Emma POV:
Killian was running around like a maniac. Not that I had ever packed for the hospital, but I knew what I needed, or what I wished I had. Comfy clothes (those damn gowns were horrible), something to occupy my time during labor, phone and chargers, clothes for the baby, shampoo, a brush, my toothbrush. Basic needs really. But Killian was freaking out wanting to pack the entire house.
"Emma, are you sure you won't need that?" He said as I put away a huge pillow he wanted to bring.
"No, if I want more pillows I just ask." I explained to him.
"Okay, I just want you comfortable." He assured me.
"I know, and it's sweet." I grabbed one of his hands in mine. "But I've got this."
I packed a little food and water for him. I knew he wouldn't want to leave my side once we were in the hospital, including to go get himself food.
So that was that. I had a bag packed for the hospital, the baby's room was together, and his car seat was ready to go. We had all the essentials (Mary Margaret and Ruby insisted on throwing a baby shower, now we were loaded down with more diapers, wipes, and clothes than we could dream of), and Liam could come at any time.
I could feel the nesting kick in. I cleaned everything time and time again. I didn't get this with Henry, instead I battled depression and confusion because I wanted to keep him so badly, but I didn't think I could raise him on my own. So I took bliss in all of this. Giving birth was hell, but this time it would end happily.
Killian POV:
I knew Emma said she was ready, but I wasn't. I was panicking. This tiny human being would come home with us within the next month. Henry was easy to parent, he was pretty independent. But this little human would rely on us for everything. He would be so fragile, and yet so strong in his ways of communicating. I'd already seen it in Emmett, the boy knew how to get his mother's attention.
I watched my wife like a hawk, waiting for her to drop everything and hunch over in pain or have her water break, like in the movies. She said it's not like that. With Henry, she started feeling contractions and told the officers, who rushed her to her doctor, who confirmed she was in early labor. Apparently it normally started slow and progressed.
And just like she said, one afternoon, Henry and Frank were playing in the yard, Emma and I watching from the kitchen, when she sat up and made a face, like she was thinking hard.
"Are you okay, love?" I asked, on edge immediately.
"Don't freak out like last time Killian." She held a finger out to me to caution me to remain calm. A few days ago, she had a few contractions, but they ended as quickly as they came. I had begun grabbing everything we needed to go to the hospital.
"Is it like last time?" I calmly asked.
"A little more uncomfortable." She placed both hands on her stomach. "I'm definitely contracting, I'm just not sure if they're real or not."
Over the next half hour, she timed them. They were close enough together to have us all prepared, she called Regina, who would be keeping Henry and Frank, set up the cats to be on their own for a few days, and I placed the bag in the car.
Another half an hour passed, and they were a little closer together and slightly more uncomfortable. She called the hospital, and the woman on the phone advised her to come in and that the doctor would be contacted.
By the time we were halfway there, she was wincing a little when a contraction hit.
"We're nearly there." I grabbed her hand so she could squeeze when she needed to.
"Hurry, they say the second time around takes less time." She gritted her teeth.
Without another word, I sped up. Without driving too recklessly, we made it. She got herself checked in, she knew what to do, I was just there to carry the bags and help her walk.
I helped her into her hospital gown, which did look extremely uncomfortable with the back being just a flap that could fly open with a slight breeze. After that her IV was placed and she was strapped to a monitor to check on the baby and her contractions. I asked if there was anything I could do for her.
"Yeah, don't take anything I say seriously." She simply said, looking me dead in the eye.
"Come again?" I asked, stunned.
"I'm about to have a human being come out of me, I'm going to be in so much pain. I might say some mean things, just don't take it personally. I love you, but I can be a terrible person in this state." She explained.
"Right." I giggled. "I meant can I do anything to make you more comfortable?"
"Just be here."
She had nobody, no real family. No mother to coach her, no father to comfort her. But this time she did have me, the father of her baby. I would not leave her side.
"Whatever I can do." I kissed her forehead and held her hands when another contraction hit. They were getting more intense.
Over the next few hours, nurses came to check how she was feeling and to see how much progress she had made. Before she could push, she had to be dilated to ten centimeters so that the baby could make his way out.
Four hours after arriving, she was dilated to five centimeters and was miserable. She had asked for pain medication in her IV, but it didn't look like it was enough. She was sweating slightly, and her face went red with each contraction, but she gritted her teeth through them.
"Do you want an epidural?" The nurse asked.
"No. I can do this, I'm fine." Emma proclaimed.
"Give us a moment, please." I requested. The nurse nodded and left the room.
"Emma, you don't have to do it like this. If you want pain relief, just ask." I brushed her hair out of her face, almost crying for her.
"I did it with Henry." She pointed out.
