Page 80 of Merciful Lies

What if I am not any good at motherhood?

I hardly remember my mother, and the rest of my family, well, they were hardly there for me. I worry that Nico isn’t going to take to fatherhood.

What if he gets tired of me?

What if having a baby is too much pressure on a guy like him?

I have so many worries. So many things I am afraid of. Some are more shallow than others, and I am ashamed that I even have them.

I shouldn’t care about what Nico will think of my body after pregnancy. Or if he will ever find me sexy again after this.

But I do care.

Still, I can’t voice any of that. If I do, I might break. So instead I focus on the now. On the pain of labor, that’s breaking me in two.

“You’re doing so good. You’re so brave. Come on, Baby. I got you, Rosebud,” he says right into my ear.

And he’s right. He does have me.

“Okay, you are fully dilated, Mrs. Fury.” The doctor turns and says something to the nurse, then she nods at me.

“It’s time to push.”

Hours later, I am exhausted.

Giving birth is just as hard as everyone says it is. But afterwards, well, afterwards there is this rush of emotion.

The doctor says it’s hormones, but whatever it is I can’t help but feel joyful.

The sounds of a squalling infant reach my ears and I smile tiredly.

“Is he okay?” I ask, and Nico tenses.

The puke green walls of the hospital room blur as I try to catch my breath. I’ve collapsed backwards onto my husband, who spent the entire process on the bed with me, arms around me as I delivered our healthy baby boy.

“You did so good, Rosebud. So good,” Nico whispers, and he’s kissing my temple.

I listen to the doctor who is still at the foot of the dropped bed. She’s telling me to push, and I deliver the afterbirth, which is exactly what it sounds like.

I am almost embarrassed that my hot as fuck husband is here to witness all this, but really, I am too tired to deal with that feeling.

The nurses and neonatal care team are checking the baby, running him through APGAR tests, and weighing him. They even have this little baby alarm they clip to his umbilical cord after Nico cuts it, of course.

I guess that’s so they can track him or make sure there aren’t any we accidentally switched your baby mistakes.

Oh my God. Can you imagine that?

The idea makes me shudder in horror, and Nico’s arms tighten around me. He’s still on the bed, and he’s sitting behind me, his big thighs are cradling me between them, and he must be soaked sitting in all this mess, but I can’t think about that now.

“Where is he? I want him,” I say.

“He’s coming,” Nico answers.

Seconds later, a nurse places the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my arms. He’s so small and pink and his face is all squished. But he’s so amazing.

Our son. We have a son.

“Look what you did, Rosebud. Look what you made. He’s so perfect,” Nico whispers, and I swear I hear tears in his voice.

---