Kade #2
“What is it then?” I looked toward the foot of the bed before immediately looking away again.
“It’s...everything.”
Nobody laughed that time. Another contraction tightened across Ysis body, stronger than the last. Her smile disappeared as she closed her eyes, concentrating on the rhythm we’d practiced together for months.
I moved back beside her, slipping my hand into hers as the doula coached her through every breath.
“That’s it,” the doula said. “Don’t fight it. Let your body do the work. Every contraction is bringing your babies a little closer.”
I kissed the back of Ysis hand and rested my forehead against hers. “You hear that? They almost here.” She nodded without opening her eyes.
“I know...” Her voice barely rose above a whisper, but there wasn’t fear in it anymore. There was focus.
Hours passed that way, measured not by the clock on the wall but by contractions, breathing, whispered encouragement, and the confidence of the women guiding us through each stage. The room grew into its own rhythm. Mama Sina kept a cool cloth against Ysis forehead between contractions.
The doula checked her progress offering reassurance instead of panic every time labor intensified. Outside our bedroom door I could hear the occasional creak of footsteps or muffled voices from family waiting downstairs, but inside these four walls the rest of the world ceased to exist.
Money couldn’t speed this up. Power couldn’t make it hurt less. Influence couldn’t guarantee everything would be okay. For the first time in a long time, I had absolutely nothing to offer except my hand, my voice, and every promise I’d ever made to the woman lying beside me.
So every chance I got, I leaned close enough for only her to hear. “I’m right here.”
Another contraction. “You doing so good.”
Another breath. “I ain’t going nowhere.”
She squeezed my hand every single time, and somehow that became enough to keep both of us going.
“You doing okay?” I asked, brushing another damp curl away from Ysis’ forehead. She cracked one eye open before letting out the smallest laugh.
“You really ain’t learned your lesson.” She paused to breathe through another tightening across her stomach.
“I just wanna hear you say yes one time.”
“You gone keep waiting.”
“Stubborn as fuck, even during birth.”
“You married me.”
“I sure did.”
“And now...” She squeezed my hand until my knuckles protested. “...you stuck.”
“I been stuck.”
She smiled before another contraction stole it away, and just like that every playful expression disappeared from her face. I watched her jaw tighten as she leaned into the pain instead of fighting against it, remembering every lesson we’d learned together during those childbirth classes.
Breathe, relax your shoulders, let your body do what it already knows how to do.
I’d nodded through every class thinking I understood, but nothing could’ve prepared me for what it actually looked like watching the woman I loved put every ounce of herself into bringing our children into the world.
The doula checked her again before looking up with an encouraging smile. “You’re making beautiful progress.”
“How much longer?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“You asking me or asking because you think she wants to hear the answer?”
“Both.”
She pulled her gloves off, tossing them into the trash.
“Babies write their own schedule, Mr. Myles. We don’t rush them.”
Mama Sina smiled.
“He don’t like that answer.”
“I don’t.”
“I know.”
A contraction stronger than any before it rolled through Ysis. She gripped my hand so tight I thought she might actually break one of my fingers, but I welcomed every bit of it if it meant she wasn’t carrying the pain alone.
“Breathe, baby,” I whispered.
She nodded, inhaling slowly before releasing it exactly the way we’d practiced together.
Her breathing had become almost hypnotic now, each measured inhale followed by an equally controlled exhale, every one carrying her a little closer to the moment we’d spent months dreaming about.
The doula looked over at Mama Sina before giving a small nod.
“I think it’s time.”
Mama Sina helped Ysis shift positions while the doula explained everything she was doing before she did it. It amazed me how peaceful they managed to keep the room despite everything happening inside it. A few moments later, the doula smiled.
“Ysis. I need you to listen to me.”
“I’m listening.”
“Your body’s done exactly what it’s supposed to do. The next time you feel that pressure I want you to push.” She rested a reassuring hand against her knee.
“I can do that.” Ysis nodded. Another contraction began building almost immediately. I watched it happen before she ever said a word. Her breathing changed. Her shoulders stiffened. Her grip tightened around my hand until she was holding on with everything she had.
