hi, i'm cat, in my early 30's, and a she/they masc-leaning lesbian. all are welcome, be respectful. the focus of this blog is mostly breeding/pregnancy/labor/birth related content from the pov of the non-pregnant partner. this is meant to be a soft and consensual space. also may contain your run-of-the-mill hornyposting. not currently into rp, but feel free to send in curious asks and scenarios! this blog is purely fantasy.
ground rules and some info:
18+ ONLY. no age in bio or pinned? block
this blog is strictly pro-choice, no exceptions
no homophobia, transphobia, racism, or bigotry of any kind
fuck generative ai, we support real human artists and writers
ped0s fuck OFF
into:
femmes🥰, fpreg, breeding, body worship/adoration, labor, birth/crowning, aftercare
not into:
mpreg (i am not into this but you are welcome here), inflation, hyper/rapid pregnancy, multiples over 3, birth denial, ovi/alien/furry, medical births, scat, emeto, noncon, violence, large age gap, incest
this blog is still new, so this space will be updated as time goes on. thanks for looking!
Imagining a partner who’s so protective of me by nature. Someone who always walks on the side closest to the street, constantly shields me with their body when heading somewhere unknown, has my back in conversations when I’m not present.
But when I’m pregnant? It intensifies tenfold.
One hand on my bump at all times. An almost intense, concerned stare at anyone else who tries to touch my belly. Making sure when we go out there’s always snacks and water packed for me. Scans the room and places a hand on my lower back to guide me to a place to sit.
Because it’s not just me they’re protecting, right? They’re protecting our family, our future growing in my swollen tummy.
“It’s the least I can do, right? You’ve got our little girl cooking in there…need to keep both of you happy and strong.”
“Easy,” I murmur, “easy.” I show her what a deep breath looks like, trying to steady her growing panic. Her body shakes, her blue eyes wide, sweat glistens across her forehead. I rub my thumb against her knuckles, her hand gripping mine like life depends on it.
“It hurts,” she whimpers, eyes closing with a hard wince. My other hand closes around her jaw and I softly blow hair into her face to cool her down.
“I've got you, darling.”
She shakes her head in refusal, a cry bubbling up her throat, “oh. Oh.”
“Tension isn't helping our baby, please relax.” She gives me a look that makes me want to bury myself alive to recover from it. A hopeless scared gaze that makes me want to claw out my eyes on top of being five feet underground.
“Help me,” she whines, “get him out of me.”
I flash a look at the royal healers around me, their eyes mildly impatient. I give them a cold stern look that has them shifting into action to avoid my ire.
“I'm still convinced it's a little girl,” I smile, brushing her hair that's matted onto her forehead.
“There's nothing little about her then,” she groans and shifts away from me, her body locking up, “no, not again,” she cries and her fingernails dig into me. I have several of these wounds now but I can't even register it with the way I've been watching her so intently.
“Breathe,” I remind her quickly, “breath in and out. Relax your jaw.”
Her teeth are bared to the world, the entirety of her rigid, airless.
“Breathe,” I bark, my worry crawling up my mouth.
She does but the sound that leaves with it is enough to drive me over an edge. My hand leaves her face and falls onto the swell of her stomach, bare to the room, our child begging to escape it. A blanket covers her lower half and I'm tempted to tear it away to see if there is progress. A healer beats me to it, bending my wife’s knee up and opening her legs like a butterfly, blanket falling away.
“That's the sound we were waiting for, your majesty,” the midwife coos gently. “You’re ready to start pushing. It’ll all be over soon.”
Terror strikes me like a hard fist to the jaw and I sit there in stunned silence. My wife on the other hand starts a tantrum, limps a chaos as she tries to leave the bed. None of us expect this but with her so bloated, she barely makes it before I'm holding her still, pinning to the mattress. Her eyes are crazed and dazed with pain and anger.
“I am not pushing,” she hisses at me as if I was the one who suggested it.
“Are you saying that because you're afraid of the pain or because you don't think you can do it?” I challenge, raising an eyebrow. I dare to let my hand travel down between her legs, my fingers breaching the now expanded opening. I almost groan, “darling,” my head slumps towards her with near relief, “you are so close.” I feel the spot of thin hair, the curvature of a baby’s head. Our child.
