FOUR WEEKS LATER

MID-OCTOBER, 2025

Molly flinched as Dr. Sherbourne pulled her hand out of her body. She kept her gaze focused on the white acoustic tiles on the ceiling, trying to ignore the fact that this near-stranger just had her hand up her vagina.

"It looks as though you're about two centimeters dilated," Dr. Sherbourne remarked, tugging off her gloves and tossing them in the bin. At Molly's alarmed look, she put out a calming hand. "Many, many women spend the last few weeks of pregnancy slightly dilated and have no complications. Its possible to be dilated and carry to term. Nothing to worry about at all."

Molly relaxed considerably. "But the Braxton Hicks - when will I know its the real thing?" she asked.

"Oh, you'll know," Dr. Sherbourne chuckled. "Generally speaking, true contractions don't go away with movement as false ones do. So if you're walking around and they don't stop, its probably true labor pains."

Molly nodded. "But everything else looks good?"

"Yes," the doctor said patiently. "The baby has fully dropped and getting into a great position. Everything looks fantastic, Molly. I mean it. Try not to stress out too much."

Molly sighed and looked over at Andrew, who gave her a relieved smile.

"But, I do want you to keep any eye on any contractions you have and time them," the doctor continued. "Don't be afraid to phone me."

"Thanks, Doctor," Andrew told her, shaking her hand.

"I'll see you next week," she told them before excusing herself from the room.

Molly sat up with some effort and wiped the gel from her belly. Andrew helped her stand to get dressed.

"Two centimeters dilated already," she remarked. "Even my cervix is an overachiever."

He laughed. "As long as it keeps the baby in there for another couple of weeks, it can be as high-achieving as it wants."

She leaned against him whilst she pulled her leggings on, which proved to be more of a struggle than she anticipated with her large belly. Andrew moved to help her, but she swatted him away. She'd had to switch to slip-on shoes for their appointment that morning because she refused to let him tie her sneakers. She planned on retaining her independence as long as physically possible.

They made their way out to reception and scheduled their next appointment for the following week. Andrew took her hand as she waddled beside him to the SUV in the car park. In four weeks, they'd officially be parents. The thought terrified and excited him at the same time. He'd had dreams of holding their child in his arms and nightmares of all the terrible mistakes he could make as a parent. On more than one occasion, he'd found himself waking up in a cold-sweat.

"Hungry?" he asked as he started the car. "We can stop somewhere for lunch."

Molly shook her head and put her hand on her stomach. "I'm not really hungry. I kind of feel nauseous, to be honest."

He blinked in alarm. "Should we go back in? Is that a problem?" he asked, panic starting to rise in his voice.

She shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous. I just need to lie down for a bit," she answered dismissively. "Maybe have some water. I'll be fine once we get home."

His free hand found hers as he drove, lifting it only to shift gears occasionally. Molly looked out at the trees shining in the bright October afternoon. A rare sunny day had graced the area and the sky was full of white puffy clouds ambling across it. The trees had turned copper and golden and burgundy, their leaves dropping to create tapestries of color on the sidewalks and grass. Halloween was two weeks away and pumpkins and turnips had begun to decorate front porches and walkways. The air had turned crisp and the days had shortened in preparation for winter.

Andrew pulled into the driveway and got out first, racing around the car to help her out. Clementine greeted them at the door and Molly laid on the sofa, propping herself up with several plush pillows. He appeared a second later with a glass of water before sitting on the other end of the sofa and placing her feet in his lap. Molly closed her eyes with a relaxed sigh as he began rubbing the soles of them gently.

"Its hard to believe that its only four weeks until you're due," he sighed, looking across at her. Molly made a noise of agreement in her throat but didn't open her eyes. "We're almost parents," he added.

She smiled. "Yes. Too late to back out now."

He laughed and switched to her other foot. "Wouldn't dream of it." After several minutes of silence, he spoke again. "Feeling better?" he asked.

She nodded and opened her eyes. "I'm at the point where I just want it all to be done. I want it out. I'm not sleeping well, I have to pee every ten minutes, I feel like I can hardly breathe. I'll be glad when its over."

"Have you spoken with Oscar lately?" Andrew asked. "I haven't heard from him."

She shook her head. "Not really. Just a few texts. Last he told me, he was sitting the QLTT next month."

Andrew froze. "As in, to become a solicitor here?" he asked.

Molly nodded. "I guess. Though, I don't expect him to do well since he's not familiar with the laws here. But I guess he can give it a go, right?"

