed and waved them off as they left the room. Suddenly it came back, the wince inducing pain across my middle. Then a deeper ache and a sudden feeling of wetness.

A freezing sensation shot down my spine. No denying it now. Those were my waters.

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To the pregnant first time parents out there, enjoy the final adults only Christmas for the forseeable future. For those that already have kids and happen to be pregnant… enjoy! It’s going to be a wild day.

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Mickey and Skye - Trapped!

This one could have possibly taken 9 months to write, thanks to stops/starts, holidays getting the way, writers block and all sorts, but we got there in the end. Special thanks once again to @allkindsofpreg for the help in writing this. Enjoy!

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Mickey and Skye were flustered, there’s no two ways about it. How they got into this predicament is a bit of a tale in itself. First we should delve into a bit of their history.

The two of them met at an apprenticeship intake for a local IT company. It was definitely an entry level data job but it helped give them a bit of spending money whilst they lived with their parents. At the age of 20 and 21 they suffered an unfortunate ‘oops’ moment as the condom broke and Skye found herself sporting her sizeable bump several months later. Their parents helped and in truth life was looking good for the young couple. They even got married, Skye wearing a dress which clung to her gravid belly, leaving no one in the congregation guessing about the nature of their marriage. However, they were young, in love, and things were working out.

As is the natural sequence of things Skye began to feel contractions around 10pm the night previous. After labouring at home for several hours, around 2am they were told to come to the hospital as the labour became more established. After getting admitted and assed, around 3am, the pair were completely exhausted but wanted to try and walk around the hospital corridors to move things on. Skye was 4cm dilated and was potentially looking at a long, drawn out labour.

Blindly they walked down empty corridors stopping for the occasional contraction until they reached a door. Pushing it open they were met with darkness. Thinking it was a quiet corridor and the motion sensors would turn on the lights as they walked down they trudged on, tiredness dulling their senses.

That was until they stepped inside, and the lights flickered on to show they were in a store cupboard. Mickey turned to find the handle was missing from the door. He pushed it - nothing. They were trapped.

As Skye was mid-contraction, the realization came upon Mickey first. He tried not to panic, because he was sure there would be a way out. Surely no reputable hospital would contain an inescapable room that two exhausted, unsuspecting parents-to-be could just wander haphazardly into.

He inspected the door more closely, the spike of adrenaline finally allowing his bleary eyes to focus, and he saw a metal plate over where the handle would be and a doorstop by his feet. Only then did he vaguely recall a paper sign taped to the other side of the door. He hadn’t read it, but he now guessed it said something like “Caution: do not close, door locks automatically.”

Still, this was a busy hospital; it couldn’t be that long before someone would need something from this supply closet, right?

When Skye’s contraction ended and her breathing normalized, she found her husband wide-eyed and stricken and any tiredness that had been clouding her mind vanished. “What? What is it?”

“Okay, don’t panic.” He held out his hands in an almost pleading gesture. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

His placating tone only made her fear ratchet up another notch. “What does that mean? What do you mean everything’s going to be okay?”

“Well,” he explained, wrapping an arm around her waist and letting her lean into him, “we seem to have found ourselves in a somewhat unconventional labour suite.”

Skye looked around, first confused, then slightly amused. “Oh. You’re right—no bed? no doctors? no epidural?? Yes, this is certainly no place to be having a baby.”

Mickey grimaced—she was right, but at the moment they had no other choice. “That’s the thing, yeah? The door is…” he trailed off, nodded toward the door, but she either couldn’t or wouldn’t put the pieces together. “It’s kind of one-way, love.” Still no hint of recognition. “And that way… is not out.” He shrugged and did his best to adopt a more light-hearted tone. “We’re stuck.”

Skye’s eyes danced frantically around the small room—the low ceiling, the dirty floor, the packed shelves lining the walls, and finally the door. The very solid-looking, heavy and more importantly, locked door.

Her breathing quickened, heart rate spiking, as the reality of their situation finally began to sink in. “Oh shit,” she whispered, a tremble in her voice.

“It’s going to be okay,” Mickey said again, as much to himself as to her.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” she continued muttering, her eyes turning up to the dimly lit ceiling in an attempt to stave off the tears that threatened to spill over. Her midsection tightened suddenly, quick and fierce, and she gasped, her litany of curses cut off as she attempted to hum through the pain.

Mickey immediately moved from emotional support position to physical support position. He guided Skye’s arms around his neck and wrapped his strong hands around her hips, giving them a gentle squeeze of counter pressure.

“Mick,” she whined into his chest, and he squeezed harder as her fingers dug into his shoulders. They swayed together as the contraction built, but paused at its peak, clinging to each other tightly. He swept the hair back over her neck and away from her face and whispered in her ear until her body finally slumped against him. “That one felt stronger,” she said, “And longer.”

Neither wanted to admit what that might mean, and since neither of them had a watch so they couldn’t be 100% sure. But after three more merciless contractions in relatively quick succession, it certainly seemed like the stress of the situation had finally kicked her labour into high gear.

“Ok let’s keep calm” came the reasoning voice of Mickey as he tried to assess the situation.

“Calm! Calm! I can’t even turn around in here without either my ass or belly touching one of the sides. This is no place for a pregn… gah!” Skye’s rant was cut short by her hand grasping the underside of her belly as she groaned through another contraction. It was certainly not 5 minutes between them that’s for sure.

Mickey resumed his supporting position, using one arm to cuddle his wife whilst the other brushed at her hair in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. He felt tears stream down her cheek.

He looked at the floor. In the dusty grime on there he at least saw footprints. He explained it to Skye and both were buoyed that at least they were somewhere that someone visits. Perhaps they need to wait until morning… even then 7am, that’s at least 3 hours away, maybe more. If the day staff don’t arrive until 9am that’s even longer. Skye might not last that long.

As Skye came down from her flustered bout of crying, and he was confident that she could stand unaided he banged on the door and asked her to be quiet. He concentrated in the silence listening out for any reply beyond the edge of the door. He tried again and shouted a yell at the same time ‘thump… thump…thump’ went the rhythmical banging. Once again they listened out to be greeted only with silence.  They even held their breath.

Until Skye yelped. “My waters!”