“Get your fingers out of me,” she groans, whimpering.
“First I've heard that one,” I smirk. She flashes me a warning look that I eat up.
She again seems to be primed with a retort when both hands furiously find the bottom sheet. Giving my hand, wrist, and arm a break from her piercing touch. A terrified little yelp breaks from her mouth and one leg loses grip on the bedding and kicks out.
“Oh please,” she heartbreakingly pleads. So unlike my vicious wife. “Make it stop.”
I instinctively brush my knuckles to her cheek, my other hand resting low on her stomach. “You need to push, darling,” I press on her skin, “and hard. You're going to be just fine if you do that.”
She says something incoherent, a blubbering mess of raw emotion, exhaustion, and pain. Still she does what we all hoped, pushed. Her face tight with determination, chin to her chest, the sound of an animal in full heat coming out of her. She's never looked so beautiful.
“That's it,” I encourage softly and twist, getting a cold cloth for her forehead and neck. She relaxes instantly, tears streaming down her face.
“I can't do this,” she says, voice breaking.
“Of course you can,” I say softly.
She shakes her head in defiance of my words. Head tipping back against the pile of pillows behind her. My wife shrieks, her body shaking violently. “No, please, no,” she begs.
“It comes, your majesty, push,” the healer beckons.
My focus waivers between how vulnerable and how strong my wife is in this moment that I too am breathless for a spell before I am smiling, staring down at the peek of dark hair.
“I see her, darling, push oh please push.” Our ‘please’ is so contrasting that I laugh. She follows my suggestion and cries out again, this time her hand finding my forearm and holding tight. She looks at me, a face full of unabashed fear and loathing, “you did this to me.”
I still can't wipe the joy from my face so my, “I know,” comes out manic.
She whimpers, tears cascading down her face and mingling with sweat. She swears colorfully. That head of dark hair moves forward and now holds her folds open and taut. She's screaming loud enough to break the windows and I'm there, holding her head against mine, getting closer and closer. “Shh, it's almost over, you're doing so well.”
“Small pushes now, blow out, stretch wide,” the healer mimics the breathing she wants to achieve but my wife just lets out the most pathetic of whimpers.
“Hurts,” she mumbles.
“You're amazing. I'm so impressed,” my lips brush into her sweaty hair.
“Don't say that like you're surprised,” she huffs at me.
I chuckle, leaning back to take in her burning blue eyes. “I'm not surprised.”
“Just a few more pushes,” the healer coaxs.
I watch the head pop out with a bit of liquid and a shrill cry from my partner, who now pants wildly, eyes lidded with weariness. “Pull it out,” she demands, narrowing her gaze to menacing.
“You'll push in a minute here,” the healer amends for her.
“Just take it out,” she begs and then groans deeply, eyes closing quickly, “ohhh nooo” I watch in fascination as the baby starts to rotate slowly.
“Hold on, dearie,” the healer tugs the cord up and over our child’s head eliminating a threat against its life already. “Open these legs wider for me, there you go. Push, push, push.”
Thankfully my wife follows her orders. Her face bright red, and voice raising as more and more of the child emerges. Unceremoniously the screaming is replaced by the baby who now flails around in her mother's arms. Her. Our daughter. My wife and I lock eyes, her face split with adorable shock as if she hadn't just gone through all the work to make this happen. I slump towards them both, my adrenaline wearing off and I'm realizing my own hand has left crescent moons into my flesh from concern. I relax my body and take a deep breath.
“Thank gods,” I murmured to no one in particular. I look up timidly to my wife who wipes our baby with a towel and scrunches her entire chin towards her neck to get a better look at the purple screeching face. Our daughter finally has a lapse in annoyance and her eyes open, stormy gray eyes forming a perfect mirror to gaze into. My wife drops back, a lifeless laugh forcing out of her, “all that only for her to look like you.” She sounds both bitter and proud.
I grin, “she will no doubt be a stunner like me then.”
She huffs loudly but matches my smile, content with such a notion.
Love, love, LOVE supportive partners during labor and birth.
"It's okay. Breathe with me through the contractions. They'll pass and you'll get a little break."
