Alpha's Fallen Angel

Three weeks later

I breathe through another contraction. They’re coming every five minutes now, but I didn’t exactly feel like going to the hospital just to be sent home for another false alarm like I did last week.

‘Uh, you going to explain why I feel like I’m being ripped apart from the inside every five minutes for the last two hours?’ I hear Roman’s voice come through my head as I feel the contraction start to come down

‘It’s still early labor, probably. No sense in going to the hospital yet, if it even is actual labor.’ I tell him

‘Alright, well, I’m coming back in and getting the hospital bag, so we’re ready. The books said once they’re every five minutes, we should think about heading in,’ he reminds me.

I don’t respond just as I’m hit with another contraction and suddenly feel like I peed myself. Oh, good Goddess, here we go. I put my walls up so he doesn’t have to feel anything.

‘Scratch that, my water just broke,’ I say, and not even twenty seconds later, he appears next to me

“Get in the car; we’re going now,” he says

“My pants are soaked; get me a towel and a dress or something; I am not sitting in this,” I say, sharper than I mean to

“Of course, babe, one sec,” he says before disappearing and reappearing with my requested items.

Without asking, he pulls my soaked pants off me, puts my skirt on, and hands me the towel. Thank the Goddess for this man; that would have taken me at least five minutes to do.

“Ready?”

I nod as he grabs my arm, and I slowly waddle toward the car; I couldn’t walk faster than a snail if I even wanted to. I have to stop and grab the counter as another contraction twice as intense hits me again. I whimper through it this time.

Finally, finally, we reach the car, stopping and leaning against it as I breathe through another. Fuck, this shit hurts. That epidural has my name all over it; I have no desire to do this shit naturally. It’s only a twenty-minute drive, it’s only a twenty-minute drive. I chant to myself as they hit me closer together, each one more intense than the last during the drive.

I can’t even sit normally; with each contraction, it feels like my asshole is about to blow out, and I have to get off my butt. I close my eyes as I feel the back of my neck starting to get damp, but Roman pulls me from my momentary peace between contractions.

“We’re here, babe. Can you walk?” he asks

“Well, I definitely can’t fucking sit anymore,” I snap at him.

I didn’t mean to sound mean, but clearly, I’m not exactly having the easiest time here next to him. I try to shift my buttcheeks to get out of the car, but holy shit, it hurts. I let out a cry as I try to move my hips. Oh, and of course, there’s another contraction coming. Goddess, I need a fucking bathroom.

Walking inside takes another ten minutes, and I finally opt for a wheelchair. Fuck it, I have no shame at this point. Instead of sitting on it, I turn the opposite way and kneel on it, resting my head on my arms hanging over the back of the chair. It worsens the pressure but is better than feeling like I’m sitting on a bowling ball.

Everything moves in a blur as soon as we enter labor and delivery; one second, I’m in the wheelchair being pushed by Roman; the next, there are at least three nurses on me, and Dr. Crowen’s name is being paged over the loudspeaker. We’re wheeled into a room before the nurses help me into bed. Between contractions, they try to lay me on my back, saying Dr. Crowen will need to check my cervix, but there’s no way in hell that’s happening, so they settle for my side, not that I give them a choice.

I’m suddenly really hot, the shirt on me feels suffocating, and I try to rip it off. I don’t think I’m even wearing a bra, but I don’t really care at this point; I’m laying here spread eagle, trying not to shit myself; all dignity is out the window. I try ripping my shirt off and growl in frustration when it doesn’t do what I want before I feel sparks zip up my arm.

“It’s okay, baby, I got it,” he says. “Are you hot? Do you want some ice? Can she have ice?” he says almost frantically.

I grab the bed as I shout through the next contraction; I’m pretty sure the only thing coming out of my mouth other than my yells when the contraction happens are quiet whimpers for the epidural. I sigh in relief as someone places a freezing-cold washcloth over my eyes, and Roman pops a spoonful of ice into my mouth.

After what feels like an hour, Dr. Crowen comes in. She says something, but I don’t hear.

“Luna,” the nurse says, touching my shoulder, and I jump

“What, what?” I pant

“Can Dr. Crowen check your cervix?” she asks me, and I keep my eyes closed and nod as she lifts my leg.

I scream and buck my hips as soon as I feel Dr. Crowen touch me. Fucking shit, that’s worse than the contraction? Why is it worse?

“Luna, I know it hurts but try to be still,” the same nurse says

“It’s fine; the baby is right there. She’s complete, go ahead and start pushing. I’m putting orders in, and I’ll be right out there when she’s close,” Dr. Crowen cuts in

“What do you mean when I’m close? Isn’t this close?!” I cry

“Sorry, Luna. Your first baby requires you to push for a little longer than the rest. Don’t worry, you’ve already dilated the whole way this quickly!” she says

I want to cry, but I do as I’m told, and I push.

And I push.

And I push.

And I fucking push.

Roman diligently replaces the washcloths covering my forehead and feeds me ice, my nurse, Alia, repositions me and coaches me through every single push.

“How long has it been?!” I finally cry; I feel like my eyes are going to bulge out of my head; I have a pounding headache, a bowling ball between my legs, and my asshole shriveled up and died after the third push; I was convinced it was gone.

