The pain surged in stabbing waves, causing to Moe squirm helplessly, gasping for air with his dry mouth and yearning for a quicker end to the agony. Moe moaned, growled, and screamed, gripping the suspension rope with both hands and balancing on the fitness ball, just as he'd outlined for the most natural labor possible in his birth plan. When the contraction finally eased its rocky grip, he slumped, savoring the brief respite. Labor proved to be a far more brutal ordeal than the natural childbirth books and training courses had led him to believe, leaving Moe feeling deceived. Nevertheless, he steeled himself for the next wave, at that point even the anesthesia did not seem that harmful for the baby.

After ten hours, the dilation remained meager, only reaching four fingers, and Moe, cursing his uterus, transitioned to a spacious tub filled with warm water, simultaneously munching on a turkey sandwich and gulping coffee. Once in the tub he felt better, likely due to the reduced gravity, and Moe even succeeded in stealing a nap, worn out by the relentless contractions. He grumbled in protest when prompted to shift to the bed.

"I would still suggest an epidural," Dr. Lee appeared surprisingly alert despite the lengthy workday, but Moe defiantly shook his head – he had endured various levels of pain, so he believed he could manage this natural one somehow. "Alright, let me at least offer you a mild sedative; it won't harm the baby at this point, and you'll regain some strength - the initial stage of labor can be up to twenty-four hours."

"Twenty-four hours," Moe sobbed, exiting the tub and allowing the nurses to dry him with a towel. "God! Why?!"

"That's the price we pay for walking upright," Dr. Lee sighed sympathetically, peering through his glasses. "So, what do you say?"

"Sedative," Moe nodded obediently, considering the prospect of enduring two days of torment - all the more manageable for Miny. Without sleep, he wouldn't be able to endure it and might shamefully request a C-section.

"Great," the doctor stepped aside, preparing the syringe. Moe, swaying on the spot, raised his arms to assist in putting on his medical gown. Barely moving his legs, he waddled to the bed and extended his hand for the catheter. The nurse quickly wiped his hand with alcohol, inserted a butterfly needle, and a transparent drip with saline and glucose flowed from it. She then made way for the doctor, who injected the sedative into the IV tubing line.

The sedative enveloped him immediately in warmth and affection. Moe smiled happily, slipping into a shallow sleep that didn't fully restore his energy but provided a welcome break. The contractions continued to steal his breath with occasional stabbing pain but felt more bearable through the shroud of sleep. Moe only moaned softly as he continued to doze, turned obediently when his shoulder was tugged, and his legs were spread to check for dilation. He woke up feeling quite rested, gasping at the sharp pain and the sensation of something wet between his legs. He turned on the nightlight with a weak hand, threw back the blanket, pulled up his gown, and stared in horror- there was a large, jelly-like mass with burgundy-bluish veins between his legs, twitching as if about to crawl away.

"Aaah," Moe stretched as he pressed the call button for the medical staff and shouted even louder, "Help!"

A panting nurse, her cap askew on her head, turned on the ambient light and rushed into the room.

"What happened?"

"That's what happened!" Moe pointed his finger at the mass, hastily getting up and moving away. The nurse breathed a sigh of relief, put on gloves, and picked up the slimy substance, calmly explaining, "It's just the mucus plug, no need to worry. How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad, all things considered," Moe blushed, feeling like a complete idiot. He had read about the plug, heard about it in the course, and still screamed! What a moron!

The nurse seemed to have a sixth sense because, upon returning to him, she added, "Don't feel embarrassed; many people get frightened. There was a laboring man once who was afraid that the baby's eye fell out."

Moe had a similar thought for a moment, so he put on a nonchalant expression and quickly replied, "It doesn't look like an eye."

"Dr. Lee will be here shortly to check the dilation," the nurse smiled reassuringly while attaching sensors to my abdomen to measure the frequency of contractions. "It's five o'clock in the morning; I can bring you breakfast. Is there anything specific you would like?"

"Coffee and a cigarette, please," Moe joked, grunting from another contraction. He chuckled when he noticed the bewildered look on the nurse's face. "Just kidding, sorry. I have a weird sense of humor. Coffee without milk and a meat sandwich or a croissant with ham and cheese."

"Good," the nurse stood beside him, waiting for the doctor, and was startled when Dr. Lee entered the room, leisurely pulling on a pair of gloves.