Mikey looked down at the water running down Skye’s leg.  “At least there’s a mop,” he joked, which only made Skye glare first at the dirty water bucket and then back at her husband. “Sorry, bad timing?”

Skye’s face settled into something more like anxious resignation as her eyes welled back up again. “What if they don’t find us before the baby comes? I don’t- how am I supposed to have a baby in here?”

Mickey pulled her in close again and stroked gentle fingertips up and down her back. “No need to worry about that just yet. We’ll take things as they come, yeah?”

She nodded—what other choice did they have?

“How’re you feeling? How’s the little one?”

Skye took a deep breath, forced down the spiralling worst case scenarios playing in her mind, and actually focused on how she felt in her body at this moment. “Mm, baby’s low,” she said, noting how her stance had unconsciously widened after her waters had gone. “More pressure. Definitely moving down.”

If she thought the pressure was intense just standing there, she had no words for its severity once the next contraction started. It would have brought her to her knees if Mickey hadn’t already been holding her.

“Skye?” he asked with concern when she moaned and dropped into as much of a squatting position as the cramped space would allow.

The stinging weight filling her from within was unfamiliar and sudden and her hand found its way between her legs. She half expected to feel a bulge there, but of course there was nothing yet—it was irrational to think that a single contraction would progress things along so quickly, but fear and pain weren’t exactly known for producing rational thoughts.

Weathering the contraction in this position made her quads and glutes ache and by the time it was over she was sweaty and overheated.

“I’ve got to get this gown off,” she muttered, tugging at the thin fabric as she clambered to an upright position.

“What was that?” Mickey asked, unsure what she wanted or how to help her.

“I’m fucking roasting in here.” Skye clawed at the gown but it clung to her damp skin and she couldn’t unfurl her arms or twist well enough with her giant belly in the way. “I can’t get this fucking thing off!” she cried out in frustration, one elbow stuck in the arm hole.

“Okay. Okay, it’s alright, you’re just—“ Mickey stilled her frantic flailing limbs and pinched the open flap of her hospital gown. “Just a bit twisted up here.” He peeled the fabric over her shoulder and down her arm, which freed it to assist in freeing the other. He caught it before it hit the filthy floor—they may need it later—and placed it on top of what looked like a relatively clean surface.

Skye spent a few moments bending and rotating and testing her newfound freedom of movement. Once her breathing levelled out and she appeared to relax a bit, Mickey didn’t exactly mind the sight of his wife’s full, curvy figure bouncing and shimmying in front of him.

“Better?” he asked as she finally stilled, fully upright with hands pressed into her lower back. He loved looking at her like this, and he mentally scolded himself for starting to get hard at a moment like this.

It was as if Skye just remembered her husband was here, but once her eyes found his she recognized the look in them and she looked down at her naked body. Well, as much of it as she could see. It could very well have been a closet just like this in which their child was conceived, and the irony had her giggling.

Mickey looked somewhat perplexed at the change of tone, but didn’t object when she pressed into him, guided his hands to her bare breasts and kissed him. His body responded automatically, teasing her nipples as his tongue danced with hers.

“Fuck!” Skye gasped and he began to pull away, but she shook her head, kept his hands anchored to her body. “Do it again.”

His fingers barely brushed her, but her whole body clenched with the onslaught of another contraction. “Already?”

“Mmhmm.” Skye closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of his hands on her body—so familiar, so comforting—and suddenly knew, no matter what, they could get through this. Together.

Skye’s response to the contractions had changed since she shed her gown.  She no longer seemed to be focused on riding through them, but rather seemed to be actively working with them.   Her hands were clamped around Mickey, pressing her body – at least the parts that were sticking out as a result of the pregnancy – tight against him.  She breathed deep breaths in moments of relief between the pains, and made a lot of noise during the pain.  The noises weren’t painful noises – shouts and screeches – more “ooh’s” and “ahh’s.”

It had the effect of causing her chest to heave up and down.   Naked flesh pressed against Mikey’s clothing resulted in more friction, and in turn, her nipples were rock hard and being rubbed – not painfully though – quite the opposite.   Mikey’s ears picked up a change in tone… almost erotic.   He heard that noise a lot when they were in bed.   It was almost a whimper.   He risked a kiss to Skye’s forehead and she returned in kind, her head tilting up to allow her lips to meet his and they grabbed into an embrace.

Tongue met tongue as their natural instinct took over, though it was broken quickly by the onset of another contraction.   This one took Skye a little by surprise and she wasn’t ready for it, her hands grasping Mickey’s hair and pulling tight as her voice let out the closest thing a yell of pain so far.

“You ok?” Mikey asked, concern in his voice as he felt Skye’s legs shuffle apart.   She didn’t answer.  “Babe?” he asked again.   Still Skye pulled on his hair.  It was getting painful now, but he knew he wasn’t exactly in any place to complain.   He gritted his teeth and just rode it through with this wife.

Skye finally gasped, and much to Mikey’s relief, loosened her grip on his hair.

“What was that?” he asked, still a note of concern in his voice.

Skye blew out her breath, and took a moment to compose herself.  “Just the joy of contractions I think.   No two seem to be the same.   Just hope I don’t have many more like that.   That wasn’t fun.”

“Yeah,” came Mikey’s reply.  “I didn’t like that, it hurt!”

The absurdity of the moment caused Skye to burst into laughter.   “That hurt?  Don’t be a baby.  You should see what’s happening between my legs.”

Mikey took a gulp before continuing.  “Lets not focus on the between the legs too quickly.   I mean we need to get out of here first.   Then I’ll gladly stare down the barrel of the gun and watch our baby come out, and I’ll not even complain when you squeeze my hand tight as you’re doing it.”

“Oh you charmer…” winced Skye, the next contraction building.   This was starting to get exhausting, all she wanted to do was sit down and take her weight off her legs.   There as nowhere to sit though unless she sank down onto the floor… and maybe then she might never get up.   No… need to stay focused on getting out.  Cross my legs, lean on Mikey.   She had an inner monologue going through her head as she felt her midsection tighten, hold and release once more.   Whilst it wasn’t exactly comfortable, she had gotten used to the pains happening again and again and found ways to cope.   She just had to hope that they were released before it came to the main pushing phase.   She really didn’t want to be caught on some CCTV pushing her baby out in a corridor, and she knew it was quite a walk back to the birthing suite based on how far they walked to get into the situation they were in right now.