Andrew thought back to the night of Jon's rehearsal dinner and his words to Oscar in the driveway when they'd gotten home from the Garda station. He felt a little embarrassed by them, but he was glad he'd said them. He meant it, too. Oscar had become too comfortable in their lives, expecting Molly to always be available to bail him out or answer his call. Andrew knew it was out of line, but he pulled no punches when it came to protecting his family.

To his surprise, Oscar had stepped back and continued to keep shtup about their conversation. They'd seen him the morning of Jon's wedding, and then once more two weeks prior for breakfast. But Andrew had heard nothing from him since and guilt was starting to creep in around the edges. He briefly wondered if he should send him a text to check in.

Molly began drifting to sleep and he carefully slid out from under her legs and covered her with a blanket from the back of the sofa. He snapped his fingers and Clementine trotted after him into the studio. He sank into the chair in front of his mixing board and fiddled with the switches idly. Inspiration had been elusive the last few weeks. He'd been so busy trying to put the finishing touches on everything for the baby and his mind was occupied with other thoughts.

It felt as though the last few months had passed so rapidly he barely recalled them. And now that he was mere weeks away from meeting his first child, time seemed to be dragging its feet. He was impatient. He felt as though the next chapter in his life were just on the other side of the page but he couldn't turn it over yet. If it weren't for Molly insisting he spend time with his friends outside the house, he'd go mad.

That evening, he was planning to meet up with a few friends at a pub in Arklow to have one last catch up before the baby arrived. In truth, he was nervous about how his friendships would change when his priorities shifted. Very few of his friends had children yet, and the ones that did seemed to drop off the face of the Earth frequently, canceling plans and begging off for activities for their children. Of course he understood why their priorities changed - he expected the same thing to happen to him - but he couldn't help but wonder whether his own friendships would endure. Surely if they could survive his absence whilst touring for the better part of two years at a time, they could survive him needing to cancel plans occasionally for his child. He hoped, at least.

A couple hours later, he was getting dressed when Molly came into their bedroom. He watched her through the full-length mirror whilst he straightened his t-shirt.

"What time do you think you'll be home?" she asked, sitting on the bed with effort.

"Not too late. Maybe eleven, at the latest, I'd say," he replied, running his fingers through his hair. "But you'll call me if you need anything, right?"

"No, I'll sit here and suffer," she answered sarcastically. He shot her an annoyed glance. "Of course I'll call you. Go. Have fun. Forget you're going to be a father soon."

He walked over to her, fastening his watch on his wrist. "Love you," he said, kissing her softly.

"Love you, too. Give everyone my love," she replied with a smile.

Molly watched as he left the room. She reached for the book on her night stand and opened to the marked page. Since she'd started her maternity leave, she'd taken to reading the books in Andrew's massive collection. It was a helpful way to pass the time and also made her feel like she was being productive. Finally, she could actually understand what he was referencing half the time.

Back when they'd first met, she'd done a lot of reading. That summer, she'd spent a good chunk of her time reading various books by civil rights activists and leaders and a good chunk of time with Andrew discussing them. His intelligence had been the biggest draw of attraction to him for her. But after she graduated and began working, her reading material had been limited to whatever the content of her case briefs were. Her love of reading had disappeared due to lack of time and interest. Now, she felt enthused about reading. It was better than being bored out of her mind by terrible daytime television or puttering about in her office looking for something useful to do.

She was glad Andrew was getting out of the house to see his friends. She had noticed a distinct lack of time on his part spent in the studio in the last few weeks. It was strange to her. Writing in the studio was part of his daily routine at this point, as much as brushing his teeth or making tea with breakfast. He'd wake up, take Clem for a walk, have breakfast, then go into the studio for several hours. She occasionally be able to hear snippets of song slipping under the door. Lately though, it had just been silence. The door had stayed shut and the lights kept off.

Molly was worried that Andrew was becoming consumed with all things Baby. It was endearing and sweet, but at times she just wanted her husband back to chat about something other than strollers, nappy brands, and which car seat had the highest safety ratings. Their entire lives were about revolve around a baby soon enough; she wanted to savor the last few weeks where it didn't.

She felt a small twinge of pain and winced as the cramp moved through her abdomen. The Braxton Hicks contractions had become more frequent lately and the baby had become more active, kicking more often despite the cramped quarters. The pain went away and she focused on her book for a while. Clementine curled up on the bed at her feet and started to snore loudly. Another cramp came as Molly shifted against her pillow. She bit her bottom lip as it went through her body. It lasted a good sixty seconds.

Walk around. Fake contractions stop when you move, she told herself.