"Here's my hand for you to hold. Just squeeze when you feel like you're in a lot of pain. Don't worry, I can take it."
"Let me massage your back and hips. We can even sway together if that feels good. You must be under a lot of pressure right now, so let me relieve you however I can."
"I can see the head! Don't worry, I've got a hand supporting them. Just push when you feel the urge, okay? Don't force yourself."
"You did it! The baby's so beautiful. You did such a good job. Just relax and breathe before number two decides it's time to come out."
Ugh, I'm a huge sap. Birth should be comfortable and intimate, full of love.
“Lean on me. I’m right here; I’m not going anywhere,” Julia murmured against her wife’s temple.
Hilary was kneeling on the ground in their home, grunting as a contraction tore through her, and leaning against her wife for support. She breathed through the contraction, matching Julia’s breaths, hearing her whisper sweet words of encouragement into her ear. Hilary had been laboring for nearly 26 hours now, the first pains having started in the early morning hours a week before her due date. With twins on the way, Hilary and Julia were becoming mothers for the first time.
Married for three years, their fertility journey had been emotional. Hope and uncertainty layered the process of finding a donor, and the choice of who would carry the baby was both practical and deeply personal. After extensive conversations and medical checks, Julia gently encouraged Hilary to carry first, knowing how much she’d dreamt of experiencing pregnancy. As a child, she had imagined her arms cradling her own baby, but Julia’s doctor recommended she undergo hormone therapy for a year before trying to get pregnant herself. Their initial IVF attempt was met with disappointment, and Julia began her hormone regimen, her hope quietly bruised. Then, just a month later, Hilary appeared in the kitchen, hands trembling as she held out a positive pregnancy test.
They were both elated at the news, but Julia’s happiness was laced with a quiet ache—one she tried to keep hidden. She wanted Hilary to savor those early days of pregnancy, their secret held close between them and Christopher, Hilary’s college friend who’d become their donor. Christopher’s offer had been immediate and generous, and after some hesitation, they embraced his gift and dove into preparations, but their first pregnancy ended in heartbreak at 10 weeks. From that moment, Julia suggested not telling anyone if they got another chance. When Hilary eventually became pregnant again, the joy was accompanied by a fresh wave of Julia’s jealousy—a feeling she struggled to admit, even to herself.
Thankfully, Hilary sensed Julia’s unease. One evening, curled together on the couch, Julia finally let the words tumble out. She confessed her fears: that she felt like a bystander, that she worried she’d always be on the outside looking in. Hilary squeezed her hand, her voice steady with promise. She’d make sure to keep Julia as involved as possible, and when the time came for Julia to carry, she’d let her savor every step, every flutter, every ache. For now, this was their journey, together.
When the ultrasound revealed twins, the world seemed to tilt. Hilary’s past miscarriage made things feel even more precarious, and the knowledge that she was now carrying multiples set anxiety humming beneath every moment. Still, at 28 and in good health, Hilary tried to trust her body. The first trimester crawled by, each day a quiet test of hope. After a reassuring 15-week appointment—and after deciding to keep the babies’ sexes a surprise—they finally shared the news with their families.
One night after dinner, Christopher snapped photos as they handed their mothers gifts of a dainty gold bracelet with two pearls on the chain, and their fathers engraved drink coasters that said, “Make it a double.” At the same time, Hilary unzipped her jacket to reveal a graphic t-shirt that read, “There are two peas in this pod!” with a smiling pea pod on the belly. The room erupted in joy as all four grandparents jumped up, and Julia and Hilary were pulled into a group hug that was filled with tears, shouts of excitement, and laughter. Then both mothers immediately started hovering over Hilary, forcing her to sit and rest as they waited on her hand and foot.
It was a while longer before they told their friends. They waited until Hilary was well past the 20-week mark—her belly unmistakably round, the secret impossible to hide. When they finally shared the news, their friends showered them with love. There were squeals and tears, handmade cards, and offers to help assemble cribs and paint the nursery walls. Plans for a baby shower began almost immediately, and their home buzzed with visits and excitement. The steady stream of support made the wait feel worthwhile, filling their home with warmth and anticipation for the twins’ arrival. That warmth and anticipation carried them through the final weeks, even as anxiety built.
