Page 172 of Ink Me Three Times
Mitchell and Freddie stand nearby, both looking like they might pass out themselves, but they’re trying to hide it. The tension is thick between all of us, but we’re a unit now. The four of us have grown into this strange family that doesn’t quite make sense to anyone else, but it works for us.
The nurses bustle around, setting everything up. And I stand there, helplessly watching as Ivy prepares to do the most painful thing she’s ever had to do.
The doctors give her some instructions, and I can feel the tension in the room rise. But then, Ivy looks up at me, her eyes clear despite the pain.
“I’m ready,” she says, her voice strong.
I nod, squeezing her hand. “You’ve got this. We’ve got this.”
And just like that, everything shifts. The calm and chaos collide, and I know this is it. This is where we’ll all begin again…
Everything moves fast. The bright lights blur as the world narrows down to just Ivy and her labored breaths, the sound of her heart pumping faster with every push.
It's as if someone’s cranked the volume of the room up to a hundred, and in the midst of the chaos, Ivy’s face is the center of it all. Her eyes are focused, but the strain of the moment is evident. Each contraction is a storm rolling through her body, and I’m helpless to stop it.
But I can be here. I can hold her hand, remind her she’s not alone, and that’s what I do.
I squeeze her fingers between mine, trying to offer whatever comfort I can.
“You’re doing amazing, Ivy. Just breathe,” I whisper, even though my own heart could burst out of my chest.
I can barely think straight, but the pressure of her hand in mine helps anchor me. She’s the strong one here, the one enduring the impossible. I’m just here to catch her when she falls.
Mitchell is behind her, rubbing her back with long, soothing strokes, his hands firm but gentle. He’s so quiet, almost like he’s waiting for something. Maybe if he stays still long enough, this moment will somehow feel more real. But it’s real now.
Freddie’s voice is low and steady as he murmurs words of encouragement, just a constant presence at Ivy’s side. His fingers run through her hair, and I see him press a kiss to the side of her head when she winces with another contraction. He’s doing exactly what she needs him to.
The four of us, this strange little family, we’ve all fallen into place. We don’t know what the hell we’re doing, but somehow, we’re doing it together.
Ivy’s breathing turns sharper, quicker, and I can feel the tension in the air, the room itself is holding its breath. Her body is pushing, pulling against the weight of what’s coming, and I can barely stand to watch.
“Timothy, I… I can’t,” she gasps, her face pinched with the effort. “I…”
“You can. You are. Just keep going, Ivy,” I urge, my voice softer now, but still steady.
She nods, tears streaking down her cheeks, but determination gleams in her eyes. I squeeze her hand harder, trying to ground her, trying to make her feel less alone.
Then, suddenly, everything changes.
There’s a sound. A soft, startled cry from across the room.
A baby.
And then another.
The third is a little more tricky, but arrives nonetheless.
The doctors are all moving quickly now, but it’s all in slow motion for me. I can’t breathe, can’t move. All I can do is stare as the room fills with the tiniest voices, the sound of new life echoing in the sterile, fluorescent lit room.
Ivy slumps back against the bed, gasping for air, her body still trembling with the aftermath. But her face... it’s peaceful.
We did it.
She did it.
“Guys,” Ivy whispers, barely above a breath. “They’re here.”
I look down at the tiny bundles in the doctor’s hands, my mind struggling to catch up with the reality. There are three of them. Three little lives, fragile and perfect, staring up at the world with wide, confused eyes.
