#traumatic birth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xylune · 2 years

Text

“Mortality” (unfinished preview)

So this is a majorly early glimpse at what I have eventually in store for my “Saints and Daemons” Final Fantasy XV series. I had this in mind for some time, but after watching the first episode of “House of the Dragon” I really needed a healing, really needed an environment in which the woman matters and a man not only values her, but respects her birthing decisions. Hence the waaaay early writing of this far future chapter. Major spoilers ahead, for anyone following the series. All else...well, sometimes it’s just good to see a man love his woman and value her as a human being.

Sorry, the chapter didn’t get finished due to my computer crashing but short of the moment when she gets to nurse her baby for the first time, it’s all there.

He didn't know what to do. Prompto was no doctor, no healer. Hell, he knew next to nothing about human biology beyond what pleased his wife when they had sex. Now he stood there helplessly in the remote cabin, looking down at a woman who seemed bleached of all color save her pale blonde hair and blue-green eyes. Aera was in bad shape. Sweaty and exhausted, she lay in the bed wearing a rumpled blue pajama gown, with her heavily pregnant belly trembling and soft whimpers of distress escaping her colorless lips. Ardyn sat beside her, holding one of her hands in his and stroking her perspiration-soaked hair.

"I'm here, love," the redhead murmured in a tender voice reserved only for his wife. "Shhh, it's going to be all right."

Aera's pain-filled eyes focused on her hovering spouse, and she offered him a weak, trembling smile. "Ardyn...I'm afraid."

Ardyn hesitated, and Prompto thought he saw a quiver of emotion go through the man's tall frame. "I'm going to try again to move the babe, darling. Can you be brave for just a while longer?"

Aera took a shuddering gasp, bit back another moan and nodded. "Please. Please let it work, this time."

Prompto realized she was praying to the gods, not speaking to her husband. Tears streamed from her eyes and her moans grew louder and more distressed as Ardyn placed his hands on her belly and tried to palpate it. He grunted, and after a while, he bowed his head before shaking it.

"No good," announced Ardyn. He turned to look at Prompto and Cindy, standing near the bedroom door. "I require your assistance now. We have little choice."

"Uh..." Prompto's tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He sure as hell didn't know anything about delivering babies. His wife, however, retained more wits than him.

"Tell us what to do, hun. We'll help however we can."

Ardyn nodded towards the dresser, which had various instruments and flasks laid out on top of it. "You see that mask there? Fetch it for me, along with the bottle labeled 'ether'. I need to place the mask on Aera, and one of you must administer the ether to her whilst I work."

"Got it." Cindy hurried over to collect the requested items.

"Prompto."

The blond gave a little start, though Ardyn hadn't spoken his name harshly or loudly. "Yeah. What can I do?"

"You can sterilize the scalpel for me, and pass me the instruments as I require them."

"Sure. Y-yeah. Okay."

More than a little uneasy, Prompto went to do as directed. The one thing that kept him from noping out of the entire thing was his sincere worry for Aera. She was now panting like a wounded animal, hardly aware of anything save her own pain. She responded when Ardyn spoke to her and even in her distress, she was trying to smile for him.

It was breaking Prompto's heart, knowing what his friend was about to have to resort to. He could tell how agonized Ardyn was over it, but he had to give the man credit; he kept his calm and he spoke to his struggling wife in soft, reassuring tones, putting his own anxiety on the shelf for her sake.

Cindy had already helped Ardyn place the mask over Aera's mouth and nose, and she waited for him to give the word. Ardyn kissed his wife's hand, then her sweaty forehead, and he explained gently to her what he was about to do.

"My love, we're going to put you to sleep for a while. Just as you and I talked about when this began. You won't feel any pain, and when you wake, you'll be introduced to our new son or daughter. Do you trust me?"

She nodded, and her response was faintly muffled behind the material of the mask. "Always, my love. Deliver our child safely...as I have failed."

Ardyn shook his head, and there was a tremor of emotion in his husky answer. "Nay, you did not fail, Aera. These things happen in nature, through no fault of the mother. You've done your part beautifully, and now it's time for me to take on the rest."

Ardyn looked up at Cindy and nodded. The mechanic carefully filled the dropper from the bottle of ether, and with his instruction, she let three drops fall onto the mask. Within moments, Aera's tortured whimpers faded and her eyes closed. Ardyn watched over her and counted silently under his breath, and then he turned to Prompto.

"Gloves."