They swayed, hummed, kissed and breathed through several more pains, but it was becoming harder to focus on anything but the steadily increasing contractions. The worst of the pain ebbed and flowed, but the pressure seemed constant now and she ached from her back all the way down to her ankles. She wasn’t able to catch her breath after one contraction before another one would begin and the discomfort became sharper—less a broad, dull ache and more concentrated, stabbing deep down through her core.

Skye wanted to ask Mickey to check her dilation, but firstly, she wasn’t sure either of them could contort themselves into a position that would make that possible at the moment, and secondly,  she suspected it wouldn’t be all that accurate anyway. She just had to trust her instincts, and right now her instincts were telling her that things were about to get really intense.

“Mm, I need to—“ Skye shifted restlessly, wriggling her hips and pausing in several different positions before frowning. “I don’t know... something.” She bent over, leaning heavily into the shelf ledge as gravity shifted the pull on her gravid belly and a fraction of the tension in her lower back eased.

The next contraction was on her before she’d anticipated and her grip tightened. Natural reflexes took hold and she started to lower into a squat when Mickey’s panicked voice breached the fog of pain.

“Skye!” Mickey threw his body over his wife’s hunched form and several items from the higher shelves bounced off his back and onto the floor. With more force than intended, he ripped her hands away from the unstable shelving unit.

Skye didn’t resist, but cried out and collapsed onto her knees, which spread wide of their own accord. “Sorry, baby. Sorry,” she muttered as the objects rained down around her and she heard Mickey’s little “ow’s” and “oomph’s”. “Didn’t mean to. Didn’t—“ She couldn’t finish the thought. Her breathing was shallow and quick, Mickey’s heat overwhelmed her already flushed skin and she suddenly felt like she was going to be sick. “Sorry,” she finally said again, closing her eyes and willing the nausea to abate.

Mickey shushed her and gave her a little squeeze, which caused her to flinch. He pulled away and examined his wife more closely — curled in on herself tightly, both arms encircling her belly, and whiter than a wedding dress. He was sure if he could see her face it would be wearing a grimace.

How could he help her?

He tried pounding on the door again to no avail, and the added sensory input only made Skye wince even more. Looking around the room, he noticed that the mop bucket was actually two nested buckets, which meant the bottom one was empty and Skye could finally have somewhere to sit.

“I need you to stand for me, love,” Mickey pleaded, which earned him a pained groan. “I know, but only for a minute.” She started to get up, but then he realized that if she did then he wouldn’t be able to get past her to reach the bucket. Instead, he grabbed her hand and sort of ushered her between his legs as he stepped over her, which was awkward and hurt his shoulder, but he was glad he did when she nearly toppled over once he was on the other side of her. “Alright, up one more time for me. You can do it.”

Skye was shaky and a bit dazed and dizzy, but she allowed Mickey to help her to her feet and then leaned heavily against the door. Mickey bent down into the newly occupied space below her, but another contraction was building and she groaned loudly. “Mick, hurry.”

Mickey extricated the empty bucket and hastily flipped it over, but it was far from clean. He grabbed Skye’s discarded gown and draped it over the top, piling as much fabric as he could at the top. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable chair in the world, but it was better than nothing.

Skye’s legs were already splayed, so it didn’t take much effort to slide the makeshift stool between them. Wordlessly, and more like she could no longer hold herself up than that she’d realized what he’d done, she grabbed Mickey’s forearms and began sliding down the door.

“That’s it, there you go.” Mickey breathed a sigh of relief at the same time Skye’s laboured huffs picked up again. “Just relax and focus on the baby.”

Skye would have laughed at the idea of relaxing, but she had no air to spare—it was all going toward a meditative hum that was the only thing keeping her from screaming.

Things were moving quickly now. The contractions were long and brutal, right on top of each other and she blindly grabbed for Mickey’s hand. His grip was both strong and comforting and once again she reminded herself that she could do this as long as he was there by her side.

Her body was in transition—she could feel it, the descending, the opening, the hint of an urge beginning to build—and the hardest part was yet to come. If they were going to be found before the baby came… it would have to be pretty damn soon.

Mickey settled down into a squat between Skye’s legs as she hummed and groaned through one contraction after another. He held and squeezed her hand, rubbed her thigh and leaned forward kissing the belly. After about 20 minutes of what seemed like non stop pain he started feeling cramp himself in his legs and moved to a kneeling position, his jeans legs getting messy from the muck and liquid spilled on the floor. He looked around and tried to find something - anything that could mop up the mess. Best he could find was piles of toilet rolls.

“Better than nothing” he grumbled as he got up and pulled them off the shelf. He started unspooling the paper from the roll, dropping it in the floor and trying to mop things up with his foot. It looked comical. Not only was the paper disintegrating as it hit the wet floor, but the sticky mess was caked on his shoes within minutes.

He looks up to see Skye giggling.

“I know you’re trying to help but just give up will you?”

Mickey, flustered responded “I can’t have the floor this messy what if you do have the baby in here and you need to lay her down on the floor ?”

Skye still looked to have humour in her features, though she did seem to pant a little out of breath as she spoke.

“Firstly… I’m not having her here. Secondly… you see these?” She grabbed her breasts and jiggled them.

“Yeah, how could I not…” commented Mickey - his wife’s pregnancy enhanced bosom a constant source of pleasure for him since they got over the shock of the pregnancy.

“Well these will be where the baby will be, cradled in my arms even if it’s here, there or anywhere else in this building.”

Mickey sighed and reluctantly returned to his position on the floor supporting Skye. “Ok you’re right I’m just trying to find something to do.”

Skye had gone a little white as he said the last sentence. She announced “you might need to catch the baby… I think I need to push!”

Two equally powerful instincts warred within Skye—the desperate desire to give birth with the help of professionals in a big clean bed versus the absolute feral need to give in to her body’s need to push. As the next contraction built she clung to the former, panting and squirming and squeezing the hell out of Mickey’s hand. Anything that wasn’t bearing down with the impossible pressure.

She was able to weather another three or four contractions this way before the pain of holding back far surpassed the fear of giving in.

“Babe, I can’t- I have to—“ Skye whimpered, trailing off as the reality began to sink in.

