Up & Down - Part 7

While we watched the babies through the glass, a nurse told us they could take us to a private room to have some time alone with the twins. I could see the relief in Spencer’s eyes, not only for a chance to meet the babies more closely but also to sit for a while. The walk through the hospital, the stares, and the emotional and physical weight of everything had taken a toll on him. He was exhausted, and I wasn’t surprised. After months of staying inside, stepping out into the world again while carrying eight babies inside his massive belly was overwhelming. But through it all, he hadn’t complained once. He still was my big and strong man.

One of the nurses guided us through the hallway toward a private suite, a room meant for new parents to have a quiet moment with their babies. Spencer exhaled deeply as soon as we entered the room, and I noticed his breath was slightly labored from all the movement. He leaned into me for support, though not fully because I wasn’t strong enough to handle his weight, and I saw his belly subtly trembling with the shifting weight of the octuplets inside him. His free hand instinctively moved to his lower back, and I knew he needed a break.

I immediately guided him toward the plush couch in the center of the room, knowing that standing any longer would be too much for him. His size and weight made his movement slow and clumsy, but I was there to steady him. I held Spencer’s arm as he lowered himself onto the couch with a deep grunt. He had to spread his legs a lot to let his belly set heavily between his thick thighs. His hands instinctively moved to rest atop the massive curve of his belly, rubbing absentminded circles over the taut skin. The nurse looked at us with wide eyes and then left.

I chuckled at her reaction and then sat beside Spencer, joining his hand in rubbing soothing circles over his belly to calm down the octuplets. “Are you okay?”

Spencer let out a breathy chuckle, tilting his head back against the couch. “I am. But I think that’s the most I’ve walked in months.” He slightly shifted, adjusting his position, and I noticed how his fuller and softer pecs jostled when he moved and how they rose and fell with his heavy breaths. “But it’s all worth it. The babies are beautiful, and now I’m more eager to meet the eight I have inside me,” he said, leaning back and turning his head to look at me.

I smiled, reaching out to caress his belly, feeling the firm, stretched skin beneath my touch. It was hard not to be in awe of him. His belly was massive—round, taut, and heavy, pressing outward over two feet in front of him like an enormous beach ball. The thin fabric of his T-shirt was stretched to its limit, and it barely covered his belly, riding up enough for the lower curve of his abdomen to peek out.

“Soon, Spencer. Soon, we’ll have eight more babies,” I said, leaning forward to kiss his belly. “Eight big and handsome babies, just like you.”

Spencer smiled, and despite his exhaustion, I saw the excitement in his face. “They’ve been restless today,” he whispered, rubbing the upper swell of his belly. “Do you think they know what’s happening?”

I rested my hand beside Spencer’s atop his belly, and we felt a faint kick against our palms. We smiled again, immediately realizing the answer to his question. “I think they do. And I think they’re excited,” I whispered, moving my hand to rest on his. “They know their brothers are here, and our family is finally together.”

Spender smiled, and I saw tears forming in his eyes. “Our family. Can you believe how sweet that sounds?”

Before I could answer, there was a soft knock at the door. We quickly regained composure and moved our hands off Spencer’s belly to avoid any suspicious looks from the nurse. Spencer pulled the hem of his T-shirt down, attempting to force it to cover his belly, but it was impossible. Then, the nurse walked in, holding two small bundles in her arms, and I could hear Spencer’s heart beating faster. My breath caught in my throat as she smiled warmly at us.

“Are you ready to meet your boys properly?” the nurse asked, stepping closer.

Spencer inhaled deeply, smiling and, absentmindedly, moving one of his hands back to his belly. It was probably a paternal instinct to reach for his belly to feel the unborn babies every time he saw the newborns. “More than ready,” he firmly said, and I nodded.

The nurse carefully handed one of the babies to me first, guiding my arms into the proper position. It was all new to me, but somehow, it felt natural. The moment the tiny weight of the baby boy settled into my arms, my heart nearly burst. He was so small—though bigger than the average newborn, so perfect. His tiny hands curled into delicate fists, and I saw his chest rising and falling with each soft breath. I held him close, unable to stop looking at him. I knew he was as mine as he was Spencer’s, and it was all that mattered.

Then, the nurse turned to Spencer. I could see the apprehension in his expression—not because he wasn’t ready, but because, despite his strength, maneuvering his body with such a delicate life in his arms was a challenge.

“Hey, you were born for this moment,” I said softly, smiling at him and gesturing to the baby in my arms. “See? You can do this, big guy.”

Spencer nodded and took a deep breath as the nurse carefully placed the second baby into his waiting arms. He slowly adjusted, his hands looking huge compared to the tiny newborn. He initially struggled to find a comfortable position to hold him—the size of his belly made cradling the baby against his chest difficult. But after a few moments, Spencer instinctively let his belly do the work, resting the baby gently atop its vast curve. The baby fit perfectly there, nestled against the fullness of Spencer’s body, and his tiny head was at the perfect height to rest against his daddy’s chest.

