This thread is mature considering it’s labor/delivery. Deal with it, bitches.



It had been a long time since Corey had gotten a good night’s sleep. For a long while, he’d lain in his box staring at the ceiling, his brain dreaming up horrible things that could be happening to Sita during the night, and to their child within her womb. Graphic scenes of massive blood loss and the child having some kind of terrifying deformity came to haunt him, dancing through the darkness before his eyes. Needless to say, such thoughts made it hard to rest.

That was why he’d taken to sleeping in Sita’s box. There was enough room for the both of them, and watching her sleep gave him something to do at night. He’d gaze upon her as her chest rose and fell steadily, he’d gently trace the bulge of her belly, knowing that just on the other side of her skin was his son or daughter, growing within her in silence. A child, most likely with her eyes and his nose, his father’s smile and her mother’s ears. He’d imagined what the baby might look like, imagined what their life might come to be. All he knew was that he wanted the future, whatever it may hold.

As he peered at her through the darkness in a state of semi-consciousness (he was so tired these days he was never exactly awake or asleep) he reached out and touched that gentle curve of her stomach, splaying his hand across it. Just beneath his hand was the generation to come; his child, his heir.

Wonder if stalkers of these threads have figured out what’s going to happen?



He drew his hand away from her belly and closed his eyes, laying there in silence. Peace crept over him with the pleasant thought of the future with Sita that awaited him; it would be him, her, and their child, living together here in this ancient, forgotten city—the city of their forebears. Images of their happiness meandered through his addled brain, and for once, he actually fell asleep. It was a light, surface sleep, but sleep nonetheless. Time to rest his tired eyes and let his brain stop thinking.

It seemed, however, that rest was not on Corey’s schedule this evening, because his light sleep was broken by Sita’s whimper of his name. His eyes flew open and he rolled onto his side, facing her. He saw her curled up on herself and noticed the vomit—he’d have to clean that up later—and knew that this was it. No turning back, no second thoughts, no choices. Sita was going to have this baby, whether she liked it or not.

In instants he’d carefully rolled her onto her back and nearly stripped her entirely, doing his best not to aggravate the pain she was already experiencing. He’d done his best to research about children, childbirth, and the like, and had been preparing himself for this moment for at least a month now. He’d left the names to Sita and had gone in for the heavier reading himself, learning about everything from breastfeeding to teething to changing diapers. Corey had known he would be her midwife, and he was prepared—he hoped.

Yeah, you’re probably right.



Corey helped her as best he could, reminding her to push, holding her hand, letting her grip his own as tightly as she needed to. He didn’t notice the pain, focusing instead on helping the baby out of her womb. He knew he’d have to get in there and get his hands dirty; he prayed to whatever gods might be listening that everything would be alright, and reached his hand down between her thighs, encouraging her as the baby’s head made its appearance.

While it was happening, it seemed to last for a lifetime; but then, all of a sudden, the baby was out of the womb in his arms…not moving. It wasn’t crying, it wasn’t squirming…nothing. A warm, still body that was just barely larger than both of his hands cupped together. He stared down at their child, his lips parted slightly. He looked up as Sita enquired as to its sex, and he checked quickly. “A boy,” he whispered, his eyes brimming with sadness for this life that had expired before it could begin.