It was Mickey’s turn to squeeze Skye’s hand, and she looked down into his determined gaze. “I know. I know, and it’s alright.” She nodded, but her face was pinched and tense and looked like she was trying not to cry. He put his free hand on the curve of her stomach and felt it clench and harden beneath his touch. “You want to try pushing?”

Skye hesitated, but then nodded again, breathing picking up as her midsection coiled and squeezed. There had started a small respite between contractions now, and it gave her precious time to renew her strength—both physical and mental. She released her hold on Mickey and closed her eyes to block out the less than ideal environment and instead focused inward.

The bucket seat was hard and awkward and caused an ache in her sacrum. She adjusted her position, scooting her ass forward and opening her knees as wide as they could go while leaning back and pressing into the unyielding door. Her palms and fingers dug into her thighs and everything tensed as she gave her first real push.

“Hhhah, hah, ah, fuck,” she huffed, kneading the muscles in her thigh before grabbing them and holding her breath and pushing again. She strained harder this time, tilting her hips up and shaking with the effort she was putting into it, but it was still like trying to roll a boulder up a hill.

When it was over she collapsed against the door and gasped in deep gulps of air, the sheen of sweat causing her heaving belly to glisten.

“Okay?” Mickey asked, coaxing her hands to release their death grip on her own legs. Her response was a disgruntled whine. “You’re doing great,” he assured her.

She “hmph”-ed again and opened her eyes to look at him. “It doesn’t feel like anything’s happening.”

Mickey chuckled. “It was one contraction. You’re good, but you’re not that good.”

Skye pouted and rubbed both hands over her impressive swell. “It all just hurts. Everywhere. I can’t tell where she is. I don’t- I don’t know how to do this.”

“Is that all?” She glared at him, but he just smirked in response. “I think I can help with that.”

Mickey pulled her forward on the makeshift stool even more, then his hands moved up her thighs to between her legs. She was wet with birthing fluids and his fingers easily slipped between her folds. Her muscles instinctively clamped around him, then relaxed enough for him to push deeper, then clenched again with the start of another contraction.

“Relax,” he instructed, teasing her just enough to release the tension there but not enough to pull her focus. “Can you feel me?” He wiggled his fingers and her mouth quirked up into a half smile. “Push. There. Push for me, love.”

The effort was still there, painted into her features and posture, but more concentrated now. He could see the muscles in her abdomen press in, push down; he could feel the soft flesh press gently but insistently against his fingertips.

“She’s not far,” Mickey announced, voice suddenly thick with emotion. “You’ll have her out in no time.”

Skye redoubled her efforts. She could feel Mickey’s hand on her, in her, with her. She wasn’t just pushing her baby out from her body, she was pushing it into his hands.

She stopped keeping track of how many contractions came and went—didn’t want to lose that tenuous connection that was holding the three of them together—but then something shifted. It stopped feeling like there was no progress being made and started feeling like it was being made far too quickly. Like every push was testing the limits of her flesh. The pressure just kept building, and building, with nowhere for it to go.

Skye was pressed back hard against the door, but no amount of length in her spine would alleviate the fullness in her hips. She wailed as that immense force narrowed and sharpened, concentrated at a single unyielding point.

Mickey’s heart rate spiked as the last push came with a distinctive bowing out of her skin, evicting his fingers completely. He was about to tell her has such when they were both jostled harshly as a crack of light appeared in the doorway and a frantic voice on the other side was calling their names.

They had finally been found… but Skye wasn’t going anywhere.

Skye was jostled forward as the door opened. It only opened a crack before her body stopped it moving but the voices behind were recognisable as the two midwives the couple had met on their arrival.

“Hello! Hello are you ok?” One of the concerned voices shouted beyond the door.

“We’re alive, if that’s what you mean” shouted Mickey in response. “Skye’s pushing, I can feel the head right there. She can’t move. We need help. “

“What do you mean she can’t move, is she injured?” Asked the midwife.

Skye was the next to answer “no, there’s a bowling ball between my legs, I can’t get up!” She was clearly stressed and yelling. “I need to push it out, I don’t know what to do!”

Skye closed her eyes and gripped onto Mickeys hands, a clear sign her contraction had started again. The midwives listened carefully as Skye yelled out a few moments later, all her effort into a push.

“Is she dilated?” Asked the midwife.

“How do I tell?” Asked Mickey in response.

“If you can get your fingers sanitised you should put them in your wife’s vagina, you might be able to feel around the head and take a guess at how wide her cervix is open?” A hand poked through the gap in the door “ if it’s open up as wide as needed your fingers should be this wide” the disembodied hand showed a gap between thumb and forefinger.

“Listen!” Yelled Mickey to make his voice heard over Skye’s own pained moans “the head is fucking right there, it’s bulging out. I can’t even fit my fingers in right now.”

“Ok” came the voice from the other side of the door “sounds like she’s doing what she needs to be doing. I really need you to help her to her feet and get her out of the way so we can get in.”

“Nooooo!” Wailed Skye. “Don’t ask me to stand. Don’t think my legs will hold my weight. Need to push, need to push!”   She closed her eyes and let out a grunting sound.

Skye’s body stiffened as the urge built up inside her once again. She threw her head back, the tendons cording in her neck as her face reddened. Some wet, strangled sound escaped her throat as she took in a few ragged breaths and then redoubled her efforts. She pushed this way for several contractions and the effort nearly made her sick, coughing and sputtering as she came down from the last one.

“Remember to breathe, Skye,” came the unhelpful reminder from the other side of the door.

“Don’t force anything; the babe will come. Relax if you can,” the second midwife added.

“Relax?” Sky growled, incredulous. How the hell was she supposed to do that? She looked down at Mickey and his eyes were pleading—she was giving it everything she had and still wasn’t crowning and he was worried about her. “Help me. Please.”

“Anything.” Their space was limited, but Mickey managed to lean forward, one hand still cupped around Skye’s sex, and kiss up her thigh, her belly, her breasts. “You’re so beautiful like this. So strong.” She was about to protest but he bit down lightly on her neck and she gasped, releasing the vice like grip she’d had on her legs and instead curling around the muscles of his shoulders. “Working so hard to bring our baby into the world.” Just as his lips reached her jaw she tensed and began to arch away from him, but he anchored her in place and whispered in her ear, “Stay with me, love. Right here with me.” She nodded against his temple and he smiled. “Good girl. Gentle pushes for me now.”

