It would be in everyone’s best interest if every woman in labor were given a warning label to stick to her forehead upon arriving at the hospital for her significant other, or hell … even strangers, to read.

Warning: Highly prone to spontaneous fits of delirium, irrational logic, and violent, unpredictable mood swings. This individual has been sober, swollen and hungry for the past nine months, so proceed with caution and handle with care. Anything said during the course of labor and delivery should not be taken seriously. Side effects may last up to eighteen years. Please consult your physician should castration occur. And never forget, this is all your fault.

“Jesus Christ on a cracker! Can you get me into a room already?” I growl at the cute, blonde woman working reception as another contraction cripples my body. I thought the two-hour pre-registration seminar we did a few weeks ago was supposed to eliminate me waiting in reception.

“Simmer down and let the poor woman do her job, Henley.”

Blondie behind the desk shoots daggers my direction.

Oh, shit. It’s happening again.

I grind my teeth and shut my eyes so tightly that little stars begin to appear behind my eyelids. A primitive growl escapes my mouth, and I don’t even recognize myself at this moment. My hands reach out for something … anything … to grab onto, and in the process, my left-hand assaults Tara’s boob, and my right-hand spills over a cup of pens effectively messing up Hospital Reception Barbie’s organization.

“BIRTHQUAKE!” Tara proclaims at the top of her lungs, and I have to remind myself to breathe. I attempt to hone in on my breathing.

In with serenity.

Out with baby bullshit.

Because really contractions are complete and total bullshit. But focus is one thing I’ve always lacked, and before I know it, I’m unleashing a scream that is akin to the sound of the devil himself trying to claw out of my body. Probably because he is. Only the spawn of Satan could bring this much physical pain. I haven’t even met this child, and while I absolutely love him or her to bits, this kid is kind of being a little asshole. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s been grounded since the second trimester.

When the moment finally passes, beads of sweat are streaking down my temples, and I’m gasping for air. Everyone in the waiting room is suspended, frozen in time, watching me with their mouth agape.

I slap my hand down on the counter and my palm stings. I didn’t mean to do it, but I appreciate the theatrics of the thunderous sound. The edges of my mouth curl up maniacally and, in the sweetest voice I can muster, I say, “Now will you get me a room, or should I head out and find myself a freakin’ manger to birth this impending bundle of joy?”

The woman pushes herself up from the desk and in one swift, glorious hair flip, whisks her tiny frame to the printer behind her, gathers my paperwork, and calls for a nurse. I’m not sure who’s more anxious for me to become someone else’s problem—me or her.

My money’s on me.

Within moments, a nurse magically appears in the doorway with a wheelchair, ready to usher me away into motherhood. Or at least the last long, painful stretch of life before becoming a mom.

“When will Jeff be here?” My tone is whiny, my body aches, and I am so over all this. If he doesn’t make it here soon, he’s going to miss the birth.

“He should’ve been here by now.” Tara pulls her cell phone out of her back pocket and turns away to dial his number.

On some levels, I feel bad for Tara. She may be my best friend, but she doesn’t deserve the Jekyll and Hyde whiplash I’ve involuntarily been dishing out. I already told her to go home to her family, but apparently, the dramas of my being in labor are the lesser of two evils when compared to triplet boys. If motherhood is anything like childbirth, I can’t blame her.

When she returns, she gives me a half smile. “Not too much longer. He stopped somewhere on his way here. Probably for flowers or something.”

That kind of gesture sounds like something he’d do—come running into the hospital room with his arms overflowing with flowers and balloon bouquets and pink and blue stuffed bears. But this is hardly the time to run errands, even if they come from the best intentions.

“So for now, you can call me Jeff, pretend that I’m the reason you’re stuck in this mess, and boss my dick around. Now, what can I get you?”

Even if I can’t muster a laugh, I appreciate her attempt at humor and keeping my mind off of the obvious. “Food. I’d give anything for a cheeseburger right now.”

“Oh, sweetie, you’re not allowed to eat anything.” Tara tenderly brushes a loose strand from my eyes.

One of the nurses strolls in with a cup of water and sets it on the side table. “Your, uh, partner is right. You can have some ice chips if you’d like.”

Tara’s face lights up at the mere mention of ‘partner’, and she leans over and kisses my cheek. “See, honey? She says I’m right. Now when are you going to learn this little fact of life?”

Just as I’m about to inform her that Tara is actually not my lesbian life partner, another birthquake comes rolling through. It’s hard to not focus on anything but the searing, white hot pain slingshotting out from my vagina from my head all the way down to my pinky toes.