Spencer let out a relieved breath, looking down at our son, and the tears started falling before he could stop them. “He’s even more perfect up close.” He pulled the baby tighter against him and carefully lifted him to kiss his forehead. “I can’t believe this, Owen.”

“Well, it’s real, and they’re ours,” I said, feeling my emotions welling up as tears streamed down my face as well. “They’re perfect. Harvey and Henry Richards”

The nurse gave us a moment to get comfortable with the babies and then explained something important. “The babies are in excellent health. They’re big for twins, which is a good sign, and wait until you hear them cry. They have strong lungs,” she said, kindly smiling. “You’ll be able to take them home soon, but we like to keep newborns for at least 24 hours for monitoring, just in case. But these big guys are definitely going home tomorrow.”

Spencer nodded, barely tearing his eyes away from tiny Henry resting on his belly. “That’s okay,” he whispered. “As long as they’re safe, we can wait.”

The nurse smiled again before leaving us alone with our sons. We sat there in silence for a while, simply taking in the moment. The babies cooed softly, making us smile all along. I leaned into Spencer’s massive frame, resting my head against his shoulder as we stared down at them. That moment was precious, one of the best moments of my life.

Then, after a while, the soft cooing turned into fussing. The babies shifted in our arms, their little faces scrunching up. Panic rose in my chest, glancing at Spencer, looking for an answer. “What do we do?” I said, shifting the baby in my arms to see if this change in position would calm him down. But it didn’t work.

Spencer frowned and looked down at the baby resting on his belly. The tiny newborn slightly opened his mouth, stretching his little arms. We immediately recognized this motion. “Do you think they’re hungry? Maybe they want milk?”

“Probably,” I said, looking into Spencer’s eyes as a realization hit us. “So, you’ve been producing milk, Spencer,” I gently reminded him. “I saw some droplets of milk on your nipples earlier. You could try to feed them.”

Spencer’s face turned bright red. “I—” He glanced down at his chest, then back at me. “You think so? I have no idea how to do it. Or if I can do it. I’m not even close to giving birth.”

I chuckled, winking at him. “Spencer, your chest looks ready to explode with milk. If you don’t have enough milk in there for two tiny babies, I’d be shocked,” I said, and he blushed even more. “And you just follow your instinct and let the baby lead. You’ve got this, big guy.”

Spencer hesitated but then slowly lifted the hem of his T-shirt, exposing his swollen, milk-filled pecs. His engorged nipple stood prominent, already beading slightly as if his body had been waiting for this moment. Deep down, he knew this moment was coming, and it only came sooner than expected. Spencer carefully adjusted Henry in his arms, bringing him closer to his nipple. The moment Henry’s lips brushed against the sensitive skin of his chest, Spencer gasped and shivered. But then, instinct took over as Henry took Spencer’s nipple, and his tiny mouth started working eagerly.

“Oh,” Spencer whispered, and his eyes widened. “I can feel it. I can feel the milk flowing. It feels weird but great at the same time.”

I swallowed hard, struggling to contain more tears of joy. “You see? You’re feeding our baby,” I whispered. “And I bet you have enough milk for his brother, too.”

Tears welled in Spencer’s eyes as he cradled the baby closer. “I am. Now I know we’ll be fine. We handle this, Owen,” he said, turning to look at me and extending his arm for me to give him Harry, who was still fuzzy in my arms.

I handed Harry to him, and Spencer positioned him against his other nipple without hesitation. Both babies latched eagerly, and their tiny hands gently rested against the plump pecs. Spencer looked down at them, completely overwhelmed, and this only caused him to cry even more. The scene was lovely, and I could barely control my emotions. But Spencer’s hormones were out of the charts, and he couldn’t hold back his tears.

I stood, moving to the door to make sure no one was coming. We didn’t want anyone finding out Spencer was lactating—and pregnant. But then, when I turned back, the sight before me took my breath away. Spencer sat on the couch, his frame looking enormous. His belly visibly trembled with the movement of the eight babies inside. His eyes were glassy. His lips curved into the most tender smile I had ever seen as our sons drank contentedly, safe and warm against him.

I swallowed hard again, and, this time, I couldn’t contain my tears. “You look beautiful. Did you know that?” I whispered, smiling and approaching the couch. “How can you even be so perfect, Spencer? How?” I said, emphasizing my excitement as I leaned in to kiss his lips.

Spencer looked up and kissed me back. His face was glowing with joy. He took my breath away as we stared into each other’s eyes. “If I’m perfect, it’s only to be in your same league, Owen,” he whispered. “You’re giving me everything I’ve ever wanted,” he said, and we kissed again while our boys kept drinking Spencer’s milk.

*

After a few lies about Spencer being busy with his job to pick up the twins the following day, the hospital authorized me to sign the final papers to take the babies with me. So I returned to the hospital alone and allowed Spencer to rest at home—something he needed a lot after moving so much in one day. His whole body was sore, and his feet were swollen. The babies had been restless all day and night, so he needed a tiny break before having to care for the twins. Despite this all, he was excited and anxious.

The process in the hospital was fast and uneventful. The moment I walked out of the waiting area with Harry and Henry in their stroller, I felt like the luckiest man on Earth. I couldn’t help but snap a photo of the babies peacefully sleeping in the stroller to send to Spencer, who replied with tons of heart emojis. I smiled, realizing we would be great parents to these kids.

