Avery's POV

Labor was less graceful than every movie had lied about. There was no soft music.

No perfect breathing.

No beautiful speech about motherhood.

There was pain.

A lot of it. There was Maya telling me I was doing great when I was very obviously threatening

Avery's POV

One year later, my daughter destroyed her first birthday cake with both hands. I considered that a success. Lila sat in her high chair in my kitchen with pink frosting in her hair and absolutely no interest in the expensive wooden toys Dad had bought her.