Page 66 of Tossed into the Mob
I was in my place of work where I delivered babies. I was a midwife, a professional. But I had to summon that knowledge, because for a second, I was every alpha father when their mate went into labor; panicked and wondering what the heck I was supposed to do.
My wolf told me to get it together, and I explained to Brock we’d get him inside the hospital. Shifters usually gave birth just with their mate, but Brock was human and I’d encouraged him to deliver in a hospital. He’d insisted on doing it as my cousins’ human mates had. So we’d compromised with him seeing a human doctor for his monthly checkups and having the baby in the hospital if there were complications.
Brock straightened up. “But I wanted our baby born at home.” He gasped. “Oh gods, I don’t…” He groaned, and hisbelly, which was resting on my midsection, tightened. Another contraction so soon after the last one.
This was moving fast and the baby wanted out, unlike most first babies who usually took their time. Niles raced for the elevator, but I grabbed my phone to call the labor ward.
“No, I can’t… Dad, come back, I want to push.”
Niles skidded to a halt and half turned, and I was so befuddled that I almost dropped my phone. That couldn’t be right. For first babies, omegas labored for hours before they were ready to deliver. But that was my alpha dad's response. My midwife reaction was that every delivery was different and I’d been present at births that lasted under ten minutes.
I gave Niles the phone to make the call, saying we needed a team or an ambulance or orderly with a stretcher—I couldn’t work out which—in the hospital parking garage, level 3B. With one hand on Brock, I opened the car’s back door, wishing I had taken Grandpa’s offer of one of his cars. My silly pride got in the way again, and now my mate was going to give birth in my secondhand car with faded upholstery which scented of stale sandwiches.
I threw a blanket over the seat and Brock lay back, and I slipped off his pants and underwear. The overhead light was useless, and it wouldn’t help during the delivery. The lighting in the garage was weak, and I’d complained about it just last week. I’d get no help from that.
Niles handed me the first-aid kit from the trunk, and I put on gloves, aware that none of my cousins wore gloves when their kids were born. But I was a creature of habit. Sure, I’d scrubbed my hands before I left work, but this was my mate and my child.
There was no need for me to examine him and check how dilated he was. The baby was crowning. Help likely wouldn’t make it in time, and this was where our little one would come into the world.
As a father, I was grateful my mate was giving birth quickly rather than enduring labor for hours or days, but fast births were hard to process, especially when the prospective parents had a plan they’d expected to follow. Fast deliveries were more common in shifter births, so this might indicate our little one was a wolf.
“Okay, okay.” I was trying to stay calm. “We're doing this here.” I wished we weren’t, but babies didn’t listen to me.
I'd delivered many babies and handled emergencies and breech births. But none of those little ones were mine and the patients were not my mate.My wolf did the hee-hee-hoo breathing with me which helped, but I had to support my mate, not collapse in a heap.
“You’ve got this,” I assured my mate. It was ironic that we were so close to the hospital and yet our child would be born with only me, Brock, and his dad present.
Niles clambered into the frontand leaned between the seats to hold his son’s hand.
“You’re doing so well.” He sniffed as his eyes welled with tears. “I was only in labor with you for a short time.” He brushed hair off Brock’s brow as my mate scrunched his eyes closed, leaned forward, and pushed.
The baby’s head emerged, and I was like any other excited alpha dad. “I see the head.”
My wolf was hyperventilating, but there were no paper bags for that.
“It hurts.” Brock was panting and gripping Niles’s hand so hard, a droplet of blood slithered over my father-in-law’s palm.
“Your body knows what to do.” That wasn’t very helpful when my mate was in such pain. “The baby’s almost here.”
Stay calm, Treyton,I repeated in my head.Your mate and baby are depending on you.
Brock grunted, and Niles helped my mate lean forward. He gave another push and the baby’s head was out. Oh my gods. This was our child. Our baby.
“Brock, the head. The head’s out.”
He grunted that he hoped the head was attached to a body.
I supported the baby’s head and checked that the cord wasn’t wrapped around our little one’s neck. Our little one was so small and defenseless, and I knew I’d protect them with my last breath, as I would for my mate.
“Is the baby okay?” Brock whimpered, and Niles was looking at me, his worried expression a sign he thought something was wrong.
“Everything is as it should be.” The baby was like most newborns, and I longed to have them in my arms. “One more push and the shoulders should be out.”
“Okay.” He panted. “They have shoulders.” There was more panting from my mate. “Good. To Know.”
The next contraction had Brock bearing down, and the baby slid into my hands.
“We have a daughter.” She took a breath and yelled, her cries filling the car and echoing through the parking garage. It was the most joyful sound for her parents and grandfather, but I interpreted her howl as if to say, “What am I doing here? Put me back.”
