Random One Shots

Random one shots with actors, musicians/bands and characters.


257. Ed Sheeran 3 Part 3

~No amount of books you read, or articles you scan, or even stories you hear from people who have had babies of their own can prepare you for the moment you see your own baby for the very first time. From the second the doctor told me it was time to start pushing, I couldn’t have prepared myself for the amount of love my heart could possibly contain.
Ed listened carefully to the nurse as she spoke, explaining what his role was and what would happen once I was ready to push. He seemed horrified and no matter how hard he tried to hide it, I could see it in face that the nausea and nervousness he felt stole the color from his cheeks.
He clutched my hand, kissing my face before my feet were brought up and resting on cold metal stirrups. I was scared shitless.
“Okay, I need you to take a nice big deep breath and push with all you’ve got,” the doctor said, each of his hands resting gently on each of my knees just before he sat down on the stool, conveniently placed between my legs.
Ed brought his eyes to mine, smiling as he brought my hand up and kissed my knuckles.
He counted along with the nurse who was on my left side, both of them mimicking the breaths I was meant to be taking. If I hadn’t been having another human splitting me open, I would’ve thought how cute it was to watch Ed breathe as if he were in labor, inhaling until his cheeks puffed and exhaling over and over. But, for once, I didn’t think it was cute, I wanted to smack the look right off his face.
Between heavy breaths and hard pushes, I threw my head back against the bed for a quick break, looking over at Ed just before the doctor demanded I keep at it.
I swore I was going to die or fall asleep before the baby came, and after three hard, exhausting pushes, I lost all control. Tears fell heavily down my face as I cried, begging for some sort of pain relief, cursing Ed for not making me get an epidural.
“I can’t do it,” I cried, still clutching Ed’s hand.
Both the nurse and the doctor tried to reassure me and Ed stood silent, letting them interfere.
“Dad,” I heard the nurse speak up, catching Ed’s attention with his new title, “I want you to hold under her leg just like this,” I felt my left leg being lifted and squished up until my knee was nearly at my chest, “and mom, I need you to focus. You’re doing great and you’re almost there, just a few more pushes.”
Ed did exactly as he was told, his free right hand cold under my knee as he pulled it up. I felt him exhale as he leaned in to kiss the side of my face, whispering enough so only I could hear, “you can do this.”
It was as if someone turned off the faucet behind my eyes. I didn’t stop crying because Ed was encouraging me, I stopped because I knew there was only way to get through the pain; push. I sniffled back the tears and inhaled as deeply as I could, holding Ed’s palm for dear life.
Almost an hour had passed before the three most amazing words met my ears.
“It’s a boy!” the doctor exclaimed, and everything just stopped.
I heard a faint laugh and a sigh of relief from Ed as he grabbed my face and kissed me, but I was so overcome with joy that I wasn’t sure what had just happened.
My eyes darted from Ed to the doctor, hearing him suctioning the baby’s mouth and nose. Shortly after, the doctor stood and held up the most beautiful, red, wrinkly, screaming baby I had ever laid eyes on. His little fists were clenched as he screamed, the tiniest dimple in his chin showing dominant and quivering as the doctor presented him to us, one gloved hand cradling his head and neck and the other under his bottom.
The nurse pulled down my hospital gown, and suddenly he was right there, pressed against my bare chest, wiggling and screaming and messy against me. I cried even harder at the sight of him, my numb hands reaching up to cradle the newborn as the doctor clamped his umbilical cord, reaching over to hand Ed the pair of scissors. It was a surreal moment seeing Ed reach across with a shaking hand, carefully snipping the cord.
The nurse quickly and rigorously rubbed the baby down and popped a small hat over his head, covering the light wisps of auburn fuzz.
Without looking up to him, I reached for Ed’s arm, pulling him until our lips met. I tasted the saltwater against my mouth before I could see his tears. In our years of being together, I’d seen Ed cry a handful of times, one being at our wedding, but now, after seeing the birth of his first baby, the tears fell fast and heavy down his cheeks. He couldn’t control his chin from shaking as he leaned in and kissed my face over and over, then bending slightly to plant a soft kiss against our son’s wrinkled forehead.