It took a second for Prompto to register his meaning, and he turned to frantically seek out the box of latex, sterilized gloves on the dresser. He started to pull a couple out, but Ardyn stopped him firmly.

"Just hold the box out for me," said the healer, who was briskly rubbing some sanitizer into his hands. "Don't touch them. This needs to be as sterile as we can manage, even with the healing elixir I made at our disposal."

"Right."

Prompto inched toward the bed and offered the box to his friend. He watched as Ardyn put the gloves on with some difficulty. The guy had big hands and though he'd purchased the largest size, it was a tight fit. Ardyn then looked up at Cindy, and he gestured at his wife's slumbering form.

"Please lift her gown and expose as much of her belly as you can. Afterwards, give her two more drops of the ether."

Cindy did as he asked, and despite her expressed initiative to help, her hands were shaking as she pulled the cotton material up to reveal Aera's mounded belly and lower parts. Prompto hastily looked away, embarrassed even though he knew women couldn't exactly give birth in their panties.

"Prompto, this is natural," reminded Ardyn chidingly. "You aren't watching pornography and I assume you're familiar enough with female anatomy not to become a blushing teenager. Focus, please."

"I know dude, but...she's your wife and...shit. I'm sorry."

"It's quite all right," soothed Ardyn, remarkably patient despite the angst he must be suffering. "Just help me save my wife and child. That's all we need be concerned with. Please, my friend."

Prompto swallowed his feelings of discomfort, reminded that not just one, but two lives were depending on the three of them. "What do you need next?"

"The scalpel," answered Ardyn. "You sterilized it in the solution as I asked?"

"Sure did." Prompto fetched the sharp cutting instrument from the beaker of sanitizing liquid he'd put it in, and he grimaced as he handed it to the other man. It seemed so small, yet he knew the thin blade was even sharper than a utility knife and would probably cut into flesh easily. He gulped down a sudden blast of queasiness, hoping he wouldn't puke before the procedure even started.

"Prompto."

"Huh?"

"You handled it with your bare hand. You've contaminated the handle."

"Oh. Oh, shit! Dude, I'm sorry. I'll put it back in the sanitizer. Um...I guess I need to grab a pair of those gloves, right?"

"Yes, please do."

Prompto hurried to correct his mistake, and he took the bottle of sanitizer on the bedside stand that Ardyn had used on himself. He got some in his eye and he cursed, blinking the sting away as quickly as he could. Once he was properly "suited up", he again retrieved the scalpel to give it to Ardyn.

"Sorry man."

"The fault lies as much with me as it does with you," Ardyn reassured, his mouth twitching with a humorless smirk. "I should have said something sooner, but alas, I'm under a bit of duress."

"Who the hell could blame you? We're on the right track now though, so no big."

Ardyn nodded, and he gave Cindy another nod to indicate that she should apply more ether. When she did, Ardyn handled the scalpel with a surgeon's dexterity, painted a streak of some red stuff underneath Aera's belly button, and then placed a hand on the side of her baby bump. He started to lower the blade to her stomach, and Prompto began to bite his nails anxiously. The bitter taste of sterile latex made him gag, and he realized he'd just "contaminated" his gloves with his spit. He quickly moved to rectify it by replacing the gloves after re-sanitizing his hands for good measure.

Ardyn hadn't made the cut yet. He was bent over his wife's body, shoulders tense, scalpel hovering and gleaming in the light from the still ceiling fan. His hand trembled, and for the first time since Prompto and Cindy arrived, the man lost his cool.

"I...I can't," whispered Ardyn, and his voice became thick with the threat of tears. He sniffed and shook his head, his feathered bangs falling over his eyes. "Gods help me, I can't cut into my sweet girl's flesh!"

Prompto's heart broke again, and he totally emphasized with Ardyn. There was no way in hell he could have done this to his girl either, and he had nothing but admiration for Ardyn for the strength he'd shown so far. Nonetheless, Ardyn was the only person present with the medical knowledge of how to do this, and if he failed, both his wife and his child would probably die.

Prompto steeled himself against his own nausea and anxiety, and he approached the other man to give his tense shoulders a supportive squeeze. He lacked Ignis' grace with words, but he did his best to lend Ardyn some courage to do what needed to be done.

"Hey, you don't have a choice and she knows it. She's counting on you, bro. I can't even imagine myself in your place, but I'm not a healer like you are. Just try not to look at this as you cutting into your wife. Right now, she's your patient, and her life depends on you."

