And this one is the one that deals with birthing babies, the first part and ending is ok, I'll separate it with some hearts or something so if you don't wanna read the labor portion it's easier for ya!💜

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"She told you what?" Harrison, one of Spot's coworkers and a new friend, couldn't hardly believe his ears as he sat eating lunch with the other man.

"You heard me." Patrick was grinning from ear to ear, he felt like the happiest man alive!

Harrison whistled. "Damn, you two work fast."

Patrick rolled his eyes faking annoyance. "But seriously, it's a dream come true." He shook his head, still hardly believing it himself.

"I know, me and the missus wanted a baby so bad and wore ourselves out every night for almost 5 years before we got our little Georgie."

"We're real lucky, that's for sure." Patrick acknowledged with a sigh. "Now you can't seem to stop." He smirked knowingly.

"Shut yer gob!" It was Harrison's turn to roll his eyes. "We only have 4."

"At that rate, you'll have 10 before you can blink."

"Lord Almighty, have mercy on me, a poor sinner!" Harrison groaned with exasperation. "I can barely get food on the table as it is now."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Spot took another bite of his food, they needed to hurry up before the foreman got on them again for taking too long and docked his pay. That was the last thing he needed.

"The good Lord always makes a way Pat, I assure you of that."

"I've seen it." The younger of the two sighed thinking back at all the times things just miraculously worked out.

"Just trust and do your best."

"All a man can do." Patrick sighed finishing up and wiping his hands on his pants.

"I figure you need a good wish Pat, So, may your troubles be less, your blessings be more, and nothing but happiness come through your door."

"Thank you, I appreciate you."

"Say hullo to the missus for me."

"You as well, Harrison."

Going back to his work, he found himself trapped in his thoughts as he happily pondered the events of the previous night. He'd come home late, like usual, to the most wonderful smell! He loved the smell of anything his wife cooked, but he was particularly fond of the smell of her potato soup! When he saw her, He could tell from the look on her face that she was excited, but terrified and he was very confused, had something happened at work? He was clueless, until she'd said the most glorious words in the human language.

"Pat, I think we're going to have a baby."

That was all she said before waiting for his response and how else could he respond then to whoop with joy and pick her up and swing her around! He kept exclaiming that he was going to be a dad over and over again making his wife smile happily. The memory would forever be nestled in his heart, stored away for when the sky was too grey or he felt lost and alone.

Over the next few months, Patrick was getting used to his wife's constant mood swings, or at least he tried to convince himself he was. But he wasn't going to lie, even if she was grouchy one minute and all lovey dovey the next, he wouldn't trade their unborn child for anything. Heck, even her moments of violent outrage were worth putting up with. It'd been 7 months of easily hurt feelings, bizarre cravings, and oh so much love!

As time seemed to fly by, and his wife's belly seemed bigger each time he even looked at her, Patrick was convinced, that no matter, boy or girl, he was already in love and was going to fall even harder once he actually met the little one!

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" He'd asked her. Clarice was 8 months pregnant and in Patrick's eyes still looked as beautiful as the day they'd first made love. She was hornier than a dog in heat, had been for the last 4 months or so and Patrick was far from complaining about that especially when Clarice was in one of her funks where she was more violent than she normally was. He truly was not complaining in the slightest, but Harrison had warned him that intercorse at this stage of pregnancy was a risky thing, and could cause all sorts of problems.

But Clarice insisted that she felt great and he should just "Be a dear and kiss me before I have a mind to switch you."

How could he refuse her?

She'd been having false contractions for a week or so, but Annalies had confirmed it was normal, and to not be bothered by it until they were harder and closer together. But when Clarice woke up that morning, she knew something was wrong.

"Oh shit!" She winced, back arching off the bed being woken up by the sharp pain. She shook her husband awake and with fiery eyes, she informed him that she thought the baby was coming.

Patrick rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and scrambled to get dressed and to run and bring the midwife over. Even if it was just a scare, and she wasn't entirely in labor, it was better safe than sorry.

Once he returned with the midwife though, he was more than glad he had, because they could hear a distinct scream of agony as soon as they got to the floor that Patick and Clarice lived together.

