Chapter 15 Reed
FIFTEEN
REED
We'd been living in the renovated farmhouse for three weeks when I woke up with a severe backache.
“It’s from me not listening to Roscoe and everyone else and lifting things I shouldn’t have.” It was lousy timing with the move and the imminent birth but the pack had worked as fast as they could and the house was beautiful.
Despite not wanting to spend money on our bedroom, I was pleased we did.
It was spacious and we now had a king-sized bed with plenty of room for me and the bump and my mate no longer had to sleep diagonally.
Best of all, we had a reading nook by the windows, which is where I’d feed the baby when we weren’t in the nursery.
We’d been unpacking boxes even before the house was officially move-in ready and my aching back was a product of that.
I’d been doing it from the couch but taking things out was easy, it was the getting up and putting them away that was the hard part.
Roscoe and I had argued with him saying he’d do it all but that would take twice as long even with his shifter strength.
The August morning dawned outside. It was still summer but fall would be here soon and the oak trees would soon be turning orange. Work on the farm would be ramping up soon but this year, I had an army of helpers, not only from our pack but from a reindeer pack that lived in the next county.
Our daughter was due tomorrow. The nine months had at times passed slowly when I was eager to meet our baby. But when I checked my to-do list and thought of everything I had to accomplish before she arrived, time hurtled toward me.
Dr. Laurier had explained first babies often came late, which I already knew having read so much medical literature.
I was secretly hoping she'd wait a few more days because there were more boxes to unpack and the nursery wasn’t quite ready.
Everything had to be perfect before she arrived even though Roscoe had repeated, “We have what we need and that’s love.
” But I wanted every onesie to be folded just so, the socks put away and the diapers piled high.
Roscoe was downstairs making coffee, and just as he had that morning when he’d slept on the couch, the aroma drifted up to our room. I was excited to get down to our renovated kitchen, even though I hardly cooked, ‘cause it was gleaming with shiny new appliances and a huge sink.
The renovation had been better than I’d dreamed and while so much of the house was new, everything I loved about it was still here.
Even Aunt Mollie's books were on the shelves and where my name was carved in the doorframe was now part of a mudroom. Our daughter’s name would be etched in the same place.
I experienced another wave of back pain as I made my way to the bathroom, and I rested my head on the wall until it passed. Today, I’d take it easy by sitting on the love seat in the nursery and directing Roscoe to organize the kids books on the shelf and hang the cot mobile.
“Morning,” my mate’s greeting cheered me up but if I didn’t have so much to do, I would have taken the coffee he offered me and gone back to bed.
“My back’s killing me. Maybe I pulled a muscle while moving those boxes yesterday.”
Roscoe hissed and then made that clicking sound I associated with reindeer. “That’s my fault for letting you convince me you didn’t need to be on bed rest. My reindeer is kicking my ass for that.”
“Bet it doesn’t hurt as much as my back.” When he quirked a brow, I added, “My sore back beats a hoof whacked on your behind internally.”
“He’s not… you know, never mind.” He rubbed his butt even though I understood what he was saying.
I waved off his worry, saying I had to walk around and ‘work out the kinks’. That had him waggling his brows and wiggling his butt. I rolled my eyes. Unless he was going to give me a blow job, there’d be no steamy action happening.
My mate offered to run me a bath in our new bathroom but even soaking in warm water didn’t entice me. I didn’t know what I wanted, only that what I was doing wasn’t helping.
“After breakfast.” I picked at a piece of toast, wishing we had gummy bears but I’d finished them yesterday. “I want to finish organizing the nursery first. I haven't sorted the clothes by season. Can you help?”
He was on paternity leave so wasn’t rushing out the door but the look he gave me suggested having the clothes organized according to season wasn’t his top priority.
But smart man that he was, he understood the nesting instinct.
Not only had he witnessed it in his pack omegas, but he’d had a front row seat to mine for months.
I made it through breakfast and was halfway through my nursery organization project before the next wave of pain hit.
“Ouch!” That was different. Not back pain but one that wrapped around my belly.
My mate looked over from where he was arranging onesies by color and size. “What was that? A pinched nerve ouch or another kind?”
My lips were pressed together and I couldn’t speak, so I held up a hand and when the pain had gone, I panted, though panting might have been more sensible during the pain. No, it can’t be. First babies were always late. Everyone said so.
Roscoe gave up on the onesie conveyor belt and kneeled at my feet. He asked if it was back pain or a contraction and while I wasn’t a doctor, I was pretty sure our daughter had begun her journey to meet us.
“Maybe a contraction.” I winced as another cramp squeezed my belly. Holding out both hands, I urged my mate to pull me up. Painful as the contractions were, everything I’d read suggested sitting wasn’t the most comfortable position.
“It hurts.”
Roscoe cradled me as the pain passed but I was worried because the nursery wasn’t finished.
“Our daughter wants to meet us and we’ll bring her from the hospital to our home where she’ll be safe and warm.” He rubbed my bump. “And she’ll be loved by us and the pack. She won’t care that the blankets aren’t in a neat pile.”
“They aren’t?”
My mate ignored that question and got the bag we’d packed weeks ago. He called the hospital and grabbed his keys and phone. Despite the pain, I understood why Zelda’s mate had designated him as his heir. He was calm and efficient and he did what I asked or yelled when the contractions came.
I didn’t recall the drive to the hospital but remembered where we were when my belly tightened with each cramp.
The next few hours passed in hospital rooms, with Roscoe signing forms, me breathing, and pain.
The interval between contractions shortened and I longed for a break so I could sleep.
But through it all, my mate was at my side, massaging my back, feeding me ice chips, breathing with me and encouraging me.
But just as my world consisted of nothing other than agony, Dr. Laurier announced he could see the head and Roscoe whispered I was almost there. The words ‘almost there’ echoed around me and I bore down, determined to get the baby out so we could meet her.
My mate’s hand was in mine, everyone in the room was encouraging me and I pushed so hard. Someone said the baby’s head was out, and then the shoulders and finally relief and the most beautiful sound filled the room.
Our daughter's first cry.
A tiny, crying, squirming bundle was placed on my chest and I joined in the weeping.
Our daughter wasn’t happy that she’d been evicted from her home but I kissed her damp head and whispered how much I loved her.
Maybe she recalled my voice because she stopped crying and Roscoe was kissing us both, his tears mingling with mine.
My mate gave our daughter a finger and she curled her tiny fist around it.
Even though she hadn’t been cleaned or weighed, the name we’d picked for her suited her. We’d met during the Christmas season and she'd been conceived in the lead up to the big day.
“Holly,” we said together.
When we brought Holly home two days later, the pack was waiting for us.
“Ready to introduce her to her family?” Roscoe asked, unbuckling Holly's car seat.
Everyone told us she was the most beautiful baby in the world, which we already knew, and the trees were rustling in celebration.
“They approve,” Roscoe said
“Of course they do. Holly belongs here. Just like we do."