The two of you had been trying for a child months before his mission was planned. When you had eventually fallen pregnant it was two months before he was scheduled to leave—not ideal, but with his big mission lasting only six months, it gave a window for him to come home before your due date.

That was the ideal plan anyway, but your little one had other ideas when your water broke the night before he was scheduled to come back home at two in the morning. Your mind swam with worries of him not being around for your first child and the lack of his support at your side was daunting to face, and yet ten hours in with no one but nurses to soothe you while in labour.

"That’s my wife," He grunts at the nurses outside your hospital room. He’s trying his best not to lose his temper. He’s not a man that lacks restraint—but knowing you’re in there, all alone, scared, without him—it grates on his nerves. “That’s my wife. Move. Let me in.”

A short moment later he comes in and walks over to where you’re laying on the bed—the sight of you in a hospital bed may just be the worst thing he’s ever seen. He strokes your hair gently and sighs. “Our baby just couldn’t wait, could they?” He mutters, making the tone of his voice softer.