Father-to-be Book Novels & Stories

I open it, it’s a book of exercises I can do for a safe pregnancy. Jerk: I read this. We should do them together. Me: We? Jerk: Yes. I’ve read that there are ways fathers can bond with their unborn children, and this could be one of them. I smile secretly at that. He’s eager and open to becoming a father. I didn’t expect this from him. Me: Welcoming fatherhood, I see. Jerk: I’m ecstatic, baby!

No bra underneath. There was nothing between his eyes and my body except a flimsy scrap of cotton. “Is this normal? The pregnancy books didn’t say anything about them getting this big.” Daddy’s grip on the book tightened. I watched his breathing shallow. That’s it. Keep looking, Daddy. Keep wanting. “It’s… normal.” His voice came out rougher than usual. Strained. As though he was forcing each word through gravel. “Your body is preparing to… to feed the baby.”

Sheila. Her name came to me just like that and I grinned. She would be the most perfect human being in the world. But one without a father. The cold fear that had been sitting in my chest returned with a vengeance and I sighed. What would my mother say when she found out I was pregnant? Dad would be so disappointed. I knew they would support me, but this was not the plan they had for me. Heck, this was not the plan I had for myself either! After the water cooled, I got out and rubbed moisturizing lotion on my body then wore an old sweatshirt. With my hair still damp, I headed to my tiny kitchen and started to make macaroni and cheese. The boxed kind.

“You make me happier than I ever thought possible, Elena.” The two of them spent the day basking in the peacefulness, talking about the future, and sharing quiet moments. Damien even pulled out a book he had secretly gotten a collection of stories about parenting, something he had been secretly reading on his own. “I wanted to make sure I know what I’m doing when the baby arrives,” Damien said sheepishly, handing her the book. Elena couldn’t help but laugh, her heart swelling with affection for him. “You’ll be an amazing father, Damien. You don’t need a book to tell you that.”

“Together.” The sunlight streaming through the library windows had shifted to a mellow gold, catching dust motes in the air. We had been here since morning—surrounded by piles of parenting books, notebooks, and scattered sticky notes with phrases like feeding intervals and safe sleep positions. The smell of parchment and tea mixed with the faint floral scent of Seraphina’s hair. By afternoon, we were down to the last book on the stack—its title written in soft silver across the cover: From Pack Leader to Father: Transitioning with Grace.

Just like Zade has been. A few months ago, he had purchased a lot of books about childbirth and pregnancy. He said he wanted to be able to understand how pregnancy works better. ‘This is our first pregnancy, my Luna and I don't want to make any mistakes.’ Those were his words when I came across the books on his shelves. Boy, I was surprised. I never expected it. He made me know that he was proud of me, of our unborn child. He was eager to meet our little one, even more eager than I was.

Chloe stood in the middle of the foyer in my robe, and as I watched, she slid one hand slowly down the silk and rested it flat against her stomach. My own hand moved before my brain understood why, pressing against my own stomach, against the soft, aching emptiness where my son had lived for thirty-eight weeks and five days. Two days ago there had been a heartbeat under my palm. Two days ago I'd sung to him in the bath. My body remembered the weight of him in my arms, so small, so light, so silent, and every cell in me understood what she was about to say one heartbeat before she said it.

“I want to do that. I want to hold her as soon as she’s here.” Cassie smiled tiredly, leaning her head on his shoulder. “You’re going to be the most prepared dad in history. I can't believe that instead of reading business books, you are here reading 'How to make a baby poop'." “You’re doing so well,” he whispered during a break, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. “When the real thing comes, I’ll be right there guiding you through every single one. I’ve got you, Cassie. Always.”

I find him in the nursery, assembling a crib. "It's two in the morning," I say from the doorway. "I couldn't sleep. Thought I'd be productive." "You're worried." He sets down the screwdriver. "What if I'm terrible at this? Being a father?" "You won't be." "How do you know?" "Because you're here at two AM building cribs. Because you read pregnancy books when you think I'm not looking. Because you care enough to be worried." He stands, crosses to me. "What if caring isn't enough?"

Lily said, then immediately wondered if she had overstepped her boundaries by suggesting something that really had nothing to do with her. “I know,” Wyatt said. “It's just hard. I guess my work is the one thing that I feel like I have some control over. I try to be home as much as I can but sometimes it's impossible. When that happens, it makes me feel like the worst father in the world. It's like I can't win. I'm either a great business owner or a great father. I can't seem to make it happen so that I'm both.”