The Way He Loves (Patreon)

Since being with you, his life has always been about you.

You were sitting in a satay stall with your husband, Yoga. Throughout the six months of his pregnancy, that was the first time he had a craving; or at least, the first one you remembered.

You had met him a little over a year ago. Back then, you were still finishing your bachelor’s degree while Yoga was already working at a startup, earning more than enough. Comfortable with each other, you had accepted his feelings, and you had made a promise to yourself to make him happy. After only a few months of getting to know each other and dating, Yoga had married you.

Now, Yoga was carrying your child. That had become one of the things you considered an achievement, because with it, he felt truly happy. He often told you, or more like, promised you, that he would become a good father one day.

His happiness was your happiness, too.

While waiting for your order to arrive, Yoga stared out at the street, watching the passing vehicles. His fingers tapped the table in an irregular rhythm, either because he was playing a song in his head or simply because he was bored.

Meanwhile, you, sitting right beside him, could not take your eyes off his face.“Don’t daydream, Handsome,” you teased playfully. “A demon might slip into you.” You let out a light laugh, answered by Yoga’s sweet smile.

“There’s no way a demon could slip into me.” Yoga took your hand, leaning closer until he whispered right in your ear, “The only one who slipped into me … was you.” He guided your hand down to his belly, already round in the sixth month of pregnancy. “Because of you slipping inside, my stomach got this big.” Satisfied with teasing you, Yoga chuckled, giving you a light pinch on the cheek.

Your face warmed at his words. Your mind almost wandered somewhere dirty, if not for the reminder that the two of you were in a public place. You pinched him back, on his arm and harder this time. “Just wait until we’re home, Darling.”

“Wait for what?” Yoga asked, grinning. “Wait so you could slip inside me again?”

“Excuse me. One order of goat satay, one beef stew, and two hot sweet teas under the name Yoga?” A waiter accidentally interrupted your conversation with Yoga.

“That’s right, here,” Elijah replied warmly. Inwardly, he was relieved to avoid responding to the teasing words you had just said before the waiter arrived. “Thank you,” he added with a smile.

“Thanks,” you said to the waiter, silently hoping they had not overheard anything between you two. Seeing Yoga smile made you smile too. You shifted closer to your husband, who was carrying your child, and let your hand rest gently on his round belly. “Craving a lot, huh?” you teased softly.

Yoga laughed as he poured some sambal sauce over his portion of goat satay. “Doesn’t it bother you, me craving like this?”

“Oh, hey! Don’t use too much sambal!” you reminded him, momentarily distracted from your previous conversation. You shook your head. “Why would it bother me? My own husband is the one who’s pregnant. This little one inside you,” you said, stroking his belly, “is mine too. Of course I want to give you whatever you want. As long as it’s not dangerous or harmful to you and the baby, why not?”

Yoga’s smile widened. “You’re taking this really seriously,” he teased, laughing.

“You’re such a troublemaker!” You gently pinched his arm, amused by his antics.

“Come on, eat your stew first. It won’t taste good if it gets cold.” He patted your shoulder softly before starting on his satay.

“Is it good, Darling?” you asked, curious.

“Want to try?” He offered you a skewer.

You shook your head. “No, that’s for my husband with his cravings.”

He just smiled and continued eating. Thankfully, Yoga did not overindulge or waste food. Once he was full, he rubbed his belly with one hand while resting the other on his hip. “Wait a moment, Love. I’m stuffed,” he said.

You laughed and nodded. “Who’s rushing, anyway?” You leaned closer, pressing your body against his. Slowly, your arms wrapped around his waist, passing over his belly, and your head rested on his shoulder. You smiled, savouring the moment. On one hand, you did not want these precious times with Yoga during his pregnancy to end. On the other, you could not wait to hold your child together.

“I love you so much,” you whispered. You hoped he did not hear, but your husband seemed entirely focused on you ever since you hugged him.

“I love you so much too,” Yoga replied, his large hands gently stroking yours as you held his waist tight.

· · ·

You were lying together comfortably, sharing warmth in bed, wrapped around each other. His arms rested over your shoulders while your hands rested gently on his belly.

It had become a habit for him to sleep without clothes. Tonight, like usual, Yoga wore only underwear. In the early days of your marriage, you were not used to this habit. Of course, the reason was simple; it felt ‘dangerous’ and made it hard for you to fall asleep without touching him first.

Your hands moved slowly over his belly, tracing every curve to make sure he, and the baby inside him, felt comforted and warm. “What if our child is twins, what do you think?”