With a bit of effort, she threw back the blanket, rousing Clementine enough for the dog to open one beady eye. Molly swung her legs over the edge of the bed and scooted to her feet. Her joints rearranged themselves as she balanced herself for a moment, each vertebra in her back creaking into place. She took a few steps, her hand at her lower back. Her pelvis felt heavy with the baby's head settled down into it now.

She rocked her hips slowly, and ran her hand over her stomach. The cramp passed slowly and Molly leaned her hand on the foot of the bed. She inhaled slowly when she felt the pain dissipate.

Must be false. It stopped as soon as I stood up, she thought. May as well take a wee whilst I'm up.

Another cramp came as she waddled to the toilet, but she paid it no mind. It was false labor. She sat on the toilet and sighed as she peed, letting her head fall back on her shoulders. She briefly wondered what Andrew was up to and whether he was having any fun with his friends. Molly heard Clementine rearrange herself on the bed, the tags on her collar jingling as she shook her head. When she was finished, she washed her hands and went back to bed.

Several pages later, she felt the cramp again and she gritted her teeth through it. When it stopped, she relaxed into her book again. This passed off and on for the next half an hour. Molly had experienced these "mini-labors" before, and thought nothing else of it. They were usually mild enough to work through and ignore, like bad cramps on her period, and they'd stop on their own after ten or fifteen minutes. When the cramps intensified, she stood again.

Time them, she thought.

Molly fumbled for her mobile phone and opened the clock app. When the next cramp began, she started the timer and waited. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty. The pain increased as she waited. A full minute passed and the cramping subsided. She inhaled slowly and reset the timer.

Should I call Andrew? she asked herself. Maybe I should call him. This doesn't feel like false labor.

A panic began to fill her chest and she had to sit back down as the room began to spin. Her knuckles turned white as she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. If it was labor, it was too soon.

No. Make sure. Wait a bit longer, she thought. No reason to alarm anyone if you're not sure. Breathe and relax. Just like they taught in that stupid fucking class Andrew insisted you go to.

Molly knew that if she relaxed her body and controlled her breathing, it could help ease contractions and cramping. If she could control the cramping, maybe it would stop and everything would got back to normal. Maybe.

She slowed her breathing deliberately, placing her hand on her chest to feel her heart beat. As she focused, she felt the vice loosen around her chest and the panic began to dissipate slowly. It seemed to work. The space between cramps grew larger and larger over the next half hour.

Take a shower. Relax. If you stay relaxed, things will be fine, she said.

Slowly, Molly stripped her clothes off and walked into the shower. The water ran over her skin, warming it against the autumn chill. She turned to allow it to hit her back as she wound her hair up into a messy bun on top of her head. The baby kicked several times and she traced the outline of its tiny foot as it poked against her skin.

Then another cramp hit, rolling over her, a searing hot pain. She braced herself against the white tile wall, her nails scraping against the grout. These were definitely not false labor contractions. Something was wrong. The pain radiated down into her thighs as it settled against her pelvis. She had to get Andrew home and get to the hospital.

First you need to get dressed, she told herself.

Each step felt like a herculean effort as she moved through the bedroom, wincing as the contractions continued. As she tried to dress, she somehow managed to call Andrew. It rang through and he answered just as she was struggling with a pair of leggings.

"Yes, love? What's up?" he asked, in lieu of a greeting. As though he could sense something must be wrong.

Molly winced and responded through gritted teeth. "Its...I think I'm in labor."

She could hear the noise from the pub on the other end of the call.

"Right, fuck. I'll - ehm... I'll head home. Phone the doctor," he answered.

"Please don't take too long," she begged, her voice small.

"Mol, I won't," he assured her. "I'm leaving now, alright? Phone the doctor."

Andrew ended the call and turned back to his friends. "Right, lads. That's me off." His friends let out cries of disappointment. "I know. But Molly needs me. She thinks she's in labor or something."

Stevie perked up. "Wait - isn't she not due for another month or summat?" he asked.

Andrew nodded and pulled his coat from the back of his chair. "Yeah." He didn't make eye contact with any of them. He didn't want any of them to see the fear in his eyes. "Its probably something minor. But best to go get it checked out. I'll ping you guys. Cheers," he said, making his exit as hasty as possible.

The cold night air beat him across the face as he stepped out of the warm pub. He gasped as his lungs tried to adjust. His car was parked across the road and he jogged several steps to cross ahead of an oncoming car. He paused as he opened the driver's door.

You've only had two beers. You're grand, he told himself. The last thing he needed was to get pulled over by a Guard on the way home.

Any semblance of a buzz was gone was he maneuvered his SUV out of the parking space and back onto the road. Molly was possibly in labor at home, all alone. The fear of anything happening to her killed any possibility of him being tipsy. Still, he made sure to drive carefully to avoid attracting attention to himself.