It seemed counterintuitive to Skye, that putting in less effort would yield greater results, but the subtle burning release she felt between her legs as she hummed and grunted her way through the next few contractions hinted that it was working.

“How are things progressing in there?” the midwives asked.

Mickey pulled back and Skye whimpered, grabbed onto his wrist. “I’m just going to take a look,” he promised, sitting back on his heels. When he finally saw what was happening between his wife’s legs, tears began welling in his eyes. “I- I can see the head,” he called to the crack in the door. Then, to Skye, “The head is right there, baby, even when you’re not pushing. You are the most amazing woman who’s ever lived.”

Sky giggled at that. “Pretty sure there are at least a dozen other women right down the hall doing this exact same thing right now.”

Mickey shook his head. “Nope. None of them are as amazing as you.”

“None of them doing it in a broom closet, though, I can assure you of that!” one of the midwives added, only slightly exasperated.

“As if that’s something to brag about,” Skye muttered.

Mickey was going to say something back about it at least being a damn good story, but then Skye’s eyes screwed shut and her chest heaved with laboured breaths. Her body pushed of its own accord and she wailed as her opening widened another fraction of an inch.

The midwives’ chatter picked up at the change in her tone. “Yep, sounds like the beginning of a crown to me!”

Skye let out a groan which echoed around the confined space of the cupboard. Mickey got himself back in close, his hands kneading Skye’s shoulders and his lips exploring her face.

“Just like that…” he said, keeping his voice low and calm.

Skye continued her effort, grunting, sighing, moaning and holding her breath almost in a cycle as she felt her body do the work it needed to do.

The burning sensation between her legs grew and grew, as the head of their babe continued its unrelenting journey, but at the end of each panting contraction, there was noticeable movement between Skye’s legs.

She had stopped any sort of conversation at this point, only managing enough energy to keep going, and when the contraction subsided, she used the opportunity to pant and catch her breath.

Mickey on the other hand was chattering on incessantly.

“I can see the head, you’re doing great. She’s almost got the head out. What do I do to catch it. The heads coming. Baby I’m so proud of you. Keep going, do what you’re doing. “

“Shutup shutup shutup!” The exclamation from Skye was unexpected and Mickey was taken aback for a second.

“What’s up?” He asked.

“It burns… it really burns. Mickey help me…” Skye looked pleading

“Anything baby… what I can I do”

“Rub my clit…”

The announcement may as well have been shouted out using a loud speaker the fact that Mickey and the 2 midwives both went silent.

Mickey froze, shook his head, certain he’d heard incorrectly. “You- I—what?”

“Mickey, please. Please, baby,” she whined, the words just as breathless and desperate as they were in the bedroom, but now for entirely different reasons.

When his mind finally caught up with her words, a slight blush coloured his cheeks. “What, here? Now? Can I do that?” Then, because he was sure the women on the other side of the door had heard her request as well, “Am I allowed to do that?”

“Never argue with a pregnant person,” one replied.

The other hummed in agreement. “Do what you need to do, sweetie. Whatever makes the pain a little easier to take.”

Babe!” Skye gasped—a warning, an appeal. She whimpered and panted and shifted her hips, but there was no relief to be found there. “Please,” she said again, and this finally spurred Mickey into action.

He adjusted the hand that was supporting the emerging head, his thumb immediately going to work on her sensitive bud. The motion was habit, done without thinking in his usual strong vigorous rhythm, and she flinched away from him with a cry. He snatched his hand away and examined her with frantic eyes. “Oh my god, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you? The baby? I thought—”

Skye shook her head, reaching blindly for his hand. When it found her grasp, she guided it back between her legs. “Slow. Please. Gentle. Slow,” she managed punctuated guidance between panted breaths.

Tentatively this time, almost fearful, Mickey brushed his thumb featherlight across her clit and she shivered, exhaling a little more forcefully. Encouraged by her response, he pressed deeper into her folds, tracing the lines and edges in lazy circles.

“Mhmm, just like that,” Skye moaned, wincing as the pleasure mixed with the pain. The burn was intense now, stealing her breath just as quickly as Mickey’s ministrations allowed her to catch it. “Is the head, is it—hah, ah—is it almost—fuck—out?” Mickey’s pause was answer enough and Skye threw her head back against the door in frustration. “Fuck.”

“You’re stretching really good, babe.” Skye huffed. “No, really. So much is out already. There’s just… you’ve still got a little ways to go yet.”

Skye growled as another contraction wound its way around her midsection. “Just don’t stop.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mickey said, a smile in his voice, shaking out his hand and flexing his fingers before returning them to their post.

This time, just to give her own hands something to do, Skye drew them up the curve of her belly and moulded them around her full breasts, kneading the tender flesh and rolling her nipples under her thumbs, between her fingers. The action seemed to intensify the contraction and she curled forward instinctually, her upper body wrapping around her tight stomach and one arm dropping to hook under a knee and pull her leg up and back as she released a primal strangled cry.

Mickey had to abandon his duties between Skye’s legs in favour of making sure she didn’t fall over. He put a steadying hand on her waist as her roar intensified, the pain now in full force without the distraction of his intimate touch.

“That’s it, baby. Keep going, let it out.”

“Burning. It’s burning,” Skye panted in desperation, wrapping her free arm under his and digging her fingers into his back. She nestled her head into his neck and grunted, getting in a few more small pushes before slumping into him as the contraction waned. “Hurts.”

“I know.” Mickey kissed the top of her head and she released her hold on her leg. His hand drifted back down her inner thigh and he gasped excitedly. “Holy shit, the head’s almost out!”

“Really?” Mickey nodded. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” Mickey’s lips found hers and he guided her hand to where his had just been. Her whole palm filled with something soft, wet, warm, and she stroked her thumb along the gentle curve. “Hi, baby,” she cooed, voice thick with emotion. “We can’t wait to meet you. I can’t believe you’re almost here.”

“Just another push or two ought to do it. You were so close on that last one.”

“Mm, you better be right about that.” Skye let out a few short quick breaths before pulling her leg back once more, leaning forward into another big push.

“Ehm, about those instruction on how to catch…?” Mickey called out to the hallway as Skye’s screams began anew.