When I arrived back at our apartment a while later, Spencer was waiting, shirtless, his belly bare and round, his arms open and ready to take our sons. The moment I placed them in his arms, they nestled against his chest, their tiny forms fitting perfectly against the vastness of him. Spencer kissed their heads as I sat beside him, barely able to control my emotions again. He took them up to his nipples again, and as the babies drank their daddy’s milk, everything felt whole for the first time.

*

The next few weeks were a cute, chaotic mess. I always woke up to the soft coos of the twins and the deep breaths of my husband beside me. Spencer’s body was always sprawled across the bed, taking up most of the room on the mattress, his belly rising high like a flesh-colored mountain. After the twins were born, when he was 32 weeks pregnant, his belly grew so much and so fast that I’d swear I could see it expanding in all directions if I paid enough attention. His body was reaching a size I hadn’t thought was possible, but every morning, he was somehow even bigger than the night before.

His whole body was thicker and looked more powerful than ever, with a soft layer of fat that spread over his purely muscular frame. It made him look enormous. His hips had also widened, and his butt was rounder, bubblier, and heavier. Every part of him was larger—more expansive, more commanding in presence—and to me, he had never been more beautiful.

Spencer’s pecs were massively swollen from constantly producing milk, and they shifted and jostled whenever he moved. His darkened nipples were always sensitive from feeding the babies several times a day. And despite this discomfort, he always smiled as our babies went through the feedings. His fatherly side was more powerful than the exhaustion, discomfort, or pain he could experience. And since his pregnancy only continued advancing, the challenges only increased by the day.

We usually woke up when one or both babies let out a louder whimper from the bassinet beside the bed. Spencer stirred, opening his eyes, still heavy with sleep, and letting out a soft groan. One of his hands immediately moved to rub his belly, which shifted and trembled as the babies inside adjusted. I looked at him, smiling and admiring how handsome he looked despite the exhaustion.

“Mmm… morning,” he whispered, still drowsy.

I leaned over and kissed him. “Morning, sleepy beauty.”

He smiled sleepily but then slightly winced as he tried to roll onto his side. I observed and carefully helped him get on his side to face me. “You okay?”

“I just need to stretch a bit. My back is killing me,” Spencer mumbled, rubbing slow circles over the top of his belly while arching his back a bit. “I swear, I feel heavier every day. And these kids are getting too big.”

“You are heavier every day,” I responded, kissing his lips again. “And they’re running out of room in there. Though you keep expanding and stretching endlessly.”

Spencer laughed a bit and then winced again. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

A whimper from the bassinet soon turned into a full-fledged cry, quickly followed by the second baby joining in. Spencer and I exchanged a look—one that every new parent knew all too well: Here we go again.

“I’ll get them,” I said, sitting up. “You stay put and relax a bit.”

“Relax? At this size? Yeah, sure.” Spencer let out a dramatic sigh, still rubbing his belly. “And go ahead. It’s not like I was going anywhere fast anyway.”

I chuckled as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and reached into the bassinet, lifting our sons as Spencer carefully adjusted himself into a more upright position. He groaned as he moved, his pecs and belly bouncing with the motion. By the time Spencer was sitting up against the pillows, he was already breathless, and I couldn’t help but smile. He was clearly tired, but his position meant he knew the babies needed him.

Our boys kept crying, waving their tiny hands in the air, and their faces were red in distress. “Let’s check what’s wrong with you, boys. What do you think? Hungry or messy?”

“I say one each,” he responded, laughing.

I peeked at Harry’s diaper and grimaced. “This one’s messy.” Then I checked Henry’s and grinned. “And this one’s clean, so he must be hungry. You’re getting good at guessing this.”

“What can I say? Instincts, I guess?” Spencer smiled, gesturing at his pregnant belly. “I’ll take the hungry one.”

“Of course, you’ll take the hungry,” I said, carefully handing Henry to him.

“When you turn into a dairy cow like me, then I’ll take the messy one,” Spencer responded, proud of his massive milk-filled pecs.

We moved as efficiently as two exhausted new parents could, though it was still an awkward and messy process. Spencer had the easier job—placing Henry close to his engorged nipple so he could latch onto it, something he had gotten better at over the past few weeks. He winced slightly as the baby began suckling eagerly because his chest was still tender from feeding around the clock.

Meanwhile, I was battling a wriggling, fussy newborn, trying to clean him. “Why do they fight so much?” I grumbled as Harry kicked his legs. “It’s like he wants to stay messy.”

“Maybe he takes after you. Stubborn as hell,” he said.

I playfully furrowed my brows before finally securing the new diaper. “Done. No one’s better at doing this than Dad, right, baby boy?” I said, taking Harry in my arms and sitting beside Spencer in bed. “And no one’s better at producing gallons of milk like Daddy,” I said, looking at Henry still sucking on Spencer’s nipples. He weakly smiled as I leaned against him. We were exhausted, but these moments brought absolute happiness to our lives.

...

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