Ardyn turned his head to look at him, and Prompto was a bit shocked to see that the man's eyes appeared gray-blue. They filled with tears, and Ardyn blinked them away and lowered his gaze. He gave a slow nod of resolve, and his voice was the very essence of ancient weariness when he spoke.

"You are right, of course. Had I but stayed firm in my efforts to convince her to spend this last trimester in Insomnia, close to a hospital, this may not have happened. Alas, I was too arrogant to believe modern doctors could do better than myself, and too in love to deny her expressed wishes. I cannot let her and our child pay the price for my shortsightedness. Thank you, for setting my vision straight."

Half of that, Prompto couldn't even understand. Sometimes listening to Ardyn was like reading an old book of poetry. He got the gist of it though, and he nodded encouragingly at the other man before patting his shoulders again.

"You can do this, Ardy."

Prompto stepped back and waited, taking a deep breath as the other man gave Cindy the nod for more ether and positioned the scalpel again. Ardyn spoke softly, announcing he was about to make the incision, but it sounded like he was talking more to himself than to them. He splayed his gloved fingers over the red-yellow stripe of iodine he'd painted on his wife's lower belly, he whispered a prayer to the gods, and he spoke to Aera.

"Forgive me, my love."

If the tangle of emotions that softly spoken plea wasn't enough to rattle Prompto, the sight of blood welling up from parted skin certainly was. He heard a ringing in his ears, felt like all the air had left the room, and saw black dots at the edge of his vision.

"Oh shit," gasped the gunman, looking away and bending over to try and collect himself. "I think I'm gonna—"

He heard a thump and lost consciousness.

~*************~

"Crud, he fainted!"

Ardyn heard Prompto topple just after the blond gasped his warning, but his focus had to be on what he was doing. He glanced up at Cindy's distracted face, and some part of him had to admire how well she'd aged, despite the perilous situation at present. "I'm sorry, but I need your attention strictly on this, dear girl. I can ill afford to have the both of you fall apart on me now, and I still need to extract the babe."

The mechanic shook her blonde, gray-streaked curls and took a deep breath. "Right. Good thing mah boy's got a hard head. I'm with ya, hun."

Ardyn nodded, fixating again on the task at hand. "Count to ten slowly, and then administer another drop to her mask. I'll try to be swift."

His hands were shaking now, but at least they'd held steady while he was making in incision. He kept telling himself that this wasn't his beloved wife he was reaching into. It was the task of a healer, not a husband. He did his best not to widen the cut he'd made as he reached in as delicately as he could, pushing his fingers past parted layers of skin, muscle and placenta until he felt the tiny, fragile shoulders and skull of his unborn child.

Ardyn scooped the infant up carefully, easing it out of his mate's body. It was bloody and limp in his grasp, and his heart constricted with fear. Dear gods above, was he now delivering his child as a stillborn? Was this all for nothing?

Now trembling all over, Ardyn cradled the infant, umbilical chord still attached, and he gazed down on her. A girl. It was a girl. But she wasn't moving or breathing. His brain froze for a moment, and then Cindy, in her surprising wisdom, called out a suggestion.

"Try clearing the airway, honey."

"Of course." He could barely recognize his own voice. It sounded so calm and detached, not filled with terror as it should be. Ardyn pried the infant's mouth open, finding it clogged with birthing matter, and he cleared it as best he could. He rolled the baby over in his hands and patted her back, and he was rewarded by a weak cough, followed by a thin wail.

He let loose the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and a smile of nervous relief spread over his lips.

"Good girl. Breath for Daddy. Oh, gods above, thank you. That's it, darling! Go on, cry then!"

The baby was shaking and crying in outrage, and unmindful of the blood and gore, Ardyn turned her over in his hands and cradled her. She looked a bit like a raisin at the moment, but that was hardly her fault. Ardyn looked around, realizing that his helper, who should have been handing him the blanket to swaddle the baby, was essentially useless.

"Cindy, apply more of the ether and please take the baby," Ardyn said, making a quick decision. "I must finish this before Aera bleeds out."

"Sure," said the blonde, her voice quivering with anxious emotion. Gods bless her for showing such a steel spine. Ardyn didn't know what he would have done if she too had lost composure as her husband had.

It wasn't an easy task, especially with unsteady hands. Thankfully, because the tail end of her pregnancy had been so difficult, Ardyn had taken the time to make the elixir. Neither he nor Aera could have known the babe would be breached, but as he loved his wife so much, Ardyn hadn't been willing to leave anything to chance. Aera wanted a home birth and he'd reluctantly complied, but he'd done everything he could to prepare for the worst.

