A/N: I've had a few requests for more and a lot for a glimpse at Edward as a daddy.
I hope you like it.
Two years, four months and eight days after proposing
EPOV
"I hate you!" my beautiful wife hissed at me through gritted teeth.
"I love you so much, baby," I crooned against her forehead as I tried to keep in the forefront of my mind all the advice I'd been given to date.
"Get away from me!" she seethed, swatting at my arms like a flailing..well, she was flailing.
I put my hands up in supplication and took a small step away.
Those normally serene chocolate brown eyes glared at me from under heavy, bruised lids. "I'll never forgive you for this," she whimpered as the crease in her brow deepened and she bit down on her bottom lip.
"I'll never be able to thank you enough for this," I whisper as the nurse gives me a cautious nod. I step back up to the side of the bed and slide a hand over my wife's.
"It hurts," she's crying and I feel the sting of tears spring to my eyes too.
"I know, I know," I'm telling her but I've got no fucking clue what she's going through and everyone in the room knows it.
"I'm sorry for yelling," she rasps as she throws her head back and rests between the contractions.
Her mood swings had grown in ferocity as the pregnancy had progressed but nothing I'd read, and nothing anyone else had told me, had prepared me for the whiplash of delivery.
"You yell all you want," I tell her as I take the plastic cup with the ice chips in it from the rolling tray.
"I'm sorry I'm whining," she sobs as she sucks on the ice.
"Not much longer now, Bella," the nurse says as she lets the long strip of paper go from the monitoring machine. "They're only a minute and a half apart now so I'll go and find the doctor and we'll check to see how many centimetres you are."
When the nurse has left and we're alone again I test the waters a little. "I'll go and give the family a quick report after the next one," I say cautiously.
"Thank you," she whispers and I let go of my held breath.
The last time I'd suggested stepping out of the room she'd accused me of failing her in her hour of need. She'd screamed, ranted and raved about me not loving her enough to want to stand by her through labour. She'd hissed and snarled at me, swatted my hands away when I'd tried to defend myself against her claims and then she'd promptly burst into tears and told me I was the love of her life, that she couldn't live without me and that I was going to make the best father the world had ever seen.
I couldn't keep up, but I was trying my best.
So when she agreed to let me leave the room after the next contraction I was relieved, and a little grateful.
It had been seven and a half hours of pure hell for me so far, which of course was nothing compared to what she was going through. But I needed a break. I needed coffee. I needed a smoke if I was being honest. And I needed fresh air.
When the beeping of the monitor picked up speed again I let her grip my forearm and tried not to wince as she squeezed.
"Breathe baby," I croon as she gasps for oxygen. "That's it, that's it," I say ineffectually.
She's quiet through this one, no screaming and no obscenities, and I figure that she's either too exhausted to scream through it or she'd given up hating me for getting her pregnant for a bit.
When she's lying back on the pillows again I give her the cup of ice and wait for her to hand it back when she's done. "Send Alice in," she groans as she tries to roll over just a little.
"I will," I tell her as I kiss her forehead again. "I won't be long, I promise."
She waves me away with a weak swish of her hand and closes her eyes. I slink out of the room and the instant the door is closed at my back I let out the breath I'd been holding and rub my scalp.
Then I'm rushing down the corridor to find Alice. My balls had been threatened enough for one day and I didn't like the idea of my wife being alone either, so I rushed.
"How is she?" the chorus all asked at once as I turned the corner and came face to face with our entire family.
"Doing okay," I manage to get out. "They're getting really close now," I tell the gathering. "She's asking for you, Alice."
"Aunty Alice is on!" she squeals and takes off down the same corridor I'd just come down.
My mother pushes my hair off my face and gives me a soft smile. I know she wants to go in there but this is Isabella's train and she's driving it. What she wants she gets.
"I'll get you a coffee," she tells me with a pat to my cheek and ducks down another corridor that I know leads to the cafeteria.
Rosie follows closely on her heels after wishing me good luck.
I'm left with a waiting room full of men who all look like they'd rather be anywhere else. Except for my dad who is beaming and her dad who looks like he'd like to murder me.
"Thanks for staying," I mumble as I collapse into the nearest chair. "I know it's late."
Charlie checks his watch and grins. "She's got a ways to go to catch up to her mother so far," he chuckles.
I don't want to know how long it took to bring my wife into the world because if he said it took three days, or two whole days then an emergency caesarean like every other horror story I'd heard, I was going to scream like a little bitch. So I kept my mouth firmly shut.
"Anyone have a cigarette?" I ask after a full minute's silence.
My father huffs his disapproval, Jasper shakes his head, Seth tuts, Emmett looks as though he'd like a sneaky one too and Charlie, the wonderful man, throws me a half a pack along with his lighter.
"I'll be outside," I mumble after thanking him.
I sneak out the back entrance of the ground floor and find a quiet spot on the street, well away from the actual building like the sign suggests, and light up. I draw the smoke in deeply, letting it work its way into my lungs and back out again at its own pace.
I feel calm for the first time in thirty-nine weeks.
