#and ive touched on it before but the pressure on women from BIRTH to have children

[carolrain]

Fragment Friday

Thanks for tagging me, @mostlyinthemorning

Rules: Pick five fragments from your unfinished WIPs and then tag five people to keep it going. Let’s have fun with it and help each other shape those fragments into published fics!

—

Okay, I dug deep into my notes for these, and I’m not sure what’ll become anything. Also, they are too long, but if this is all you're getting, here, have the complete paragraphs:

I

It will be okay in the end. If it isn’t okay, it isn’t the end. David hoped that meant, like, they’d be able to sort things out by the end of the week. Or month, maybe. Not that, like, Earth would be okay once the humans died out and moths the size of dinner plates and skyscraper ferns took over again.

II

When the others stopped for a moment to get their water bottles, Patrick had bolted for the hammock. He thought everyone would want to be there, and they’d end up fighting over it and flipping it, all of them landing in a pile of limbs and bruises. Instead, he found himself swaying alone for a moment, then suddenly joined by the birthday girl, pawing at his side impatiently until he picked her up and lay her facedown on his front. He remembered her laughter, her hot breath on his neck, her ponytail making his face itch, her sweaty back that he didn’t want to touch, but he had to so she wouldn’t slide right off of him and on to the ground. 

III

“I don’t think I have any opinions on menopause, Mom.”

“Come on, David, you have opinions on everything.”

“What’s there to have an opinion on? It exists. Like climate change, or rabies. It’s not controversial."

IV

One of the best things about being a mother to a daughter is that you can talk to her about anything. That’s what Jocelyn had told Moira, anyway. Jocelyn herself didn’t have a daughter, but she taught a lot of daughters at her school and she knew their mothers. Also, Jocelyn watched a lot of Lifetime because it empowered women. Moira had been a daughter to a mother once, for a few decades even, but she didn’t remember them sharing a lot of secrets.

V

She and David had gotten off to a rough start. He was born early, unexpectedly, before they’d bought a crib or picked out a name. Johnny had inked in the “David” on the birth certificate form and then left it by her bed. She was still groggy and unsure, even though he was a couple of days old. They had taken David to the NICU and then, a day later, to another hospital with a better NICU. Moira was left behind waiting for her blood pressure to go down, oscillating between two middle names. Her first acts of parenting, she thought, if she let herself think about it, were acts of failure. She failed to keep him safe inside her, she was not in attendance when he was packed up for the ambulance and driven off, and she forgot about the blank line on the paperwork. Johnny was the one who sat by David’s incubator and watched him breathe, encouraging him with stories and pets on his patchy dark hair. Moira thought of him as Johnny’s child, not really her own yet.

—

That last one is more just my head canon than Moira's voice. <shrug>

—

Tagging @mammameesh @rosebrewerj and @jamilas-pen

#fragment friday

[saintshigaraki]

motherhood is its own breed of horror 

#nothing scares me like the idea of motherhood #this is not about hating children more of like. the thought of being trapped. #there is this idea of what a mother should be and any woman outside of that box is condemned #and beyond that this normalization of women getting saddled with nearly all the childraising even if theyre working full time #and have husbands that are perfectly capable of helping #and ive touched on it before but the pressure on women from BIRTH to have children #and its seen as less of a choice and more of an expectation #and so many women don't realize what they want until its too late and whats done is done #its scary how long it took me to realize having children was a choice and not something that was just part of life and something i had to do #its so horrific #tw child birth #tw mother mention #vicspeaks

[courtofjurdan]

One Chance part 15

Jurdan College AU - previous chapter

masterlist

A/N: I wrote this three times and I think I still hate it. I hope you guys enjoy it and I promise the next one will be better. 

Cardan saw her black out and fall over. He tried his hardest to get to her before she fell, but he was too far away. She fell on her side. Cardan was worried for her and the baby because Jude did have a hard impact with the ground and the side of her stomach took a lot of the blow. 

He turned her over to lie on her back. He took her face in his hands. 

“Jude, baby, wake up, please.” Cardan paused to think. He needs to call an ambulance. He pulls out his phone and dials 911. 

“This is 911, what’s your emergency?” 

Panting, Cardan replied, “My-” small pause then decided he could think of this later. “My girlfriend just fainted. She’s kinda sweaty and hot to the touch. And she’s 16 weeks pregnant.”

“Where are you at?”

“Elfhame University.”

“And did you say pregnant?” 

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay. By any chance can you see any blood between her legs?” 

Cardan looked at her leggings and saw no stains. “No there’s none.” 

“Okay that’s a good sign. Put your hand on her stomach. Can you feel any small movements? You might not since she’s not too far along.”