Now, the nursery was ready, and the waiting had given way to the reality of labor. Julia kneeled next to Hilary, her heart pounding in time with each of her wife’s contractions. She brushed sweat-soaked brown hair from Hilary’s brow, her own voice trembling. “You’re almost there, love. We’re getting so much closer to meeting them.”
Hilary sobbed as the contraction reached its peak, her grip on Julia’s arm desperate. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” she choked out, her voice raw with exhaustion. For a split second, the room spun. Was this the moment she’d break?
It was then her midwife intervened. “I think I should check you, my dear. It’s been a while since I last did. You’ve got to be further along now." The older woman was crouched on the other side of her. “Let me know when your wave has passed.”
Hilary nodded with her eyes closed, and then a moment later, the contraction eased. “Okay,” she blew out a breath. “It’s over.”
“Right,” the midwife said. “Help me lift her, Julia, and bring her to the couch.”
Julia put one arm around Hilary’s waist as the midwife took her other side, and they helped her to the couch. She lay back against a small mound of pillows and rested her hands on top of her belly.
“Lift your knees, dear,” the midwife instructed.
Hilary did as she was told, and Julia knelt beside her, taking one of her hands.
The old woman sat on the couch at her feet, a pair of medical gloves on her hands. “I’m going to check you now,” she informed Hilary with one hand on her thigh. “Are you ready?”
Hilary nodded silently again, hissing a bit when the midwife’s fingers were inserted into her cervix. She grimaced as the old woman’s fingers gauged her progress, and she turned her face towards Julia, locking her eyes with hers.
“It’s okay,” Julia told her, lifting her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles.
“Well, I’m sorry to say, but you’re only 6 centimeters dilated.”
“No!” Hilary cried, clutching onto Julia with both hands.
“I know, Hilary. I am so sorry, but you’re doing so well.” The woman stated, removing her gloves and reaching for her portable heart monitor in her bag. “I need to listen to the babies now.”
“Is there something you can do for her to speed things along?” Julia asked as she watched the woman turn on the machine. They had done everything Julia thought possible at this point. Surely there had to be something else?
“I’m afraid not. What she’s been doing are all the things I would suggest for anyone. But I can give her something to help her rest, something to help her body relax so she can progress.” She looked between Hilary and Julia. “That’s the best I can offer for now. Of course, she’s always welcome to get back in the tub, but I think, more than anything, she needs rest. She’s starting to fight the waves, and that will only prolong this further.”
Julia nodded. “What do you want to do, honey?”
“I want to sleep,” Hilary whined. “And I want my mom.”
“Are you sure?” Julia asked, wanting to be certain. They had discussed having their moms in the room but ultimately decided against it. Instead, their mothers would be staying at their hotel, waiting to hear word that their grandbabies had been born. But days ago, Hilary had made her promise that if she got to a point where she felt she could no longer labor, Julia was allowed to call her mom. “You want me to call her?”
“Please,” Hilary sobbed.
“Alright,” Julia nodded, reluctantly letting go of her hand and standing to grab her phone while the midwife listened to the babies.
While Julia called Hilary’s mother, she heard the midwife declare, “Both babies sound great. No one is in distress, so there’s no reason why you can’t continue laboring here.”
“Thank you,” Hilary replied quietly.
A few minutes later, Julia ended the call. “Your mom will be here soon, love, but she wants you to rest.”
The midwife was giving Hilary a sedative now as Julia went back to the couch, kneeling beside her again and taking her hand. Within just a few moments, Hilary was asleep. Julia stayed by her side until her mother, Joanne, arrived and then relinquished her hand, letting her mother-in-law take her place.
“You need rest too, sweetheart. You’ll be no help if you’re exhausted as well.”
Julia nodded but stayed standing next to the couch for a moment, debating if she should really go.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got her,” Joanne told her.
Finally, Julia gave in and went to their bedroom, where she curled up on the mattress and fell asleep. A few hours later, a scream woke her. She jumped out of bed and rushed into the living room, where she found her wife squatting on the floor, her mother next to her.
“It’s time,” the midwife announced. “She can start pushing.”