The hormones swing drastically, and instead of the post-contraction relief I was feeling earlier, I’m now overcome with emotion. The sheer thought of all the frozen food we abandoned in the cart back at Costco sends me into a weepy tailspin.

What. The. Fuck. Pull yourself together, Henley!

My shoulders tremble and snot streaks down my face. I no doubt look like a goddamned raccoon whore since I’m an idiot who doesn’t wear waterproof mascara. I’m a train wreck, and there’s only one person who can remedy this situation.

“He needs to get here soon.”

“I’ve got tissues for your issues, girlfriend.” Tara grabs a box of Kleenex and balances it on top of my stomach. She looks over her shoulder at the empty doorway, practically willing him to walk through the threshold at that exact moment.

But he doesn’t.

“I promise he’ll be here soon,” she adds softly as an afterthought.

I have visions of Jeff pacing some random hallway trying to convince himself that this is what he truly wants. He’s always been so cool and collected about everything that it has to be a facade. He’s going to change his mind, and I’m going to be left abandoned. Exactly like the industrial size bag of frozen meatballs.

“But what if he—”

“Nope. Don’t even go there, Henley,” Tara says, effectively trying to shut down my train of thought.

“But I don’t wanna be a soggy meatball!”

Tara looks at me like I have four heads and laughs. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Before I can explain, the nurse checking the computer screen that monitors the baby’s heartbeat walks down to the end of the bed and squeezes my foot with her hand. “Why don’t we see how far you’ve progressed?”

“O-Okay …” I sniffle pathetically.

She gives me her best, toothy ‘everything is gonna be all right’ grin, and without so much as buying me a drink, works her hand all the way up into my business.

“Well, it looks like you’re at four centimeters which is great progress,” she says with a little too much spark in her voice.

But all I hear is you’re only at four centimeters.

It took me a few hours to get to this point, and I’m not even halfway there. And even then, when I first arrived I was already at a three. Apparently, I’m a snail because that’s the only way I can qualify four centimeters as great progress.

“So why don’t you try to relax? First-time moms tend to have a longer labor.”

The nurse is out the door before I can ask her when I can get an epidural because, frankly, these contractions are overrated. Mine have been nothing but inconsistent and a great big pain in my ass. Well, a great big pain in my hoo-ha is more like it.

After another forty minutes of trying to settle down with haphazard birthquakes sprinkled throughout, the voice I’ve been dying to hear echoes into my room.

“I am so sorry, man! I thought that was my fiancée’s room!” When he finally appears, he is beet red in the face. “I uh … I walked into the wrong room,” he sheepishly clarifies before rushing to my side and giving me a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s the man of the hour!” Tara says, welcoming him to our little party.

Jeff smiles at me and then at Tara before running his fingertips through my hair like he always does. “How are you doing? What’s going on?”

“Oh, you know, I’m just sitting here knitting a fucking sweater,” I spit at him.

Where the hell has he been? And where are all those flowers and balloons he was supposedly grabbing during whatever pit stop he made on his way to the hospital?

“Good luck,” Tara says softly to Jeff with a not so subtle eye roll.

“Thanks for being here, T. I can take it from here.” She stands from the chair, and he gives her a bear hug, truly appreciating our friendship.

“It’s been fun. Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around? I don’t mind,” Tara says, but what I really think she’s saying is that she wants a front row seat for whatever epic freakout I’m inevitably going to dish out to Jeff.

“Nah, I got it.”

Tara leans over and gives me one last kiss on the cheek while attempting to wrap her arms around my ginormous belly.

“Love you, Hen.”

“Love you too, Tara.”

“And just so you know, she really doesn’t want to be a soggy meatball.” They exchange a confused look and Tara shrugs. “Keep me updated. This auntie wants to come back and steal all the fresh baby snuggles as soon as the kiddo is born.”

The instant Tara is out of the room, another contraction rips through my body. Jeff stands there helplessly, trying to coach me through some breathing exercises he probably picked up from some late night sitcoms because the cadence resembles something more like dying sloth than actual Lamaze. The boy gets points for trying though.

Then quickly loses them all a few minutes later.

The rustling of a paper bag catches me off guard as I close my eyes in between contractions. When I open them, I see Jeff peeling back the wrapping of a sandwich. A putrid smell assaults my nostrils, and I start to gag.

