My water breaking catches me off guard. Sure, the little ones had been moving south, but they'd been doing that for a while; I was expecting to feel some contractions, first.

Still… I know roughly what to expect. We go to the hospital - mostly because it'll make the paperwork easier, as hospitals will put it all in one place.

Not that, you know, I really need documentation. I can legally issue passports. Still, I will want to put our kids through school, and that will be easier if they have citizenship… although some of these schools are getting really militant about pushing social agendas that aren't nearly universally recognized…so I'll probably end up enrolling them in a private school somewhere. No, not for knowledge. I plan to implant them with all the skill they could ask for as a college graduation gift, along with a laundry list of other buffs - one of which stops aging, another of which will let them regrow lost body parts on their own: I don't even need the rings for other people anymore. Nah, the schooling is so that they'll have that shared experience, and know about little things like 'working hard to get what you want'.

Ah, they're finally done hooking me up. Yeah… most of the equipment isn't helping them. Oh, the belt that measures my contractions? That's fine. The fetal heart monitor? That works. But my temperature, heart rate, breathing, and blood pressure monitors? They all error out. The machines are getting bupkis. I skip the epidural. While it might be fun to watch them try to get a needle through my skin, it'd be a waste of good medicine.

The cardiotocograph tells me why my contractions didn't warn me: I'm simply not feeling them. Which I guess makes sense: I'm immune to pain, immune to fatigue, and between fast healing and Regeneration I heal in seconds wounds that would kill a normal person. And… most of the trauma of birthing on a mother is pain, fatigue, and internal injury. I have an out on all of those, already set up.

… I'm cheating, and as a result, this is downright boring.

So I basically spend my time chatting with Jessica about nothing of particular importance… right up until her water breaks. But hey, at least we're already in the hospital.

I end up spending most of the time watching streaming videos on my planar phone. I get some funny looks when I laugh at something nobody else can see or hear. But eh, whatever.

Eventually, when I'm being told to push… which is actually somewhat automatic… we run into a problem: My hymen regenerated, and it's blocking the way. They ruin three scalpels, two pairs of scissors, and one perfectly good chainsaw trying to fix that. Fabricating up an adamantine bolt cutter and dropping Greater Magic Weapon on it lets them finally cut it… and it grows right back.

Great… my immortality is going to kill my kids. Unless… I can cheat…

I quickly dub them with the first names that pop into my head: Alex Bartholomew Carter and Jordan Justice Jones. Not the best thought out, but they need their names, and NOW.

Because now, they're named creatures.

The Transport Travelers clause of Wish moves them a foot and a half, from my birth canal to my arms. Overkill, sure, but it's free.

The nurses take them to clean them and measure them. They're bawling their little hearts out as I flag them for two of the remaining spots in my Soul Vault… Abiah will get the last when I lay eyes on her. I update Jessica mentally on events, but she seems a bit distracted… still, she picks up on the "Kids are healthy and named" bit, the rest we can go over again later if needed.

The doctor seems worried… ah, "Relax. The wings are expected, as are the ambiguous genitalia, as are the extra spots - and yes, milk may come out of those eventually. They’re not deformed, that's just how they are and I won't have you changing that. Their father has all the same stuff and more in her default form, which I'm sure she'll be happy to get back to after nine months if you need proof… just make sure there's enough headroom if you decide to ask her to show you, she’s quite tall. Wash them, measure them, tie off the umbilical cord, and bring them back, not necessarily in that order. They sound hungry."

Given that they just witnessed the two teleport out of me, they obey. And soon enough Alex and Jordan are busily sucking away on mommy's milk. I spend a few minutes just enjoying holding them, and soon enough they're sleeping. I let my senses expand, and… yep, there's Jessica in the neighboring room. Looks like she just finished - little Abiah is getting washed and measured as well.