"Good morning, Mr. Hayes. How did you sleep?"

"Like a man with another man slowly crawling out of him," Moe mumbled cheerfully, obediently spreading his knees. His shame was completely gone, as if Moe were showing his crotch to other people every day. He held his breath as Dr. Lee, smiling, announced, "Now I will check the dilation; bear with me a little," he gently inserted his fingers into the birth canal, feeling for something, and proclaimed enthusiastically, "The dilation is nine fingers; now you can take a bath and we'll start labor."

"The plural is completely inappropriate, Doctor," Moe corrected him sorrowfully. "I'm the only one with a little melon coming out of me."

Dr. Lee laughed good-naturedly as he turned to the nurse to give instructions, the short, stocky man now seeming to grow in size and importance. Moe looked at his broad back in awe, glad he'd chosen him - Moe felt completely safe with him. He took off his gown, grabbed the coffee and croissant from the tray, wolfed down the croissant, drank the strong coffee, and felt ready for an important meeting.

Miny was in no rush to meet - Moe had time to vomit up coffee and croissant, drink mineral water, vomit it up too, promise to castrate all the alphas one by one, and sob helplessly. The pain was not just coming on; it was a continuous wall, killing him, smearing him on the bottom of the bathtub where the water was pink with blood.

And finally, under the order, "Push!"

He pushed out the little head, and after two more agonizing strokes, he squeezed out the whole burgundy body, which was immediately carefully picked up from the water and placed on his chest. Miny opened his red, toothless mouth in a scream, wailed a Jericho trumpet, squinting his swollen eyes, and Moe blossomed in the purest happiness, tucking his swollen nipple with a yellow drop of colostrum awkwardly under the screaming mouth while Dr. Lee dictated the time of birth and sex - the omega Miny Hayes received the first registration tags in his life.

"My happiness, well, hello," Moe managed to put Miny's screaming mouth on his nipple, and he instantly shut up, sucking the nipple and blowing uncomprehending milk-blue eyes. The nipple was pulled painfully, and Moe hissed, getting comfortable in the water, holding the tender body, looking warmly at his son.

"It's time to remove the placenta now," Dr. Lee softly touched your arm. "Why don't you let the nurse hold your son against your chest so you don't accidentally squeeze him too hard during the contractions?"

"The placenta," Moe sighed in disappointment, having completely forgotten about it. "Forget it, let it stay, it doesn't bother me."

"I appreciate your sense of humor," Dr. Lee smiled. "Do you want to hold him or-?"

Moe focused his attention on his hands, ensuring they wouldn't squeeze the precious little one too tightly. He strained his weary, tired muscles, pushing with determination. However, without warning or declaration of war, Dr. Lee suddenly pressed sharply on his long-suffering abdomen. Moe cried out indignantly, but there was no need to swear— a huge burgundy-blue sac, still connected to Miny with the umbilical cord, fell out.

He did it. All by himself. No epidural, no C-section. It all compensated for the first few months of Miny's hardships. Viva, Moe!

"I'm a hero," Moe exclaimed happily, and the nurses chuckled merrily as they lifted him and Miny gently from the bottom of the tub, rinsing him with clean water.

They wiped him down, transferred him to the bed, where they raised the bed rails for the co-sleeping arrangement Moe had agreed upon. They injected vitamin K into Miny's heel, diapered him, dressed Moe in hospital gown, wrapped Moe's belly and thighs with the traditional thick cloth, covered him with a blanket, and brought him pork congee—the typical local breakfast for laboring women. Moe nestled the warm, tender body against the side of his other nipple, covered it with the blanket, and admired it, feeling a powerful rush of euphoria that gave him strength. Miny blinked sleepily, sucking lazily, furrowing his tiny dark eyebrows as Moe touched his light Einer-like hairs with his fingertips, savoring the connection to the center of his world.

He drifted into sleep with Miny in his arms, who was also peacefully sleeping, experiencing complete tranquility.

He awoke to the sound of crackling outside, muffled by the thick glass, and detected the unhappy fussing—Miny, also stirred by the commotion, was panting, staring unblinkingly, and kicking his legs, pushing the blanket off him. Moe offered him a nipple, carefully moved the umbilical cord that was attempting to entangle his quick legs and checked it at the same time—it had stopped pulsing, indicating that the main substances from the placenta had been transferred to Miny.

Everything was going according to plan.

I-d-e-a-l.