“Just hold the head as it pops out, DON’T pull it” came the supportive voice from beyond the other side of the door - though the end of the statement was punctuated by the warning which he readily took in.

Mickey leaned back to get as good a look as he could under Skye’s belly and he let out an involuntary gasp. Where before her hole was red and swollen it was now white, stretched to the extreme, and the boulder shape of their baby - an object easily as wide as his hand - rested there almost at the tipping point.

Skye didn’t notice Mickey as she whimpered, the sensations taking all of her focus until she suddenly flinched completely in her seat and let out a yelp then suddenly, just like that, the head seemed to surge forward and it was suddenly… out.

The bottom half of the head slipped forward as Mickey darted his hand down instinctively only to get it covered by amniotic fluid but he held onto… something. It took a moment to realise that nestled in his palm were the features of their baby. He could feel the nose, the mouth. He was dumbstruck.

“Mickey!” shrieked Skye

“Baby!” shrieked Mickey

“What happened” came the voice from the other side of the door.

“The… the heads out.” stammered Mickey. He took in the scene. Skye was panting big heaving breaths, taking what time she could to rest, their baby’s head was nestled in his hands and he was squatted down like a baseball catcher. The puddle of water that just came out of Skye was spreading wider on the floor beneath him… and he realised his thighs ached like crazy.

“OK stay exactly as you are. Keep supporting the head. Check the neck, make sure there isn’t a cord wrapped around it” came the voice of guidance

“How?”

“Stick your finger in there and run it around the baby’s neck.”

Mickey tentatively extended a finger and probed it into his wife. She didn’t flinch or react, oblivious to this tiny additional movement, but compared to before… it was nothing.

“No, it’s not there.” Mickey sounded relieved that’s for certain.

“Ok so the head will want to rotate, then when baby is turned to the side it’s time for the shoulders.”

Skye grunted, shifted in her seat as Mickey felt the head rotate. He took a chance to adjust his position, knees going to the soggy ground as the baby’s head turned.

Looks like things were happening again.

It was a strange sensation, feeling the baby shift partially inside and partially outside her. The consuming burn had eased with the passing of the head but the pressure remained just as insistent. Once again it felt as if the baby would simply fall out of her—if only it would be that easy.

“That’s it, baby, keep pushing, just a few more pushes,” Mickey encouraged as Skye grunted and bore down with the next contraction.

“Mmm, no, not again,” Skye pleaded with no one in particular as her tender opening bulged and stretched with the press of the shoulders behind it. “I can’t do it again,” she whined, breaths become erratic, panicked, pained, “I’m not ready!”

Well, she was ready for this all to be over, to have her baby in her arms and an actual bed to lie in, but the pain was still so fresh and raw, her tissues fragile and strained.

“S’okay, Skye. Take a break, take a breath. Baby’ll still be waiting for you whenever you’re ready,” came a voice through the crack in the door.

Mickey was thankful for their guidance then, as he’d had no idea what to say to Skye in that moment. As she puffed out quick breaths of air, he squinted in the dim light, peering under her belly. Now that the baby had rotated, it was actually facing toward him. Waxy and wet and scrunched, Mickey had never seen anything more beautiful.

“Hi, baby,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over a chubby cheek. The baby’s mouth opened and closed, already responding to his touch. “Go easy on mommy, okay? She loves you very much, but you’ve got daddy’s big head and she’s a little sore at the moment.”

Skye smiled at that, eyes still closed in a rare moment of rest, and reached down to stroke the top of the baby’s head. “You listen to your father now,” she warned, breathing picking back up again.

“Ready?” Mickey asked. Skye paused a moment, then nodded. “Whenever you’re ready—let’s have a baby.”

Skye nodded again, this time to herself, gathering her wits about her. Her groan was guttural, deep, primal, an animal driven by instinct. Her whole body seemed to bow inward, concentrating all its forces into her core. One shoulder would peek out, only to slip back in as soon as Skye sucked in a quick breath. She’d shift her hips and then the other would make an appearance, but then the stretch would become unbearable and cause her to cry out, weakening her efforts just enough for it to disappear back between her folds. She pressed her palms into her thighs, digging into her flesh and forcing her knees outward as far apart as they would go.

When another contraction came and went like this, Skye heaved a sigh of exasperation. “I don’t,” she panted, “think I,” another breath, “can get the shoulders out like this.”

Mickey, their child’s head still cradled in his hands, bit his lips and directed his question toward the door, a tinge of worry creeping into his tone. “How do we do this? What- what can we do?”

“Just keep calm. The best thing to do is open up her pelvis. Either a nice deep squat, or we push her legs back to get the same thing.” The voice was reassuring, realising that Mickey was starting to panic.

“I’ll get down I’ll get down” voiced Skye as she lifted her butt up ready to push the bucket she had been resting on out of the way. She actually shuffled a step forward and overbalanced Mickey who tumbled to the floor, though he kept his hand fixed to the head of their child.

The commotion caught the attention of the team on the other side of the door who tried to make sense of the clattering and banging going on inside the closet.

Skye hunkered down and grunted, her deep squat resulted in Mickeys hand, holding the baby’s head, being pressed into the ground, in the muck and birth fluids that were pooling there.

A strong grunt, a whine and another grunt. Suddenly she yelled “help, it’s not moving”

From the other side of the door came the question “Mickey do you still have the head?”

“Yes…” came the response.

“Ok… let go, and pull Skye up.”

“You sure?”

“Trust us…”

Mickey wriggled his hand out from under Skye leaving the head exposed, grabbed her hands and heaved backwards so Skye was back on her feet.

“She’s up”

“Ok stand back, we’re coming in.”

There was a blur of activity. Finally the door opened wide, and Mickey and Skye were met with the sight of 2 midwives, someone wearing a pair of overalls presumably from the maintenance team and a cold blast of air as the air conditioned corridor opened wide.

One of the midwives rushed in and grabbed Skye by the arms as they led her backwards, wide legged and frog-walking out of the closet.

One kept close attention to the baby as Skye was turned around and lowered to the floor. Everything looked good as she was laid on her back, icy cold flooring sending shivers all over her body as her legs were pushed back and her hips were opened wide.

“Skye, give me the biggest push you can, right now!” the midwives commanded.

