Author's Note: A rather short story by the lovely Emily!
Birth
John sat out in the waiting room, the ashtray next to his spot piled with cigarette butts. He'd been sitting there for what seemed like forever, none of the doctors or nurses even looking at him as they passed by. John tried to push all the horror stories he'd heard from his mind, but they simply would not go away.
"She's alrigh, John," he thought desperately, unintentionally muttering the words in his own type of prayer, "She's a tough bird, she'll be alrigh. Ye'll see. They'll both be fine."
He added another cigarette to the pile and sighed. He could only hope he was right.
Later, he was at Courtney's side, holding her hand. She'd made it, of course. He'd been a fool to think she wouldn't pull through just fine. Life simply couldn't go on without her. He wouldn't want it to.
When the doctor handed John his newborn son, he almost cried. He'd never admit it, of course, but he was on the edge. It was hard not to be, seeing as he had what was now the two most important things in his world there, safe and happy.