He was never more thankful for his over-protective paranoia, as Aera called it. Restoratives had begun coming back on the market again over the years, but Ardyn didn't trust the manufacturers these days and he knew more about the alchemy to produce such things than the people now making them. Elixirs, if properly made, could take up to a month to reach maximum potency.

Yes, he'd done well by his wife in having the foresight to brew it himself, and he got proof of that when he broke the seal and poured it directly onto the incision that he'd stitched up with all haste. She would bear a thin scar from the experience, but it would have been much more severe if left to heal over time.

His biggest concern was the blood loss, but this too, he'd anticipated. He had purchased two pints of her blood type a week before her due date, and he had the equipment to set up an IV for her. Cindy had taken one of the spare pillows and put it under her unconscious husband's head while Ardyn set up the intravenous feed to restore his wife's blood loss. The baby, quite exhausted by her rough introduction to the world, was sleeping in the bassinet in the corner of the room.

Once it was all done, Ardyn saw to Prompto. He winced when he noticed the bump on the back of the gunman's skull, and he retrieved a hi potion from his stores to help him recover from it. Prompto sat up with Ardyn's help, groaning and disoriented.

"Crap. How long was I out? What happened?"

"Don't worry, sweetie," Cindy assured him, "the baby's here, safe and sound. Aera's gonna be okay. Ardy did good."

"So sorry I couldn't attend to you sooner," offered Ardyn, patting his friend's back gently. "My hands were rather full when you collapsed. You should probably lie down for a while in the spare room."

Prompto rubbed his head, and his blue eyes were crinkled with concern as he looked at Ardyn. "They're both okay?"

"They are," assured Ardyn. "Your wife was a godsend. I might have failed my Aera if not for her."

Without asking for permission or warning him, Ardyn scooped the slim gunman up into his arms, bridal style. Prompto sputtered in protest, and the healer admonished him sternly.

"Oh Prompto, do shut up. The least I can do is carry you to bed so you can properly rest."

It was rather endearing to see the middle-aged blond blush like a teenager, and Ardyn fought a grin. Prompto had never really managed to stifle his professed attraction to Ardyn, and it was safe enough to assume his embarrassment was as much due to that as wounded pride. Ardyn didn't call attention to it, and he thanked Cindy when she opened the bedroom door for him to carry Prompto out and into the extra bedroom.

"You didn't have to do that," muttered Prompto when Ardyn eased him down onto the queen sized guest bed. "I could have walked, man."

"I would rather not take the risk of you falling and hitting your head again," excused Ardyn. He tucked Prompto in, and he examined his pupils. "Have you any nausea or dizziness? The potion healed it, but head injuries can be a bit dodgy."

"I'm okay," assured the blond. He sighed. "I wanted to have a look at the baby, though. So everything's there, right? It's got all its fingers and toes?"

"Yes, Prompto. My child was breached, not deformed. She's absolutely perfect and as beautiful as her mother, with red-gold curls."

Prompto shared a grin with Cindy, who had sat down on the bed beside him. "That's so awesome! A girl, huh? Is that what you wanted?"

"I wanted a healthy child," answered the healer with a chuckle. "Neither me nor Aera had a care for what gender it came out to be. We've been blessed."

"Bro, I am so fucking happy for you," said the gunman with all sincerity. He scratched his head, wincing a bit when he touched the spot where the bump had been. "What'd you name her?"

Ardyn frowned in thought. "Actually, we had a couple of names set aside. We hadn't fixated on one yet because we wanted to meet our child before deciding what suited best. When Aera awakes, we'll choose."

"Huh," said Cindy with interest. "Ya know, a lot of men would just pick a name in your situation."

Ardyn smirked at her, and he spread his hands. "What can I say? My wife is the boss of me. I wouldn't dare finalize the name without first consulting her."

Cindy laughed. "Ya'll have some relationship, I'll give ya that."

Ardyn shrugged modestly, lowering his gaze with a little smile. "You have no idea. Although I'm rather certain you have the upper hand over Prompto as well."

Prompto took his wife's hand with a grin. "Yeah, she plays me like a fiddle. So Ardy, you've done that kind of thing before, right? I mean the cesarean. You had to have, because you really knew what you were doing, even though you were obviously nervous."

Ardyn sobered, his mind going to times long past and his experiences as a healer in his original era. "Never on a live woman before, I'm afraid."

Both Prompto and Cindy went quiet, both staring at him. The gunman spoke first.

"So I guess back in your day, most women didn't survive it?"

