58. Epilogue

Chapter fifty-eight

Epilogue

Layne

“ Y ou son of a bitch,” I scream as another contraction starts up. “I fucking hate you right now.” I bear down, pushing, trying to make the pain stop.

Emmy leans over the birthing pool, just standing by for when she is needed. Wes sits behind me in the water, peppering my head with kisses.

“I know, baby. I’m a… what was she was calling me?” He asks aloud.

“A baby obsessed, breeding kink having asshole.” Atlas chimes in from the kitchen, laughing his ass off. “Pretty sure that’s verbatim.”

My face contorts with the sharp burning pain. “Fuck this, I want drugs. Emmy, give me all the drugs.”

“Sorry, love, it’s too late for that. You ready to push?” Emmy smiles at me. “They are almost here, feel.” she takes my hand and places it on what can only be our baby’s head. “You can do this. Now, when you’re ready, push.”

“If I didn’t like your dick so much, I’d fucking bite it off so I don’t have to do this again.” I moan as the pressure gets to be too much. Tears fall down my cheeks. I keep going.

Wes laughs behind me, mumbling, “thank god for that.”

Long hard pushes. I can feel the exhaustion creeping in. I’m so tired, hungry and just want this to be fucking over with.

But, I want to hold my baby. I need to hold them and kiss their face. Then it will all be real.

Wes whispers in my ear. “You are so strong, Ma Petite Mort . Our baby is almost here.”

Just as the last contraction ends, another begins.

I can do this. I will do this.

Breathe in and breathe out.

Mustering the strength, I push once more. This time, a tiny body glides into my waiting hands. “Pull them up, onto your chest,” Emmy says. “Baby is born! Time is four-forty p.m.”

Wes’s hands help me pull our baby out of the water and put them on my chest. Emmy places a towel over the baby. I feel every emotion possible as I stare at the perfect little face of my baby. Wes rubs the baby’s back and the shrill cry makes me start to cry.

As the cries of our newborn fill the room, I am overwhelmed with exhaustion, relief, and pure love. I hold our baby close, marveling at their tiny features and feeling an instant connection. Wes continues to comfort them, stroking their back, as I wipe away my own tears of joy.

“You did it, baby. Our baby , Layne. Thank you. Thank you so fucking much.“ My badass husband cradles us from behind and cries. Deep sobs and he kisses my head. Emmy hands Wes a pair of surgical scissors after clamping the cord. His hand shakes as he cuts it .

The intensity of the birthing process slowly fades away, replaced by a sense of awe and wonder. Our little one, who we have been eagerly expecting for months, is finally here in our arms. Atlas joins us, his laughter now filled with happiness and excitement. He places a hand on my shoulder, crouching down to look at the baby. Despite the pain and frustration of labor, I am grateful for the support and love surrounding me.

“So….” Atlas asks. “Boy or girl?”

I back away from Wes and turn to face him. “Ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.” He sniffles, wiping his eyes with the palm of his hand.

I take a tiny peek, still shielding the baby from the cold draft. As I discover our baby’s gender, a fresh wave of tears hits. I scoot closer to Wes. “Close your eyes.”

He closes his eyes and I place his child on his chest, his arms cradling them. Their sweet little whimpers and grunts making me smile.

“Open your eyes.” Wes’s eyes shoot open and he looks down. Then back up to me. “That’s your daughter, Wes. Rún Siobhan Larimore.”

The sound of the name I have chosen for our daughter causes Wes’s body to shake with uncontrollable sobs. Rún is the Gaelic word for “Surprise” and Siobhan is for his sister. He kisses her head over and over. The sight before me is something I will cherish forever.

Atlas clicks away on his camera, taking pictures of our first moments as a family of three. As Smeagol, our orange tabby, nonchalantly strolls by, oblivious to the momentous occasion, laughter and awe fill the room. Wes holds our daughter close to his chest, whispering to her in his native tongue. I can’t help but feel proud and overwhelming joy as I watch this beautiful scene unfold.