“What the hell is that?” I ask, covering my face and turning away from him. My stomach has completely dropped, and this baby is trying to deliver a round-ending punch from the inside out. Like its mother, this child doesn’t care for deli meat either.

“It’s a pastrami sandwich from Mario’s,” he mumbles with his mouth full of food.

Are you kidding me? The boy stopped at a deli and bought himself a pastrami sandwich to eat during the birth of his child? Mario’s is nowhere near the hospital!

“Did you really go clear across town to get yourself a sandwich while I sat here in labor?”

“What? The doctors warned that this could take a while, and I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

He’s failing to see the problem. I’ve been here working hard at this birthing a human thing, and he is having a goddamned picnic, all while I’ve been forbidden to eat. “This is not dinner and a show, Jeff! Get that out of here before I puke.”

He scurries out the door. Not even thirty-seconds later, he returns to the room with his mouth full and pouty eyes. He shoved the whole damn sandwich into his mouth.

I shake my head and send a silent prayer for this kid to take after me.

Fire burns my body to ash as another unbearable contraction shreds my insides. I try to control the carnal sounds escaping my lips with breathing, but this time, it comes out more like a high-pitched whine that every dog in a five-mile radius can hear. Jeff looks at me with sympathy, the nurse with amusement as she fights a smile.

I’m somewhere between six and seven the next time a nurse violates me to find out just how much longer it’ll be before I finally deliver. “If you’re going to have an epidural, now is the time we want to make that decision,” she says, pleased with herself.

Jeff and I both answer at the exact same time but imagine my surprise when the answers are completely different.

“Yes!” I cheer a little too enthusiastically.

“No.”

Why the hell does he want me to be miserable right now? I grab a fistful of Jeff’s shirt and pull him toward me. His breath still reeks of pastrami, and I summon all the strength I have not to kill him.

“If you value your life, you will get me the fucking drugs.”

“Really?”

I have no idea why he sounds so surprised by this decision. I never swore that I wouldn’t have an epidural. I only promised that I’d try to go without one for a little while all because of that stupid natural childbirth class I accidentally signed us up for. And, according to my calculations, it’s been more than a little while at this juncture.

“You’ve come so far, and you’re doing great, Henley. Are you sure you don’t want to try to go au naturel? At least for a little bit longer?”

“Yes, I am sure I don’t want to try and go au naturel! I don’t get a special prize for being a masochist. And until you try pushing something the size of a watermelon through something the size of a nickel, you don’t get a say!”

Jeff raises his hands up in surrender, and I’m impressed that the anesthesiologist is in my room with a needle the size of the Chrysler Building within a few short minutes. Everyone has to clear the room, so I shut my eyes and try to stay as still as humanly possible.

Within moments, I am blissfully laying back in the hospital bed with a goofy grin on my face as the anesthesiologist looks down on me.

“Holy shit,” I breathe in a drug-induced euphoria. If you could feel stars and smell rainbows and taste unicorn tears, I am certain that this is what it would feel like—magic.

“Yeah?” says my new best friend, the anesthesiologist.

“Yeah,” I sigh. I’m pretty sure I just fell in love with this man who so willingly and selflessly has taken away my pain. “Those are some good drugs.”

The good doctor smiles, and I see just how handsome he truly is. This man no doubt receives multiple marriage proposals each day from expectant women.

“Can you feel this?” I watch him run a line up my leg with the cap of his pen.

I shake my head no. “I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing. And therefore, I feel ah-mazing.” This shit really is magical.

“Good, it looks like everything has taken properly. If you feel like you need a little bit more, just push this button here. It’ll allow you to control your pain management and release more as you need it. But it will only release a certain amount every ten minutes, so don’t get too trigger happy. What I suggest you do is try to close your eyes and get some rest. You’re going to need your strength here in a little bit. You won’t know when the contractions hit unless you’re looking at the monitor.”

I nod off and find myself at peace for the first time all day. I don’t hear Jeff come back into the room, but I know he’s there from the way he squeezes my hand and the rancid, lingering smell of pastrami.

Eventually, a new nurse stirs me from sleep.

“Do you mind if I see how far you are?” She has skin the color of cinnamon and has one of the warmest smiles I’ve ever seen. She seems friendlier than the other nurses I’ve encountered today.

I spread my legs again, inviting her to do her job, and wince at the pressure. “Are you ready to have your baby because you’re at ten! I’ll go get the doctor. Take a few moments to yourselves and get ready, because it’s time.”