Julia went to her wife, gently rubbing her back. “Did you hear that, honey? It’s time to meet our babies.”
“Fucking finally!” Hilary exclaimed. “I’m so ready to be done.”
Before Julia could reply, a groan rumbled from Hilary’s chest, and she emitted a deep growl as she began to bear down.
Julia’s eyes filled with tears as she watched her wife, hating to see her in pain but thrilled at the prospect that they were about to meet their first twin.
The midwife kept a watchful eye on Hilary from a distance, having agreed to help only if the situation called for it.
Hilary’s world shrank with each push. She grunted through the pain, collapsing against Julia’s shoulder as the contraction faded. Joanne’s warm arm grounded her from the other side. The next wave built, and Hilary cried out, the sound half anguish, half hope, as she bore down again.
“Come on, baby. Come on,” she urged. “We’re ready to meet you.” She grunted as she pushed and sucked in a breath. “Fuck, it burns!”
“It’s alright, sweetheart. That just means the baby is coming,” Joanne told her daughter, brushing her hair back.
“Shit!” Hilary said as she adjusted herself, the contraction easing up. “I’ve always heard how bad the ring of fire is, but I wasn’t expecting it to be this bad.”
Joanne chuckled. “It’s awful, but once the head is out, it’s the best feeling.”
Julia’s hand moved in slow, soothing circles on Hilary’s back. “Do you want me to check?” she murmured. Hilary’s nod was barely perceptible, her eyes squeezed shut. Julia leaned down, looking in between her legs. “The head is almost halfway out, love. You’re incredible.” She pressed a trembling kiss to Hilary’s temple. “You can do this.”
“Okay,” Hilary breathed, and just then, she groaned as another contraction started. “Ugh,” she grunted, dragging the word out. “Come on, baby. Come on. You can do it. We can do it.”
Julia’s stomach flipped hearing her wife champion their baby. As she leaned down to look between her wife’s legs again, she saw Hilary place one hand on the baby’s head to guide it out and one on her perineum, applying pressure.
“Yes, honey. That’s it. You’re doing it. The head is nearly out!” She exclaimed.
With a final push, Hilary grunted as the head fully emerged. “Oh, fuck! Thank God!”
Julia and Joanne shared a laugh, and from the opposite side of the room, the midwife said, “Take a break. Baby can sit there a moment as they adjust to rotate to help you with the next part.”
Hilary nodded and looked up at Julia. “I’m doing it. I’m having a baby.” Her thumb brushed back and forth over the baby’s head between her legs.
“You are,” Julia beamed.
“It’s almost here,” her wife added, her eyes welling with tears.
Julia nodded. “Yeah.” She lifted a hand to Hilary’s cheek, catching a tear with the back of her finger. “Our first baby.”
“I can’t believe it,” Hilary stated in disbelief, and soon, she was sucking in a breath. Another contraction had started.
“Alright, Hilary, take it slow. Let the baby lead on this one.”
Hilary was silent as she pushed this time, feeling her baby work with her. “Ah, shit!” She shouted, placing her hands behind herself so she could lean back, giving the baby more room.
Julia moved to kneel in front of her wife’s legs, placing her hands under the baby. “You want me to catch, right?”
Hilary could only nod as she continued to push long and hard, a close-mouthed grunt the only sound now. The shoulders appeared, and then the lower half of the body, but the feet still remained inside. Hilary gave a tiny extra push, and the baby slid out, in Julia’s hands. A shrill cry erupted in the room, and both women sobbed as they looked at their baby. Julia carefully held the wet, slimy infant, letting Hilary look between the legs.
“Oh my god,” she cried, "it's a girl!”
“You got your girl, love,” Julia stated as she helped Hilary lift the baby up to her chest.
“I can’t believe it!” Hilary continued to cry. “I’ve always wanted a daughter.”
“I know, honey. I know,” Julia agreed. She rocked forward on her knees and moved to sit next to her wife, placing an arm around her shoulders to hold her and the baby.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” Joanne cried, pressing a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head as she stood up. She gave Julia a towel so they could clean the baby, then moved across the room to give the mothers a moment with their newborn.