The pub was half an hour away in Arklow. He got on the M11 and had to squint to see through the rain that began pouring down. Traffic slowed up ahead and his face was illuminated in red as the tail lights of the car in front of him lit up. He slowed and tried to see around it, but it was pointless. Impatiently, he tapped his long fingers on the steering wheel.

He decided that he should phone Dr. Sherbourne, just to be safe. Molly had a habit of spiraling when it came to anything wrong with the pregnancy. He could see her in his mind crouching on the floor of their bathroom, staring blankly at the wall, too overwhelmed to act. The phone rang twice before someone answered it.

"Dr. Sherbourne's answering service. This is Catherine. How can I help you?" a chipper female voice said.

"Yeah, ehm, hi," he said, registering that he should respond. "This is Andy Hozier-Byrne, Molly Stanley's husband. She just told me a couple minutes ago that she was having some labor pains. I'm out at the moment and I told her to phone you."

"Yes, I just put her through to Dr. Sherbourne," Catherine said.

He inched his car forward. "Great. What did she say to do?"

"The doctor would like you to get into hospital as soon as possible," Catherine said.

"Right. I'm sort of...stuck in traffic at the moment," he answered. "How - how long can Molly wait? Should I phone emergency services or something?"

"As soon as possible," Catherine repeated.

Andrew cursed internally. "Right. I - ehm -," he looked at the traffic that had built up around him. "I'll - I'll have to call you back. I think I'll have to phone emergency services."

He ended the call abruptly, panic beginning to set in as he realized he was stuck. Call Molly again, he thought as his mind raced. His fingers shook as he fumbled with the screen on his dashboard, swiping for her number.

Pick up, Mol, he urged silently.

His heart raced faster when the call went unanswered. He growled loudly and slammed his hands against the steering wheel. "Fucking answer, Molly!" he shouted, hitting redial.

She did on the second ring. "Andrew? Where are you?" she asked. He could hear the pain in her voice and knew she'd been crying. "I thought you were coming home!?"

"I am, love, I am," he said, forcing his voice to stay calm. "I'm stuck in traffic." He heard her let out a low groan and he winced at the sound. "Molly, I think you should phone emergency services. They can get you to hospital and I'll meet you there."

"No," she moaned. "I don't want to go there alone. What if something's wrong? What do I do?" she cried. "Fucking Christ!"

He gripped the steering wheel so tightly, he thought he might rip it off. He clenched his eyes shut and forced his fears down. "Love, you're at home, alone. Staying there isn't safe right now. You need to get to a hospital. You shouldn't be alone."

A car honked behind him and he opened his eyes to see traffic moving along once more. "Oh thank fucking Christ," he exclaimed, a wave of relief washing over him. "Love, traffic just opened up again. I'll be there soon, okay?"

"Y-yeah," she managed.

He could hear the tension in her voice as she spoke through gritted teeth. "Baby, I'm going to stay on the line with you, alright? Keep talking to me." She didn't respond for several seconds and he pressed the accelerator down to urge his car to go faster. "Molly?"

"Yeah, I'm here," she answered. "Fuck, Andrew it hurts so fucking much. This doesn't feel right."

"Please, phone the emergency services, Mol," he begged, merging into another lane to avoid a slow-moving Toyota.

"How much longer do you think you'll be?" she asked.

"Ten minutes, maybe?" he estimated. He merged into another lane again, ignoring the honking that followed him. "How far apart are the contractions?" he asked, trying to stay focused. Maybe it wasn't as bad as she was making it seem.

"I don't know!" she exclaimed. "They won't stop. Its like...oh fucking shit!" she groaned. "It's like-" she gasped. "Its like they won't stop. Like I can barely breathe."

He sighed. "Look, Mol, there's a good chance we won't be able to get to the hospital in time, if its this bad. I'm going to call Dr. Sherbourne back and see what she says to do, alright?"

"No! Please don't! Please!" Molly begged. He could hear the desperation in her voice and he swallowed his own tears. "Just...just stay on the line til you're here. Then we can call, okay?"

Against his better judgement, he agreed and remained on the call. Keeping her calm had to be better than anything else at this point, right? The wipers on the windscreen were going full throttle, but the rain continued to pound down. He struggled to see anything outside the two golden rings of light his headlights cast in front of him. Occasionally there was a light from a street lamp overhead, and he could see the rain lashing down.

"How - how were drinks? I did-didn't ruin anything, di-did I?" she stammered.

He had to laugh at the absurdity of things. "Mol, are you really asking me about ruining drinks with my friends because you're in labor?"