"Honey, I think he means most women weren't alive when it was done," whispered Cindy.

Ardyn nodded somberly. "She's correct. The procedure I did on my wife simply was not done on the living, back in the days of my time as a healer. The possibility of the woman surviving was, as you say, next to nothing. We hadn't the medical advancement to ensure otherwise. If a babe was to be cut out of the womb, it was done after the mother had already passed from her birthing struggles, in a last attempt to save the child. To cut into a live woman, with few methods of pain relief, would have been barbarism."

Prompto looked understandably horrified. "Damn."

Ardyn huffed a little, and he nodded his agreement to the sentiment expressed. "Aye. Damn. No healer with any scruples would do such harm, though I daresay there must have been some who valued the mother so little they would attempt it. Unfortunately in those days, babes born of such a method rarely survived their mothers for long. Those of us with the art did our best to save them, but I personally buried three infants before I ever met my Aera, alongside their poor mothers."

"That's awful," stated Cindy, her eyes shadowed with sympathy.

Ardyn decided the subject had gone to grim enough places, and he tried to lighten the mood. "Weep not for me, dear girl. I did my task as a healer to the best of my abilities, and I daresay those women and babes met a kinder end under my care than they would have if attended by someone less caring for their plight. We all do what we can to ease the pain of others in this world, and thanks to the two of you, Aera and our daughter will live to see the sun rise on the morrow. My only regret is that I allowed my pride and inability to say 'no' to get in the way of her having 'round the clock professional care."

"But she did have that," Cindy reminded him with a smile. "I know ya didn't leave her side for a minute this past month."

"Seriously," agreed Prompto. "You were holed up here with her the whole time, and the hospital couldn't have done any better than you did."

"Perhaps..."

"No, he's right," insisted Cindy. "There wasn't a thing they coulda' done better than you, and it's pretty danged important for a girl to have some say in how she wants ta have a baby! Poor Luna had hardly any control when she had her kids. Ya did good by Aera, respecting her wishes."

Ardyn actually hadn't considered doing anything less, but now that it was pointed out to him, he realized how little control women were given over the circumstances of their maternity. They were often confined to bedrest—as his own wife had been in the last month of her pregnancy—and told what to do by others, ignored and ultimately infantilized.

"Goodness, it never truly occurred to me," he whispered, subtly stunned. Now he began to understand why Aera insisted on staying home, rather than being confined to the hospital and put under the care of strangers. She'd said she wanted her partner by her side, who would love and protect her and always listen to her requests.

"That's 'cause it just came naturally to ya," theorized Cindy with a grin. "Yer a healer, and ya wanted to do right by her as her husband. It ain't Noct's fault Luna had less say over things, really. He doesn't know about medicine and he wanted folks that knew better to take care of her. Aera's just lucky her man is as good a doctor as any."

Ardyn's face warmed under the praise. "Well, I also tend to be a suck up to her. I would hardly let the grass grow under her feet if I—"

His words were interrupted by the high-pitched sound of an infant wailing. Ardyn turned toward the door, his paternal instincts immediately on the rise. "It seems my daughter is distressed. Probably hungry. I should prepare a bottle for her."

"You already had formula ready?" Prompto's brows went up.

"Nay, both Aera and I prefer to avoid processed food for our child," explained Ardyn. "Childbirth is hard, however. We purchased some breastmilk in advance, just in case Aera was unable to nurse the baby right away."

"Breastmilk?" repeated Prompto, aghast. "You can seriously buy that stuff? There are actually women who sell it to people?"

Ardyn glanced at him with some amusement. "Why yes, Prompto. I assume you've never heard of wet nurses? Some lactating women are kind enough to offer their milk in the event that new mothers are unable to provide. Considering how deadly childbirth could be back in mine and Aera's day, wetnurses were quite essential. Now please excuse me. My child needs me."

The couple watched Ardyn leave, and once he was out the door, Prompto sighed with amazement. "That guy really thought of everything, didn't he?"

"Yeah." Cindy grinned, took her shoes off and laid down on her side next to him. She put an arm around his waist and kissed his cheek. "He's really something. Ah'm glad we were here ta help."

"Yeah." Prompto combed his fingers through his wife's soft curls. "Who'd have thought the same guy that tried to obliterate the royal line and put the world into darkness would be so...father of the year? Even after all this time, I have trouble associating the Ardy we know with the creep that did all that."

"Times change," she reasoned. She rested her head on his chest. "Hun, do ya ever regret us not having a kid?"

