Seven Months Later
"One more push, Faylinn," Medic says from the bottom of the bed as my wife takes a deep breath and squeezes the life out of my hand. Faylinn bears down, squeezing harder, and not even ten seconds later, she lets out a whoosh of breath, flopping back on the pillow, and a moment later, a shrill cry takes over the room. "Finn, come here and cut his cord, brother."
Kissing Faylinn's forehead, I let go of her hand and move to the bottom of the bed. Medic hands me a pair of medical scissors and shows me where to cut. The smile on his face is probably close to the one making my cheeks hurt, but I can't help it.
Faylinn's pregnancy was the best seven months of my life. When I say I was f*****g over the moon with every inch she grew with my babies, I mean I was f*****g