Cardan did as told and he couldn’t even feel the slightest movement, which started to worry him despite what he’s been told. “No, I don’t feel anything.” 

“Okay. That’s okay. The ambulance is on their way. If someone nearby can get a cold rag to put on her forehead that might help her wake up faster.” 

“Okay.” Cardan looked over his shoulder to find some kids and the professor from their last class standing there. He asked the professor to get what he needed and he did. Cardan placed the rag on her forehead. Cardan thanked the operator and waited for the ambulance.

Jude was sliding in and out of consciousness. Never enough to speak but her eyes would move and then she would go back under. 

Cardan kept one hand on her face and the other hand rubbing gentle circles on her bump. Reassuring her she was going to be okay. 

In ten minutes the paramedics were there and loading her into the ambulance. Cardan followed them in his black mustang. Getting there at the same time she did. He parked and went back into the room with her. Because of their relationship and the fact that she was caring his baby, they let him stay with her. 

She was still out when they got her to the hospital. They started to hook her to a whole bunch of monitors. They put these sticky pads in her chest to monitor her heart rate. They started putting this monitor around her stomach to monitor the baby’s heart rate. They started an IV and gave her fluids. 

Cardan held her hand through all of it. Even though she had no idea. He sat in the chair beside her bed the whole time. They told him everything looked fine. Her’s and the baby’s heart rate were great. Her body just needs rest, she’ll wake up on her own time. Cardan let the sound of his baby momma and baby’s heartbeat lull him to sleep. 

——-

Cardan awoke to his hand being moved. That means Jude is starting to wake. He opened his eyes and quickly stood onto his feet. Jude was just waking up. He cupped her face into his hand. 

“Hey Jude, how are you feeling?” 

She looked at him confused. Then started to look around. 

“Wh-what happened?” Jude muttered. 

Cardan took his hand off her face. “You passed out in the hallway after you were leaving your class. I saw you fall and I couldn’t get you to wake up so I called 911.”

“The baby?”

Trying to keep down his panic and keep his voice calm for her, “Um, they said the baby is okay but I’m not sure what caused your episode. They were waiting for you to wake up.”

Jude nodded her head. And realized she was holding Cardan’s hand so she took it back abruptly. She had Cardan go get the doctor while all the memories of why she was mad at him flooded back. 

Dr. Tatterfell came into the room. Without Cardan. 

She spoke, “Hey Jude, I’m glad to see you awake. I told Cardan to stay out there unless you want him in here?”

Jude shook her head no. Dr. Tatterfell continued, “We did some blood tests and your blood sugar was really low. Some women can get something called gestational diabetes. We check during the 24-28 week checkup. But you're only 16 weeks so we obviously haven’t checked for it. Some people have it more on the severe side and I would say you are one of them.” she paused. “Have you been feeling much more tired recently?” Jude nodded. “Nausea?” Jude nodded. “Bigger appetite and drinking more?” Jude nodded. “Okay well we can’t take all the symptoms away but we can sure try to manage them.”

“Are there any risks for the baby?” Jude asked hesitantly. 

“They can have low blood sugar when they’re born. They can have jaundice. Pre-term birth. Can have some breathing problems. And you can get high blood pressure which can hurt the baby, try to be as stress free as possible. So If you ever feel off call us immediately.”

Jude shook her head yes. The doctor talked to her about the route of treatment they would go, and some diet changes she can make. After that, Cardan came in while the doctor left.  

Cardan asked, “Are you okay? Is the baby?”

Jude told him the rundown of things. 

“Jude, you should have told me you felt bad. I would have tried to help.”

“Well I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Cardan, or if you’ve had your tongue down to many people's throats, but I’ve been distant.”

Cardan sat down in the chair beside the bed and watched Jude as she rubbed her hand in circles on her bump. 

“I’m sorry, Jude. I forgot who I was. I’m not the kid who mocked and tortured you anymore. I don’t want to be. I messed up, and I messed up bad.”

“Yeah no joke.” She paused. “Cardan I need you. I can’t do all this alone. I can’t raise a kid alone.”

Cardan looked up, voice thick with emotion, “You will never be alone.”

“Let's take a break. I will go back to my dorm.”

“Jude, you can’t stay alone. If I overheard right, the doctor said it was wise for someone to stay with you. I’ll sleep on the couch. You get the bed. I’ll keep to myself.” 

“Okay. But if I get annoyed, I’m leaving.” 

Soon Jude got to go leave. Her body was weak and she just didn’t feel good. Cardan got her back to the dorm and to bed. After that he left to go get Jude some food for her newly formed diet plan. 