"Nope," he immediately responded, kissing her hair. "Me and you were never cut out for it. Cars are your 'babies' and I'm enough of a big kid as it is. It wouldn't have been fair to you, and I'm totally happy having you all to myself."

Cindy chuckled. "Ardyn's not the only expert husband 'round here, ya know."

Prompto smiled, closing his eyes. "Yeah, I rock."

~***************~

When Aera awoke, it was to the sight of her husband sitting in the rocking chair in the corner, wearing his bathrobe. He was cradling a swaddled infant to his chest, feeding it from a bottle. She rubbed at her crusted eyes, and she struggled into a sitting position.

"Ardyn?"

He looked up from his task, and his eyes lit up, crinkling at the corners as he smiled at her. "Darling, you're awake. You've given us a perfect, beautiful daughter."

Aera reached out, her muscles feeling like jelly but her determination winning over the lingering weakness. "Hold her...can I hold her?"

"Of course," he assured, and he got out of the chair with a little grunt, carrying the baby over to her. He carefully eased her into Aera's eager embrace, holding the bottle steady whilst doing so. "She's got quite the appetite, but worry not; I've been handling it."

Aera looked down at her newborn, hardly believing this tiny person came from her. The baby stared up at her inquisitively as she sucked at the bottle Ardyn was still holding steady for her. She had blue-gray eyes, speckled with flecks of gold. Her hair was strawberry blonde and curly, and her ears were still slightly crinkled.

"Oh," gasped Aera, her vision blurring with tears. "Ardyn, she's amazing! H-how long have I slept?"

"A bit over a day," he answered, reaching out to gently stroke the infant's head. "We've kept close watch on you though, and I haven't been without help. Our friends are still here and we can expect His Majesty and his family to arrive on the morrow. They are quite eager to meet our daughter, and Lady Lunafreya wishes to offer her healing services to you."

Aera tried to ignore the dull ache in her belly. "But my love, your elixir clearly healed me."

Ardyn gazed at her levelly. "Not as well as I would like. Pray allow her to help you, sweet Aera. It would hasten your recovery so much more."

Aera smiled, and she nodded. This poor man. He looked rather haggard. There were dark circles under his eyes, his facial hair was overgrown and she was sure he'd gained an additional gray hair. The very least she could do for him was comply with his wishes, and she had to admit, some additional healing would certainly help her take care of their new daughter.

"You," whispered the Oracle past a lump in her throat, "are indeed a saint, my husband. Neither I nor our daughter would be here now if not for your efforts. Not many men would take it upon themselves to—"

"Hush now, with that," he interrupted, shaking his head. "I wouldn't call a person who would allow his wife and child to die a 'man' by any stretch. It's hardly saintly to love one's spouse."

"But I could not finish the task," she murmured, gently rocking her daughter as she stared down at her. "I couldn't bring her into this world. You did that."

"Darling, look at me."

She raised her tearful eyes to his, biting her lip. Ardyn reached out to stroke her hair, and he shook his head slowly.

"I did only what I had to do. You were the one who nurtured this child with your body. You kept her safe for nine long months, you suffered such discomfort at your own expense with hardly a complaint. As far as I'm concerned, a man's responsibility doesn't end with the expulsion of his seed. We are partners, you and I, and I know that you fought with everything you had to give birth to our daughter. Suffer no guilt for the ill turn nature took. Between the two of us, we delivered her safely into this world, and I love you all the more for your part of it."

Aera started to cry in earnest, and she tearfully asked him to take the babe from her when she felt her strength bleeding out. Ardyn did do without question, and he kissed her on the forehead with a whispered reassurance.

"I don't think I could love you any more than I do now," Aera sniffed. "Ardyn...I want to nurse her, but I'm so weak."

"Give it time," he advised patiently. He hesitated after taking the now empty bottle, and he carefully eased the baby over his shoulder to pat her gently and burp her. "Don't push yourself too quickly. I would be delighted to hand over responsibility to you, but alas, you need to recover. Dear gods, I'm so frightened I'll break her by accident. She's so blasted tiny."

That made the Oracle give a shaken laugh. "You're doing fine, my love. Better than fine. What a doting, loving father you've made. What shall we call her?"

Ardyn looked at her, tilting his head slightly in thought as he gently bounced the infant to soothe her. "I was waiting for you to wake before deciding. Personally, I like Andrea."

Aera looked at their baby, who was now being cradled in her husband's capable arms. Yes. With her coloring, the name definitely fit better than the other girl name they'd put on reserve.