“He’s beautiful,” I cried, gently caressing his perfect little nose, pulling down the blanket just a bit to show Ed that he inherited his dimple.
“Hi sweetheart,” I practically cooed when his tiny fists went up beside his head, wriggling free from the tight swaddled blanket. Ed wiped his eyes again, sniffling just before he ran his hand along the baby’s covered head, cupping it in his palm.
The baby opened his bright blue eyes, his left winking open a tad bit faster than his other, and Ed gently laughed, revealing the widest smile I’ve ever seen spread over his face.
“Isn’t he beautiful?” I asked Ed, reaching my left hand and gently rubbing his arm.
“He really is,” Ed smiled, lifting my chin to softly kiss my mouth, “you did so good, baby.”
Although I was sure I couldn’t cry anymore, tears still leaked from my eyes.
We’d gotten a good twenty minutes with the baby before the nurse whisked him away to be weighed and for his standard testing and checkup. Ed and I both watched closely as she lifted him and brought him to the other side of the room, unraveling him from his soft warm blanket. Ed stood on his tip toes to peek over her shoulder, making sure the baby was okay. I grabbed Ed’s hand when we both heard a high-pitched shrill cry come from his tiny body.
“Six pounds, nine ounces,” the nurse said, “and nineteen inches.”
Ed turned toward me with a smile, “Our little peanut.”
It felt like an eternity before we got to see him again, but it was worth it since we found out he was completely healthy. While they had him, Ed’s parents and my mine came in to give their congratulations. My heart nearly melted when his mother walked in with tears running down her face. She was so proud of her son, and now I could see that her heart was completely filled and bursting with joy.
Ed’s dad greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and a warm smile before grabbing his son and ruffling his hair.
“Congratulations, son,” he said, his voice cracking.
Ed couldn’t seem to hold it together, especially when his father embraced him and patted the side of his face gently. He was equally as proud.
“We have a grandson!” Imogen exclaimed, holding both my arms before pulling me in for hug.
They wanted to stay and see the baby, but since he was still in the nursery, Ed took them by to catch a first glimpse until they brought him back. I wished I could’ve seen the look on their faces when they saw their grandson for the very first time. I imagined Imogen covering her mouth and exclaiming how much he resembled Ed.
Ed came back shortly after, explaining that his parents would wait in the waiting room until we called them back in. I was eternally grateful that they were being respectful. My own parents assured me they would be back, deciding they would go and get coffee and bagels for everyone, since it was well past breakfast time.
I’d been examined while Ed was gone, and now after all the excitement, the exhaustion was finally setting in.
“Can you ask the nurse when we get to see him again?” I asked Ed through a yawn, my eyes slits.
He sighed with a smile, pushing the hair from my face.
“Just rest now, darling, we’ll have plenty of time with him.”
Ed was right, but I wanted our baby with us. I didn’t understand why we hadn’t seen him again. It’d been nearly an hour.
“Is he okay? How did he look in the nursery? Was he crying?”
I scooted over a bit to invite Ed to sit with me, and he did, curling up gently against my right side, being careful not to move the bed around too much.
“He was sleeping,” he said, his left hand caressing the side of my face, “he’s perfect.”
We laid close enough for our noses to touch, and I reached my arm around his head to pull him closer, kissing him twice on the mouth.
“Thank you for being so good to me,”
He smiled, his eyes looking just as tired as mine felt, “I can’t believe we have a baby.”
I nodded, running my hand through his soft hair and resting it against his left ear, stroking his lobe with my thumb, “me either. I wish they would bring him back, my boobs are about to explode.”
Ed glanced down between us, trying his hardest not to laugh, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and mouth pouted to hide the chuckle.
“You’re making it really hard for me to not crack a joke right now,” he smiled, his voice cracking with sleep.
We both ended up passing out before either of us could crack any jokes. I was the first to wake up after hearing a faint knock on the door. I carefully shook Ed awake, and he groaned in his sleep, stretching out his arms as he came to, seeming to just remember that we were still in the hospital. He shot up, blinking over and over to rid the sleep from his eyes.
“How we doing?” the nurse asked, and Ed quickly rolled off the bed, his fists rubbing at his eyes before he checked his watch.