"Looks like baby Conlon is on it's way. You should go do something and come back in a few hours." The midwife had suggested, but Spot would have none of that. It was his Saturday off and he wasn't going anywhere.

Begrudgingly, the midwife agreed to let him come into the room with her, but she knew from the beginning it was a terrible idea.

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"Damn it Spot! Why did I ever let you touch me?!" Clarice wailed arching her back off of the bed, sweating, and the pain, it was awful! She loved being in this position for more pleasurable activities, sure, but this was hell!

Spot looked panicked and almost instantly regretted bullying the midwife into letting him stay in the room.

The woman snickered. "Don't worry, it'll get worse, which is why I don't like the father being present, women say all kinds of colorful things that would make a criminal blush."

Just to prove her point, Clarice let out a string of all the colorful language she'd ever heard making sure to emphasize the not so nice slurs against Irishmen.

Spot just rolled his eyes. "You forgot a few." It wasn't like he hadn't heard her cuss before, she was Anthony Higgins' sister for crying out loud.

"Well sid doesn't apply to you, that's what got me into this in the first place!" She groaned arching off the bed again.

"And will get you into this same position again I'm sure." The midwife chuckled.

"I hate you." Clarice said through gritted teeth and eyes squeezed tight together "Ah! God have mercy this hurts!"

"She doesn't really hate you." The midwife gave the poor traumatized looking man a break.

"I do, I really f****** do."

Spot blinked, snapping out of his momentary spaceout. "I heard something different just last night." he took her hand and kissed it. He had no idea that that was the absolute worst thing he could have done until he was staggering backwards. She'd punched him, she'd actually punched him! He was mystified. She could be rough with him for sure, but she's never slugged him out of malice before!

The midwife was almost losing it trying to reign in her laughter, maybe this was worth letting the arrogant smoothtalker in.

"Out! I can't stand to look at you and not want to murder you! You good for nothing paddy shant!"

The midwife raised an eyebrow as to say, 'see, I told you so, but you didn't listen.'

Spot had been trying to not let his wife's words get to him, but her word choice was, well it hurt. Spot was not an insecure person by any means, but his brain was running away with him wondering if that's really what she thought of him: a poor, drunk, good for nothing Irishman who couldn't provide properly for those he loved? So he left the room, heart shattered a little around the edges and went out onto the fire escape to hopefully get even farther away from his beloved wife's screams of pain.

"You may have went a bit too far with that last one sweetie." The midwife could tell a broken heart when she saw one. She was NEVER letting a man in the birthing room ever again!

"F***, GAAAAA!" Clarice started to breath faster.

The midwife perked up a bit and examined her patient again, the hitch in the young woman's voice when she cried out was a tell sign that things were moving forward, or downward...The midwife paled when she set eyes on the cord protruding out. No, this was bad, very bad.

Sensing something was off from how solemn and quiet the midwife had gotten, Clarice got scared and panicked. "What, what's wrong?" She wailed in pain again and found herself naturally trying to push the baby out.

"No!, No, don't push!" The other woman practically yelled, a frantic look in her eyes. Calming down a bit, for her patient's sake seeing the unspeakable fear in the girl's eyes she took a deep breath and helped Clarice hold off on the urge to push by modeling how she wanted her to breath, short puffy breaths. "Ok, this is not going to be comfortable at all, but I need you to work with me, ok?" The midwife's fingers were still trying to relieve pressure between the cord and Clarice.

The girl, already bathed with sweat, nodded her head still breathing as instructed.

"Good girl, and now would be a good time to start praying." The woman said with the most serious plea she could muster.

And that's what Clarice began to do.

Maybe five minutes later, the midwife had Clarice in a position where she was easily able to slip the cord back in and breath a breath of relief. This happened every so often, and it normally meant the loss of the child. She'd learned this maneuver just last week from an old classmate of hers who went to England with her new husband. Had said she'd seen a doctor perform it saving the infant's life. It had seemed like a long shot, but she'd now seen it with her own two eyes. It'd worked!