————

Cardan helped Jude and was as friendly as he could be. Jude had good days and bad days with him. If she felt bad, she was a butthole. If she felt okay, her attitude was more playful with him. Things were beginning to heal between them. The bitterness was slowly leaving them. It was back to cuddling and playful banter. 

One night watching a movie on the couch, Cardan spoke up, “Jude, are we good? Will we ever be what we used to be? Well we started to be?” 

Jude didn’t know if this was the hormones talking or not, “Yeah Cardan were good. I love you too much to give you up over a mistake. A drunken mistake at that. Just don’t do anything stupid, okay? Then I may not forgive you.”

Cardan chuckled. “Okay. I love you, Jude.” He dropped a kiss to Jude’s head which was laying on his shoulder. 

————

It’s been two weeks, which makes today November 13th. Not only is it Jude’s birthday, but they get to find out the gender of their baby today. Well they won’t find out but the bakery that will make a cake blue or pink cake will find out today. 

They decided to have a small get-together with their friends to reveal the gender. It was Cardan’s idea. Jude just wanted to know at the appointment, but Cardan wanted to have a small party. Jude relented. It can’t be that bad. She just hates surprises. Waiting another day won’t hurt. 

On top of the gender reveal party, Cardan wanted to celebrate Jude’s birthday on the same day, to which she also relented because Cardan’s puppy dog eyes are charming. But she said yes on the behalf Taryn gets celebrated also. 

Jude doesn’t like to celebrate her birthday. The memories of birthday parties as a young kid with her mom and dad are what come to her mind. But Cardan wants to make her birthday different. A happy day. 

They are waiting in the waiting room of the doctor office. Jude has missed the last appointment in being busy which she knows is bad but since she was at the hospital and everything was fine, she saw no need in coming in sooner. 

She is 18 weeks. Almost half way through her pregnancy. Her stomach doesn’t just look like she’s gained weight, it's obvious that she is pregnant. 

She cradles her bump with one hand and holds Cardan’s hand in the other. She is rather anxious for this appointment. She doesn’t care if it’s a boy or a girl, but she is just nervous anyway. 

“Jude Duarte.” 

Cardan gives her a hand and helps her up even though she can get up easy-ish. She goes back and lays down on the table and pulls the hem of her t-shirt up. Dr. Tatterfell comes in.

“Hello, Jude how are you?” 

Jude gives a sweet smile, “I’m doing good. Feeling huge.” 

Dr, Tatterfell laughs at that. “Well, darling, it only gets worse from here. Have you been eating, drinking, and resting well?” 

“Umm yeah I have.”

Dr, Tatterfell gives her a look of disbelief and looks to Cardan, standing beside Jude. 

Cardan clears his throat. “Well she has definitely been eating well. More like raiding my kitchen. Drinking lots of water. The rest is…. complicated. Some days she rests, and other days I can’t get her to stay still. She is stubborn.”

“Yes, I do pick up on that. Jude, rest is very important. You are almost halfway through your pregnancy. You are going to be really tired. Your body is working for two people. With gestational diabetes on top of that, it’s important to rest.” 

Jude nods her head in understanding. Dr. Tatterfell continues with a genuine smile, “Well now, would you like to know the sex of your baby?” 

Cardan and Jude look at each other, Cardan speaks, “We would not. We want to have a gender reveal party to reveal it. So could you put the results in an envelope?”

“Yes I can. I can also give you pictures of the baby today without the gender so it will still be a surprise but you can still have pictures of your baby.” 

They both nod their heads. The doctor squeezes the cold gel into Jude’s bump. Cardan grabs a hold of Jude's hand and they look at the screen together. Jude looks over at Cardan with admiration in her eyes. He shows so much love for someone he hasn’t even met or felt. She loves him for that. 

They look at their baby’s head, nose, arms, fingers and then Dr, Tatterfell asks them to close their eyes for the next part so she can find out the sex. After she’s done, she looks at them both and says, “Congratulations.” 

She prints the photos and the results and puts them in an envelope and gives them the “safe” picture, meaning it doesn’t show the gender. 

She gives Jude a tissue to clean herself off with and says she will see her in a few weeks. Before she leaves the room, Dr. Tatterfell mutters, “Happy Birthday by the way.” 

————

They drop the results off at the bakery and Cardan takes Jude to lunch for her birthday. 

They were walking back to the car when Jude stopped suddenly and put a hand to the side of her stomach. 

Cardan whirls around, “Jude, what’s wrong?” 

Jude grabs his hand and places it  over the spot where their little baby kicked. Realization dawns in Cardan and he muttered quietly, “Did the baby just kick?” 

