Page 117 of Slap Shot Daddies

As we screech to a halt in front of the hospital's entrance, my body is a battlefield of relentless contractions, each one sharper and more unforgiving than the last.

A nurse, dressed in crisp white scrubs, dashes out to meet us, a wheelchair in tow, her expression a mix of urgency and calm. Braden gently lifts me from the passenger seat, cradling me as if I'm made of porcelain.

“Damn, this is agony,” I gasp, my voice strained as another wave of pain crashes over me, leaving me breathless.

Braden leans closer, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice a soothing balm. “I know, love. We’re here for you. You’re not alone.”

Amidst the chaos, Ambrose and Reggie spring into action, bustling around the entrance. They engage with the hospital staff, relaying my name, date of birth, and how far along I am in the pregnancy.

The nurse looks at me, her eyes searching for an answer. “Who’s coming in with her?” she asks, clipboard in hand.

I glance at my three companions, my skin glistening with sweat, my breaths coming in short, rapid bursts. “All three of them,” I reply, determination lacing my words.

She arches an eyebrow but then shrugs, a subtle smile gracing her lips. “All right. Hospital policy allows for whoever you need in the room.”

With a flourish, Ambrose scribbles their names on the sign-in sheet, and soon, the wheelchair is on the move, gliding down the bright, sterile corridors.

As we roll into the maternity suite, I’m struck by its resemblance to a luxury hotel room. A plush, adjustable bed dominates the center, flanked by a birthing tub that gleams under the soft lights.

Against the far wall, a pull-out sofa promises rest for weary supporters, and a private bathroom offers a sanctuary of privacy.

Reggie lets out an impressed whistle, his eyes wide with mock admiration. “Fancy place you got here!”

He chuckles, helping me onto the bed with a gentle hand. “But remember, you’re still footing the bill for dinner later,” he teases, trying to lighten the mood.

I groan, struggling to maintain composure as I settle onto the bed. “Dinner? Reggie, if you mention food once more, I swear I will…”

My threat is cut short as another contraction seizes me, and instinctively, my hand clamps down on his with a ferocity that makes him yelp.

We’ve arrived.

The moment is upon us, and there's no turning back now.

Dr. Patel strides into the room, exuding an air of calm confidence, her white coat gently swaying as she approaches my bedside.

Her gentle yet firm hands move to check my vitals, the beeping of the monitor syncing with my heartbeat.

“All right, Kenzie,” she says with a warm, reassuring smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes. “Let’s get you comfortable before we get to the fun part.”

I manage a small nod, but another contraction crashes over me like a tidal wave, forcing a choked-out groan from my lips as I curl forward, clutching my belly.

The epidural is a blessing. I feel the cold needle prick in my lower back, followed by the soothing flood of the numbing agent spreading through me like a cool stream.

Almost instantly, the sharp edges of pain melt away, leaving only a distant pressure.

When it comes time for the actual delivery, I find it surprisingly manageable, though it leaves me utterly drained. The boys are a constant source of strength and comfort, their whispers of encouragement buzzing in my ears.

Ambrose holds my hand tightly, his grip grounding me, while Reggie gently dabs the sweat from my forehead with a soft cloth. Braden is a ball of energy, practically bouncing on his feet, camera in hand, capturing every precious moment.

And then it happens.

The first baby emerges with a loud, strong wail, filling the room with its powerful cry.

Then another follows.

And finally, the last.

The room vibrates with the sound of three newborn cries, and a wave of relief washes over me, allowing me to finally exhale.

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