"I - yeah?" she answered. For a brief moment, the panic lifted and he laughed.

"No. You didn't ruin anything," he told her, a smile creeping across his lips. He saw his exit and merged over. "I'm just getting off the motorway. I'll be there in two minutes, okay? Two minutes."

She gave an affirmative noise and let out another moan of pain. "Andrew, I don't think I'm going to make it to the hospital," she gasped. "I feel so much pressure. Like I need to push."

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath. "Look, Mol, we really need to phone emergency services, okay? We can't have a baby in the kitchen. Its not safe!" he insisted. "I'm pulling into the drive now."

He ended the call and hastily parked his car next to hers. He slammed the door shut and ran inside, the rain plastering his glasses with droplets. As soon as he opened the door, Clementine greeted him, whining anxiously.

"Molly?!" he called, his voice echoing through the kitchen. "Mol? I'm back! Its me! Where are you?" He felt droplets of water sliding under the collar of his coat.

A muffled groan met his ears from behind the island. He rushed around it and found his wife on all fours on the tile floor, a pained look on her face. She was only partially dressed, her dressing gown pulled around her, but not tied shut. A pair of his thick woolen socks were on her feet and she was wearing a sports bra and a pair of underwear. Streaks of blood lined her inner thighs.

"Baby, c'mon, let's get you up," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"C-call the-the p-people," she stammered, her nails digging into the tile floor.

"Right," he said, mentally slapping himself. He dialed emergency services. "C'mon, stand up, love."

Molly shook her head vehemently. "I don't want to move. I don't - shit fucking cunt!"

"Emergency services, this is Emily speaking. What is the nature of your emergency?" a female voice came from Andrew's phone.

"Hi, yes," he said. "My - my wife is in labor at home and I don't think we can get to the hospital in time."

"Alright, let's start with your name and address," Emily asked.

Andrew provided them and answered the other questions as they came. Molly let out a particularly loud scream and a sense of urgency was renewed in his mind.

"I know you're busy and all that, but I'm wondering what exactly I should do here? Should we go to hospital or what?" he asked.

"I've just sent out a dispatch for an ambulance to your address. They should be there within five minutes," Emily replied calmly. "How is your wife doing?"

"Fuck, Andrew, this hurts," Molly keened on the floor.

"Remember the breathing," he told her. "In and out." He left his phone on the floor next to him, ignoring it.

"Fuck the fucking breathing!" Molly shouted, her voice echoing off the high ceiling. "I wanted drugs and a hospital and fucking time. Not this." She sobbed openly.

She had been on her hands and knees for the better part of fifteen minutes, hoping the position and not moving would ease the pain and buy her more time. But it hadn't. Wave after wave of pain had washed over her and it felt like there was no stopping it. And now, she felt like she needed to push but she knew she shouldn't.

"I should have called you sooner," she groaned, leaning heavily against the lower cabinets of the island. "I felt like this for an hour, but I didn't want to make a big deal out of things in case it was nothing. If I'd called you sooner, we'd be at the hospital."

Andrew sat next to her and stroked her back. "Shhhhh. Mol, its okay. An ambulance is on the way. Everything will be fine."

Her face was covered in sweat and strands of hair were sticking to her forehead. "You - you should call the doctor. This is-isn't normal. Its too early."

"Molly, I've called Dr. Sherbourne's office. They said to get to the hospital as soon as possible," he told her, stroking her back. "We've got an ambulance on the way. Its the safest thing, alright. So let's just focus on breathing."

She looked at him with fear in her eyes, like a caged animal. He took her hand and breathed slowly with her. She groaned again and gripped his hand tightly.

Molly felt the urge to push come over her again and she couldn't ignore it any longer. With a scream, she bore down and let her natural instincts take over.

"I can't," she shouted. "I can feel the head!"

"Fucking shit," he muttered, scrambling. "What - what should I do, Mol? What do you need?" he asked.

"J-just...just catch it," she managed through gritted teeth as she slid her underwear off.

The pressure intensified and it felt like she was banging against a brick wall, over and over again, trying to get through it. Andrew scrambled to rip the tea towel off the stove handle and catch the baby as it emerged. Molly let out a loud scream and gave a final push and the the baby was born.

Andrew caught it carefully in the red tea towel. The baby began squalling loudly, its plaintive cries filling the room. Molly began crying as shock took over her body.

"Molly, its...its a girl," he whispered, taking in the small thing with its slightly wrinkled face and tiny fists clenched. She was covered in blood and a white waxy substance, but she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "We've got a daughter."

