Tendou, Asahi, Bokuto, Lev and Kuroo while they are with their wife in labor? And the wives very angry, bc "hey, you put this child/these children into me, you jerk" (I love so much this situation. *_* x)) Pretty please? *little kitten eyes*
So I changed this up a little bit for variety and realism’s sake; I just had a class all about coping with labor and the stages of it, so a lot of this is from that. Also, every woman is different. This came out a touch softer than the anon anticipated, I think, so sorry about that??? Hope you enjoy regardless!!!
He remembered the suggestion in your labor class to walk, so he took you on a short lap around the maternity ward. You clung to his arm, and even if it hurt, he didn’t care. He couldn’t even imagine the pain you were in. You’d been extremely quiet so far, focused entirely on your labor. He wanted to try and distract you, maybe make you focus on something other than the pain, make you smile or laugh or just roll your eyes at him, but he couldn’t think of anything.
“____? Are you alright?”
Your grip tightened on his sleeve; your eyes squeezed closed, and you were drawing slow, careful breaths through pursed lips. He checked his watch–the contractions were getting closer together.
“Easy, babe,” he murmured, pulling you to a stop. “Come here. Just breathe… I’m here.”
He held you in what the nurse called the Slow Dance pose. He pressed in tightly on your hips, trying to match the intensity of your contractions, like the nurse told him. You put your hands around his shoulders and leaned heavily on him while he encouraged you to rock your hips. He would have to remind you later that you were a literal fucking rock star for taking a stab at natural childbirth. If it had been him, he’d have accepted all manner of experimental drugs if it meant he didn’t have to go through it.
“Satori,” you whimpered, your voice painfully small and broken. “It hurts so much, Satori. I can’t…”
“You can,” he assured. He couldn’t even try and joke, as much as he wanted to, if only to distract you. It broke his heart to hear you like this. “I know you can, ____. It won’t be much longer.”
“Easy, ____,” he said softly, carefully helping you onto the birthing ball. He tapped on his phone a few times, setting an alarm for twenty minutes. “Alright, how’s this?”
“Better,” you groaned, carefully balancing on the ball. He watched you carefully, but you seemed fine as you gently rocked your hips. He put his hands on your shoulders, trying to be the support you so clearly needed but were too afraid to ask for, for some reason. Nearly a decade together and you were still so hesitant sometimes. “I’m sorry, Asahi.”
“What’re you sorry for, doll?” Asahi asked, digging his thumbs into that part of your neck that always made you melt.
“I’m being such a pain right now,” you said. “I feel useless.”
If it hadn’t been for the sincere regret in your eyes, he’d have laughed until he cried. Clearly, labor was making you a little insane; “Sweetheart, you’re having my baby. I couldn’t be happier right now!”
“No buts,” he interjected. “You are doing amazing, and if anyone in this room is useless, it’s me. You’re doing all the hard work, and I will be here to support you, no matter what.”
You opened your mouth to respond, a small smile playing at the corner of your lips, before he felt the tension in your shoulders. All the air escaped your body in a hiss of pain and your hands curled into fists so tight, your knuckles turned white.
“Contraction?” he asked. You could only nod as you squeezed your eyes tight. “Alright, doll, easy. Breathe. Try and relax. Remember what the doctor said.”
You nodded as he pressed his hand against your coccyx, trying to apply counter pressure. He rested his forehead against the back of your neck, trying not to let his heart break at the soft sounds of pain you made. He wanted to fall apart–he was ready for the anxiety to overtake him any minute, but he couldn’t. He had to be your rock–your pillar–because you were doing to hard part.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity (though it probably felt longer to you) he felt you relax. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight, and whispering what a good job you were doing. It may have been nonsense and gibberish, but it seemed to comfort you a little.
“You can do it, ____. I have faith in you.”
You were having what the doctors called “precipitous labor.” He wasn’t 100% sure what all the technical jargon meant, but you’d come in for a labor evaluation less than an hour before and you were almost ready to push. The nurses said that fast labors like this were extremely uncomfortable and could be incredibly intense, and Bokuto hated that you had to go through it, even if it meant it would be over faster.
You were on constant monitoring, so you couldn’t wander too far from the labor and delivery room. At the moment, you were balanced on a birthing ball with your face buried into the bed. He sat behind you, pressing the spiky plastic ball they’d given you into the small of your back. It seemed to be helping a bit, but he’d never felt more useless than when you let out a tiny sob of pain into your pillow. You’d been crying softly since your contractions became regular, and he wished he knew what to do.
“Kou,” you whimpered, raising your tear-stained face from the sheets.
“What is it, babe?” he asked, ready to spring into action. “What do you need? You need to switch positions? Should I stop what I’m doing?”
“No, just…” You bit your lip, your eyes squeezed tight in intense pain. He hated this–the doctor couldn’t even give you anything for the pain. You were too far along in your labor. “Can I have a hug, please?”
He had to grin at that; “Sure thing, babe. Whatever you need.”
He wrapped his arms around you, careful to avoid touching your belly–you’d told him that any pressure on it was too uncomfortable. He held you as tight as he could while maintaining pressure on your lower back. He could feel the moment you were racked with another contraction, and he tried to encourage you to relax a little bit, otherwise he knew it would be worse.