“Last time we went to the doctor, there was only one in there.”

“I said what if,” you repeated, “what if it turns out we’re having twins.”

He paused, looking away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “It’s okay. The most important thing is that the babies are born healthy and don’t lack anything.” He smiled, trying to brush off a hint of doubt in his answer. His hand clasped yours. “What do you think? And why are you thinking about that?”

You returned his smile. Yoga looked so sweet when he smiled, and it was also your way of reassuring him that everything would be fine.

“I don’t mind.” You squeezed his hand tightly. Before he could answer, you stole a quick kiss on his cheek. “I was just thinking … you’re only six months along, but your belly is already so big.”

“Does my belly look ugly like this?” His lips pouted playfully.

Seeing the fake pout, you couldn’t help but laugh. “No, I never said that.” You stroked his belly again. “It’s actually so cute. The bigger your belly gets, the more adorable you are,” you explained, planting a quick kiss on his lips.

Yoga chuckled, clearly pleased that he had earned another kiss from you.

“Darling,” you called softly.

“Yes, Love?”

“How many children do you want to have?”

“You’ve asked me this a few times already,” Yoga said, smiling again. So sweet.

“This is just for an update. Who knows that after being pregnant, you’ve probably changed your mind or something,” you replied casually. From the start of your relationship, he had always loved children, and you had noticed that. It was also why you were sure about deciding to have a child right after marrying him.

“Hmm, for now …” he thought for a moment. “My answer hasn’t changed. Maybe two or three. Two to follow the government’s advice, three if I end up wanting more.”

A wide smile spread across your face. You nodded slowly, agreeing with whatever he wanted. “I’ll follow you. The pushing will be your job anyway. If you want more, that’s fine. If you want to stop, that’s fine too.”

Without warning, Yoga pressed soft kisses to your forehead and nose. “I’m sleepy.”

A light laugh escaped your lips. “Alright, get ready to go to the dreamland.” You returned his kisses on his forehead and nose. “You have an appointment with Haikal tomorrow, right?” you asked to be sure.

He nodded slowly. “Good night, Love.” He let his arm become your pillow. A real pillow would have been much more comfortable, but you preferred his arm. For you, it was one of the ways to maintain intimacy with him. After all, you felt safe and comfortable by his side, and that was what mattered most.

· · ·

The familiar scent of rain lingered politely in your nose. The cold, foggy morning air brushed against your skin as you stood on the porch of Yoga’s family home in the village, a property passed down from his parents that was only occasionally cleaned and occupied by Yoga’s uncle, who already had his own house and family.

You took a deep breath, savouring the cool, clean morning air of the countryside. Yoga had told you before about leaving the village to pursue his education in the city, but this was your first chance to stay in his hometown. You had spent about a week here and would spend several more weeks in the same place until your husband’s maternity leave was over.

“Y/N, where’s Yoga?” called Yoga’s uncle in a loud voice as he walked across the yard with his child, carrying a large bag. His house was only a few dozen meters away from Yoga’s, separated by another house.

“Pakde*!” You approached him and kissed his hand respectfully. “Yoga is taking a shower. He said he feels a bit hot, even though it rained last night,” you explained, then nodded and smiled warmly at his child, who seemed a few years younger than you.

The man nodded in understanding. He might have been a little confused, considering the sun had not fully risen yet, let alone cleared the lingering fog. “Isn’t it time for Yoga to give birth yet?”

“The doctor estimated today or tomorrow, but Yoga hasn’t felt any contractions yet.”

“You have Hadi’s number, right?” the man asked, referring to a well-known midwife in the village who had been assisting births since his youth.

*Older uncle, usually refers to the older brother of one’s parent.

“Yes, Pakde.” You smiled, understanding Yoga’s uncle’s concern as the birth approached. “Where are you heading to, by the way?”

“Oh, I’m going to my in-laws’ house while my wife is there.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to you. “Here, just in case you need anything.”

Realising the envelope contained money, you gently refused his offer. “No need, Pakde. Really, it’s fine. You should keep it, in case you need to buy something on the way or over there. I’ll make sure Yoga is safe with me.” Yoga’s uncle’s family was neither wealthy nor struggling. They lived simply and could meet their daily needs without difficulty. But you knew the money you and Yoga had brought was more than enough to support your stay in the village for the weeks ahead.

The man sighed. “Alright then. Call me if anything happens, okay? I’ll be off now. Tell Yoga for me.”