"It won't make you any less of a mother, it may even help you get through this." I said. Emma tended to be frustrated by pain, I didn't want her to feel that way when she gave birth.
Then another contraction hit, she closed her eyes and groaned, throwing her head back slightly.
"It is completely your choice, but I hate to see you like this. If you decide you want to take it, I'll tell the nurse right away." I assured her as I held her hand.
Over three more contractions, she tried new methods of coping. She walked around the room, she squeezed a pillow, she hunched over the side of her bed while I rubbed her back. Finally, the fourth hit and she grabbed my collar.
"Get the damn needle." She told me. I stayed with her until the pain subsided, then rushed for the nurse, who said she would call for the anesthesiologist.
She was a totally different person when the medication took effect. She was finally able to sleep after eight hours of labor. As she slumbered, I watched the monitor, the line went up and down as her contractions hit, and she didn't feel a thing. I felt so much relief. I was about to lose my mind at seeing her in so much pain when I couldn't do anything to stop it.
At five the next morning, after some rough sleep for both of us, she was checked, and the nurse declared that she was finally dilated to ten centimeters and she would be getting the doctor.
I pushed the button to sit Emma's bed up, and she took my hand.
"Here we go." She croaked. She hadn't had anything to eat in almost eighteen hours, she was only allowed water and jello.
The doctor came in and dressed to bring Liam into the world, and a few nurses followed along with a cart full of instruments.
"Are you ready?" Dr. Turner asked.
"Let's do this." Emma pushed herself around until she was comfortable. Her legs were placed in stirrups, and I took her hand in mine and placed the other on her brow to comfort her and help her hunch forward to push.
It took an hour of pushing, but a baby's cry could finally be heard. Liam was born screaming. I cut his umbilical cord and he was placed on Emma's abdomen so he could be cleaned, then placed on her bare chest, where he stopped crying after a moment.
For that moment, they were bonding. He settled into the feel and smell of his mother, and I watched with tears in my eyes as my wife stroked our tiny son's head and soothed him with her voice.
Then the chaos ensued. A nurse pointed or how blue he was, and that he didn't appear to be breathing right.
Dr. Turner took one look and hovered over Emma.
"I'm sorry, but we have to take him." She calmly said.
"What?!" Emma grasped Liam. I could see the fear in her eyes, another son being taken from her.
"He needs to go to the NICU immediately, I will make sure you're told about every little thing." The doctor explained.
Emma looked at the baby and she realized something was indeed wrong. I was panicking more and more by the second. She reluctantly handed him over.
"Go with him." She choked out.
"I'm not leaving you by yourself." I insisted. Liam would be in excellent hands.
"He's more important. Please Killian." She sobbed and watched as our son was wheeled away.
I kissed her once and followed. On the way to the NICU, I called Ruby.
"You need to come up here now. Liam is sick and Emma wants me to stay with him, but she doesn't need to be alone." I said as soon as she picked up.
"I'll be right there." She immediately hung up, and I could now be with my son without worrying about his mother.
I tried to follow him, but a nurse stopped me.
"Sir, please wait out here." She held a hand up.
"That's my son, my wife wants me to stay with him so I'm NOT leaving." I said without taking my eyes off Liam.
Another nurse stepped away and came toward me.
"Dr. Turner says he's allowed in." She said.
The first nurse stepped aside and went about her business. I moved to where I was out of the way and took my son's tiny hand as he was fussed over.
In the end, an IV was placed to give him antibiotics to combat the illness, which was apparently called Group B Strep, and a breathing tube, which I was told could be out soon. My son was placed in an incubator, where I could no longer touch him. Emma would be heartbroken at the sight. I had to keep her away at least until the tube was out. It was horrifying to see it on a newborn baby.
"Mr. Jones?" A familiar voice said.
It was the doctor.
"You know you can call me Killian." I turned to her.
"I'm afraid Liam will need to stay here for a little while." She carefully told me.
"Is there anything we can do to help?" I asked. I'd read that a parent's touch or colostrum from Emma could help a sick baby.
"Yes, have Emma come with you to visit him regularly, and if she's up to it, have her pump and give us whatever she can get." Exactly as I predicted.
"When will that tube come out?" I asked.
"I'm not sure."
"I don't want Emma seeing that."
"I know, but Emma's strong. If she can handle it, don't fight her. Your son is being well taken care of, I promise." She patted my shoulder before walking away.
I sighed and began the walk to find Emma. Ruby texted and said she was in a different room now. I managed to find it and walked into see my wife with her head lolled to the side, tear tracks still fresh on her face.
When she heard me walk in, she turned her head and visibly cheered up a little.
"How is he?" She asked.
I walked over and hugged her. "He'll be okay, after some time. He has Group B Strep."