"Ok, love, we're going to be ok, you hear that?"
Clarice nodded and let out another wail, louder than the last few combined. "I can't wait any longer, the baby's coming."

The midwife let out a frazzled laugh, a woman in this position knew her body better than any other time in her life. "I believe you, I do. Let's get you back in a position to birth us this baby."

As if things couldn't get any worse the midwife cursed under her breath, of course the baby was stuck. It was just this poor girl's luck. Shoulder dystocia was something she'd read about in training of course, but it was super rare and she'd never actually encountered it before, but all the signs were there and she thanked God for her quick thinking under pressure. She was sweating just as badly as Clarice. If she remembered correctly, this was not going to end well.

"What's Guu! Ah, GAA, What's wrong?" Clarice was trying to not panic, she'd felt her baby's head, that had been a weird sensation, but there was something off.

If this child was going to be the first baby she saw survive a protruding cord, Helen was not going to allow it to suffer brain damage or worse from something like this! "Clarice, you need to stop trying to push for a bit or you'll be worse off."

Clarice nodded and bit her lip fighting the urge to push.

"Ok, let's try this." She remembered an image from her old text book and tried to recall the details. "You need to get those skinny legs of yours up and knees as close to your nose as you can get 'em."

"With this belly?" Clarice huffed, but tried her best, Helen helping her a bit further. Time seemed to be standing still, but the midwife knew in reality things were moving quicker than she could have hoped for, if she was lucky, another 30 seconds and the baby would be completely out.

"There, that's good, hold that, hold onto your legs to keep them right there!" Helen coached.

The girl did so right away.

Applying pressure to Clarice's abdomen, just above the girl's pubic area with her fist, Helen used her other hand to support the infant's neck and shoulders and maneuvered the babe with a prayer on her lips, hoping she was doing this right. "Now push with all you got!"

And with one last "GAAAAA!" The baby was out!

Helen wanted to do a happy dance, but her job wasn't over quite yet. The poor thing looked awful blue. Hardly any pink at all, and that was scary.

As Helen did her thing with the unresponsive infant, Clarice started to cry, it had been a long six hours according to the clock. She'd never felt so vulnerable. Not even when Race had died. She felt relieved for sure, but it was looking like her baby wasn't going to make it. She was devastated at the thought.

Helen noted that even if the baby was early, which she figured it had to be, it sure seemed small and the mother looked pregnant enough that she'd been expecting a 7-8 pound baby, but this one was lucky if it was pushing 6!

'Oh Race, please, let my baby be alright!' Clarice pleaded, face scrunched up, looking a mess and not caring in the slightest. 'I can't lose another person I love Tony, I just can't.'

Tony felt a tear slip out of his own eyes looking at his twin.

'God, I can't lose this child.' Her tears were ugly and bitter as if she were already mourning. 'Momma, you know what it's like, please help me. Tony, oh Race, I couldn't face Spot.'

Race felt a hand on his shoulder and looked at the woman about his height clothed in white and blue with his eyes sad and pleading. She smiled at him and closed her dark brown eyes, pangs of sadness in her own maternal heart.

"Mother Mary, have pity on this poor child." Helen whispered as she slapped the infant's back again, trying to clear out the mucus and maybe jumpstart the poor thing's heart. The baby did have a pulse, weak, but it was there, and that was giving her hope.

Taking a deep breath the woman behind Tony was gone and he felt more tears rolling down his cheeks.

Suddenly there was the sound of a baby wailing strongly and the infant was squirming beautifully in Helen's hands and the midwife whooped with joy! "Praise God!" She beamed knowing there was definitely some Divine intervention at play. "Thank you Mother Mary." She added with a tender smile.

She handed the beautiful baby boy to the ecstatic mother who was crying tears of joy and gratitude now. "Oh, he's beautiful." She whispered tenderly stroking his tiny cheek with her pointer finger. The infant calmed in his mother's embrace, but she felt the beating of his tiny heart rapid on her chest and she gave a gasp/laugh, just so amazed at the tiny human that was with her.

Tony was practically singing with joy and he turned to hug the woman who once again stood beside him. "Thank you." He whispered to her feeling like a small boy hugging his mother again.
"I hate seeing twins live without each other." Was her reply as she petted his hair, a true Mother.