Molly sobbed as she shifted onto her back. He put the baby on her chest and she looked at it with a mixture of shock and ecstasy. Her body began to shake and tears ran down her face. Andrew's phone buzzed and he reached up to grab it, realizing the call with the emergency operator was still going on. There was also a notification from the front gate.

"Hello?" Emily asked. "Hello? Are you still there?"

"Ehm - y-yes, I'm st-still here," he stammered. "I - she had the baby."

"Excellent," Emily said. "I've just been alerted that emergency services are at your front gate and need to be let in."

Andrew cleared his throat. "Yeah, I've just opened it for them."

"Is the baby breathing?" Emily asked.

"Yes," he answered, his eyes stinging with tears. "Yes, she is. Screaming, actually."

"And how about Mum? Is she alright?" she asked.

"Y-yes," he said, looking at Molly. He could see the flashing lights from the ambulance shining through the tall kitchen windows. "They-they're here."

A knock on the door got Clementine barking frantically and he stood to answer it. Two medics were stood at the door, medical bags in hand, hi-vis vests reflecting the light from the house back at him.

"Are you Andy?" the first man asked.

"Ehm, yeah," Andrew replied. "I phoned for an ambulance."

"Stuart," the man introduced himself. "The call said your wife was in labor?"

"Yes, she was - is? I'm not sure. She had the baby. She's just in there," he said, moving aside to allow them to pass. "Don't mind the dog. Her bark is worse than her bite," he called after them as they moved into the kitchen.

Andrew closed the door after them and felt his head begin to spin. The blood pulsed in his ears and he had to lean against the door and close his eyes to ground himself. After a couple slow breaths, he straightened and moved toward the voices in the kitchen. He stood for a moment, watching the paramedics tending to Molly as she held their daughter. He steadied himself against the edge of the benchtop as he walked.

"Is everything - is it all okay?" he asked, watching.

The other man looked up from between Molly's legs. "Yes. The placenta's just come. Everything looks grand."

"Molly, I'm just going to take the baby for a moment to check her, alright?" Stuart said, reaching for the baby.

Molly stiffened and tightened her arms around the small wailing bundle. "No." A look of fear came over her face.

Andrew could see that something had changed. Some switch had been flipped and she had gone from ecstasy to distrust and fear. He moved to kneel next to her head. "Mol, they just need to look at her and see that everything's OK. They're not going to take her anywhere," he said, trying to reassure her. She looked at him with eyes the size of saucers, distrust even toward him. "Love, please. You'll be able to see everything he's doing. For me, please," he begged against her ear.

Slowly, Molly relaxed her arms and Andrew took the baby from them. He passed her over to Stuart, who began doing a basic exam. Andrew noticed that a clamp had been placed over the umbilical cord and it had been cut short. The baby squalled and clamped her eyes shut, her face going an angry red. She was still covered in a white waxy substance.

"Right, everything looks grand," Stuart said, noting things down on a form before handing the baby back to Andrew. "Congratulations, Dad," he said cheerfully. He dug in his bag and produced a swaddling blanket. "Why don't you wrap Baby in that? Its probably a lot warmer."

Andrew nodded and clumsily wrapped the blanket around the baby, fumbling several times. "H-here, Mol," he stammered, handing the baby over.

Molly eagerly took the baby and held her against her chest. The baby seemed to calm slightly and nuzzled her face against Molly's skin. Molly was shaking and Stuart pulled a silver thermal blanket from his kit.

"Here, Mal," he said. "Put this over Mum."

The other paramedic, Mal, nodded and spread the blanket out over Molly's exposed body. "We've got to keep you nice and warm, alright?" he said.

"Right, Andy," Stuart said, drawing Andrew's attention. "We're going to take Molly and the baby to hospital. Now might be a good time to get a bag or anything she might need."

"Hospital? But I thought everything was okay?" Molly asked, looking up from the floor.

"Just to be sure, your doctor will want to do a full exam on you and Baby," Mal said in a calm voice. "Its standard procedure in emergent births, especially such rapid ones."

Andrew nodded, though his brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool. "Right. To see she's alright, that you both are."

Molly seemed to accept this and nodded in agreement. "Andrew - my bag is upstairs," she said, lifting an arm and pointing toward the spiral staircase.

"I know. I've got it," he said, standing quickly.

The blood rushed to his head and he felt woozy again. Maybe the alcohol from earlier that evening had caught up to him after all.

"You alright, mate?" Stuart asked, taking Andrew's wrist and feeling for his pulse.

"Ehm - yeah," Andrew replied, rubbing his forehead. "It was probably just the two pints I had with the lads earlier tonight," he explained. "They must be catching up to me."

Stuart chuckled and released his wrist. "Maybe. But you also just became a father. Its enough to do anyone in. Take a moment. We've only got room for one patient."