They all look alike in some ways: Brown skin (not black like mine or pale like their father's), tiny wings covered in down, four tiny bumps on their chests, and a tiny little rod between their legs over an equally small opening sealed tight. They're also easy to tell apart: Abiah's wings are gold, Alex's are silver (not white or gray: they’re actually reflective), and Jordan's are a nice red… all of which matches their eyes and hair. Aren’t babies normally supposed to have blue eyes at birth? Eh, they’re not like everyone else, and that’s OK. They’re my babies. They’re normal for them.

The nurses are busy doing paperwork - jotting down time, weight, length, and adding a large number of notes, with pictures. Eventually they get to an important question….

“Who would you like me to put down as the father?”

“Jessica Jones.”

Seeing my babies teleport out of me, watching cut pieces of me grow back, and watching rather delicate portions of my anatomy break a chainsaw, the nurse is quite accepting of that… but she does ask clarification, “That’d be the same woman next door?”

“My girlfriend, yes. We live together, and she’s the father of my babies. And I’m the father of the one she just had as well.”

The woman dutifully writes down the answer, and moves on.

I find the gun question hilarious. “Yes. My other half is a police detective. Of course we have firearms in the house, her standard issue police revolver and a couple of personal firearms. Good luck convincing her to give it up, not that it matters much considering what either of us can do without one.”

The nurse blinks at me, “It’s not about gun control, it’s about safety. Little kids tend to pick things up and play with them, and when that’s a firearm, or it’s lead, well, that can cause some very bad things to happen.”

“Oh. Yeah… I’ll make sure to talk to Jessica, although I’m sure she’s having a similar conversation. But it doesn’t matter as much as you might think in our case. Have you tried giving them their shots yet?” I already know the answer, but I ask anyway.

“No, I was going to go fetch them after this. Do you not want them?”

“Oh, I do, I’m all for vitamins and vaccinations, but I’m probably going to need to help you with the needles. How about you go get them so you can see what I mean - get some spares - and we’ll pick this discussion up after that, hmm?”

The nurse shrugs, locks the terminal she’s using, and heads out for the supplies. I wait patiently (which is much easier when I can watch shows across planes), and when she comes back, I let her try: My teeny little baby’s skin bends the needle. The Half-celestial comes with damage reduction. It’s just five points of it until they hit twelfth level, and it’s the weakest kind of DR in the game (magic), but that’ll stop a bullet from a revolver cold roughly fifty percent of the time. Those tiny little needles? Yeah, they need some help. After she goes through three, the nurse picks the conversation back up,.

“OK, what gives?”

“Same thing as their wings. They’re not entirely human, and part of that makes them extra resistant to injury. It’s easy to get around; here…” I cast a Magic Weapon spell with Fleeting, Reach, and Chain metamagic to apply to all the remaining needles in her inventory, “... those ones will work smoothly now. Try it.”

She does, and it works just like normal. And after she’s done, I dismiss the effect.

“OK, what did you do?”

“I cast a magic spell, to bless the needles to get through their skin. It’s not a big deal… but non-magical firearms are a lot less lethal for them than any other little kid you’ve ever met. In fact…” I quickly drop a Delay Death spell on both of them, using Chain and Burrowing to get all three children at the same time, following it up with Delay Poison and Life Bubble as well, “...I can guarantee that a simple bullet will not take them out, even if they eat it.” And if something happens that does… well, they’ll get better in a day, assuming I don’t bring them back first. Magic rocks.

She blinks at me a couple of times, but she can’t deny the evidence of her own eyes, “OK. Well… as long as you’ve got appropriate safety measures in place. Just ah… take care for their friends, too, eh?”

Oh, yeah. “Sure, no problem.”

We continue on with the questions, and at the end, she asks me one not on the list in her hand.

“So… now that you’ve had babies… do you still consider yourself a man?”

I pause, “Yes. I’m a male mommy. I was born a man, and I still am one.  What’s it matter? I’m myself regardless of labels.”