Jude nodded her head. Cardan’s grin widened. He bent over and kissed the little bump saying, “I love you, little one.” He captured Jude’s lips and walked to the car.

He and Jude watched a movie marathon and went to sleep. They were now sleeping together again. Now that forgiveness was bound. 

They were both excited about tomorrow. Not only was it Jude’s birthday party, but it was the day they would finally learn the gender of their little one.

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next chapter

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#jurdan fanfic #jurdan #jurdan fic #jurdan pregnancy #tfota fanfic #tfota #The Folk of the Air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #queen jude #king cardan #cardan x jude #jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #abigail writes

[royalbirthchamber]

A Debt of Vengeance Part XIV

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI Part XII Part XIII

**Well...I never thought this tale would go on as long as it did...but here we are! I want to thank everyone for all their support, love, feedback, and questions. I hope you have enjoyed this tale as much as I have enjoyed writing it. And thank you for being so patient in between chapters: would you believe it’s been a year and a half since Malchior and Sybil first met? Anyhow: I hope the ending is everything you all could want and more. Thank you - L. Wyvernic**

The now-empress reclined against the mountain of silken pillows and rubbed the grand swell of her stomach. There were so many questions swirling in Sybil's mind, so many things that didn't make sense. She watched at Malchior turned away from the door as the two other women left and silently walk back to the large pallet where she lay. Kneeling beside her he placed his hand on hers and for the moment they both felt the baby ready to be born, neither saying a word.

"Malchior," Sybil softly whispered. She intertwined her fingers with his and looked into the demigod's face. His eyes were glistening with a torrent of feelings: love, sorrow, guilt, joy...Sybil felt her throat tighten as her own tide of emotion began to rise.  Neither knew how to give voice to the weight in their hearts, the sins they carried beginning for redemption.

Malchior lowered his eyes, fighting to find the words. "All this time I've been nothing but...a monster."

" It's over now," she murmured, squeezing his hand, "It's all over."

He shook his head and looked into Sybil's eyes. "No, you don't understand: I always knew, the moment I first saw you waiting for me in your father's castle, I knew at that second. I just refused to believe it..."

" Knew what?" she asked, puzzled by his words.

The emperor shuddered with sorrow, regret. He forced himself to go on; she had to know.

"When I entered your father's castle, I was ready to destroy you," he whispered, "But then...seeing you seated there, it was as if every single moment of my life was compressed into this tiny point focused into one single second. My past and future all happening at once and in my heart, I felt my destiny calling to me. My prydia..."

"Malchior, I'm not your prydia," Sybil turned her face away as tears spilled down her cheeks. "Please...stop saying foolish things!"

"They're not foolish things, Sybil!" he cried. "I speak the truth."

"Would anyone else treat their 'prydia' as you have treated me?" she asked, facing him again. "Yes, I have been cruel in the past but it was onl-ahhh!" Sybil gasped: her womb contracted, the pain rolling down over her stomach and spreading into her back and hips. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing instead. The pains were getting stronger and closer together now. She felt Malchior release her hand and massage the underside of her belly where the pressure seemed to focus.

"That was a strong one," the emperor said. Sybil nodded in agreement as the pain finally abated. He grabbed a damp, cool cloth from a near-by crystal bowl and placed it against her forehead. She softly moaned, welcoming the refreshing feel of the wet cloth against her skin.

"Before...I took the throne, I went to see an oracle," Malchior quietly began. "It's customary for the heir to see her visions and prophesy before they are crowned. I was young, then, and did not give her words much thought. But...now I cannot forget her words. Of all the things she saw there was one part, one... prophecy which still haunts me: 'And two empresses will thou have, But only one a prydia be. One will fall, thy soul departed, The Second, sealed, will return it to thee.'"

"But...it doesn't say which one," Sybil replied, "Only that you would have two empresses but only one would be your prydia. That doesn't prove anything."

"'The Second, sealed, will return it to thee'. My sigil...the one I placed to protect you and our child: it can only be sealed to a prydia," he replied. "I placed it upon Thyra as well, even though I feared that prophecy. I would defy Fate, I would prove the old crone oracle wrong, but..."

"You...knew she wasn't your prydia?" Sybil softly asked, "Even when you married her and made her empress?"

"I loved her so much, Sybil." Malchior shook his head. "I loved her and swore that she would be my Fated One, that I would control my own destiny. When I laid my seal upon her, I felt so...confident that I had won over Fate." He then held his head in his hands. "Obviously...we both know..."