He looked at her confused.

She just smiled knowingly and patting his cheek she was gone again soon replaced by his biological mother.

"My first grandchild." She grinned squeezing Tony's hand.

"Did you cuss dad out that much?"

The light brown eyed woman's eyes sparkled. "You have no idea!"

Suddenly, Clarice wailed again and she looked at Helen panicked.

Thinking it was just the afterbirth, Helen calmly reassured Clarice that it was nothing to worry about until the girl was arching off the bed again and cursed colorfully.

"Do twins run in either of your families?" The midwife raised an eyebrow.

"What? You're joking? Oh wait, right, you wouldn't know...GAAA! Oh f****** shit!" She howled.

"I take that as a yes then?"

"My twin was run over by a carriage a few years ago." Clarice goaned eyes scrunched closed and breathed slowly to calm herself down.

"Oh. Sorry to hear that."

Clarice just nodded her head and wailed again.

Taking the baby boy who was sound asleep and wrapping him tightly in a blanket, she put him in the cradle that was already ready in the room. Good thing the young couple seemed prepared, even if the baby...babies were early.

"I just hope this goes better than that last one, I'm exhausted!" Clarice moaned.

Helen laughed.

"What's funny?" The girl did not look amused in the slightest.

"This one's almost out."

Clarice breathed a sigh of relief but then let out a loud wail.

"That's a girl, push!"

And within a minute a second Conlon baby was born.

The second one practically came out screaming and Clarice sunk into the bed laughing hysterically but tears slipping out of her eyes. "Don't tell me it's a girl." She half joked.

"If I told you that, I'd be a liar." Helen chuckled quickly handing the woman her second born son.

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Clarice's breath hitched. They both might be boys, but they already looked completely different. As she took the older of the two into her other arm as Helen handed her the sweetly sleeping little thing Clarice marveled at the contrast between the dark haired problem child and clearly redheaded surprise baby.

"Your husband doesn't look like that strong of a ginger." The midwife looked concerned.

Clarice laughed "The idiot dyes his hair thinking he can get better work without his hair being a dead giveaway as if his name doesn't." she rolled her eyes.

Helen laughed at that. She was curious and decided to ask: "How'd you figure that out?" As she started cleaning up a little around the room waiting for the afterbirth.

Clarice giggled at the memory, feeling all lovey dovey.

Helen tried not to snort thinking of all the evil names she'd called the man earlier. Typical, hormones were crazy things. She couldn't wait to see the ginger's head spin. She didn't care that he looked like a light brunette, he was a redhead, and she liked it better thinking that way. Made everything funnier.

"He told me when I suggested he dye his hair. I told him he was an idiot and asked him to please just embrace his redheadedness. I should have told him it was sexy...well, he didn't want to hear anything I had to say on the matter and the most red I can get out of the man is his late winter early spring strawberry blond ." Clarice sighed.

"You think it's sexy?" Spot took the opportunity to let the women know he was back. He'd slipped back in when Clarice had said 'he'd NEVER told me...'

Her face lit up when she saw Spot. "Patrick!" She practically squealed.

He laughed, there was his girl! His heart was quickly stitched back together, the early words sinking deep in the ocean of love that he had for this beautiful woman. His wife and the mother of his child...wait, there was 2? The mother of his children? "Babe, why are there two?"

Clarice giggled and Helen laughed loudly.

"I guess the Higgins twin genes are stronger than I thought."

"I'm not complaining, but, wow!"

"Congratulations Mr. Conlon, you have 2 sons." Helen patted the man on the back.

He whooped with joy!

Clarice giggled then yawned. "Now you have to stop dying your hair or people are going to think I cheated on ya." She kissed the forehead of the baby in the crook of her left arm.

Spot startled seeing the mop of red hair. "Babies don't usually have that much hair."

"Italian ones do." Both Clarice and Helen said at the same time and then both women laughed.

He shook his head and marveled at the beautiful sight of the three most precious things in the universe. "Wow." He whispered.

"Do you wanna hold them?" She asked softly.

