Million babies.

Sarah pov

The pain isn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be, but this is just the beginning. 

Thank whatever blessed me with Seth because my mother-in-law sits next to me and holds onto my hand as if her life depended on it. 

As positive as I was about letting the triplets stay with me during the labour, my decision changed as soon as Lenox started dropping his remarks about me being split in half in order for our child to be born. 

And what's even worse is that both Lazarus and Luka stood aside, giggling like girls at every word that left their brothers' smart mouth. 

Perhaps the comments weren't the only thing that held me back from letting them stay in the room. The other thing is that I don't want them to see me in so much pain. 

All three of my men are extremely overprotective, so I can't let them end up in a situation where they're helpless. 

"You're doing so great, sweetheart. I'm proud of you. It won't be long until you meet your baby, and trust me, once you do, you'll understand it's worth it." Seth tries to soothe me as she brushes the hair away from my face.

See, she's a gift from the above. 

I close my eyes and breathe through another wave of pain, nodding my head in agreement. 

For a couple of hours, I've been trying to show as less of the pain I'm feeling as possible. The same as her son's, I don't want Seth to watch me suffer. 

The room is silent, aside from my heavy breathing and the occasional cry of pain that I don't have the energy to keep in. 

I possibly could, but at least my mind has enough to keep repeating that I need to save energy. It's something I need the most for the moment when the doctor will tell me that I can start pushing. 

"Mom, I'm so tired," the whiny complaint leaves my lips even before the thought crosses my mind. 

Seth places a cold, wet cloth on my forehead and whispers, "I know, baby, I know, but you're doing so good. Soon this will be over, and you'll look back at the painful experience as one of the most beautiful days of your life." 

I close my eyes and nod. She’s right. Seth has experienced labour and knows how inhuman the pain a woman has to endure while the bundle of joy comes into this world. 

Yet, as much as I want to be strong and just push myself through the process, even the attempts to breathe don’t work anymore. Deep breaths make me more restless, and all I can think of is how much I want, no, need, for the torture to end. 

Did my father, that sick fuck, tought I would go through this process over and over again because of him? I have no idea why I’m suddenly thinking about that bastard, but maybe that’s the part of memories the pain triggers. 

I shake my head to rid myself of the unwanted flashbacks, and Seth’s instantly on her feet, grabbing my shoulders and shaking my body. “Sarah! Sarah! What’s happening, baby; tell me what’s happening! Open your eyes and look at me; mommy’s here, I’m here and won’t leave. If anything’s wrong, please tell me; I’ll get the help you need!”

I didn’t intend to scare her like that, but I suppose many things can happen during childbirth, and my odd behaviour isn’t easing her mind either. 

I place my hand over hers to reassure Seth I’m alright. Honestly, at this point, I feel like she’s in more pain than I could ever be. “Bad memories, that’s all,” I whisper, still keeping my eyes closed. 

“Don’t do this, please. I barely got a daughter, and I’m not ready to lose you. Ever.” Seth gently lays her head on my chest and sobs until the next contraction hits me so hard I scream out in pain. 

“Are you ready to meet your baby, Sarah?” A doctor enters the room with a wide smile on her face. She pulls on the medical gloves and sits on the seat at my feet. 

The woman winks at me as she pulls up the blanket and guides my legs to open them. “Take a deep breath for me, darling,” she instructs. 

I do, and the next moment, there’s a sharp pain between my legs. I’m all but ready to climb the walls because of the pain while the doctor keeps grinning. She turns her gaze to Seth, “She’s ready. Just a little bit, and you’ll meet your miracle. Is grandmother planning to say while she pushes or?”

“She’s staying,” I force the words through gritted teeth. 

Maybe I sound a little aggressive, but I’m pretty sure that’s what pain can do to anyone. How am I supposed to stay calm and happy while I feel like the baby is tearing me apart? Does she really expect I’ll be all smiles and sunshine during the worst pain I’ve felt in my entire life? 

The doctor nods and instructs Seth to hold my hand. 

The preparations run smoothly as more nurses and medical staff join the room. Some of them discuss how I’m too far gone for medicaments, but even that information doesn’t move me. 

After this experience, I’m not sure if I’ll ever want more kids, and quite frankly, I have no idea how Seth willingly went through the labour of three boys just to repeat the same thing years later. Her situation is different, and some things went off the road, but she’s still a mother of five. 

No more than five minutes pass until the doctor takes her place at my feet, the staff helps me place my legs on the extensions on the bed, and the doctor briefly explains how I’m supposed to push the baby out. 

Never, in a million years, would I think it’s bad to close eyes while pushing the baby or that there was a wrong way to breathe during the process, but I assume some things aren’t meant for everyone to know. 

“Push,” the doctor urges.

I tighten my hold on Seth’s hand and follow the instructions I was given earlier. I get a moment to breathe between the pushing, and once I glance at Seth, I notice her crying as she looks down at me. 

Making her cry wasn’t a part of the plan, but all she does is brush away my hair and sob, “Happy tears, baby, those are happy tears.” The reassurance doesn’t help much, but at this point, it’s not something I should overthink.  

I don’t answer and focus on pushing. The doctor and nurses call out some orders to each other along the process, and it feels like I block out the voices until I hear the much-anticipated cry. 

“Congratulations, it’s a girl,” the doctor beams as she raises the crying baby for me to see.  

To avoid future arguments, I decided that the doctors would cut the umbilical cord, not any of the triplets or Seth. That was one of the things I could use to keep them out of the delivery room and ensure they wouldn’t create chaos while I died from the intense pain. 

But once my eyes land on the crying baby, still covered in blood and fluids, something inside me shifts. Tears stream down my cheeks while Seth keeps repeating how proud she is, how good of a job I did and how brave I am. 

The praise means nothing for as long as I can gaze at the baby. Our baby. My baby. 

When the doctor turns around and hands my baby to a nurse, panic surges through me and I attempt to jump out of the bed. “They will clean, measure and weigh her. They’re not taking away your baby. Besides- even if they wanted to, I’d love to see them try. There’s an entire firewall waiting at the door, with her father on the front line. People don’t dare to talk to Lenox; imagine the bravery it would take for someone to kidnap his firstborn child.” 

Seth’s words put me at ease, and I try to focus on the small body the nurses are cleaning. I have no idea what happens next as I zone out completely, but once the baby is dressed and wrapped up, the nurses bring her to my bed to place her in my arms. 

Fuck the thoughts I had about the unbearable pain and not wanting more children. I want more. Just as pretty and adorable as our daughter. I want another million babies.