Page 78 of Triplet Babies for the Billionaire
“We’re going to do this together. You and your babies will be just fine,” she says with a smile, her voice calm and soothing.
I nod, trying to control my breath, and Noah’s hand is still holding mine tightly. He leans in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. The doctor’s words help, but I still feel the weight of the situation on my shoulders. It’s not just one baby; it’s three. But hearing her confidence gives me a glimmer of hope that it will all be okay.
Dr. Rivera checks how dilated I am, and the room falls silent as she confirms, “You’re at four centimeters already. You’re progressing very well.”
The pain is unbearable, each contraction making my body seize up. My hands are gripping the sides of the bed, and I can barely focus on the doctor’s words.
Noah is right beside me, rubbing my hand and whispering words of encouragement, but it’s hard to focus on anything when my body is wracked with pain.
“How much longer?” I gasp, unable to keep the fear out of my voice.
“You’re doing great, Blossom,” the nurse says, offering me a reassuring smile. “You’re progressing fast, but we can offer you an epidural if you’re ready for it.”
I hesitate for just a moment, my mind racing, but the next contraction has me writhing in pain, and I know I don’t have the strength to keep going without help. “Yes,” I whisper. “I need it.”
The nurse hands me a form, and I sign it quickly, the urgency in my movements betraying my fear. The nurse walks over, and I lean forward as she prepares the syringe.
They take their time preparing the injection site, and I grip Noah’s hands hard enough to leave bruises as I weather a couple more contractions. The sensation of the needle is sharp, but it’s nothing compared to the pain I’ve been feeling.
Soon, I can feel the effects of the epidural. My body starts to relax, and the pain dulls to a manageable pressure.
The relief from the epidural is almost immediate, and for the first time in hours, I can breathe again. The sharp, cramping pains are dulled, and I feel the weight of my body shift, my legs feeling like they belong to someone else. I know it’s only temporary, but the change is enough to give me the strength I need.
The nurse comes in and checks the monitor again, nodding to herself. “You’re fully dilated, Blossom. It’s time to start pushing. Let’s bring those babies into the world.”
I glance at Noah, who looks at me with tears in his eyes. He’s been so strong, but I can see how overwhelmed he is with emotion. Yet, he’s right there, ready to support me every step of the way.
I think of a story my mother told me once, when she had had too much to drink one night. She cried, telling me that my father had run out of the room while she was in labor delivering me. Apparently, he had gone to the bar down the road and he hadn’t come back until she called him to find out where he was.
I look at Noah, relieved that he is everything that my father never was. I can’t imagine how scared and alone my mother must have felt, abandoned in the middle of something as momentous as giving birth.
“What is it?” Noah asks me, concern on his face.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Just thinking about something my mom told me,” I reply. “It doesn’t matter.”
I give his hand a squeeze.
“Thank you for being here for me,” I tell him.
He smiles at me and nods. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else, baby.”
The doctor and nurses guide me through each push. I can feel the pressure, the intensity of it all, but the pain is muted by the epidural. It’s a strange sensation, this overwhelming urge to push while still feeling disconnected from the intensity of the labor itself.
Noah’s right beside me, holding my hand, whispering encouragement.
“Here’s your first baby,” the doctor announces, and I hear the cry of a tiny, healthy boy. I look at Noah, tears filling my eyes as Ihear him choke up, his hands trembling as he looks down at our son. He’s crying, too, overcome with emotion.
The birth is intense, more overwhelming than I ever imagined, but soon, the cries of two more babies fill the room, another boy and a girl. We did it. We have three healthy, beautiful babies.
Noah leans over, his voice thick with emotion. “We did it, Blossom. We made these beautiful children together, and you brought them into the world. I love you so much.”
Tears spill from my eyes as I look at our babies, their tiny hands and feet, their little faces so perfect and new. I feel this overwhelming sense of love that I never thought possible. This is it—our family, right here, and I can’t imagine it any other way.
Noah holds our daughter in his arms, his face glowing with happiness as he looks down at her. He turns to me, kissing my forehead. “I’ll always be here for you, Blossom. For all of you.”
I smile through my tears, my heart full. “I know. I’m so lucky to have you.”
We look down at our children, overwhelmed with joy and love, and for the first time in my life, everything feels complete.
