Slow surfacing from sleep...
"Greg! Greg wake up!"
Squinting. The light's too bright...
"Greg!" The voice was a little desperate now, tearful, anxious.
"Wassamatter?" he mumbled sleepily, eyelids heavy from sleep and painkillers. "Lisa?"
"I can feel him coming, Greg."
He was instantly awake, pulling himself upright with little grace, cradling her heavily pregnant body, encircling her, soothing her.
"It's ok, Lise, it's ok. Calm down, yeah? I got it all sorted." He quickly got dressed and pulled her in for another hug, resting his hand over her swollen stomach. He held her as a strong contraction hit, leaving her shuddering, but smiling, all panic momentarily forgotten.
"It's going to be great, Greg."
"I know." A smile ghosted his lips and he stood again. "Where's your bag? We should head over to the hospital soon."
"I left it in the hall, just pick it up on the way out."
"Ok. You'd better get dressed."
"Yeah." She slipped into a soft t-shirt and jogging bottoms and he walked with her to the living room. On their way down the hall, they passed the newly furnished nursery. Lisa tugged Greg's hand and stopped to look in, something deep shining in her eyes.
"Not long now, Lise," he whispered and kissed her. They made it to the living room before the next contraction grasped her muscles and to the hospital without urgency.
A few hours later, Greg watched with bated breath as a confident team of people ebbed and flowed around Lisa. At her call, he crossed the room, enveloping her delicate hand in both of his.
Forty five minutes later, Alastair James House was born.