“I hate this,” you cried, holding your pillow to your face again. “Why does it hurt so much?”
“It’ll be all over soon, babe,” he tried to reassure you. “Then we’ll be parents. We’ll get to hold little Akio soon. Just a little bit longer.”
You’d had a plan, damn it. Every book, every anecdote, every class had said that walking, changing position, and moving around were best for expedient labor. So you’d planned on waiting to go into labor naturally, putter around your house until the last possible second, and go into the hospital.
Sadly, babies tended to ruin any and all plans, and unforeseen complications came up which meant you had to be induced early. The procedure had left you bedridden on constant, internal monitoring (which was just the pits, and you could confirm that). So now there was nothing to do but wait out the inevitably long, painful labor.
Bless your husband. He was trying, but you were cranky and in pain and there was nothing you could do.
“Fuck you, Lev! This is your fault!”
“How is this my fault!?” Lev asked helplessly, trying (and mostly failing) to dodge the pillow you threw at his head.
“You put your mutant spawn in me!” you exclaimed. “You just had to be freakishly huge! You just had to laugh when your mother proudly proclaimed you weighed 5 kilograms when you came out! We just had to do this naturally!”
“You’re allergic to pain meds, babe,” Lev said. You scowled when you saw his eyebrow cocked at you.
“You’re a jerk, Lev,” you sniffled, burying your face in your pillow. The nurses had already told you in no uncertain terms that you shouldn’t be screaming.
“Hey,” he whispered, suddenly near your ear. You shrank away from him as you felt another contraction coming on. “I know this sucks, but it’s not going to last forever.”
“Yes it is,” you whimpered. “I’m going to be in labor for the rest of my life. I’m going to die in this fucking uncomfortable bed.”
“Hey, where’d your big pillow go? I thought we packed it.”
“It’s in my bag, Lev, where the fuck else would it be?”
With some effort, he got you rolled on your side with your big maternity pillow supporting your legs and your huge stomach. It was getting so late and you were so tired, and you still had such a long way to go. You wanted to hit him, but his long fingers in your hair stopped you. You hated him at the moment, but he was being so sweet.
“I’ll see if I can’t score you some ice chips or something,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Try and get some sleep, babe. You’re a bit cranky.”
“A bit cranky?” you snapped. “If I was able to get out of this fucking bed, I’d knock you on your ass for that!”
You figured he realized his error, because even as fast as he was, you’d never seen him scurry like you did in that moment.
You’d learned early in the whole laboring process that the best way to go forward was to just stay calm. During your earliest contractions, you’d been ready to have a panic, because nothing was ready and you felt so grossly unprepared. But then, you’d sat on the couch, and Kuroo’s colossally fat and incredibly sweet geriatric black cat, Gumball, curled in your lap for a little nap, and something about it had calmed you. It had been the middle of the night, and you didn’t even feel the need to wake Kuroo up.
About six hours later, you’d decided to go to the hospital, you still had this odd serenity about you. Your doctor and nurses asked you if you needed anything for pain, and you just shrugged. You were fine, at the moment. You parked on the birthing ball, rocking back and forth, casually reading your book.
Kuroo, on the other hand, was a mess.
When he’d woken up to find you in labor, he had that panic you’d managed to not have earlier. He’d been ready to whisk you off to the hospital at that exact moment despite the fact that you were still very early and he was still wearing the bright pink Tokyo Disney pajamas you’d gotten him as a joke for his last birthday. Every contraction had him fluttering around you like a fussy mother hen, and his bed hair was even worse for the number of times he’d raked his hand through it.
You were dragged back to your present situation but a particularly intense contraction. You curled around yourself, whimpering quietly. The doctors said you’d passed pretty much passed straight through active labor and were heading into transition labor, so it would be more intense.
Poor Kuroo’s heart couldn’t take it anymore, it seemed.
“Babe!? You ok?!? You need anything? What can I do!?!”
“Tetsurou, please, it’s just a contraction,” you said once it passed. He rubbed soothing circles on your lower back, pressing his heel on your tailbone like he’d been taught. “Oh please never move your hand from my back, though. That feels amazing.”
“Whatever you need,” he replied. He was clearly exhausted and anxious–he looked like a stiff breeze might knock him over.
“What I need is my husband to survive long enough to meet his son,” you said sardonically, gently running your fingers over the back of his head. He practically purred as he leaned into your touch, leaning heavily on your shoulders. “You should sit and have a little rest, doll.”
“You’re the one in labor,” he sighed. “When did you get to be the supportive one, here?”
“You don’t have to sleep,” you said, ignoring his question. “I know you won’t be able to.”
“I just feel pretty useless.” He dropped his chin to rest on top of your head, gently caressing your rounded belly. You winced, but didn’t say anything. “I’m not used to being helpless in crises. I sort of thrive on action, you know.”
“Oh yes, my hero,” you shot back with a roll of your eyes. “Alright, action boy, if you want to make yourself useful, see if you can’t get the nurses to score me some ice chips or a drink of water, yeah? And fish my chapstick out of my bag for me.”
He smirked, shot you a mock salute, and returned to his full height; “You got it, babe.”