“It’s only been an hour and a half, Luna. Don’t worry, only a few more pushes; I’ve already paged Dr. Crowen to return.” Alia tells me as she pulls my hair back into its bun for the third time since I’ve started pushing.

“I can’t fucking do it anymore, I can’t do it,” I yell in frustration, just as another contraction comes.

“You can, and you will now push,” Alia orders me, and I can’t say no even if I want to; the pressure gives me no choice but to do as my body demands.

I pant as I finish that push and grab Roman’s hand; my vagina feels like it’s on fire as I try not to scream. Dr. Crowen must have come in at some point because when I hear her voice, I cut her off with a scream. I can’t fight back as the next contraction hits, I push against my will, and the burning reaches a crescendo. Then, it’s all gone like it just went poof, and I’m staring at the most gorgeous, deep violet eyes I have ever seen as Dr. Crowen lays my baby in my lap. She’s blue, and she doesn’t move.

I stare at her in shock as Alia rubs her raw with a blanket before she turns, speaking to the other nurse in the room, and my heart drops.

“Call NICU. Luna, she’s just a little stunned. I’m going to take her and give her some oxygen,” she says as she whisks my daughter away.

I watch Alia take her to the baby bed across the room, put an oxygen mask on her, and the other nurse listens to her heart. They continue rubbing her with the blanket. Then, another set of doctors and nurses run in. An eternity passes before I see pink, not blue, pink chubby arms flail around, and the most gorgeous scream I’ve ever heard pierces the room.

I fall back into the bed, closing my eyes and exhaling a huge breath. Another minute passes before Alia returns with my now crying, very angry daughter.

“She’s just fine, Luna; sometimes they need a little help remembering they need to cry when they come out,” Alia tells me as she lays her skin to skin on my chest and puts a blanket over her.

I can’t help the cry of utter joy as I finally take her in. She’s perfect; she has the biggest, juiciest cheeks, a mop of silvery blonde hair, and arm with arm rolls on top of arm rolls. When I look at Roman, he’s more of a mess than I am as he crouches down next to us and puts his hand on her head before he kisses mine. She stops crying as soon as she’s nestled into me and stares right back at both of us, looking around the room as the cheek she’s lying on squishes against her perfect face.

I’m pulled out of my trance as Alia touches my shoulder

“Luna, I have to massage your uterus; this may be uncomfortable.”

I’m sorry, did she just say she needs to massage my uterus? I’m about to open my mouth and say no thanks when she takes her entire fist and shoves it straight into my stomach.

A sharp pain so intense, worse than any contraction or any baby splitting me in half, racks my body, and I shout in surprise. I grab the rail of the bed, so I don’t crush my now screaming daughter when Alia, the traitor, starts moving her hand around in circles, not letting up.

“Sorry, Luna, that’s just to get all the blood out. As long as your bleeding stays stable, I won’t have to do it again,” she says as I pant and glare at her.

Yeah, we’re definitely not friends anymore after that.

Now utterly oblivious to my suffering, Roman shushes and coos at our daughter. I would roll my eyes, but I do the same as I stare at her some more.

“Are you finally going to tell me her name?” Dr. Crowen asks us both

I look at Roman, who gives me the ‘go ahead’ hand. I smile as I rub her cheek with my thumb

“Delaney. Delaney Ashton,” I say, and both the traitor and Dr. Crowen smile at me widely

“Very nice, it suits her. So, you had a second-degree tear, which is normal, and your body has already healed itself. However, you will still be very sore for a couple days. No sex for a month, and I’d like to see you for a follow-up appointment in six weeks, but before then, don’t hesitate to call with any questions,” she tells us, and we nod.

“Do you want me to get your family in the waiting room and bring them in?” Alia asks me, and I shake my head

“No, they can wait. I just want it to be us for a little but you can update them,” I tell her, and she nods before excusing herself.

I do skin-to-skin with her for a little over an hour, and once she eats for over forty-five minutes, Alia takes her and does her measurements and footprints. She’s 9 pounds, 5 ounces, and 21 inches long. Where I put all that baby in my petite 5′2" frame, I don’t know, but it explains why I couldn’t breathe for the last week.

When she brings her back, Roman does some skin-to-skin, and even though she’s a massive baby, she looks so tiny as she lays against his massive, tattooed chest. Both of his hands cover her body entirely, and she lies there perfectly content and asleep. I swoon at the sight, falling in love with my mate all over again.

I finally give Alia permission to grab my family, and everyone practically trips over themselves, running into the room as I hold Delaney; Alia has her swaddled up like a burrito, and she sleeps contentedly as everyone passes her around, my dad holding her the longest.

Aylin and Seth are stiff as bricks as they hold her, and both only hold her for five minutes before passing her off. Dad makes fun of Aylin, telling her Delaney won’t bite, and Aylin, of course, smacks him upside the head as soon as her arms are free again.

Azrael, however, looks entirely in his element as he sits, holding her and cooing at her. Roman has to practically pry her from his arms and remind him that he can’t produce breastmilk when she wakes up and starts smacking her lips, ready to eat again.

My mind is blown as Alia helps me get her relatched, and I watch her eat. Has it only been seven months since I woke up alone and miserable in the bed I shared with Felix? We still have more issues to deal with, this Alpha Queen bullshit being at the top of the list, but for now, I will soak all this bliss in while I still can.