She turns to walk out the door, but her eyes settle on Jeff in a moment of recognition. Her eyes narrow ever so slightly. “Aren’t you …?”

“Yes, I’m the fucking milkman. Now go get the doctor because we’re ready to get this show on the road.”

The realization of what is about to happen hits, and I panic. “Oh my God, I’m not ready for this, Jeff. I can’t do it. Make it stop! I’m not ready to be a mom. I won’t be good at it. There’s no way anyone here at the hospital is going to allow me to take home a baby.”

Jeff wipes a rogue tear from my cheek, then grabs both of my hands in his and leans in so he’s only inches away from my face. “First of all, there’s no way that this amazing woman before me is capable of being a bad mother. You’re incredible and selfless and kind and giving. You are all of the things that it takes to be an awesome mom.” His words melt my insides, and his eyes are zeroed in on mine. He’s being completely serious. “And besides, they are absolutely going to send this kid home with us. Babies are built to withstand first-time parents. You’ve got this. We’ve got this.”

His words bring me serenity and confidence. “Do you always know the right thing to say?”

He beams down at me and kisses my lips gently. “Yep, and all the wrong things, too.”

Everything moves in slow motion around us in preparation. I’m caught off guard when another familiar voice calls to me from the doorway, breaking me away from the last pre-baby moment I’m sharing with Jeff. It’s a voice that I never thought I’d hear again … or rather, wanted to hear again.

“Oh my God, Fire Crotch! Is that you?”

My head snaps to see Leo in mint green scrubs, looking at my file as he walks in. You have got to be kidding me. The universe has a sick sense of humor. If I wasn’t already a nervous wreck, I certainly was now.

“Leo, wha … What are you doing here?”

“It’s Dr. Wallace, actually. I’m an obstetrician,” he says, clarifying the obvious.

“I thought you were a podiatrist or something out in California.”

He gives me a smirk and a pointed eyebrow raise as if to say, Nope!

“You two know each other?” the nurse asks. She continues checking information on the computer without missing a beat.

Leo approaches the side of my bed and gives me a hug. “We do. Henley’s my girl.”

“Was,” I snap at him then look to Jeff. “I uh … I dated Leo many moons ago. And really, it wasn’t even dating. Leo was a small speed bump on the way to finding you.” This isn’t awkward or anything. I give him a reassuring smile.

“Wait. How do you know my fiancée?”

“Oh? You’re engaged to Henley?” Leo looks down at my bare hand and smirks. My hands have been so swollen that I haven’t worn the engagement ring in weeks.

“Yeah.” Jeff stands a little taller and squeezes my hand.

“Right. Sure.” The clip in Leo’s voice confirms disbelief. “Hang on a second!” Leo’s face lights up. “You’re that guy … The one who tried to milk himself on national TV!”

“It wasn’t TV. It was the internet,” I seethe through my teeth.

“Same thing,” Leo clarifies.

No. Not quite.

Jeff looks from me to Leo and back to me again as he’s trying to put the pieces of the puzzle in place.

“Leo was … a boyfriend … of mine … in college,” I reiterate.

“Wait a minute! Is this the sleeping dorm dude? Mr. Three Minute Wonder Pants?”

Leo whips his head to look at Jeff. “What’d you say?”

Of all the embarrassing and awkward moments I’ve ever endured, this one surely tops the list.

“I said, Mr. Three Min—”

“Both of you STOP IT!” I snap, wishing for the peace and quiet after the anesthesiologist left.

Leo seems on board with effectively shutting down that conversation. “Fine. We can talk about this later because right now, it’s time to have a baby.”

“Wait … you’re going to deliver my baby?” Jeff says, slow to add the pieces together. He’s uneasy with my ex being elbows deep in my lady bits—and he should be!

“Our baby,” I correct him.

Jeff’s expression turns nervous as if he isn’t sure if he wants to pee on my leg to stake his claim or cower down to whatever the doctor says. He wrestles his thoughts before speaking again. “You know what, Dr. Wallace? I don’t think it’s really appropriate for you to be the one here delivering our baby. Isn’t there anyone else available?”

Leo folds his arms defensively and gives me a glare that is somehow still laced with kindness and humor. It’s almost reminiscent of the man I once dated.

Almost.

The pair bicker back and forth for a few minutes as I grow increasingly more uncomfortable. I push the epidural button a few times, trying to numb me from this reality, but there’s no escaping it. It’s clear …

If I’m going to have this baby, I’m stuck with Leo.

