Page 76 of Wild Heart

The fluorescent lights in the labor and delivery wing buzzed above them, casting a pale wash over the corridor walls. The floor beneath their feet gleamed, freshly waxed linoleum that reflected the silhouettes of rushing nurses and the wheels of a gurney disappearing into a nearby room. It smelled of antiseptic and citrus hand soap, faintly floral like someone had tried to soften the scent of urgency.

Mason held Natalie’s hand as they turned the corner into Room 6. Her fingers were trembling but still strong, her skin clammy, her breath shallow. She was trying to stay calm, fighting to, but her lips were pressed into a thin line and sweat clung to her hairline. Her body had shifted into something more primal, more immediate. He could feel it in the way she gripped him. Something inside her was beginning to surrender to the storm.

The nurse, a kind-faced woman with quick hands and steady eyes, helped Natalie into the hospital bed. “You’re doing great,” she said. “We’re going to get you into a gown and start monitoring baby’s heart rate. Your OB is on the way.”

Natalie didn’t answer. She just nodded, closing her eyes and leaning into Mason as he supported her weight. Davey hoverednear the door, shoulders hunched, unsure of where to look. His eyes bounced from the monitors to the bed to the IV stand beside it. He’d never been in a labor room before, and the intimacy of it, the bare skin, the soft grunts of pain, the way Natalie’s body tensed and moved made him feel like he was intruding on something sacred.

The monitor beeped as the nurse fitted a fetal Doppler over Natalie’s abdomen. The room filled with the rapid whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of the baby’s heartbeat, strong, fast, a galloping rhythm that cut through the noise of everything else.

“There’s baby,” the nurse said gently. “Doing beautifully.”

Mason whispered the sound into Natalie’s ear like a prayer. “That’s our baby.”

Natalie opened her eyes. They were glazed with pain but shining. “They’re coming soon,” she murmured.

The nurse helped her lie back, placed the IV in her arm, and recorded vitals while Mason stood close, never letting go of her hand. “You’re about four centimeters,” the nurse said after checking. “You’ve got a little way to go, but this baby’s coming soon. You’re doing wonderfully.”

Then came another contraction. Natalie arched forward, crying out this time, her fingers crushing Mason’s hand.

Mason steadied her, his voice low, steady. “Breathe with me. That’s it. Just like that.”

Davey turned away, jaw tight, a wave of discomfort crossing his face.

Mason looked up. “It’s okay to watch this, you know.”

Davey blinked, unsure how to respond.

Mason nodded toward Natalie. “This is nature, son. This is strength. You don’t look away from strength. You stand with it.”

Davey looked at Natalie then, her back hunched, her knuckles white, her face twisted with effort and somethingshifted. It wasn’t embarrassment anymore. It was awe. He stepped closer, slow but sure, and stood beside his father.

The doctor arrived not long after, a woman in her forties with silver threads in her dark hair and confidence in every movement. She shook Mason’s hand and smiled warmly at Natalie. “Let’s get this baby into the world, shall we?”

Hours passed in a blur of sound and pressure and heat. The contractions came harder. Faster. Natalie’s body trembled with the force of them. She refused pain medication, choosing instead to move through it with Mason’s hand bracing her and Davey offering sips of water and murmuring encouragement.

The nurses moved in and out like dancers changing linens, checking dilation, monitoring heart rates. The lights were dimmed. The blinds were drawn. A stillness fell over the room in between the pain. A holy stillness. And then, suddenly, it was time.

The doctor snapped on gloves and crouched at the end of the bed. “You’re at ten. It’s time to push.”

Natalie’s body tensed. Her breath hitched.

Mason brushed her hair back from her face, forehead pressed to hers. “You’ve got this. You’re almost there.”

She nodded, barely. The next contraction roared through her.

“Push, Natalie!” the doctor instructed. “That’s it. Again. Good, good. You’re doing it.”

Natalie bore down, teeth gritted, her entire body curling inward with the effort. Sweat dripped from her brow. Her cry rang out, long and low and raw.

“You’re so close,” the nurse said. “The baby’s crowning!”

Mason looked down, eyes wide.

Davey stood at the head of the bed, motionless beside the monitor, watching at a discreet distance, his mouth opened slightly, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes.

“One more, Natalie. Just one more!”

Natalie pushed with everything she had. And then… A cry. High-pitched. Fierce. A sound more alive than anything they had ever heard. The doctor lifted the baby into the air, her tiny body slick and wriggling, her lungs already testing the world.

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