Andrew chuckled absently and splayed his fingers on the granite benchtop. His fingers lapped up the cold and he felt his pulse slow slightly. The room steadied and he took several breaths.

"Alright?" Stuart asked.

"Ehm, yeah. I'm just gonna go get the bag," Andrew answered, rushing up the stairs.

He was suddenly very aware of time passing. It seemed to pass at a rapid pace and he could swear the hands on his watch were spinning uncontrollably. He knew the paramedics were waiting for him to come back before they could leave. He knew every second he took meant any potential problems went unseen longer. He knew he had to move quickly.

Yet he stood statue-still, glued to the doorway of the bedroom he shared with Molly. The bed was mussed and Molly's book lay face-down on the floor on her side. The bathroom light was still on and the fan ran loudly. In the corner, the baby's crib was set up, the blanket his mother had dug out of mothballs last week draped over the side rail.

Your life will never be this way again, he thought. Everything is different now.

The magnitude of the moment stayed with him for three more seconds before Molly's voice echoed up to him.

"Are you coming or not?" she called.

He blinked and grabbed the packed bag from its home on an armchair before crossing the room for the blanket. "Yeah, coming!" he called back.

He trotted down the stairs and scratched Clementine on the head when she greeted him at the bottom.

"We'll go get the gurney," Stuart said. "Stay with her, please."

Andrew nodded and crouched next to Molly's head, gazing down at her. The baby was asleep, her face still scrunched up. "Hi," he whispered.

Molly looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "Hi," she answered. "I had a baby," she said, a slight delirium beginning to set in.

He laughed. "You did. You had a baby. And you did a wonderful job. She is beautiful," he said, stroking her cheek.

Molly's teeth chattered slightly and Andrew tucked the blanket around her tighter. "Is she?" she asked.

"Absolutely. Just like you," he said with a grin.

"We - we're going to t-th-the hospital, right?" she asked.

Before he could answer, Stuart and Mal were back. "Alright, ready to go?" Stuart asked.

Andrew stepped back and allowed the two men to get Molly situated on the gurney. Mal handed him the baby and she started whining. Instinctively, he wrapped the blanket tighter around her and watched as the paramedics wheeled Molly out toward the ambulance. Clementine made to follow them, her nose in the air seeking out the new scent of the baby, but he stopped her and forced her to stay.

Within several minutes, Molly was loaded up and Andrew was strapped into a seat, holding the baby in his arms. Mal was driving and Stuart was moving around, making sure Molly was doing alright. Andrew took the chance to look at his daughter. Feathery black hair stuck to her small head and her skin was pink. He barely registered her weight in his arms; she weighed a little more than his favorite acoustic guitar and he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

The ride to the hospital was a fast one as they zoomed along the motorway with the sirens blaring. The baby didn't seem to mind the noise and eventually seemed to fall completely asleep. Molly spent the ride staring at the ceiling of the ambulance from her strapped-in position, grateful for the limited visibility as her brain tried to catch up to everything that had happened.

She'd had a baby. At home. On the kitchen floor. Mostly on her own. And her husband had caught it in a tea towel. The events ran on a loop in her mind as the ambulance raced along the road. She heard voices in the background, but the speech was garbled and dull. She felt like everything was speeding past, but she was clawing her way through Jell-O. Everything felt wobbly and out of balance and just a second too slow to be normal.

Her body felt foreign to her and the pain of labor and delivery was fresh in her mind. Each bump and turn made her nerve endings scream. One of the paramedics had given her something for the pain, but it wasn't working. Adrenaline was rushing through her body and she felt like she needed to get up and move around, like she'd ingested jet fuel and could run a thousand marathons and argue the hardest cases and climb ten mountains all before breakfast. Slowly the pain was obscured by it.

The ambulance came to a stop and the paramedic in the back jumped into action. Everything passed in a blur or sound and light, but Molly was aware of leaving the ambulance and then being wheeled into a building. Her nose started running with the sudden temperature change. The bright lights hurt her eyes and made her nauseous as they zoomed past overhead. The paramedics had strapped her arms and legs down during the drive and she'd enjoyed the cocoon-like calming effect it had on her. It helped her focus and calmed the adrenaline rush.

Eventually, the gurney stopped and she was wheeled into a private room. The paramedics unfastened the straps and she sat up, moving her arms and shoulders to loosen the tension from them. Andrew was by her side holding the baby carefully. She looked so small in his arms. Several nurses came in and greeted them.

Molly changed into a clean hospital gown and was examined by Dr. Sherbourne and fitted with an IV whilst the baby was examined by the on-call pediatric specialist. Andrew flitted between the two, wringing his hands anxiously.

