TW: f!reader, pregnancy, labor
Your hand curled tightly around Bradley’s as another agonized scream poured from your lungs. The nurses were doing an incredible job and your doctor was coaching you through contractions, but nothing could stop the pure agonizing pain that labor wreaked on your body. With a heaving sob, you laid your head back and met your husband’s gaze. You saw him shift from your golden retriever Bradley into the calm, cool, and collected Lieutenant Bradshaw right before your eyes and your relief was immeasurable.
“You’re doing so good, baby. You’re the strongest fucking woman I know,” he said softly.
“It hurts,” you whispered and he glanced at you, his warm eyes softening. Your husband might be a big, scary naval aviator when he was in the field or facing down some drunken asshole at the Hard Deck who wouldn’t leave Penny or the other bartenders alone, but he was really just a big softie. Once, when you were sick and he thought that the medicine had finally allowed you to sleep, he murmured a confession that you kept close to your heart.
He hated seeing you in pain, especially when there was nothing he could do about it, because it was as if he were feeling the pain too.
“I know. I’m sorry.” You knew that telling him he shouldn’t apologize would get you nowhere. As excited he was about being a father, Bradley had fretted over the various pregnancy and parenting books he had amassed. The closer you got to going into labor, the more he tried to stay home and help you out with basic tasks. Bradley knew it would hurt. He knew you would be in indescribable pain and all he could do was hold your hand and whisper encouragement. It was breaking his heart to see the tears trail down your cheeks.
“I need just two more big pushes, Mrs. Bradshaw,” your doctor called. You glanced up at Bradley once more and he cupped your cheek, tilting your chin up and pressing his forehead against yours. Your fingers curled around his hand once more and he nodded.
“You’ve got this, baby. You are going to push this baby out and then I’m going to make Phoenix get you the biggest fucking burger you’ve ever seen in your life. You are the smartest, strongest, and most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and I know you can do this. I know it hurts, but you’re going to fucking rock this.”
“If there isn’t bacon on that burger, I will personally castrate you.”
He grinned and kissed you sweetly just in time for the next contraction to hit. Your grip on his hand was as tight as a vice and he would let you break every bone in his body and kill his career as a pilot if it gave you the tiniest hint of relief.
“That’s it. That’s my girl. Look at me. Keep your eyes on me. Breathe, baby. Just one more push,” he coached.
You kept your eyes locked with him as you grit your teeth and bared down. Another yell ripped out of your throat, but it was eclipsed by a higher pitched cry. With a gasping sob, you let your head fall back onto the pillows and looked over at Bradley. His eyes were fixed firmly on the squalling baby in the doctor’s hands, tears building in his eyes as he took in the sight of his daughter.
“She’s so small,” you whispered as the nurse lowered your daughter onto your chest before covering her with a towel and wiping off the amniotic fluid. A tiny hand curled around your finger and you smiled, all the pain seemingly forgotten.
“Thank you,” Bradley said, his voice thick with tears.
“For what?” you laughed. He leaned over the bed, his head next to yours as you both took in the sight of the wailing infant.
“For giving me this opportunity.” He kissed your temple. “My brave girl.”
“I still want that burger.”
“Yes, ma’am. Absolutely, ma’am.”
