ROBERT “I don't care what your policy is!” I argued, feeling the veins in my neck pop. “My wife isn’t having our babies without me!” “Mr. Clarke, you must understand. This is adelicate situation, and we are monitoring your wife for potential complications. We need to do that with no distractions,” a nurse said. “I'm her husband. I'm not a distraction.” I fought the urge to feel offended. I could hear Renee's soft whimpering from the other side of the door, and each sound tore at my heartstrings. Yet, I couldn't go in and comfort her. “We understand, sir. But there's protocol …” “Fuck protocol. I'm not standing by during the birth of my children,” I snapped. Why was I repeating myself? I'd been saying it ever since they told me about their baseless policy. Two hours. It’d been two hours since we got here. Two hours since everything flipped upside down and I’ve been out of character ever since. No ... if I was being honest, I started losing my shitsince way before. You’d think this was my first time. It wasn’t. I’d been through this before with my ex-wife, but I swear I wasn’t half as much of a wreck back then as I was now—as I was whenRenee's water broke on our bed and she calmly stood up, legs trembling, and said she needed a shower. A fucking shower? While I was panicking, trying to look for my keys and her bag, she was busy stripping off soaked sheets and muttering about how she refused to deliver our babies smelling of sex and semen. Said she'd rather die than show up at the hospital in torn, crotchless panties, too. Funny right? And fair. I couldn't argue with that. But what if the babies had come right then? She didn't care. She was composed, taking it all in stride. And I was the wreck. I had to give it to her. She handled everything like a damn queen. My queen. I'd already called the florist and ordered eighteen massive bouquets—two for every month she carried our babies—to be delivered to the house. It still didn't feel like I’d done enough. When we got to the hospital, I wheeled her in myself, brushing off the nurses who rushed to help. They prepped her for delivery—scrubbing and swapping her into one of those hideous hospital gowns and covering her hair—and I'd stayed by her side, holding her hands and trying to keep her calm.The contractions were ten minutes apart, but when they hit, I watched Renee try her best to be strong. Her face twisted in the slightest grimace, her body tightening. Yet she powered through, breathing like we learned in the birthing classes. Yes, I'd gone to those, too. Wouldn't have missed a single one. At one point, they needed to switch IVs, and I had to let go of her hand for maybe ten seconds. Those ten seconds? They felt like hours and rattled me. I hated every goddamn one of them. Then they had the guts to “excuse me” out of the room. Now they wanted me to leave outright? Leave? No. Not happening. “You will let me back in or else I'll buy this entire hospital.” This wasn't my first time here. I was a VIP patient. A top donor. They knew I wasn't bluffing. “Sir, you need to calm down," another nurse said, putting out her hands in front of her as if they made any difference. "No one's say—” “Don't fucking tell me to calm down!” I yelled again. The nurse flinched. “Please,” I begged, steadying my tone. I grabbed her hands, and she gasped. “I want to be there for my wife. I want to be with her. Why is this such an issue?” She exchanged a look with the other nurses. “You can go in,” she eventually said with a sigh. “But you have to promise to let the midwife, and her assistants do their jobs without interfering,” she added. “Just gently hold her hand, no distractions please.” “I just want to be there for my wife, that's all.” Something flashed in her eyes. Then she smiled. “I understand.” They gave me a fresh gown to don over my clothes and soon after, I walked through the swinging doors of the delivery room. The first person my eyes landed on, of course, was Renee. “Robert,” she called softly when she noticed me in the doorway. “You’re back.” “Yeah, baby, I'm here.” I quickly rushed to her side and took her hands in mine. “I'm here now. I'm never leaving.” Her palms were sweaty. Or were they mine? I couldn't tell. I was feeling a thousand different emotions right now, unable to comprehend anything. “You're doing so good, baby,” I assured her with a smile I hoped didn't give away the fear twisting my insides. Renee laughed. “I haven’t even started pushing yet.” “But you’re already having contractions. You’ve been poked and prodded, and you’re handling it all so well no one would believe you’re about to push out two babies. I'm so damn proud of you already.” Her eyes twinkled. “My sweetheart—” “Okay,” the midwife said, cutting off whatever Renee had wanted to say. “It’s time. Any minute now and you'll be holding your babies.” Renee smiled at her, and the woman returned the gesture. Propping Renee’s legs on the bed, she then settled in at the foot, waiting patiently for our babies to come. Around us, the delivery assistants moved swiftly, setting things in place and double-checkingRenee’s vitals. During the final prep, she did some last-minute checks. I watched as Renee twitched uncomfortably at the probing but held strong—like always. Finally, we were told her hips and pelvic structure looked good so there wouldn't be a need for a C-section. What a relief. “Alright people, it’s time to bring these beauties into the world. Nurse Fletcher, tell me her vitals again?” I looked at the monitor while the nurse read out Renee’s blood pressure and heart rate. All were within normal range. I sighed with relief. “Okay, Renee. When another contraction hits, I want you to push as hard as you can. Okay?” “Okay.” Renee let out a slightly nervous laugh. I could feel her hands trembling, but again, I wasn't sure if it was hers or mine. “Are you ready?” I asked. She nodded. Then exhaled. “It’s coming.”