“It’s coming,” she whispered. The doula sat in position without the slightest hint of panic.
“That’s it. Nice deep breath.” Ysis inhaled.
“Now push.” Every muscle in her body seemed to answer at once.
She bore down with everything she had, refusing to give in even when exhaustion flashed across her face.
My heart shattered watching her fight through it, knowing there wasn’t a damn thing I could do except stay exactly where she needed me.
“That’s my girl,” I whispered, kissing the back of her hand. “You're doing so good.”
She cried out, collapsing back against the pillows the second it ended. “I can’t...”
“Yes, you can,” Mama Sina said . “Look at me, baby.”
Ysis found her eyes. “You done survived every hard thing life done threw at you. This ain’t gone be the one that beats you.”
Fresh tears slipped down Ysis’s cheeks as she nodded.
“No...it ain’t.”
“Good. Let’s meet your son and daughter.”
The room grew quiet again, every person inside it focused on one woman and the two tiny lives she’d carried beneath her heart for months. I tightened my grip around her hand, praying the next time our family heard crying, it wouldn’t belong to us.
I never let go of Ysis’ hand, whispering every promise I could think of into her ear between contractions, reminding her how proud I was, how much I loved her, and how unbelievably strong she was.
“I can see your daughter,” the doula said with a reassuring smile, her voice as steady now as it had been from the moment she walked through our front door.
“One more good push.”
I looked down at Ysis, barely recognizing the woman beneath the exhaustion that had settled across her face.
Sweat beaded along her hairline, damp curls clinging to her temples while every muscle in her body trembled from hours of labor, but when she opened her eyes and looked at me, I still saw the same stubborn woman I’d fallen in love with.
She tightened her grip around my hand, drew in one deep breath, and bore down with every ounce of strength she had left.
I kept talking because I didn’t know what else to do.
I told her how proud I was. I reminded her that she wasn’t alone.
I whispered that our babies were almost here, even as my own voice threatened to give out beneath the emotion lodged in my throat.
“That’s it, Troublemaker,” I murmured, kissing her forehead as she pushed through another wave.
“You got her. Come on, baby. Just one more.”
A cry escaped Ysis as she gave everything she had left, and moments later another cry answered hers. It was small and impossibly delicate, yet somehow it filled every corner of our bedroom. The room seemed to exhale all at once.
Mama Sina covered her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks, the doula smiled without ever slowing her hands, and I stood there staring in complete disbelief as our daughter took her first breath.
“Our baby girl,” I said, my own eyes filling so quick I could barely see her.
The doula carefully lifted her onto Ysis chest, and for a long moment neither of us said anything.
We simply stared. She was perfect in every way that mattered, tiny fingers stretching against her mother’s skin as if she’d been searching for this moment just as long as we had.
Ysis let out the softest laugh through her tears before brushing a trembling finger across our daughter’s cheek.
“Hi, baby,” she whispered, her voice breaking due to the magnitude of finally meeting the little girl she’d carried for months. I reached over just enough to touch her impossibly small hand, and when her fingers instinctively curled around mine, something inside me broke wide open.
Every late-night conversation. Every ultrasound. Every kick I’d felt beneath my palm. Every prayer I’d whispered when Ysis had finally fallen asleep. She wasn’t an idea anymore. She wasn’t another dream we were chasing. She was here.
The moment lasted only seconds before the doula gently looked up. “Alright,” she said calmly. “Let’s go meet your son.”
Ysis nodded, pressing one quick kiss against our daughter’s forehead before Mama Sina lifted her into her arms. Another contraction immediately rolled through, stronger than the last, stealing the brief smile from my wife’s face as she gripped my hand again.
I moved closer without thinking, wiping fresh tears from her cheek while the doula coached her through another deep breath.
“You’re doing beautifully,” she assured her.
“He’s coming.”
Another push followed, then another, each one draining a little more of the strength from Ysis’s body.
I could see the exhaustion settling into her bones, but I also saw something else.
Determination. The same determination that had carried her through every impossible chapter of her life was carrying her through this one too.
She refused to quit, refused to let fear win, and refused to stop until our son was safely in her arms.