“Look, if you like, Henley can simply cross her legs and wait for her primary obstetrician to be out of surgery, but that could take a while. Or, you can buck up, be a man, and let me deliver this baby safely. Your call, champ.”

Jeff knows he’s been outmatched. “Fine,” he grits begrudgingly through his teeth.

And then it happens.

In a snap, the entire room transforms. The number of nurses has doubled, part of the bed drops out, and the stirrups are hoisted up into sight. And just as I swallow hard to brace myself, a blinding light is turned on. It’s bad enough that my goodies are about to be on display for my ex-boyfriend to see, but now we have a spotlight shining down upon it. You know, just in case he didn’t get a close enough look all those years ago and wants to commit every fold, nook, and cranny to memory.

I take a deep breath and silently hope that the last time I blindly shaved down there didn’t leave any ridiculous patches because Lord knows I felt like Helen Keller in the shower trying to shave by feel. Tara was right, I should have just gotten waxed.

Leo has thoroughly washed his hands and now sports a stoic, professional expression. I’m relieved to see he means business now. I can’t help but feel nervous as I watch him position himself between my legs, and just before he falls out of sight to help deliver this baby, he has the audacity to wink at me.

The fucker.

“There she is,” Leo singsongs from my nether regions. Nothing ever changes. I fight the urge to drive the heel of my foot right through his nose. I’m half tempted to cross my legs and wait for another doctor to become available just as he suggested. I mean, it can’t be that long of a wait, can it?

“Hey! Keep it professional, Doc,” Jeff snaps.

“Eh, there’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Here, come and grab a leg, old sport.”

I can only hope the ‘nothing I haven’t seen before’ comment was a testament to his medical background and not a cheap dig at our former sex life. Just as I feel Jeff’s hand on my shin, I panic. If he’s holding my leg, he’s going to see everything.

Everything.

And some things should remain sacred.

My mind wanders to the inevitable poop talk I had with Tara, and I’m eager to keep Jeff up toward my head and shoulders. “No! Stay up here with me … please!” I cry out desperately.

His eyes dart to mine with concern. “Henley, I’m right here.”

“No, I want you to hold my hand.”

“Babe, I thought you were okay with me watching the birth of our child.”

“I know, it’s just that … I’ve changed my mind.” I bite my lip nervously, willing him to simply read my thoughts and hightail his tush back up here with me.

“Ah, I know what this is about …” Leo interrupts, looking at me over my stomach.

“You do?” Jeff’s head whips back to the base of the hospital bed.

“Yep. Fire Crotch here is afraid she’s going to defecate on the table. Classic paranoia. I see it in labor and delivery all the time.”

I cringe at his word. So clinical. So gross. And so right on the money.

“That happens?” Jeff tries to hide his mortification.

“Yes, sir.” Leo looks back toward me with a serious expression on his face. “Did you have Mexican last night?”

“No.”

“Did you eat Chinese food? I remember how that would often upset your stomach.”

“No!” I shout, getting angrier by the moment. Surely there is some doctor code where you can’t stare down the vagina of a former lover to deliver her baby. It seems like this would be simple, medical law. You know, if that were actually a thing.

“Then stop being so ridiculous,” Leo commands. “Jeff, you stay right here and be my right stirrup.”

Jeff obeys, and I open my mouth to plead with him one last time, but he speaks before I can even form the word. “Calm down, Henley. You’re going to be fine. This is the birth of our child. So stop focusing on poop because we’re both going to be up to our elbows in it the next few years. Shit happens. I’ll deal with it, but you need to find a way to get over it.”

And with the next contraction about to overtake my body, I do.

After close to thirty minutes of pushing, I feel like we’ve gotten nowhere. But according to everyone standing south of my equator, I’m making “excellent progress.”

They lie.

Because if my progress was so excellent, I’d have a kid in my arms and I’d be blissfully resting without my muff on display like it was the winning prize purse in the Showcase Showdown.

I’ve been watching Jeff intently, and he’s given nothing away. So if I have, indeed, pooped, I am none the wiser. But let’s just say that hopefully hasn’t been a problem because there are some places that couples simply should not go.

“Okay. This next contraction, I want you to give me a really big push, Henley.”

He’s joking, right?

“Haven’t all of these pushes been really big?”

Leo says nothing, but gives me a pointed look and then up at the monitor to gauge the next contraction. “Push!”

And I oblige.

I close my eyes and push with all of my might. It doesn’t hurt as much as I was expecting, but holy crap, this is a lot of uncomfortable pressure. A nurse counts down backward from ten. I wish she’d count faster so I can stop pushing.