Though it felt as if we’d been asleep for hours, it’d only been about thirty minutes.
“I’m fine,” I said, slowly sitting up, wincing at the sharp pain that came when I did it too fast, “how’s the baby? Can we see him soon?”
The nurse smiled, nodding as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm, “they’re going to bring him in from the nursery as soon as I’m done here. Little guy is ready to eat.”
Ed’s eyes lit up, both of us ecstatic to finally have the baby back in the room with us. I was poked and prodded for about the fourth time, Ed carefully helping me sit up all the way once another nurse wheeled our baby in from the nursery.
“Baby Sheeran is good and hungry,” she said, smiling as she rolled him over to us.
I was nervous about breastfeeding since I’d read stories of the baby not latching, or it being painful, but I knew it was what I wanted, and that I would stick to it.
The nurse walked me through it, and I was especially grateful to Ed for being so patient and helpful during the whole process. Even though he was holding back, I could see by the look in his eyes how hard he was trying not to crack a joke or laugh when the nurse was practically feeling me up. Typical Ed.
After three or four tries on each side, the baby finally latched on. Ed’s face lit up when the nurse congratulated me, and she left us to it, reassuring me to page her if we needed anything. Once the baby was done nursing I carefully burped him, Ed letting out a laugh when he burped loud with his eyes wide open and his tongue lazily sticking out the side of his mouth. Like father, like son.
Ed couldn’t wait to hold him. He held out his hands, a smile plastered over his face in anticipation to welcome the baby in his arms for the first time. He didn’t seem nervous, and although I didn’t need to, I reassured him as he slowly took the baby, one hand under his head and neck and the other under his bottom. I realized then that Ed was a natural. He carefully lifted the baby until he was cradled warmly against his left arm. I leaned my head back against the bed, smiling as I watched him press his lips against his forehead.
“Hi buddy,” he said, cradling the small bundle in his arms, his tattoos showing vibrant against the baby’s white blanket.
I wanted to cry at the scene I’d waited nine months to see. Ed softly patted the baby’s bottom when he began to whine, his tiny fists and feet wriggling beneath the blanket.
“It’s alright little guy, daddy’s got you,” Ed cooed, rocking him gently.
I smiled at his little fists flailing around, unsure of where to go, and his tiny face wrinkle until he was wailing, his chin trembling and feet kicking against Ed’s arm. Ed suddenly seemed nervous.
“Try holding him over your shoulder, he might need to burp again,” I told him, handing over an extra blanket the nurse left with us. Ed flung it over his right shoulder, slowly bringing the writhing baby up, being careful to support his head.
“This is hard,” he said, “his head is so wobbly.”
“You’re doing great, babe,” I reassured him and he leaned back a bit to let the baby rest comfortably against his shoulder.
“Like this?” he asked me, starting to rock lightly back and forth.
I nodded, watching him carefully pat the baby’s back, seeing the heat in Ed’s face diminish when the baby stopped crying. Sure enough, he burped again, this time spitting up against Ed’s shirt. I laughed when it trickled down his back.
“That’s my boy,” he said, smiling wildly as he rubbed the baby’s back.
With another kiss to his soft head, Ed brought him back down to his left arm, wiping the spit-up from his mouth and chin.
“Here,” I said, “let me take him so you can go clean yourself up.”
I could tell Ed didn’t want to let him go, but he gave him back, kissing my mouth as he did. Before he wandered off toward the bathroom in the room, he pressed his lips to the baby’s face again, making his eyes squint when he did.
“So disgusting,” he cringed, turning his back toward the mirror to see a neat trail of white spit-up caked on his shirt, “that came out of your boobs.”
I rolled my eyes, “daddy likes to make jokes,” I told the baby, my voice switching to an octave higher, “wait til he gets to change your diaper.”
Ed leaned out from the door, his shirt off and hair fluffed and disheveled, “has he pooped yet?”
I laughed at his immaturity. Ed gloated throughout the pregnancy that he could change diapers in record time, but I knew that he hadn’t been around a newborn, and I knew that he had no idea what he was in for in terms of poop.
“Not that I know of, babe, so you’d better prepare yourself.”

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