Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 110549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
I slowly placed her back down and moved back, allowing Lincoln to hold his little girl. He smiled down at her as he held her. “God, she’s so precious,” he whispered, emotion thick in his voice.
I wheeled West closer and slid my hands over her shoulders as she gazed at her baby girl. A sob ripped from her lips. “She’s so small,” she cried.
I crouched down next to her. “She’s so strong, though,” I reassured her. “So strong, just like her beautiful mother.”
“I wish I could hold her in my arms,” West choked out. Her hands fluttered to her belly, her bottom lip trembling.
“Soon,” I promised her. I cupped her cheek, turning those beautiful, tearful green eyes to mine. “You’ll be holding her to your heart very, very soon, baby girl,” I assured her. “She’s got her mother’s fighting spirit. Nothing will take her out of this world.”
She threw her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. I slid my hands around her body, rubbing my hands up and down her back, wishing I could take every bit of her pain and make it my own.
I watched with gritted teeth as the nurse helped West into a standing position. Pain was written on every part of West’s face, but she was gritting her teeth, pushing through it. After being cut open, I knew my woman was in a fuck ton of pain, and while I knew she had to get up and begin walking, it didn’t mean I liked her being forced to do it any less.
West sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, her breathing shallow. Lincoln ground his teeth together. “I don’t fucking like this,” he quietly growled.
I grunted in agreement before I walked up behind West. I placed my hands on her hips, pressing the front of my body to her back. “Breathe,” I whispered in her ear. “Imagine the pain inside of your fist,” I instructed. “It’s contained. You can control how much of it you feel.”
She drew in a deep breath, nodding her head. I pressed my lips to her temple before I stepped back from her, going back to lean against the wall again with Lincoln. West clenched her fists, nodding at the nurse. She took a step forward, her teeth gritted, but she breathed through the pain.
Lincoln and I both grinned proudly at her. Fuck, she was so much stronger than she gave herself credit for.
Once she was sitting back down on the bed and resting again, Lincoln and I quickly moved forward. He grabbed her a bottle of water, and I sat next to her on the bed, letting her lean her head on my shoulder. “Fuck, that was painful,” she wheezed as she took the bottle of water from Lincoln with a tight, thankful smile.
He sat down so he was facing her, his hand sliding over her thigh. “You did good, baby,” he praised.
She smiled at him, the smile a little less forced this time now that the pain was easing. He grabbed her free hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She snuggled closer to me, a soft groan of pain leaving her lips as she did so. “I want to take a nap,” she whispered.
I pressed my lips to her forehead. “Sleep, baby girl,” I told her. “We’ll be right here when you wake up.”
West walked downstairs with a tired yawn, Hope cradled in her arms. Hope had gotten to come home a couple of days ago after being in the hospital for seven weeks.
Seven long, torturous weeks. West had been a mess most of the time. She hated being away from Hope, and it fucking tore at both me and Lincoln to find her crying more often than she was happy.
West sat down in the recliner with Hope cradled in her arms, a frown settled on her lips as Hope whimpered. West sighed tiredly. I quickly moved forward, reaching out for our little girl. West quickly handed her over to me.
This was another thing that was now bothering West, though I didn’t see a problem with it. Dr. Gresham had warned both me and Lincoln that West’s childhood trauma could bring about postpartum depression.
I knew West adored our little girl with every fiber of her being, but symptoms of postpartum depression were already beginning to pop up, even with Hope barely being home. She struggled taking care of Hope when she got too fussy. She began to lose her speech again and her brain started shutting down. And West was more out of it than she was ever focused these days.
Lincoln came in from outside, his eyes settling on West. I quickly moved to the kitchen with Hope in my arms to go make her a bottle. West had tried breastfeeding, and it had gone well until she’d actually had to actually feed Hope instead of pumping.