“Of course, Pakde,” you replied with a wide smile. As the man started walking ahead, you held back his child for a moment, slipping a fifty-thousand rupiah bill into the boy’s pocket and whispering, “Don’t tell your father.” You patted his shoulder, then waved at both of them. “Take care, Pakde!” Letting out a small sigh of relief, you waited until they were far enough down the road before returning inside to check on Yoga, who was probably done with his shower.

Just as you stepped back into the house, Yoga emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped low around his hips. You swallowed hard, almost flustered at the sight of him practically naked. “Hey,” you called, “finished with your shower?”

He nodded, his face looking slightly uneasy. His left hand pressed against the lower part of his belly while his right hand braced against the wall.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, a hint of panic in your voice.

“My stomach hurts,” he answered.

You quickly wrapped your arm around his shoulders, guiding him into the bedroom and helping him sit on the edge of the bed. “Did it just start? Or did you feel it earlier when you were showering?” you asked, worry filling your eyes.

Yoga shook his head slowly. “I felt some cramps in the shower, but it only came back just now.”

From the way he answered, you could tell he was panicking. “Calm down, alright? Do you want me to call Hadi now?”

“Not yet,” he replied, shaking his head again.

You rubbed his rounded belly while still holding his shoulder with your other arm. “Let’s get you dressed first,” you said, then went to the wardrobe to fetch him a white t-shirt and a striped sarong. Helping him stand, you dried his body with the towel still wrapped around his hips. “Still hurting?”

“Not too much now,” Yoga said as he pulled on the shirt you had brought him. “Thanks, Love.” He gave you a faint smile, letting you tie the sarong around his waist.

“Is it too tight?” you asked playfully, kneeling in front of him before lifting his shirt to plant a gentle kiss on his belly.

He smiled again, taking your hand in his. “It’s fine.” Resting one hand on his hip, he sat back down on the edge of the bed, massaging his belly with the other. “Can you grab my phone? I want to let Haikal know first.”

You quickly grabbed Yoga’s phone from the table and handed it to him. Sometimes you still felt a little embarrassed when you remembered how jealous you had once been of his closeness with his best friend. But after getting to know Haikal, you realized the bond between them was like that of brothers. Haikal often shared stories with you about Yoga’s college days from a few years back.

After sending Haikal a message on WhatsApp, Yoga handed the phone back to you to put away. He tried to steady his breathing as the cramps in his belly grew sharper. His brow furrowed, his legs shifted apart, and his stomach hung lower as if pulled by its own weight.

“I’ll call Hadi now.” Once Yoga nodded, you immediately placed the call, your chest tight with worry. Even though you had tried to prepare yourself mentally for this day, it still felt overwhelming. It took a few moments before Hadi finally answered—maybe because it was still so early, or perhaps he had been busy with something else. “Sorry to bother you so early, Pak,” you began.

“Yes, Yoga’s started feeling contractions.” You fell silent, listening carefully to Hadi’s instructions. “Oh … understood.” You nodded a few times even though he could not see you. “Alright, I’ll get everything ready. Thank you.”

“MMMHH—”

“Yoga!” You rushed to his side, wrapping your arm around him while rubbing his belly gently. “Hold on just a little, okay? I’ll get everything ready for you to give birth soon, alright?”

“Don’t take too long.” He pouted, staring into your eyes.

“No, I won’t. I promise it won’t take long.” Inside, you wanted to pinch his cheeks at how adorably needy Yoga was acting. It was not like him, but in this situation, it was only natural. You hurried off to fetch towels and clean cloths, then went to the kitchen to boil water, hoping it would be just the right warmth when the time came for Yoga to deliver.

“Y/N!” Yoga called out from the bedroom while you were still in the kitchen.

Your footsteps quickened into a small run back to the room. “What is it? Is your stomach hurting again?” you asked, sitting beside him.

Yoga nodded, then turned his head to meet your eyes. “I can’t take it anymore,” he whispered, his voice cut off by another wave of pain rolling through his belly. His face tightened, eyes shut, and his lips moved with steady breaths in and out. His hand reached for yours, gripping tightly. Beads of sweat began to cover his body, soaking the collar and chest of his shirt until the fabric clung damply to his skin.

“You can do this, Dear.” You tried to soothe him, even as his grip on your hand grew stronger. “You’re strong. You can make it through this,” you whispered close to his ear. “I’m right here with you.”

Maybe he wanted to curse or shout something unkind just to vent, but the cramping in his belly kept twisting tighter with every tick of the clock on the wall. He focused on his breathing, then leaned his head against your shoulder and groaned, “ANHH—” His hand slipped free from yours and grabbed at the mattress instead, clutching it hard to channel the pain without hurting you.