The two women sat in silence, observing their daughter as she continued to cry, and Hilary began to gently rock her from side to side. It wasn’t long before her cries quieted to tiny whimpers, and then the midwife came over, standing in front of them with a stethoscope around her neck.
“Mind if I listen to her heart?”
Hilary shook her head and watched as the older woman placed the stethoscope in her ears and then placed the metal part against her daughter’s chest. A moment later, she was draping the instrument across her neck again.
“135 beats per minute,” she stated. “Absolutely perfect.” The woman stood and gave them a clean towel to wrap the baby in to keep her warm. “In a moment, I’d like to listen to the other twin so I can figure out what position it’s in.”
The mothers nodded and then turned their attention back to their daughter.
“She looks like you,” Hilary whispered, taking in the soft tufts of blonde hair on the baby’s head and her button nose.
Julia lifted a brow. “Does she?”
“I think she does,” Hilary said, nodding.
“Well, she’s absolutely beautiful, so I take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
“So… she’s Emma, then?”
“Yes, Emma Victoria. If that’s alright with you?”
“You just gave birth to her, my love. Of course it is." Julia leaned over to kiss Hilary on the lips.
When they broke apart, Hilary sucked in a breath. “Shit! They’re starting again.”
“Okay,” the midwife said, moving back over to her, the portable heart monitor in hand. “Let me know when it’s finished, and we’ll listen to the other baby.”
Less than a minute later, the pain receded, and the thumping sound of the second twin’s heartbeat filled the room.
“It sounds like the baby has flipped,” the midwife informed them, removing the doppler from Hilary’s smaller bump. “Now, it’s perfectly alright for you to deliver a breech baby. But since you’re already exhausted, it might be better for you to try to encourage Baby to flip.” She stood up. “There are some techniques you can try, or I can do it manually, though that can be painful.”
Hilary’s eyes were wide as she listened to her midwife, and then she turned to Julia. “What do you think?”
“It’s your decision, honey.”
Hilary bit her bottom lip as she thought for a moment and then said, “I want to try to deliver breech.”
“Alright,” the midwife conceded. “But I should warn you, it can take time. It could be another hour or so of pushing. Do you think you can handle that?”
“No, but I don’t think I can handle trying to make the baby flip either.”
“Then it’s settled. When you next feel the urge to push, go ahead.”
It was a while before the urge returned, and as they waited, both mothers cooed to their daughter. When Hilary felt the agonizing pressure between her legs, she resumed her squatting position as she began to push. After the first contraction, the midwife clamped Emma’s cord, now that it was done pulsing, and let Julia cut it. She handed the baby off to Joanne and positioned herself behind Hilary again.
An hour passed, where she labored in the tub again, and there was still no sign of their second baby. As such, the midwife suggested that Julia hold her up, letting her dangle in her arms, using gravity in a different way.
Hilary bent her knees as the next contraction ripped through her, clinging to Julia’s arms like a lifeline. Everything inside her screamed to stop, but she pressed on, heart pounding, vision swimming. The line between pain and fear blurred; she felt herself teetering at the edge. But giving up wasn’t an option. Somewhere inside, a flicker of determination caught hold. She would do this for her baby.
She screamed as she pushed, not even having the energy to encourage this baby to come out. The room was quiet save for Hilary’s sounds. She had long since run out of tears, emotionally spent. The contraction ended, and she stood up straight, letting Julia sway them back and forth. She closed her eyes, screaming as she bore down again, determined to deliver this baby.
Without even noticing, the midwife had listened to the baby again, but Hilary felt out of her body. Like she was watching the scene from above. She was becoming frustrated. She had been laboring for over 30 hours now and pushing for what felt like just as long, and the baby hadn’t even budged. She whimpered as the next contraction started to build and instinctively bore down, feeling as her body pushed for her. Hilary was past the point of exhaustion. She was past the point of caring if she tore. All she wanted was for this baby to fucking come out.
“Get! Out!” she eventually screamed, pressing down on her belly. She thought counterpressure might help.
“Careful, Hilary,” she heard her mother exclaim from across the room
“I’m trying. I just want this baby out.”
“Why don’t you try getting on your hands and knees? That might help.” Julia suggested and helped lower her to the ground, sitting behind her, and adding pressure to her hips.