"Andrea," she repeated softly, thoughtfully. She nodded. "I agree, my love. Andrea Grace. That should be her name."

Ardyn smiled at her tenderly. "I love it."

~****************~

"So tell me again why the hell you didn't take her into town when this started?"

Ardyn cast a glare at his descendant. "Because, you simple fool, by the time I could have gotten her into Insomnia, through all of the traffic and set up in a hospital room, she likely would have gone septic. Time was of the essence, and I had only enough of it to send a plea for help."

Noctis grimaced and held up his hands. "Okay, I get that part. I just mean why didn't you put her in the hospital before she started having contractions? I could have made sure they admitted her, especially with the problems she was having."

Ardyn rolled his eyes heavenward, prepared to blast Noct again, and then heaved a defeated sigh. "You aren't entirely wrong. I could have—and perhaps should have—insisted. Aera did not want to give birth in a hospital environment, though. She has a sort of phobia, you see."

"Of hospitals?" Noct frowned through his salt and pepper beard.

"Yes, Noctis. Of hospitals. Have you forgotten the circumstances of her life prior to our reunion? She spent so much time in the hospital, undergoing numerous tests and treatments due to what they diagnosed as a fatal condition. Is it truly a wonder to you that such a person might find the environment less than conducive to a healthy delivery?"

#Final Fantasy XV #Fanfiction #My writing #Traumatic birth #Romance #drama #preview #Ardyn/Aera #favorite pairing #I'm so sorry but I needed to heal

0 notes

coochiequeens · 10 months

Text

Doctors and nurses who are not willing to listen to their patients should be replaced

BY VICTORIA SMITH

The third time I went into labour, I was determined to avoid getting told off. With both of my previous births, I had somehow managed to get things wrong. My errors the first time: going to hospital too early, then, when I returned three hours later, “leaving it so late”. The second time: ignoring assurances that I didn’t need to come in yet, then giving birth in the car park — an event I later discovered was being used in antenatal classes as an example of women “not planning ahead”.

“My previous births have been fast,” I said, when I went into labour with my third, “so I’d like to come in now.” I was speaking to the woman at the midwife-led unit that is the only option where I live. (If you need a caesarean section, you have to be transferred to next town.) “Third babies are notoriously difficult,” was her response.

What an odd thing to say to a woman already in labour. The “notoriously” suggested it wasn’t based on any actual evidence, but rather a kind of folk wisdom. It felt as though I was being warned not to tempt fate, not to assume that this baby would just pop out. I saw myself being categorised as one of those arrogant women who presumes to know her own body, only to be taught a harsh yet much-deserved lesson. “Third babies are notoriously difficult” sounded not unlike “third-time mothers shouldn’t get above themselves”.

In fact, I have never been particularly cocky about childbirth. When I was pregnant with my first child, back in the days when the Right-wing press were still obsessed with famous women being “too posh to push”, I wondered if I might be able to get an elective caesarean myself. I did not particularly care about childbirth being a wonderful experience, or about “doing it well”. I didn’t care if the Daily Mail thought I was a joke.

What I cared about was not having a child who would face the same difficulties as my brother, who was starved of oxygen at birth. This has had serious consequences for him, and for the rest of my family. Just how serious is hard to gauge. He was born traumatised; there has never been a before to compare the after with. What there has been instead is the hazy outline of an alternative life, one that runs parallel to the one he has now. It’s a life that began with the problem being identified sooner, with him being delivered quickly, perhaps by emergency caesarean. The difference between this and his actual life comes down to something small: mere moments, mere breaths.

I was born three years after my brother, in a larger hospital, where my mother was induced and monitored carefully. There is something very strange about being the sibling who had the safe birth. It feels as though I stole it. There is a constant sense of guilt, as if my life — my independence, my choices — constitutes a form of gloating. “This is what you could have had.” Everything I do feels like something owed to my brother (do it, because he can’t) but also something taken from him (you shouldn’t have done that, because he should have done it first).

Still, my family were fortunate, insofar as my brother didn’t die. Current reports on the Nottingham maternity scandal reference 1,700 cases, with an estimated 201 mothers and babies who might have survived had they received better care. What strikes me, reading them, is the enormous gulf between the cost of a disastrous birth and the trivial, opportunistic way in which childbirth is so often politicised — with mothers themselves viewed as morally, if not practically, to blame if anything goes wrong.