“What?” My answer came in the form of a contraction. I knew the exact moment it hit because Renee’s fingers tightened around mine and she squeezed hard. It hurt a little, but I didn't care. She could break my fingers if it’d get her through this process. “Push!” the midwife directed. There was a scream as Renee did as she was told, directing all her strength toward her lower body and pushing down hard on her abdomen. “Mr. Clarke? I'll need you to keep your voice down,” the midwife said, and that's when I realized I was the one who’d screamed. Oh, Christ. “Okay.” I nodded. Renee had looked relaxed before, but now a few beads of sweat had popped up on her forehead. She was doing her breathing exercise again as the pain lessened. The assistants at her side encouraged her to breathe and so, in order to feel useful, I did the same. “Okay, Renee. We’ve made significant progress,but it's not over yet. Once you feel another contraction, I want you to push even harder.” “Okay, baby,” I let her grip on my hand tighter and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “The midwife says you need to push harder this time." “Mmhm,” she groaned. “So, push.” I rubbed her hands and her arms. Barely a minute later, her muscles tightened and the second contraction hit. “Puuuuuush!” The midwife gave the command. “Puuuuuush! Baby!” I screamed. And push, she did. She dragged my hand to her mouth, clamped down on it with her teeth, and pushed. Fuck, that hurt. “There you go baby, you're doing so good.”Another contraction. “Push. That's it.” “I see the head.” “They’re almost here.” Another push. “The last big push!” Renee’s entire body stiffened. It arched upward. One last contraction tore through her and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. A beat passed. Three ... two ... one. Then the most glorious sound filled the room—ababy’s cry. The first twin was out. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Clarke, it’s a girl,” the midwife announced. She held out a pair of scissors. “Would you like to cut the cord, Dad?” Dad. My throat felt tight. I could barely speak. I nodded, my hands shaking as I took the scissors. With a snip, I cut the cord, and the midwife passed our crying daughter to one of the nurses to get her cleaned up. Renee loosened her grip on my hand. This time,when she laughed, it sounded much better. I fought back the tears threatening to spill as I watched our daughter's tiny, messy form get wiped down. “A girl,” I whispered, the word feeling surreal on my lips. “You hear that baby? It’s a—” “I heard,” she breathed out, interrupting me. “A baby girl. Our baby girl.” My heart fluttered. I was so giddy with excitement, I didn't know what to do with my hands. We had opted not to know the babies’ genders, wanting them to be a surprise. And now ... we had a girl. A mini-Renee. My whole body ached to hold her, to touch her tiny fingers and feel her heartbeat against mine while I cradled her. I almost left Renee's side, almost followed the sound of our daughter’s cries to where the nurses were cleaning her when the midwife’s voice pulled me back. “Alright Renee. You did good. But we’ve got one more.” I froze, then immediately turned back to Renee. She was murmuring something to the midwife. “... tired, a little bit,” Her words were faint. The midwife’s expression instantly changed.“Check her vitals,” she ordered the nurses. My heart skipped. “Is everything okay?” “Her blood pressure’s down. We need to start a transfusion,” Nurse Fletcher spoke. What? I opened my mouth to ask another question, but the nurse and midwife were already moving. “Page Dr. Patel. Now!” The midwife barked out and within seconds, a doctor swept into the room. I watched in horror as needles and tubes went intoRenee’s arms. “Is ... is she going to be alright?” I really hoped this wouldn’t be another situation where I had to choose between Renee and our baby. The last time it wrecked me. I couldn't—no, I wouldn't—do it again. “She will,” the midwife assured me. Her eyes flicked to the beeping monitors and back to Renee.“This one's just a troublemaker ... but I see her head.” Her. The second baby was a girl, too. I was stunned for a moment. Two girls. Two mini-Renees. Another contraction tore out of Renee, and I snapped out of my haze. “She’s coming!” the midwife exclaimed. “She is. Push!” Renee tried. God, she tried. But it was too much. She shook her head weakly, as if willing herself notto give up. “No …” she gasped out. “You can do this, baby. You’ve got this.” Tears streamed down my face. It hurt—it destroyed me —to be this powerless. So helpless. I could do nothing but hold her. “Renee ... baby, look at me.” “I ... I can't,” she sobbed. “You can.” Her grip turned iron-tight, fingers digging into me like she was clinging to life itself. Her face was red, drenched in sweat. She was struggling. God. Was this what women went through? And I’d wanted to knock her up again immediately. Fuck. “The head's fully out. Push!” Renee screamed. And that sound? It would haunt me forever, but in a blissful way. Because it was the sound that brought our second daughter into the world. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Clarke,” the midwife announced for the second time. “You have twin girls. And Mr. Clarke?” she called to me, holding up the scissors and gesturing to the cord.“Would you like to do the honors again?” I nodded and cut it. The nurses in the room paused whatever they were doing and broke into thunderous applause—something I'd later learn was a hospital tradition for new mothers. Congratulations mixed with our babies' cries rang out, filling the room. “You did it, baby,” I whispered, looking at Renee,who slowly opened her eyes. They were glassy and tired. The pain from the birth was still there. “You did it.” “I did, didn’t I, Mr. Clarke?” I smiled. I couldn't help it. Then I leaned down to kiss her. She smiled too, her hand cupping my cheek, deepening the kiss. “Yeah.” I chuckled. “You fucking did it.”