As the cold seeped into Skye’s bare flushed skin, she was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was completely naked in the very non-private hallway, with her legs spread open as wide as they were capable of going.

The medical staff, at least, had the decency to mind their own business even as the passersby gaped and gawked. She wasn’t embarrassed, exactly, but it made her self conscious about her actions, her noises, her progress, and she couldn’t quite give herself over fully to the next contraction.

Skye whimpered, close to tears and feeling like a failure that she still wasn’t able to get her baby out. She grabbed for Mickey’s hand and he knelt on the far side of her, hunching himself over her body and blocking at least her upper half from view from all but the most curious onlookers.

“Too big,” she whined, looking into his eyes for comfort or encouragement or sympathy, she didn’t know.

“I know, baby, but you’re so close. Your body was made for this, just a few more pushes, you’ll get out baby out, I know you will,” he murmured in the space between contractions. Then, when Skye released a sharp breath and her belly visibly tensed, “Come on now, as hard as you can.”

Skye nodded at the same time the midwives forced her knees comically far back and down, lifting her butt off the floor so that her vagina was practically sticking straight up toward the ceiling. When she crunched up, folding over her belly, her head was almost between her knees and all the air was forced from her lungs.

She held the push as long as she could, the baby’s head pressing up and away from her hips, attempting to free itself from her tight hole. She fell back to the floor, gasped in a breath, and curled back up, the baby’s head bobbing up and down in time with her efforts.

Mickey was so focused on his wife’s face that he didn’t see when the midwife stuck half her hand around the emerging shoulder in Skye’s opening, but he saw the change in her expression, heard as her cries escalated into strangled, wild howls.

“What are you doing!” Mickey asked frantically, bordering on yelling.

“Just helping the other shoulder along; don’t want it getting bruised or stuck,” the midwife explained.

Mickey wanted to protest, but Skye was nodding, eyes still screwed shut with pain. Something must have given way because Skye gasped, surged forward into an almost unexpected push as the baby was finally shifted into a proper position. She screamed one last time as the shoulders emerged, stretching her even wider than the head, and then the rest of the baby slid out easily, along with an impressive spray of amniotic fluid, and immediately placed on Skye’s bare chest.

The scream brought a few people running and Skye ended up being the unfortunate recipient of yet more public scrutiny… but at that point she couldn’t care. She’d done it. The sound of her and Mickeys baby crying loud wails was music to her ears and nothing could take that fact away.

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and the same was true of Mickey, the events of the day had reached a point where he was just so glad it was over.

He sensed a figure appear behind him then heard a cough. Turning he looked at the maintenance man in his overalls behind him, holding forward Skye’s gown she had discarded earlier.

He thanked him and grabbed it, looking to the midwives for guidance.

“I’ve called for a wheelchair for Skye, I want to get her back to maternity before she has to deliver the afterbirth.” Mickey nodded at what the midwife had said. He moved around to the back of Skye and pulled the gown over her, as one of the midwives took the baby temporarily and held it - finally getting a good chance too look at the gender and realising the couple had a girl - as Skye did the best she could on the floor to pull the gown over her thighs and get handed back the baby again.

“Besides… I think Skye may need a few stitches… that last few moments were quite… forceful I think it’s fair to say.”

As the chair arrived and between Mickey and one of the midwives they managed to get Skye to her feet the group left at a hurried pace back to the room assigned to them.

For Tom the janitor, he just looked at the mess in the cupboard and sighed. Best get to tidying that little patch of chaos up… and changing that door handle.

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Image for Adriana's birth

So I've been saving this for when I finally got around to posting the birth on the cruise story, so I'm happy I can finally post it here...

Once again, thanks to @rayitoxd2 for the commission work in drawing the picture for me!

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Cruising to a new life - Part 9

Amazingly, with all the effort she was putting in, Adriana didn’t seem to get tired or lose motivation. She had 3 more pushes from the position she was in, though each resulted in the head retreating once more.

“This active part of labour” she was cut short with a yell, stopping momentarily “can be a very positive experience for the mother.” Once more she made a noise which could only be described as a yell-grunt. “As you actively push, you feel empowered to be directing your energies towards something positive – COME OUT!” She screamed the last words, her eyes closing and her head pressing down into her chest. She clamped her feet down and grabbed the sides of the tub so hard as she pushed, back in the auditorium we could almost be certain she was going to lift herself out of the water.

At the end of that show though, once again we had the same result. Adriana gulping for air and panting, her chest and belly bobbing around so much they were sloshing the water of the pool, and between her legs, a glimpse – admittedly getting bigger each time, but still vanishing – of the head then suddenly nothing again.

Miguel was just finishing up with Jess, checking over the delivery of her placenta and getting her and the baby wrapped up warm when he shouted over “try changing positions, might help get things moving. Gravity always helps.”

Adriana acknowledged with a nod as she scrambled around in the tub into a type of sumo squat, her hands gripped on the edges with her back arched so much that her vagina was actually out of the water.

“I can’t stay like this for long, my back hurts, I need it submerged. Charles can you use the roller on my back.” She sounded a little anguished as the need to push was back upon her and she let out a low groan. Charles brought a spiky roller and reached over the edge of the tub to press it into the small of Adriana’s back, whereupon her moan turned to a different pitch, something a little more euphoric.

The mention of back pain caused Miguel to pause for a fleeting moment. I’m not sure if anyone else noticed but I caught it out of the corner of my eye as he just stopped all activity for half a second then resumed his work placing a hat on Jess’s baby’s heard. The baby itself was being a model pupil, has latched on for its first feed, and Jess was lying back in a sleepy haze enjoying the flood of endorphins which come in the immediate postpartum moments.

Miguel made sure she was content before turning his full attention back to Adriana. Our viewpoint had changed in the few moments between as the camera man moved around the tub to get as good a glimpse of the head as he could, though with Charles in the way the majority of it was blocked.

Her push had escalated once more to a yelling scream, her hands white-knuckled on the edge of the tub. “Wide hips, give the baby room” shouted Miguel, and Adriana squatted deeper for the rest of the contraction until finally she released the edge of the tub and slumped back down with a splash.

As the cameraman moved his position we saw no change between her legs. We heard people muttering and saying consoling words in the auditorium, mothers with their own children already born, knowing exactly what the poor woman was going through.