"Of course, how is that even a question?" He breathed and grabbed a chair and sat down next to her and soon found himself holding two beautiful fragile babies.

"What are we going to name them?" Clarice smiled and shifted to lay on her side to see her beautiful family better. "Wait." She winced. "Come on Race, this isn't funny. Two's enough!"

Spot's eyes widened.

Helen laughed. "I highly doubt that's another baby, you aren't making enough of a fuss." The woman shook her head. "Just in case, you think you can hold onto those two out in the kitchen?" She looked at Spot.

He nodded his head and quickly got out of the room.

"Nope, not another baby." The midwife winked at Clarice after delivering the afterbirth.

Clarice practically melted into the mattress.

Helen laughed. "You can come back in now." She yelled out.

He timidly poked his head back in the door and let out a breath of relief when after surveying the scene he didn't spy another baby anywhere. These two were going to keep them busy enough as it was.

"Just to let you two know, no intercourse for preferably 6 weeks and just sponge baths for a month. Limit stairs and heavy lifting as long as you can dear."

"Six weeks?!" Spot looked horrified at the thought.

Helen gave him a dirty look. "Your wife just pushed two humans out of her body and I'll tell you from painful experience she'll be sore down there and it'll be far from a pleasant experience for her AT LEAST that long." She hated how she ALWAYS had to have this conversation. Unfortunately most men didn't care and some of them would coax their wife high on hormones to jump back into things that night. It made her sick thinking about it. Not to mention, there was no way a woman would have regained any of the same size she normally was so quickly, so she didn't even know what a man would get out of something like that. But she shook her head, snapping herself out of the sad thoughts. She was surprised that the man's face looked much different than she'd expected. He looked soft and concerned. Well that was different, good, but different.

She heard him whisper to his wife. "I would never want to make love to you if I thought it'd cause you pain."

That was...nice? No, that was beautiful, she almost wanted to cry. If only her own husband was as considerate. But Italian men were, well Italian men. Maybe the Irish weren't that bad...

The girl smiled at Spot and sighed softly. "The first time wasn't pleasant." She reminded him.

He shuddered at the memory, it'd about killed him. "Nobody told me about that."

"I know, you are an incredible man."

Helen had to agree about that. He was a rare one for sure.

"You sure? Because I vividly remember you calling me a, what was it? A patty shant?"

The girl blushed and looked horrified. "I'm so sorry Pat." She wished she could disappear.

"I'm not the one who's considered a person of color by the way." He continued to tease her.

She sighed, it was true. "Ok, so we're both a mess, let's not ruin the moment." She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"My beautiful girl, perish the thought." He winked at her, love sparking in those crystal blue eyes.

She at once knew all was forgiven and he'd just been teasing her. She knew she deserved it. "You reek of smoke." She scrunched up her nose, shocked she'd just noticed. Normally the smell didn't bother her, but she felt off right now.

He laughed. "You know how I get when I'm nervous."

"You, nervous?! Why what a terrible thing to say about the mighty King of Brooklyn?" She fake gasped in horror.

He rolled his eyes, smiling nonetheless.

Breaking up the lovely scene out of necessity because she needed to get going, Helen cleared her throat.

"I forgot you were still here." Spot coughed, his cheeks becoming a bright red.

Helen snorted, 'obviously.' "I just need names for these two handsome young boys." She smiled. "Then I'll leave your family to enjoy each other."

They had discussed names before, and were suddenly glad that they had never decided between the two boys' names they were throwing around. Wordlessly they seemed to agree.

"Patrick Anthony Conlon." Clarice pointed at the elder of her two twin sons. And Spot nodded his agreement.

"And Sean Matthew Conlon for this one." He nodded to the dozing redhead.

"Matthew, I like that." Clarice hummed.

"It just felt right." He shrugged.

"Perfect!"

"Alright, I'll be back to see you in a few days to make sure everything is ok." Helen smiled, picking up her things and leaving.

"Thank You!" The couple yelled after her, unfortunately startling the babies, both of them wailing, as if it were a competition to see who could cry louder.
Spot and Clarice exchanged a look that said 'oh no, what do we do now?'