I know it'll be fleeting, that the hard work had only just begun, but for a minute or two as I stood there I felt as though I was going to be alright.
"First one?" a voice asks behind me.
I turn and see another guy lighting up. He looks just as rough as I feel.
"First one?" I ask, not understanding the question.
"First baby," he chuckles.
"Yeah, first one," I admit. "You?" I ask as he tucks his lighter into his jeans pocket.
"Fourth," he grimaces.
"Jesus," I mumble.
"Tell me about it," he laughs. "Our youngest is eight, we thought we were done. And then we went away for our anniversary and here we are, again," he sighs.
I want to remind him that contraception works just as well when on holidays as it does at home but I don't like the idea of watching my son or daughter being born through a swollen shut black eye, so once again I keep my mouth shut.
We stand in silence for a minute, enjoying the nicotine and then I spot a guy striding towards us, camera aimed and ready. He's calling my name, his stride quickening as he approaches.
"Fucking hell," I mutter as I stamp out the still unsmoked half of my cigarette.
"What's he want?" the other guy asks.
"To ruin my fucking life," I hiss. "Good luck with your baby," I tell him as I start jogging back up towards the building.
I hear the journalist interrogating my smoking partner and cringe. I go back up in the lift to Isabella's floor and nod to Seth to join me in the corridor.
"What's up, kid?" he asks.
"There's a journalist outside, hassling other dads," I tell him with a sigh.
"They can't come up here," he tells me, which I already know. "Em's ready to release the statement as soon as you're ready, so just stay out of sight and let it go," he tells me with a slap to the back. "You're doing great, kid."
"I'm useless," I admit sadly.
"Yep, you are in this," he chuckles.
I tell him a sarcastic thanks and head back towards Isabella's room. Alice is holding her hand while my wife grits her teeth and moans through another contraction.
"She's nine centimetres," Alice informs me as I go to the other side of the bed and take my wife's hand into mine.
"And doing great," I say against her forehead, because really there's nothing else I can say. Or at least there's nothing else I'm willing to say before I know what mood she's in now.
"I'll leave you to it," Alice says right away and I give her a grateful smile.
She waddles to the door, her own baby bump more than three quarters of the way 'cooked' now too. She throws Isabella a wave and then disappears to join the others.
My wife had been very, very clear about how she wanted her birth experience to go. Nobody was going to see her 'gina', as she liked to call it, other than me, the doctor and the nurses.
She wasn't having any drugs despite the obvious agony she was in.
She wanted just me by her side, the family could come and meet our son or daughter after, and apart from one or two short visits from Alice and Jasper while I ducked out to use the bathroom or get something to eat or drink she didn't want anyone else in the room with us.
And most frustratingly she refused to find out the sex of the baby before the birth.
We'd argued about it for months, pretty much since the twenty week scan when the ultrasound technician said she could tell and asked if we wanted to know.
I'd said yes immediately, my wife said no just as quickly.
We'd fought about it ever since.
But, as I'd promised on the day I'd married her, it was my job to give her everything she wanted and needed. And she wanted it to be a surprise. So it had to be a surprise for me too.
And now that the day had arrived I was terrified.
"Don't scowl," she whispers as she sits up and grunts through the next contraction. "I'm just as scared as you are," she pants as the monitor beside her starts freaking out again.
"I'm not scared," I lie as I wipe her down with the wet cloth.
"Liar," she hisses before collapsing back onto the pillows again.
"I've never lied to you and I don't plan to start now," I lie, again, ten seconds after lying the first time.
"Oh god," she moans as the next contraction starts, hot on the heels of the last. "Ow, ow, ow," she's hissing as she sits right up and clutches at her stomach. "I think I need to push," she barks.
I slap the bright red button on the wall above her bed and try not to pass out.
Within seconds the rooms full. The doctors at the foot end of the bed, snapping on gloves and staring up under the sheet that covers my wife's lower half. There's a nurse reading the print out on the monitor and another one spreading out a surgical sheet over a plastic coated rubber mat.
"Okay, Bella," the doctor says calmly once he resurfaces from 'down under', "The baby's head is crowning, that's the pressure you're feeling, so when the next contraction starts I want you to sit up and put your chin to your chest and bear down."
"Edward," she's sobbing as she's clutching at my forearm. "I can't do this," she's whimpering and I don't have any idea what to say or do.
"You can," I say as her hand starts squeezing mine, the monitor going nuts again as the contraction hits. "Come on," I tell her as I slide my hand up her back and help her to sit up.
"Chin to chest," the nurse reminds her.
She's grunting and cursing, panting hard and then a long, drawn out whine as she pushes.
"That's it," the doctor coos, "just like that. Now rest," he says as he reaches for a handful of swabs from a nearby trolley. "Lots of nice dark hair," he winks up at us before he ducks his head back down.
I want to slot him until I realise he's talking about the baby's hair colour, not Isabella's.
"This time we'll count to ten as you bear down," he says as the machine's rhythmic ping starts getting quicker.
I count with the nurses. A slow, steady progression from one to ten as the doctor encourages her to push harder.