Once again, Hilary screamed as she pushed, and finally, finally, this position seemed to work. She felt the baby inch down, her mother stating that the buttocks were emerging, and without warning, Hilary retched on the floor. The midwife moved quickly, placing towels over the mess as Julia popped up and grabbed a trashcan, setting it in front of her wife in case she needed to be sick again. Between the pain and the exhaustion, Hilary’s body was done. It was often the way her body reacted when exerted past its limit.
Hilary pushed with a guttural sound, her mind dissolving into fog. The room receded—faces, voices, and even her own name blurred. She was nothing but body and will. Afterward, she’d be told it took thirty more minutes, but time meant nothing. With a final, primal push, the second twin slipped free into the world, caught in the midwife’s hands.
“Another girl,” the woman declared as Hilary collapsed forward. Joanne had placed some pillows around her (out of the way of her sickness on the floor) so that she could rest once the baby had come.
“Ohhhh,” Hilary cried quietly. She tried to sit up, but her body wouldn’t move. Instead, she stayed where she was.
Julia moved and cradled the baby in her arms, Joanne now covering their second daughter with a towel. “You gave your mommy such a hard time, little one. What was that all about?”
“I think it was a glimpse into your future of what she’s going to be like when she’s older,” Joanne joked.
The midwife was checking over Hilary, having helped her roll onto her back so that she could feel her stomach and determine if the placenta would be born soon. She clamped the cord once it had turned white, and Julia cut it again, breaking the tether between mother and child.
A short moment later, the midwife instructed Hilary to give a small push, and then she was finally done with labor.
Hilary lay sprawled on the floor, pillows tucked under her head, both twin girls cuddled in her arms. Julia, half-reclined at her side, gazed down at the tangle of their new family, eyes shining with awe and disbelief. The air buzzed with the quiet, overwhelming joy of arrival.
“We didn’t have a name picked out for a second girl…” Julia murmured.
“What do you think of Eloise?” Hilary asked.
“Oh, I like that.” Julia responded with a nod and then bent down to place a kiss on the baby’s blonde hair. "Charlotte, for a second name?”
“Yes,” Hilary responded. “Eloise and Emma.”
After checking over Hilary one last time an hour later, the midwife left, promising to pop in tomorrow. Joanne called Julia’s mother to tell her the news, and then she kissed both women goodbye and went back to the hotel to take a nap. She would return that evening with her husband and Julia’s parents so the other three adults could meet their granddaughters.
As Hilary and Julia were left alone after moving to their bedroom to rest, they watched their daughters tandem-feed.
“You’re definitely doing this next time if we decide to have another,” Hilary said quietly. “I cannot go through that again.”
Julia chuckled. “Of course, honey. I can’t watch you in that much pain again. It was awful. There wasn’t anything I could do.”
Hilary turned her face to her wife. “You did everything. You kept me calm as long as possible, encouraged me, and reminded me I could do it. You never left my side. Not once.”
“That’s not true,” Julia stated. “I took a nap while you were resting. After your mom got here, she ordered me to bed.”
“Well, it’s good that she did because I would not have made it through the birth without you.”
“I would never dream of leaving you alone,” Julia replied. She smiled, noticing that Emma had released her mother’s breast. “She’s looking at you.”
Hilary looked down at her daughter. “Oh, hello, sweetheart. Did you have a good lunch?”
The baby cooed, and her twin whimpered, their tiny hands curling against their mother’s skin. Julia and Hilary pressed their heads together, watching their daughters’ chests rise and fall, letting the warmth and wonder of the moment settle in. Eventually, they drifted to sleep—a tangle of limbs, heartbeats, and dreams—content in the hush of their new family.
The popularity of the "incompetent stupid piece of shit husband and competent wife who loves him anyways" trope in media is a psyop to make women believe its normal to settle for an incompetent stupid piece of shit husband
But if a woman acted incompetent once then she will be literally crucified in the street and she's evil for manipulating her husband into settling for less and suddenly it's not a silly endearing sitcom trope 🤔
really in the mood to kiss caress and praise a beautiful partner as she grunts and shoves our baby down and out into the world like the strong, amazing, awe-inspiring, heroic mama bear she is
