"Happy birthday to you," I sang to Jason as I sat on top of him, waking him up I pushed the cupcake with the cliché one candle on it towards him. He gave me a boyish grin and pushed his hair back before sitting up straight. "Baby," he groaned, still smiling and I carried on singing, each note getting higher and higher as I jumped up and down softly. "Make a wish!" I exclaimed excitedly and he blew the candle out. Taking out the candle from the cake, I grabbed the cupcake and took a huge bite out of it.  He stared at me shocked and I shrugged giggling. "I thought that was mine!"  "The candle was yours," I said, still laughing, finishing off the cupcake he pouted and shook his head. "And this is delicious," I moaned with my mouthful of his cake. 

I was a sweating mess. My hair was sticking onto my face, the light cloth that covered my body stuck onto me like a second skin, I smelt bad, just like sweat and I felt horrible. Screaming out for the umpteenth time today, feeling the excruciating labour pain kick me again and each time worse than before, I looked over at my husband whose face was scrunched up in pain as I squeezed his hand...if I was feeling this, he had to feel it too. Even though his wasn't anything measured up to mine. "Baby, breathe," he said, noticing my glare and doing those ridiculous breathing exercises. Deep breaths in and deep breaths out, it didn't work! And it didn't help with getting this baby out of me, on five centimetres dilated, half through getting his baby out of me.  I think I should have been more clear when I said hous