Seeing his trembling hands, you carefully helped him lie back on the bed. “Hold on,” you murmured, stacking pillows behind him so he could rest more comfortably. “Is this better? Do you need anything?” you asked, taking his hand again and rubbing the back of it.

He only shook his head weakly.

“I need to turn off the stove for a moment,” you remembered aloud, thinking of the water boiling in the kitchen.

“Wait,” he stopped you. “I want to change positions.”

You immediately slipped an arm around him. “What position do you want?”

“Just on the floor, on the carpet.” From leaning against the pillows, he pushed himself upright, one hand rubbing over his belly, which now hung heavily at the bottom. With your support, Yoga climbed down from the bed and lowered himself onto his knees on the carpet, gripping the edge of the mattress for support. He pulled his sarong up above his knees. Another contraction gripped him, making him throw his head back and let out a low moan.

You positioned yourself behind Yoga, giving him gentle massages along his hips and lower back. “Stay strong, love.”

Yoga nodded faintly, eyes shut, still trying hard to keep his breathing steady.

“My amazing husband.” You almost laughed at yourself for saying it out loud, but you meant it. To you, he truly was amazing. You couldn’t feel the pain he was going through, so making sure he was comfortable became your only priority. Your arms wrapped around his waist, your hands smoothing over his swollen belly. “Baby, don’t be naughty, okay? Don’t make your dad hurt too much. Daddy’s already struggling to get ready to bring you out.”

“MMMMNNHH—” Yoga suddenly bent forward a little, his hands digging into his thighs as another contraction tore through him.

Panic washed over you. And almost at the same moment, a voice echoed from the front door.

“Excuse me! Yoga, it’s me!” Hadi called out, knocking several times.

Seeing Yoga in so much pain, you could not bring yourself to leave him even for a second. “Please, come in, Sir!” you called out.

Hadi opened the door and stepped inside, closing it again behind him. He walked down the hallway, past the living area and kitchen, and found you and Yoga in the bedroom. “How is it? Has his water broken yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet, Sir. He’s just been having contractions since earlier.”

“When did it start, Yoga?” Hadi asked while gently pressing and massaging Yoga’s belly at the sides.

“HMMHH— this morning. Around half past five or so.” Yoga bit down on his lower lip as Hadi’s touch pressed against his tender belly, the discomfort clear on his face.

Hadi nodded slowly, understanding the situation. “Y/N, please get the warm water and towels ready,” he told you, his hands still moving in slow circles over Yoga’s taut stomach, checking the baby’s position.

You rushed to the kitchen, turned off the stove, and mixed the boiling water with cooler water from the bathroom until it felt just right. Carrying the big basin of warm water back into the bedroom, you grabbed a clean towel from the wardrobe and handed it to Hadi. “Here’s the towel, Sir.”

“Do you want to give birth here right on the carpet, or up on the bed?” Hadi asked, prioritising Yoga’s comfort.

Yoga’s face and body were drenched in sweat. “Here, here is fine. I don’t think I can stand anymore.” His shirt was soaked through, so you quickly helped him slip it off, worried he might catch a cold later. His chest rose and fell heavily, struggling to find a rhythm in his breathing. His belly tightened again, his face flushed red. “FUUUHH—” he exhaled sharply, clutching the underside of his belly. “HUF— HUUFF—”

Splash!

A gush of cloudy fluid burst out from Yoga’s pussy, soaking through his sarong and spreading over the carpet beneath his knees. Panic flashed across his face, but Hadi was quick to steady him, keeping a calm hand on Yoga’s belly as the man gasped through the pain.

Meanwhile, Hadi massaged Yoga’s belly again, and you sat beside him after bringing the warm water and clean towel.

“MMMHH, it hurts so bad, Sir. I can’t take it,” Yoga groaned, overwhelmed by the sharp pain that came after his water had broken.

You rubbed his back, pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then glanced at Hadi with worry. “There’s no way to make it faster, Sir? Poor Yoga …” Your eyes softened as you stroked his damp hair.

“FUUHH— HUUHHH, I feel like pushing.”

“You can push now,” Hadi replied. He took a pillow from the bed, asking you to place it under Yoga’s head for support while he spread a towel beneath Yoga’s pelvis to keep the carpet from getting too wet or messy once the birth truly began. Hadi then pulled Yoga’s sarong aside, exposing his lower body.