“I need the gas and air again” came a now weakened voice from Adriana. Things were clearly starting to take their toll. “It’s just so painful. It’s not between my legs either… my back, my back…” she took a big gulp of the mixture as the mouthpiece was offered to her.

“Adi, I think your baby might be pressing against your spine, which is why it hurts there so much. I’m afraid if you want to stay natural, all you can do is to push through it. I wish there was some magic button I could press to make it all go away, but there isn’t. You just have to tough it out sis.” Miguel’s words weren’t exactly sugar coated that’s for sure, but it seemed that even those few words were a bit of a good luck charm as on the next push something miraculous happened.

The next contraction had Adriana muttering to herself, her voice inaudible to the camera. As the contraction continued, her voice became louder and louder. About 10 seconds into the contraction, we finally heard her speaking. Myself and Jodie were caught looking at each other in confused disbelief when we realised the words coming out from Adriana’s mouth - “Hokey… Kokey. Hokey… Kokey… Hokey FUCKING KOKEY!” she was screaming by the end. Her teeth were almost clenched in a snarl.

Charles reacted by holding her tight. He seemed to be consoling Adriana, his head pressed in close to her, whispering in her ear. We couldn’t hear what he said, but Adriana was lost to the force of the contraction. We weren’t even sure if she could hear what Charles was attempting to say to her in her blind reaction to what her body was doing to her. Jodie’s hand went to her mouth when she realised. “Shit… we just learned what Adriana’s BDSM safeword is… looks like these two play dirty in the bedroom. Sorry babe… looks like there's no stopping this one.”

Adriana pushed once more, her efforts yelling and screaming as she did so many times before, Charles in position behind her taking the full brunt of her squeezing hands against his, Miguel and the camera man between her legs at the front. As the aftermath of the push played out and Adriana was once more left panting, the auditorium collectively held its breath – the top of the baby’s head remained visible. Miguel was the first to congratulate Adriana on the progress, but it was Jess who shouted up next.

“Yeah, go boss lady go! There’s a room full of people over on the other side of the ship cheering you on right now.” The auditorium actually erupted in cheers. It was good natured chaos in there, babies screaming after the sudden shock of the noise and both new mothers and mothers to be both giving their thoughts on the situation. The next push came, and yes, more progress. The anticipation in the room was electric. Adriana’s efforts actually seemed to be more focused with less yelling involved.

Though clear progress was being made, Adriana was very vocal about it. Each push came with shrieks and yells, even some desperate pleas from the birthing mother for the baby to come out. Jodie gripped my hand tight watching this all play out on a massive screen, perhaps given the unique nature of this being a cinema screen I may have been guilty of – just for a moment – thinking this was some sort of Hollywood blockbuster dramatic scene until realisation dawned again that the woman suffering on screen was someone I had only been talking to yesterday.

I heard someone off to the side of me sounding in a bit of a panic. “I really don’t think I can watch her rip open on the big screen I really hope she gets the head out without hurting herself” and quite frankly the thought of that prior to her saying it hadn’t even crossed my mind. I’ve got to admit blood didn’t bother me, but even then, watching a vagina bigger than my head tear isn’t something I really felt like seeing.

As the head kept on moving tiny millimetre by tiny millimetre through each push, I found myself holding my breath. Miguel announced that Adriana was now at the widest point, could likely feel the ring of fire. It was met with a screaming “I know!” by the lady in the tub.

Adriana asked Charles to grab her under her arms between the next contraction and suddenly she stamped her feet down, pushing herself up out of the tub with the force. She thrusted upwards to an almost standing position whilst bellowing out the loudest scream yet, relying purely on Charles strength to keep her up.

As she surged upwards, she pushed downwards and suddenly there it was, a head between her legs – facing us. The baby was posterior, and that’s the reason why she had been having such a rough time with labour.

The water poured down, draining from her body and between her legs as Miguel dashed around. Adriana sagged, almost pulling Charles down with her, but he held tight to counterbalance, still not fully grasping what had happened as his view down was obstructed by Adriana’s body.

The auditorium went silent in the moment, it seemed to last forever though it was only a split second. Soon the babies cried, the gasps and cheers were heard and people started to clap. As if on cue, Adriana actually remembered to breathe herself, her eyes wide with shock. Miguel plunged into the pool up to his knees as he then kneeled down between Adriana’s legs, hands poised around the hanging head to catch if needed.

Adriana suddenly realised that something had changed. The crippling pain that she had been dealing with due to the posterior baby had ended and she actually felt elated. She was ready for this whole ordeal to be over. Dropping a had down between her legs, she felt the baby for the first time. She slowly ran her hands over its little nose and face. It was her baby… her and Charles’s baby. “Baby… we have a baby…” she was babbling at this point.

“Nearly there baby… your work is nearly done” came Charles from behind her.

“Charles… squeeze!” the command was sudden, and a little unexpected to all of us in the auditorium. Charles knew exactly what to do though when asked, as his hands slipped to a loose grip on Adriana’s body and snaked around to cup her breasts. He took her nipples pinched between his fingers and tugged on them. Adriana groaned as she dropped down lower and lower, the babys head skimming the top of the pool water, Charles and Miguel following in their respective positions.

It took one strong, loud push and suddenly the baby was in Miguel’s hands and being held as Adriana was slowly lowered back down into the water to rest. The baby was passed to her, and tears flowed freely from her eyes. Charles couldn’t help but join in as well. He looked up to the camera and announced to the auditorium. “Ladies and gentlemen, please meet my son. I hope you’ll permit us the opportunity to relax together as a family. I’ll be out tomorrow to show him off to our fellow passengers. Thank you for joining us on this journey.”

With that the screen faded to black as the stream cut out and was replaced with a company logo on the big screen in front of us.

I turned to Jodie as the couple fussed around the newborn on screen. “Looks like she got done in time for tea” I grinned.

Jodie looked at me, slightly worried. “I think we better put thoughts of tea to one side” her hand rubbing her belly. I must have turned white.

“Do you mean you’re having the baby?” Even I could sense the note of panic in my voice. I knew we’d been hoping for this for days, but after just watching 2 babies being born it felt a bit strange thinking it had to happen all over again.”

“No silly,” Jodie actually burst out laughing, the moment having its desired effect, “I’ve had so many snacks, I couldn’t eat a thing… well maybe some ice cream.”