"I'm not ready to go into labour!" I panic. A nurse comes into the room to check my contractions. Dillon stands by my side with my hand in his. He rubs small circles on the back of my hand while the nurse hooks me up to a machine that monitors my contractions. There's so many machines currently attached to me to monitor everything possible.
"Do you have a doctor or midwife who is going to deliver the pups?" asks the nurse. "We had a doctor but he attempted to murder me..." I answer making the blood drain from her face. "I take that as a no," she answers faintly and leaves the room in search for someone who can deliver the pups.
Within minutes three doctors in white coats flood the room. "You are currently in inactive labour," says the red haired female doctor. "It means that you are slo