As a feminist who concerns herself with how the female body is demonised, my interest in debates about birthing choices is more than personal. I have read books railing against the over-medicalisation of childbirth, aligning it with a patriarchal need to appropriate female reproductive power. I have also read books protesting the fetishisation of “natural” birth, suggesting that it infantilises women, that it implies women deserve pain. To be honest, I find both arguments persuasive and dismaying. Both are right about the way in which misogyny and professional arrogance can shift the focus away from meeting the needs of women and babies. I feel a kind of rage that we are told to pick a side.

Representations of the labouring woman are so often negative: the naïve idealist, the “birthzilla“, the birth-plan obsessive, the woman who is “too posh to push”. This latter stereotype has gone hand-in-hand with a veneration of vaginal births, and stigmatisation of caesareans, that has had sometimes disastrous consequences. Midwives at the centre of the Furness General Hospital scandal were reported to have “pursued natural birth ‘at any cost’”, referring to one another as “the musketeers”; at least 11 babies and one mother died. But their approach was sanctioned by their employer: the 2006 NHS document “Pathways to Success: a self-improvement toolkit” explicitly suggested that “maternity units applying best practice to the management of pregnancy, labour and birth will achieve a [caesarean section] rate consistently below 20% and will have aspirations to reduce that rate to 15%”. Proposed benefits to this included “a sense of pride in units”.

Responses to maternity scandals now express horror that such an anti-intervention culture ever arose — responses in the same press that denigrated women such as Victoria Beckham and Kate Winslet for not giving birth vaginally. Instead, newspapers now stoke outrage over “natural” treatments during NHS births, such as burning herbs. Women have been shamed for having caesareans, but they have also been shamed for wanting births with minimum intervention — as though they are selfish and spoilt for seeking control over such an extreme situation.

In his memoir This Is Going To Hurt, former doctor Adam Kay writes disparagingly of women who arrive at the delivery suite with birth plans:

“‘Having a birth plan’ always strikes me as akin to having a ‘what I want the weather to be’ plan or a ‘winning the lottery’ plan. Two centuries of obstetricians have found no way of predicting the course of a labour, but a certain denomination of floaty-dressed mother seems to think she can manage it easily.”

Wanting to have some control over your experience of labour — which will hurt you and could kill you or your baby — is not akin to some messianic aspiration to control the weather. And in his mockery of the woman who wants whale song and aromatherapy oils, ironically, Kay deploys the same silencing techniques that might intimidate a woman out of seeking the very interventions he so prizes. What he and others do not seem to grasp is that their arrogance is a problem, regardless of which course of action they champion. It makes women feel they can’t speak, for fear of inviting hostility at their most vulnerable moments. It’s true that none of us knows our body well enough to know how we will give birth. But, looking back, I find it utterly insane, not least given my own family history, that one of my biggest worries during labour was “please don’t let anyone get cross with me”. Then again, I don’t think that fear is unrelated to the desire to remain safe.

Birth is not a joke. It is not a place for professional dick-swinging or political one-upmanship. I cannot describe — and, as I am not my mother, cannot fully understand — the shame of feeling that you “let down” your child before they drew their first breath, that they will forever suffer because of it. You watch an entire life unfolding and that feeling is there, every single day. This is the fear of the women in labour who are characterised as either idiots mesmerised by fantasy homebirths or cold-hearted posh ladies who can’t take the pain. If things go wrong, they are the ones who will bear the consequences, reflecting every day on what might have been, if they’d only done more.

When people discuss their siblings, my mind does wander to the one I don’t have, the one who was born safely. Perhaps he would have a job he loved, or one he hated, but in any case a job. Perhaps he would have a partner. Perhaps he would have children, and I would be their aunt. Perhaps we wouldn’t get on, wouldn’t even speak, but he’d have a life of his own. I know he thinks about this too. I wonder if the professionals who presided over his birth have thought about him since.

My third labour was not, by the way, “notoriously difficult”. My third son arrived into the world safe and well. No one can say why him or me, and not my brother. Mothers may long for control over birth, for which we are mocked; but we do not have it, for which we are blamed. Politics still takes precedence over our needs, and the needs of our babies.

#Traumatic births #Doctors not listening to women #There's no such thing as a birthzilla #Women aren't too posh to push #Doctors are so posh they schedule cesareans to accommodate their schedules not the mothers #Furness General Hospital Scandal #This is going to hurt #Keep Adam Kay away from women #Women wanting a say in their births are not acting like they want to control the weather #Nottingham maternity scandal #If the baby suffers during a traumatic birth it's the mother who will providing the care after they come home from the hospital

549 notes · View notes