Realising he was ready to push, you exhaled in relief and gave him a faint smile. You helped part your husband’s legs wide, your hand caressing the underside of his swollen belly. “You can do this. You’re strong.” You leaned in to kiss his forehead. “I’m right here, Darling,” you whispered.

Yoga drew in a deep breath before bearing down hard. “FUUUHH— HUHH HUH— MMMMHHH!” His hands dug into his thighs. “AAAAHHH! HMMMHH!”

Between his legs, you could see his pussy glistening, slick with mucus and the amniotic fluid that had poured out just moments before. “Push again, Love. Come on, you can do this. Share the pain with me,” you encouraged, smiling through your worry as you reached for his hand, letting him clutch it tight. Your other hand brushed the sweat from his forehead with the back of your palm.

Yoga’s grip on you tightened, his body trembling. “EUMMMNHHHHH— HUU— HUHHH!” His eyes shut tight as he bore down with all his strength, his chin pressed into his chest. You could see his belly shifting downward as he pushed with everything he had to bring your baby into the world.

Hadi pressed his palms gently over Yoga’s taut belly, guiding him. His usual warm expression had now turned focused and serious.

Your eyes darted back and forth between Hadi and Yoga. You whispered words of encouragement to him, then leaned over to glance at what was happening between his legs. The sight made you hiss under your breath: blood was streaming from his vagina. “Oh God …” you muttered to yourself, before quickly focusing back on Yoga. You brushed the damp hair from his forehead, kissed him gently, trying to anchor him in your presence.

“AAAAKHHH— HUUHHH HUHHH MMNHHH!” Yoga bore down hard, guided by Hadi, who was now working carefully to stretch his opening and make room for the baby. Blood and mucus flowed freely as the bulge between his thighs swelled with the baby’s head pressing lower.

Then, a dark round shape appeared. Hadi was certain it was the crown of the baby. “Push again,” Hadi urged firmly.

You clasped Yoga’s hand, your eyes glistening as you watched his battle. “Breathe steady, slow and steady,” you whispered, your voice breaking with love.

“HUUFF HAAHH— HUFF … MMMHHH—” Yoga clutched your hand, his grip desperate, while Hadi massaged his belly and eased the taut flesh of his pussy, especially around the perineum that was straining around the baby’s head. “AAAARGHHH— It burns! It burns!” Yoga screamed, the raw fire in his voice tearing through the room.

Your thumb stroked the back of his trembling hand, your lips kissing it again and again as he pushed. “Remember, you’ve been waiting for this moment, for our baby to come,” you told him, holding his gaze even as his eyes glistened with exhaustion and pain. “Don’t give up now. I know you’re strong. You’re incredible. Just a little more, love. We’ll see our child any minute now.” Your chest swelled with pride and hope, your smile trembling through the tears as you stroked his head softly.

Yoga looked at you weakly, nodding as Hadi carefully stretched his [placeholder]. “UMMMNHHH! SSSHHHH— it stings so bad, Sir … I’m scared it’ll tear.” The baby’s head, much larger than average, was struggling to pass through his straining opening. Only the barest glimpse of it showed while the rest remained trapped inside, leaving Yoga writhing in torment.

You turned sharply toward Hadi, your heart pounding at the thought of Yoga’s perineum tearing. Your hand tightened around his trembling fingers, both of you clinging to each other through the storm of pain.

“It won’t tear,” Hadi reassured, his voice steady as he rubbed the inside of Yoga’s trembling thighs. “I promise it won’t, not if you push the right way. Slow and steady. Keep your breathing steady, too.”

“HAAAHH— HUH HUH— FUUHHHH—” Yoga gasped harshly between pushes, gripping your hand like a lifeline. His body shook as his manpussy stretched wider, forced open by the baby’s descent.

Hadi’s words eased you, if only a little. You let out a shaky smile, your palm sliding down Yoga’s swollen belly from top to bottom. “Easy, Love. You can do this. I know you can.”

Yoga swallowed hard, eyes clamping shut for a moment before he drew in a deep breath and bore down again. “HUF HUFF HUUFF— MMMNHHH!” His birthing hole stretched further, his head thrown back in raw agony.

You felt your chest tighten as you watched him suffer. Your hand stroked his flushed cheek, eyes darting down to the soaked fabric beneath him; the sarong and towel already drenched with fluid. Your fingers shifted to his thighs and knees, rubbing them gently, grounding him. “You’re incredible. Hold on, love. You’re stronger than this pain.”

