Chapter Seventeen
Denali
Abel looked so uncomfortable, and I didn’t know what to do to help him.
He struggled to get up out of his chair, not the standing part but the keeping-his-balance part. His belly just kept him off-kilter, I guessed. But every time I tried to assist him, he insisted he had it, and it was fine.
It wasn’t.
The first part of his pregnancy, he was the normal tired and nauseous. Second trimester, he had the horny phase, and I did not mind it a single bit. Watching him grow with our child did things to me I hadn’t expected, and having him want it just as bad made that trimester fabulous.
But as the third trimester marched on, he started to slow down. Then I noticed little flinches, an unsteadiness on his feet. At least it was summer, not the school year, and he was able to rest some. But still, I felt awful, because at the end of the day, I was the reason he was like this.
I talked to Mac, the midwife, and he said it was just from being pregnant, and everybody’s body adjusts differently.
But something told me it was more than that, and I’d pretty much refused to leave his side.
It was almost like when we were back in the cabin where our baby was conceived, spending all of our days together, only now, they weren’t quite as fun for him.
“Midwife’s coming over in an hour,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, that’s probably good. My back’s really awful today. I want to take a shower.”
In the beginning, when it would hurt, he’d take a bath, but getting in and out of the tub now was hard, even with my help.
“I hate that,” he said, waddling over to me, “I don’t love being pregnant.”
I cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry, love. Don’t feel guilt over it. Pregnancy is hard. You’re growing a cub or a pup. It takes a lot of work. Your body’s on overtime.”
We didn’t care if we were having a wolf or a bear, as long as we had a healthy baby. That was all that mattered.
“Well, maybe a shower would help,” I said, not overly optimistic.
I set the water temperature for him and helped him get undressed. Once under the steamy spray, he sighed, the tension easing from his shoulders. If the midwife wasn’t on their way, I’d have joined him, but Mac had a tendency to come early.
We lucked out finding him. Going to a doctor was not something my mate wanted. He wanted a shifter, one who understood omega shifter pregnancies and one who made house calls.
And just like I feared, Mac showed up early, bag in hand. It looked like one of those old-fashioned doctor’s bags from Little House on the Prairie. As ridiculous as was, it was also kind of perfect.
“How’s he doing today?” Mac asked.
“Not so good. His back’s really hurting him, and his balance is worse.”
“That’s not good.”
Those were not the words I wanted to hear from the midwife.
“It might be time to induce,” he added.
“He does not want a hospital,” I reminded him.
We had agreed that if it was the only way, he would go, but if not, we’d fight for the birth he wanted.
“You wouldn’t have to go to the hospital,” Mac assured me. “It’s just a tincture.”
“They’re still weeks away.” It was too soon.
“The baby’s ready. Due dates aren’t set in stone. Let’s check out your mate, and we’ll go from there.”
Abel was happy to see him when he walked out of the bathroom and told him everything he was feeling, which was so much more than even I realized. Mac then went about his normal routine of checking vitals, taking measurements, pricking his finger.
“What do you think about having this baby today?” he asked.
Abel hadn’t been there for the earlier conversation, and his jaw dropped. “Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong. But I think your body’s tired. And this baby is not small. If we do this today, it’s better odds of avoiding a C-section.”
“Induce me, then.” He didn’t even wait a second to respond.
My mate was terrified of having a C-section, to the point where Mac had sat down with him earlier and explained how sometimes it was the only way, and that it wasn’t a failure.
He even offered to help him meet some people who’d had them.
Mac didn’t see a scenario where Abel would need that, but he wanted him to be prepared.
He was a really good midwife.
Mac gave my mate a tincture in a little bottle. The liquid was fluorescent orange. It looked more like a Halloween decoration than a medication, but my mate said it tasted good. So there was that.
And then we waited.
Not for long.
It shouldn’t have been called induction; it should’ve been called evacuation. Once that kicked in, everything went quickly. Contractions came. My mate screamed. More contractions hit.
Abel had me sit behind him so he could lean against me, holding both of my hands in front of him as he was guided to push by Mac.
“Push,” Mac said. “Everything looks great. Everything’s perfect.”
His calm voice and experience added a steadying presence, but I still hated it. Seeing my mate in so much pain… I would’ve done anything to take it from him.
And then he cried out one last time, his cries melding with those of our child.
“It’s a boy,” Mac said, cleaning him up enough to place him on my mate’s chest.
“Something’s wrong,” Abel said suddenly. “Something’s really wrong. I feel like I need to push again.”
“It’s probably the placenta. It’s normal,” Mac reassured him. “Do you want your mate to hold your son while we get this done?”
He nodded, and I slid out from behind him and took our baby in my arms. He was absolutely beautiful, but I wasn’t able to soak in all his details as my mate screamed out again.
I didn’t know a lot about babies being born. I wasn’t an omega and honestly hadn’t paid enough attention during that part of health class, but this didn’t feel normal. Sure, placentas came out, but they didn’t usually come with this kind of screaming.
Five minutes later, I discovered why.
“Well, this explains it.” Mac held up our daughter. “You had a little stowaway hiding in there. Twins.”
Abel’s jaw dropped. “Twins?”
Mac placed her on his chest, and I put our son there too as they both latched on for their first meal. Mac helped to deliver the placentas, which were nothing compared to birthing two babies, and then gave us some time alone.
“We need to name our sweet little ones,” I said softly.
We had picked out names, but now that they were here, I wasn’t sure they were the right ones.
“He looks like a…” Abel said, eyes on our son, “I think he’s Aster.”
“I agree,” I said. “Aster is perfect.”
“But what about her—our sweet daughter?”
“What about Luna? I know it’s cliché, and she might be a bear, but moon and stars kind of go together.”
“They really do. Welcome, Luna. I didn’t know you were in there. I’m glad you were.”
I snuggled into the bed beside my mate, watching as Luna and Aster, our moon and star, suckled away. I’d never been more grateful that I decided to hide out for Christmas in a lodge that had no idea how to handle a reservation.