He watched as the nurses weighed the baby and cleaned her up before wrapping her in a clean blanket and placing a hat over top of her feathery black hair. They handed her back to him and he crossed the room to stand with Molly, who held her arms out eagerly for her.

"Everything looks great, Molly," Dr. Sherbourne said, pulling off her rubber gloves and tossing them in the bin. "No tearing or damage that I can see. You're very lucky. You should expect some pain and soreness for several weeks, though. I can prescribe you something for that if you like."

"So what happened?" Molly asked, running her hand over the baby's head gently. "Why did I have her so fast?"

"Some women experience what's called precipitous labor. This means that Baby is born within three hours of the onset of true labor contractions," the doctor explained. "I believe that's what occurred with you. If the baby had been full term, you may have experienced some complications if you'd delivered at home. You're very lucky she came when she did, even if it gave us all quite a scare."

"If she was full term, I would have been home and she would have been born at a hospital," Andrew groused. "If I had just been home, none of this would have happened."

"Andy," Dr. Sherbourne said, looking over at him. "You did everything right. This isn't your fault. You had no way of knowing anything like this would happen, alright? Don't beat yourself up. You have a beautiful daughter, your wife is healthy, and you've a great story to tell the lads. All is well." She clapped him on the shoulder supportively and moved toward the door. "We're going to have you admitted, Molly. Several of your levels are low and we'd also like to keep an eye on Baby just for the next couple of days. Someone will be in shortly to have you moved to a room upstairs. Congratulations again. I'll check in again soon."

Two hours later, Molly had been transferred to a private room up in the recovery ward. A nurse had greeted her upon arrival and done a quick check of her vitals as well as the baby's. She supervised Molly's first attempt at breastfeeding and then they were left alone in the silence. 

Molly couldn't take her eyes off the baby. She was small and delicate and perfect. She held her in her lap, just staring at her tiny, scrunched-up features. "She needs a name," she said softly, stroking the baby's tiny nose.

Andrew sat on the bed next to her, putting his arm across the pillow behind her. "We hadn't really zeroed-in on one, had we?" he asked, kissing her shoulder softly. 

The baby yawned and opened her eyes. She squinted back at them. Molly tilted her head and considered the choices they'd agreed on. 

"What about Rowen? With an e?" she suggested. "Rowen Hollis?"

Andrew lifted his chin from her shoulder and looked over at her. "Rowen Hollis? Why Hollis?" 

Molly shrugged. "It means holly tree. I like it. Its like a whole tree theme. I saw it in a tree book I found in your office."

He chuckled. "Rowen Hollis Stanley," he said softly, testing the name on his tongue. "Sounds very masculine."

"So?" Molly countered. "Why does her name have to be feminine?" she asked, her voice getting an edge. 

"It doesn't," he answered softly. After another kiss on her shoulder, he smiled. "I like it if you like it."

"Rowen," Molly said softly. The baby blinked and opened her eyes wider. Molly smiled down at her and pulled the hat down on her head a bit snugger. "I think its perfect."

A realization hit Andrew as he stared at the baby. "We need to tell people," he said. He could see the sun rising through the window. "And get back home to deal with Clementine."

She groaned. She'd forgotten about everything else. For the moment, she'd been locked in a bubble of bliss, admiring her new baby. Andrew's words popped it rapidly. 

"I think we should tell your parents first and have them come here," she answered. "It'll probably be easier for them to get here and visit than to come all the way to the house. I don't even know what state its in."

"Why don't you let me worry about all of that, hmm?" he suggested. "You must be exhausted. Get some sleep. I can take her."

Molly was too tired to argue. The adrenaline had worn off when the activity had ceased and the pain medication was keeping her from feeling anything. Fatigue was catching up to her rapidly and no matter how much she refused to take her eyes off Rowen, her body wasn't cooperating.

Andrew took the baby from Molly and sat down in the empty arm chair in the opposite corner. Within moments, Molly was asleep and he turned his attention to Rowen. She looked back at him with large eyes. He never wanted to look away. He shoved his glasses back up his nose and took his phone from his pocket. After snapping close to fifty photos, one right after another, he set his phone on the table next to him.

 He focused on Rowen again, smiling as her eyes closed and she fell asleep again. Ten minutes passed in silence with the baby asleep in his arms. He kept running his finger across her tiny nose - his nose - in disbelief that she was really there. Nothing else in his life mattered - and he didn't care. 

An hour later,  sunlight pricked the edges of the horizon, signaling a new day was upon them. His first day as a father. The first day of the rest of his life.