Breath ragged, Yoga struggled to hold the baby’s head from slipping back inside. “FUUHHHH— SSHHHHH!” His legs trembled as they splayed wide, hands clutching his thighs, hips nearly lifting off the floor if not for Hadi’s steadying grip. “AAAHHHH— AAHHHH!”

“Keep your hips down!” Hadi instructed firmly. “Hold it, don’t forget your breathing.”

Yoga nearly cursed, his frustration mounting. He had been fighting for his breath since the very first contraction after his shower, and now his eyes brimmed with tears. The searing burn in his birthing way felt unbearable, each push like fire tearing him apart. Still, he bore down again, desperate, his mind clawing for escape from the torment as his opening stretched further and further.

One of your hands slipped beneath Yoga’s neck, lifting his head just enough so that his chin pressed against his chest. Your other hand rubbed soothing circles along his thigh and swollen belly.

“MMMMNGHHH! AH AHHH— AAKHHH!”

With a final, guttural cry, the baby’s head finally emerged from Yoga’s pussy, accompanied by a gush of amniotic fluid mixed with streaks of blood.

Your face lit up instantly at the sight. “You did it,” you praised, eyes soft with pride as you looked at him. “The head’s out now, see? Just a little more, my darling.”

Yoga exhaled shakily, his strength drained after forcing out a head larger than average. His body sagged against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut as he let out a long, trembling sigh. “HAAAAHHH AHHH ….” Relief curled his lips into a faint smile when Hadi quickly checked and confirmed there were no tears. Yoga turned his gaze toward you, reaching for your hand and stroking it gently. “Please … water. I’m so thirsty.”

“I’ll get it,” you replied with a quick nod. Rising from the bedside, you went to the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and returned to sit by him again. Placing the glass on the nightstand, you touched his shoulder softly. “Here, drink first.”

At the sound of your voice, Yoga roused himself from his resting state, letting you help him sit up. “Thank you, love.” He drained the glass completely in one go before lying back down slowly with your support.

You set the empty glass back onto the nightstand and asked gently, “Do you need anything else?”

Yoga shook his head weakly. Instead, he clasped your hand tightly. “MMMHH—” he groaned as another contraction gripped him, his belly tightening hard. The baby’s head began to rotate, adjusting its position inside his father’s passage. “SSSHH— another one, Love.” His whole body tensed, and with the contraction surging through his core, he instinctively pushed again while Hadi carefully cradled the baby’s head.

“EUNNGGGHHH!”

Yoga’s hand tightened around yours, and you rubbed his belly as he groaned. “Slowly, love. Don’t forget to breathe. Almost there … just a little more.”

“FUUH— HUUHH HUH!” Yoga pushed with all his strength. His labia stretched wide again to accommodate the large body of the baby. “MMMNHHH— help me, Sir!” His legs trembled, and his belly tensed with the effort.

Hadi held Yoga’s legs firmly open. “Hey, hey, I’ve got you. Stay calm, breathe, make your pushes long and steady. The baby is big, so you have to be strong.”

“Yoga …” you whispered, squeezing his hand and pressing a gentle kiss to it. “Almost there. You can do this.”

Yoga gripped your hand tighter, straining with a guttural cry, “EMMHHHH!” He shook his head in pain as Hadi carefully guided the baby’s head downward. “AAAHH! MMMHHH— AAAARGHHH!”

“Stay strong, Love. Our baby’s almost here,” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes as you watched him suffer. Your free hand stroked his thighs and helped hold them wide, steadying him. “After this, I’ll hold you. I’ll give you anything you want.”

Your words seemed to give Yoga strength. He paused for a breath, then pushed with all his remaining energy, chin pressing to his chest. “NNNNGGGHHHHHH! AAH AAAHHHH!” His vagina stretched fully, and with Hadi’s guidance, the baby’s shoulders began to emerge. “HMMMNGGHHHH!”

And then the baby slipped out completely, born from Yoga’s birthing hole. He collapsed back, exhausted, gasping for air. “HAAAHHH— MMMHH,” he whispered weakly, relief washing over him.

“Darling … the baby is here.” You helped him sit up and held him close, kissing his cheeks again and again, unaware of the tears streaming down your own face. “Thank you so much. Thank you for fighting through. You’re incredible.”

Hearing the newborn’s cry, Yoga’s face broke into a tired but joyful smile. He turned to you. “Thank you, love.” Then his gaze shifted to Hadi. “Thank you too, Sir.” Cradling the baby on his chest, he whispered with a wide smile, “Hello, little one … this is your dad.”

· · ·

Photo by wilsan u