There's a good ten seconds when Joel worries his legs might give out.
It isn't the blood, it isn't watching Erin give birth, it isn't that he's scared or bothered or upset by any of it. It isn't any of those frustrating stereotypes he's read more than his fair share of over the past eight months. Watching this, being present for the birth of their baby is the greatest gift Joel has ever been given and he clutches Spencer's hand desperately, sure that if he lets go he's just going to float away or end up on the floor or something in between that's equally as useless and he can't afford to be useless right now. He can't be useless because their baby is here. Their son and he needs to be able to be here for Spencer. For the both of them.
For Dane.
The sound he makes is caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and he thinks he might be embarrassed, but no one is paying attention to him. He's not even really paying attention to himself. Erin has relaxed wearily in the bed, her eyes closed, her chest heaving, and Jason is murmuring to her, telling her what a good job she's done and Joel wants to agree, but he feels speechless and breathless both. The nurses are moving efficiently around the room, one of them tending to Erin, two of them moving around to bring in a scale to weigh Dane with, blankets to clean and dry him, then wrap him later. There's a little hat, too, and Joel knows it's just to keep him warm, he knows it serves a purpose, but his nose wrinkles at how tiny and adorable it is, because if he doesn't do that, he's afraid he's just going to burst into tears.
He can feel them threatening already and he knows they're going to spill over as soon as he gets to touch the baby. He's making soft noises, nothing like the crying Joel has come to expect, and then he realizes the doctor is using what looks like a tiny suction to pull fluid out of Dane's mouth and his nose. For a second Joel nearly panics before he remembers it's normal, it's to be expected, he's read it in a hundred books and a thousand different articles and then suddenly the baby is crying, hoarse little sobs that aren't very loud at all. Joel's chest tightens and he realizes in that second that he's going to feel this way every time Dane cries for the rest of his life. He's going to worry there's something he could have done to prevent it, there's something more he should have done to make his child happy and he knows these cries have nothing to do with sadness, but his chest does that same tightening anyway.
"I'm going to need one of you to hold him while the other does the cut," the doctor says once Dane is wrapped in a blanket. They still need to clean and weigh him, but he's healthy enough, Joel imagines, if they're asking one of them to cut the umbilical cord. His hands are shaking so badly, he doesn't know if he should be trusted to do either, but he finds he's reaching for the baby and the doctor is placing him gently into Joel's arms without waiting to see if he's ready. He has to be ready. It's happening now whether he's ready or not, and he lets out another soft laugh as the soft weight is placed in his arms. The sound verges on hysterical and he glances at Spencer, but he only manages to look at his husband for a split second before the tears come.
Dane's hair is still wet, but it's dark, plastered against his skin, and Joel feels dizzy with the knowledge that he helped make this tiny person in his arms now.
"Come," the doctor says, gently urging Spencer closer. "It's easy, it won't hurt him or Erin, just cut right here..." And he has to wonder if all the doctors here are this kind, if there's just something about a birth that brings out the best in people. She's treating them so well, she looks quite pleased herself, and since they haven't rushed Dane off into another room, they haven't started looking around with worried expressions, he forces himself to relax and stop worrying. Dane's early, but he's perfect all the same, and Joel is fairly certain he's not going to be able to stop crying.
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It isn't the blood, it isn't watching Erin give birth, it isn't that he's scared or bothered or upset by any of it. It isn't any of those frustrating stereotypes he's read more than his fair share of over the past eight months. Watching this, being present for the birth of their baby is the greatest gift Joel has ever been given and he clutches Spencer's hand desperately, sure that if he lets go he's just going to float away or end up on the floor or something in between that's equally as useless and he can't afford to be useless right now. He can't be useless because their baby is here. Their son and he needs to be able to be here for Spencer. For the both of them.
For Dane.
The sound he makes is caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and he thinks he might be embarrassed, but no one is paying attention to him. He's not even really paying attention to himself. Erin has relaxed wearily in the bed, her eyes closed, her chest heaving, and Jason is murmuring to her, telling her what a good job she's done and Joel wants to agree, but he feels speechless and breathless both. The nurses are moving efficiently around the room, one of them tending to Erin, two of them moving around to bring in a scale to weigh Dane with, blankets to clean and dry him, then wrap him later. There's a little hat, too, and Joel knows it's just to keep him warm, he knows it serves a purpose, but his nose wrinkles at how tiny and adorable it is, because if he doesn't do that, he's afraid he's just going to burst into tears.
He can feel them threatening already and he knows they're going to spill over as soon as he gets to touch the baby. He's making soft noises, nothing like the crying Joel has come to expect, and then he realizes the doctor is using what looks like a tiny suction to pull fluid out of Dane's mouth and his nose. For a second Joel nearly panics before he remembers it's normal, it's to be expected, he's read it in a hundred books and a thousand different articles and then suddenly the baby is crying, hoarse little sobs that aren't very loud at all. Joel's chest tightens and he realizes in that second that he's going to feel this way every time Dane cries for the rest of his life. He's going to worry there's something he could have done to prevent it, there's something more he should have done to make his child happy and he knows these cries have nothing to do with sadness, but his chest does that same tightening anyway.
"I'm going to need one of you to hold him while the other does the cut," the doctor says once Dane is wrapped in a blanket. They still need to clean and weigh him, but he's healthy enough, Joel imagines, if they're asking one of them to cut the umbilical cord. His hands are shaking so badly, he doesn't know if he should be trusted to do either, but he finds he's reaching for the baby and the doctor is placing him gently into Joel's arms without waiting to see if he's ready. He has to be ready. It's happening now whether he's ready or not, and he lets out another soft laugh as the soft weight is placed in his arms. The sound verges on hysterical and he glances at Spencer, but he only manages to look at his husband for a split second before the tears come.
Dane's hair is still wet, but it's dark, plastered against his skin, and Joel feels dizzy with the knowledge that he helped make this tiny person in his arms now.
"Come," the doctor says, gently urging Spencer closer. "It's easy, it won't hurt him or Erin, just cut right here..." And he has to wonder if all the doctors here are this kind, if there's just something about a birth that brings out the best in people. She's treating them so well, she looks quite pleased herself, and since they haven't rushed Dane off into another room, they haven't started looking around with worried expressions, he forces himself to relax and stop worrying. Dane's early, but he's perfect all the same, and Joel is fairly certain he's not going to be able to stop crying.