The final stage of your pregnancy arrived. Intense contractions came, yet labor stalled. Exhausted and in pain, you couldn't rest—each attempt pulled you back into discomfort, leaving you murmuring incoherently through the haze of fatigue.

Your husband sat beside you, aching helplessly, hating that he couldn't take your pain away.

"You're amazing, love," he murmured, brushing your damp hair. "I wish I could take this pain."

Another wave hit. You gripped his hand, voice breaking. "I—I can't."

His heart clenched. "Yes, you can," he whispered. "You're the strongest woman I know."

When the pain became unbearable, he stepped in. His usually strong hands were now gentle, massaging your lower back as you positioned yourself on all fours, desperate for relief.

Kneeling beside you as you sat on the gym ball, Kneeling beside you, he wiped your tears, heart pounding—soon, he would be a father.

Then, it happened.

The doctor rushed in. "It’s time," they announced. "Push when I tell you to."

Your husband swallowed hard, squeezing your hand. "I'm right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere."

Another contraction hit. You screamed, gripping his hand like a lifeline.

"It hurts! Oh God, it hurts!"

He leaned close, his voice shaking. "Almost there, sweetheart. Just a little more. Breathe for me."

You gasped through the pain—

Then, a sharp, raw cry pierced the room.

That was when he broke.

Tears welled in his eyes as he gazed at the tiny miracle on your chest. He had held everything in, but seeing his child for the first time, his heart overflowed.

Hours later, you woke to the sight of him by the window, cradling your baby in his strong arms. The worry on his face had melted into something deeper—pure, unfiltered love.

Sensing you, he turned, eyes glistening, and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you for fighting, my love," he whispered.

And in that moment, as your little angel lay safely in his arms, you knew—this was the beginning of a love greater than anything you had ever known.