Emmy, our trusted midwife, gently removes the towel from Rún’s tiny body, revealing her delicate features. The room is hushed, captivated by the miracle before us. Atlas continues to capture these moments, preserving memories that will last a lifetime .

I reach out to touch Rún’s soft cheek, her tiny fingers grasping onto mine. It’s in this instant that I realize the magnitude of this new chapter in our lives. The pain and exhaustion of labor fade into the background, replaced by an indescribable sense of fulfillment. Every single second I doubted myself in being a mother, now gone.

I’m alive. I can finally see the light, and that light is my family. Whatever the future holds, I’m ready.

Wes:

Layne feeds our daughter in bed, as I gather everything to change her and swaddle her to sleep. My wife is a natural mother. The way she sings softly to Rún makes my heart skip beats. I cross the room, putting a glass of water and a plate with some grapes, cheese and crackers on Layne’s bedside table. I honestly still can’t believe that this is now our life.

Emmy and Altas left after a few hours, giving us space to bond, just the three of us. Well, and smeagol. But he could give two shits about what’s going on. I sit down on the edge of the bed, setting the diaper and wipe container down, taking one of Layne’s feet between my hands. Slowly massaging, like Emmy taught me, to prevent blood clotting.

My wife and daughter.

I have a fucking daughter.

When Layne told me she had a name picked for a girl but that she didn’t want to tell me what it was, I was skeptical as fuck. But then holding her, hearing the name, I felt so much peace in that moment. I could feel my sister with me then. I still want to fucking cry as I look at them.

I never imagined myself in this role as a father. Yet, here I am, overwhelmed with love and awe as I watch Layne care for our daughter. It’s a surreal experience, witnessing the bond between them grow stronger with each passing moment.

Layne’s tender lullabies fill the room, creating a soothing atmosphere for Rún. I can’t help but be captivated by the beauty of it all. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I prepare to change Rún’s diaper. The least I can do is change diapers when Layne did all the hard work of giving birth and growing the baby.

Once Layne finishes with the feeding, I take Rún, change her, and swaddle her. I glance over at Layne, who is finally eating after the events of today. I smirk as I look down, admiring my precious daughter.

“You know, babe. Now you can call me Daddy in and out of the bedroom.” I give her a playful wink as I stand to take Rún outside, bending down to kiss Layne before I walk away.

“In your dreams.” She mumbles under her breath.

Chuckling, I make my way outside with Rún cradled in my arms. The gentle breeze caresses her tiny face, making her squirm and grunt. I can’t help but marvel at how beautiful she is. She perfectly combines Layne and I.

Just a few years ago, the idea of being a parent seemed distant and almost impossible to comprehend. Then again, the idea of being in a committed relationship, let alone being married, was a foreign idea. But life has a way of surprising us, doesn’t it? And now, here we are, a family of three, navigating the challenges and joys of being married and now raising a child together.

The moment Layne told me she was pregnant, the feeling of excitement and fear that washed over me hit so hard. I was so scared that we’d lose this baby, too. I had hoped that things would be different this time, and I was right. We knew our lives were about to change in ways we couldn’t fully grasp. And yet, as I hold our daughter in my arms, I realize that this role as a father is more fulfilling and rewarding than anything I could have imagined .

Watching Layne care for Rún with such tenderness and devotion fills me with immense pride and gratitude. She is a natural, effortlessly attuned to our daughter’s needs, and I find myself constantly in awe of her maternal instincts. To think I could have lost her and I would not be holding our daughter makes my heart hurt.

Walking back into the house, I hold Rún a little tighter, cherishing the feeling of her warmth against my chest. I know that my role as a father will continue to surprise and challenge me, but I’m ready for it. Who knows what life has in store for the three of us? All I know is the world better be ready for the Larimore’s because we’re not going anywhere.

The End

(For Now)