Tears are leaking out the corners of her eyes as she flops back onto the pillows the next time. I wipe them away with my thumbs, kiss her and tell her I love her and then she's contracting again and the doctor is warning us that this will be the second to last push.
There's a distinct swoosh of fluids and then the doctor is asking me to join him.
"You're cutting the cord right dad?" he asks as a nurse hands me a long handled pair of scissors.
I don't get to tell him I'm scared to do it because the monitor is announcing the next contraction before Isabella has registered it herself.
"That's it," the doctors saying as I look down and see the dark hair of my child between my wife's legs. "One last, big push Bella," he encourages and I watch, in sick fascination, as my baby's shoulders slip out, quickly followed by its little body.
Isabella grunts and moans, probably in relief, and I'm struck dumb.
"Cut here," the nurse is telling me as she cradles the little body in its sheet.
I look down, mechanically cut between the two peg like clips on the cord, and then the baby is whisked away to the trolley.
"Is it okay?" I ask, in a voice that doesn't sound anything like my own.
And then we hear it. The soft, kittenish mewl.
BPOV
I watch as the baby is rubbed and rubbed, making it cry a little harder each time.
"Is it okay?" he asks again, right after I do.
"Perfect," the nurse says as she wraps it tightly in the sheet and brings it to me. I take the bundle from her as Edward comes to the side of the bed.
She steps away, quickly, and we're left there, looking down at the tiny bundle in the sheet.
The doctor is still at the end of the bed and I can feel him tugging and pulling, but there's no pain.
The baby is covered in the thick, milky sheen we'd read about but it's beautiful. All pink and warm and soft. It's mewling softly, its little face all squished up as it tries to come to terms with its new environment.
Edward's leaning over, smiling smugly and cooing softly to the wriggling little person we'd made together.
"I love you," he whispers as he kisses my forehead. "I love you too," he whispers as he kisses the baby's head.
I can feel myself crying but I can't take my eyes, or my hands, off the baby long enough to mop myself up. "I love you too," I tell him, trying to smile around the tears.
"I'll be back soon," the doctor announces as he leaves but neither of us acknowledge him.
We'd planned things like this. We'd planned that we'd wait until we were alone to discover whether we had a son or a daughter. Well, I'd insisted and Edward had caved.
When the room was finally empty I put the baby on my thighs and looked up into the glistening eyes of my husband. "Ready?" I ask.
"Ready," he agrees.
I pull the sheet away carefully and gasp when he does.
"Thank you," he mumbles as his tears spill over.
"You're so welcome," I tell him as I rewrap the whimpering baby.
EPOV
I stride out into the waiting room like a guy who's just won some cosmic lottery.
Everyone there gets to their feet as I make my entrance.
"It's a girl!" I crow. "We have a daughter!"
I'm mobbed then. My mother's sobbing, Charlie doesn't look too far behind and my father is already handing out cigars. Seth waits his turn then hugs me hard, telling me congratulations before he steps aside and starts texting god only knew who.
Rosie is mopping up tears as she hugs me, Alice is freaking out because she's having a girl too and they'll be able to grow up and play dolls together. Jasper is rolling his eyes at his wife and clapping me on the back all at the same time.
Emmett is grinning from ear to ear, his dimples on show and for a change I don't dread those little ripples at all.
"Congrats, bro," he booms as he folds me into a tight hug.
"How's Bella?" Charlie asks as he swipes at his eyes quickly.
"Just fine," I tell him proudly. "The doctors in with her now for a bit but you can all come in and meet our daughter soon."
"Does she have a name yet?" Rosie asks me as she slips her arm around my waist.
"She does," I grin. "Let Isabella tell you though."
While we wait for the doctor to finish up I'm bombarded with questions.
How much does she weigh?
Does she have hair? What colour?
What colour eyes?
How long is she?
I've never felt anything like it, telling my friends and family that my daughter was beautiful, that she was seven and a half pounds and had her mother's dark hair.
They were all enraptured, hanging off my every word, and I soaked up their adulation proudly.
It's not long and a nurse comes and tells us we can go back in.
Charlie and my parents are the first to meet her. They coo and swoon, well Charlie doesn't swoon but he does coo, which is a little weird.
"Will you tell us her name?" my mother asks quietly as she takes the baby from her mother's arms for her first cuddle.
Isabella smiles up at me and I nod.
"We've decided to call her Elizabeth Anne," my beautiful wife whispers.
"Oh darling," my mother cries when she realises we've called our daughter after her mother, my grandmother. "She'd have been so proud," she sobs.
"Anne was my mother's name," Charlie says very quietly, off to the side. "Thank you," he says as he comes to me, his hand outstretched. "She's beautiful."
"I know, and you're welcome," I tell him sincerely as I shake his hand.
There's a knock at the door and Jasper sticks his head in. "Um, can Alice come in real quick?" he asks with a grimace.
I laugh, I can't help it. "She can't wait any longer, huh?" I chuckle.
"Not exactly," he says sheepishly. "Her water just broke and they want to take her to her own room."
"Oh god," Charlie moans.
"Send her in," Isabella giggles.