In a few seconds, I'm going to be a bonafide father. That is, if my wife can finally squeeze out the little devil out of her vagina.
"Martin! Marty! Why the hell are you there?!" My wife should be the most beautiful person in this moment yet there she is, sweating and screaming like a pig. Her legs are opened wide, enough for the doctor and his nurse to huddle in, waiting for the baby. All the while, I stand at one corner, watching the baby's crown appear, sink then reappear again.
It looks like a horror movie.
To be honest, I don't want to come anywhere near even as I want to console my wife. I am freaked out. I am high and freaked out. I am having a bad trip on the day my child is born.
"Honey," I call out, "hon, you're doing great."
"Get the fuck in here, Martin. I swear to God..!"
"Baby, I can't. I can't."
The nurse looks at me oddly so I sheepishly smile, "Blood makes me nauseous."
Well, it doesn't. But I bet my paled face and sweaty brows make it seem convincing enough t