"Push, baby, push…you can do it," Sam urged, trying not to flinch at the harsh grip his struggling wife kept of his hands. Already he had regretted not making sure that Santana's nails were cut short before the big day now at hand, because the little cuts all over his palm had already bled more than once. "You can do it, you've got this, just push!"
"If you…tell me….one more time…to fucking PUSH….I will fucking push YOU… right through… the damn…floor!" Santana ground out, each word punctuated with panting little cries of her pain.
Despite the apparent sincerity of her words, Sam tried not to smile. It really wasn't funny. In fact it was very difficult for Sam to have to see her like this, to have to watch her suffering with so little he could do to help. It was bad enough to see Santana emotional in the best of times; to have to watch her feeling so pain and being unable to do anything other than hold her hand and say whatever lame encouragements came to mind was almost painful for him too, but he knew better than to say that. Santana was certainly not in the mood to have any sympathy.
"You can do it," Sam settled for, deciding to leave out the commands altogether. "You've got this, Tana, you know you've got this!"
"No I fucking don't!" Santana half screamed, squeezing his hand until he heard a bone seem to pop slightly. "If I did, I'd be holding the damn baby instead of ripping myself open like a fucking Christmas present!"
But even as she spoke Sam could see the dark crown of the baby's head beginning to emerge from between her legs, and as Santana screamed without words, bearing down once more, Sam almost held his breath, watching his child emerge into the world for the first time to draw its first breath.
The newest Evans was slimy, covered in blood and gook that Sam couldn't and didn't really want to identify. It had a head full of dark, slick hair, squinted puffy eyes, and a tiny body that was dark red and swollen from the birth. Its nose was barely more than a snub, and its mouth was open, its new lungs experiencing their first work out as the child bawled loudly.
"Oh my god," Santana breathed, and Sam heard himself echo the sentiments a few moments later, startled as much by the sound of the tears in his throat as the sticky wetness of them on his cheeks. "It's okay? What is it…is it okay?"
She was trying to sit up on her elbows, her chest heaving, her hair nearly drenched with perspiration and sticking to her cheeks as she strained, despite her weariness, for a first glimpse of her child. Sam put a supporting hand on her shoulder, aware that his own was shaking as he kept his eyes fixed on his child.
"Perfectly healthy," the nurse assured them as she looked the baby over efficiently, quickly but carefully cleaning her up. "You have a beautiful new little girl."
Tears began to streak down Santana's cheeks in a near mirror of Sam's, and the sob that emerged from her throat was one of joy, weariness, and relief all at once. She held out her arms, wanting to hold the baby, though she seemed incapable of forming words, and as the baby was placed within them, Sam crowded close, taking his first look into his daughter's eyes. In that moment, it seemed to him that nothing could make a more perfect moment.
His daughter. This baby was his daughter.
Since Kyle's arrest and conviction on multiple charges of kidnapping, reckless driving, endangerment of minors, trespassing, and breaking and entering, among others, Sam and Santana's life together seemed to consistent of increasing moments of happiness. There had been Antonia's adoption ceremony, of course, the day that court documents were signed to make her officially Sam's child.
That had been one of the happiest, most satisfying days of all of their lives. Knowing that they were that much closer to being a fully legal family, recognized by the courts as belonging to each other, was a wonderful thing, one that both Sam and Santana felt in their hearts to be not just wanted but needed. Although Antonia was of course too young to understand all the technical language used in the court, she had been on her very best behavior, sitting in the audience with Stevie and Maribel, staying as quiet and still as was possible for an energetic four year old. She had been so beautiful and happy that day, twirling around in her chosen adoption day dress once she had confirmed with Maribel that she was now Antonia Evans, Sam Evans's real and true daughter. Everyone there that day couldn't help but smile when they looked at her, wanting to hug her or kiss her or ruffle her curls, and Sam had lifted her into his arms and cradled her close, knowing that the court had only made official what had already been decided long ago. It had been some time now that Toni had truly been his daughter how it counted.
Then of course had come one of the other of their most happy days, the day of his and Santana's wedding. It had been the second of his girls to tie their relationship into something secure, forever, and true, something official to all who knew them. Santana had been so breathtaking to him then, the radiance of her smile bringing her dimples into full view, and nothing could have dimmed the glow of her eyes as she made her way down the aisle to him, her daughter and her brother-in-law reaching their arms up to be the ones to walk her down the aisle. Even with the slight bump of her belly messing up any smooth lines of her wedding dress, she was so stunning Sam had barely breathed. It hadn't mattered to him that Toni had tripped and almost fallen as she walked down the aisle, forcing Santana to lean over and almost overbalance herself to catch her. It had mattered that Stevie had dropped their rings and had had to crawl on all fours like a dog to retrieve one from under the church pew. It had been another perfect and beautiful day, one they would always treasure.
And now there was this day. The birth of their daughter, their first biological child together. She was perfect too, in spite of her swollen body and reddened skin, her wildly disheveled dark hair and her feebly twitching limbs. Looking at her, Sam felt nothing but joy, and so it was unsurprising when Santana, tears still streaking, gulped a breath and spoke her first words, after the initial breathless first ones of her overwhelmed love for her new child.
"Felicity…"
Confused, Sam took his eyes off her to meet his wife's gaze, and Santana sniffled, wiping her face against her already damp shoulder before explaining.
"Her name…I think we should name her Felicity. It means happiness…and even though I hurt like a bitch, I'm just so fucking happy right now I can't even stand it."
Sam gave a small laugh, nodding, and squeezed her shoulder, giving Santana a kiss on her head before returning his gaze to their daughter. "Felicity," he said, trying the name out. "Felicity Evans. I like it…we could call her Lissie, maybe, until she's older."
Later, of course, when Santana had rested and Felicity had been fed for the first time, Maribel would bring the children in, and they would meet their new sister, in Toni's case, and niece, in Stevie's, for the first time. Sam could only imagine their unimpressed responses; Stevie would be disappointed that he didn't have another boy in the house to play with, and Toni no doubt would be very upset at no longer being the only girl, Sam's only daughter. It would be more than a little of an adjustment, to bring another little person, a whole other personality, into their world, especially with a child like Felicity Evans, who shared both Sam's and Santana's, and by extension Stevie's and Toni's, blood. Surely one or both would comment on Felicity's untamed hair, her crying, the smell of her diapers, or the redness of her skin. No, Sam doubted that either of the older children would be very thrilled with the newest Evans member at all.
But to him, and to Santana, there was nothing in Felicity but perfection, and whatever their children's response, to them, their family was complete. Whatever struggles they had endured, both during their time together and before having met at all, was now so much less important than their future together- as spouses, as parents, and even as two people, still not yet in their mid twenties, but already having found their niche in life.
The end