“Go, baby, go, baby, go, baby, go,” Jeff cheers me on exactly like he has with every push. It’s quite endearing. Though I’m not sure if he’s calling me baby, or trying to convince the baby to crawl out of my body.

“I can see your baby’s head. You’re crowning,” Leo explains. “It has a full head of hair. Do you want to reach down and feel?”

I shake my head.

“Come on, Henley. It’s really quite amazing,” he coaxes.

“Oh … my … God …” I feel Jeff’s fingertips digging harder and harder into the skin of my calves with each word. He’s no longer looking me in the eyes, and the next thing I know, he’s on the floor, and my leg flops down onto the table as dead weight. It’s a damn good thing I’m numb from the waist down because that probably would have hurt a lot. What else could possibly happen to make this day more eventful?

“Man down!” Leo shouts a little too enthusiastically. I half expect him to make fun of my fiancé for hitting the floor, but he’s focused on the task at hand, so a nurse rushes into the room to tend to a passed out Jeff.

“Really, Henley? You couldn’t find a real man to be with?”

And now he’s just being cruel.

Jeff quickly comes to with his arms flailing around. Then he’s in my face, kissing my cheeks and apologizing profusely for missing the birth.

“We’re still in labor and delivery, sweetie.” I laugh, thankful he was only out for a moment.

A nurse brings him a chair and encourages him to take it easy. He pulls it right up next to my bed and grabs my hand tightly. I’m glad he’s okay, but secretly I’m relieved he’s relinquished his front row seat. Maybe that was Karma’s way of paying him back for that pastrami sandwich from earlier?

“So glad you could join us,” Leo quips.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” I offer him a soft smile as I relax before the next wave of pushing.

“Henley, stop pussyfooting around. Another contraction is coming, and I need you to push like you mean it.”

When the moment comes, I do. And not because he told me to, but because I need this whole ordeal over and a baby in my arms. Just as the nurse begins her countdown again, Leo clears his throat dramatically.

“Oh, beautiful, for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain.”

I grit my teeth, clench my eyes shut, and push with every fiber of my being. The longer he sings, the more anger takes over and every muscle in my body tenses. And if I ever hated Leo before, I loathe him now. There is a special circle of hell waiting for this man. I take a mental note to Google voodoo doll curses when I get home. I want to make sure I give this ass a receding hairline and take sick pleasure as I stab the doll’s canvas crotch with tiny pins. Anything to make his dick shrivel up and fall off.

“Keep going. The baby is almost out,” the nurse holding my left leg says.

“Good, good. This is good, Henley.”

“Puh-push it real good,” Jeff sings in my ear.

Tears streak the corners of my eyes, and I know that this is both my best work and my hardest work. A sudden wave of pressure relief is met with the glorious cry of a red-faced child.

“It’s a girl!” Leo proclaims as he holds our daughter up in the air for us to see.

“What? Where’s his penis?” Jeff is genuinely shocked. I’ll never understand how or why he convinced himself that he was having a boy. It’s always been a fifty-fifty chance.

“It’s a little girl — congratulations! Would you like to come and cut the umbilical cord, Dad?”

I wipe the tears from my cheeks and watch as Jeff cuts the cord with a shaky hand. He reaches out to her, and this little human we created wraps her hand around his pinky finger.

“Hi, there. I’m your daddy.” It’s clear he’s smitten.

She doesn’t wail inconsolably like newborn babies do in the movies. Her initial cries turn quickly into soft, sweet murmurs, letting us know she’s here and that she’s okay. That she’s perfect.

They whisk her away to clean her up, weigh her, and run the APGAR tests. I watch as a nurse swaddles her in a soft pink blanket. And that’s the moment before. That single split second before everything in my entire life changes.

The nurse places her into my arms, and instinct takes over. I shower her in kisses and soft whispers of love and savor the feeling of her skin upon mine. Whoever says they don’t believe in love at first sight has never held their own newborn child in their arms. Because in an instant, I am enamored, and life revolves around her.

Jeff kisses my temple. “I am so proud of you,” he whispers before turning his attention to his daughter. “And you, you are absolutely beautiful. I’m sorry that I’m going to have to lock you up until you’re forty.”

We’re all smiles in our own little bubble until Leo gives a not so subtle interrupting cough. “Okay, the fun’s over, Mom and Dad.”

“We’re not done?”

“Nope! Now it’s time to deliver the placenta.”

Oh, shit.