Sybil sighed and stared at the vaulted ceiling high above her as her mind tried to process everything. Ever since her father ordered Thyra's death her life had been nothing but chaos. Had Thyra actually been Malchior's prydia his sigil would have protected her and her child from the dark magic poisoning her assassin's blade. Instead both Thyra and the baby perished and proved that Malchior's sigil was powerless. It had, however, protected her own baby...

"You...really hurt me, Malchior," she finally said. "You, my father, Dysarq: all men who have seen me as something to be used." She rolled onto her side, facing away from the emperor. The position eased the pressure from her lower back from the large baby slowly making its way into the world.  "If I'm your prydia...why would you treat me so...cruelly?"

"Oh, Sybil, forgive me," Malchior pled. He gently laid beside her on the pallet and pulled her body close to his own. Even now she felt warm and safe in his arms. Sybil guided his arm around her belly so he could cradle it as well and Malchior nuzzled her neck in response. "Please, beloved...forgive me."

"I just want to know why?" She asked.

"I refused to believe that Thyra wasn't my prydia, even after I failed to prevent her death...even though the oracle had spoken such. During the war, when your father's armies surrendered, I decided that I would make his daughter my consort: that it would prove the prophecy wrong. By marrying the daughter of my hated enemy, a princess I had never met and who would despise me, I would thwart the gods...but I was wrong, Sybil. Fate had outwitted me once more by making you my prydia. When I entered you chambers and realized it the moment I laid eyes on you...I was so terrified. I just wanted to make you...hate me."

"That way...there would be no love," Sybil mused.

"And if there is no love...then I wouldn't be hurt again."

"Only...I would be the one hurt instead."

Malchior gently rolled Sybil onto her back and cupped her face, his own a mask of sorrow and remorse. " I have proven myself unworthy to have the love of my prydia. I accept this. I have drawn up documents giving you reign over Roliam once more. You...and our daughter...can go and live there. When I am gone, she will inherit my throne. I will not interfere: you two can live in peace."

Sybil looked into his eyes and knew he was speaking the truth. He would give her everything: her freedom, her kingdom, even his own child just to atone for his sins. He had hurt her, there was no denying the fact. He had been heartless, cruel, cold...and in turn, she had given him the same but then there were times...he had been tender, loving even. He adored their child from the moment she became pregnant and the fact that it would be a girl did nothing to diminish his love, something her own father never done.

And Sybil, despite everything - everything!- knew in her heart he would be the only man she would ever love. Was theirs a perfect love? No: it was one born from loss, grief, and a desire for vengeance. Both had entered the union wounded and instead of helping each other to heal they lashed out in pain, desiring to make the other suffer just as much. She remembered when her mother lay dying her father refused to see his wife one last time. Sybil was furious and bitterly wept as she held the woman's hand and cursed the king. The queen, whose heart never turned bitter in spite of her sufferings, comforted her daughter with an old proverb:

"If all could be understood then all would be forgiven."

The baby kicked as if waiting for her to make a choice before it entered the world. She reached up and caressed Malchior's face. For the first time in her life, she was free to choose her destiny.

"I shall tell you what I want," she began, "I will stay in this chamber and give birth to our daughter. I will sit beside you on the throne as your empress and advisor, and I will bear you a family of strong sons and proud daughters. All I ask...is that we learn to understand and forgive each other."

"Sybil," Malchior's eyes brimmed with tears as her forgiveness washed over him and finally began to lift the oppressive weight of grief from his soul. He leaned down and kissed his empress, their lips touching for the first time. Sybil softly moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck, her body beginning to yield to his as their tongues intertwined. Warmth flooded her body; not just the heat of lustful passions that she had known but a deeper warmth, more intense than when he had called her 'beloved'.  They would both heal.

Her thoughts were interrupted by another contraction. Her body slightly bucked as her hard stomach surged. A long, low moan escaped from her throat, her mouth pulling away from his as the pain grew along with her voice.

Malchior's hand slid under her gown and caressed her laboring belly, feeling the muscles of her womb tighten around their baby. Sybil arched her back, panting, as the pain peaked and then slowly faded once more. The pressure behind her cervix and in her hips was slowly building as each contraction gradually forced the large, Artemian child into the world. Sybil began to seriously fear that her body would not be able to accommodate such a large baby no matter what Malchior of the midwife said.

" How...far apart are my pains now?" Sybil murmured, "They feel stronger than when you brought me here."

"About fifteen minutes or so," Malchior replied. He pulled back her tight gown and began to kiss her stomach. "You're doing wonderful, Sybil." He rose from the bed and walked to the wooden table where various supplies awaited and grabbed a small glass vial. He returned and gently opened her thighs, allowing him to kneel between her bent knees. He opened the vial and carefully poured the sweet-scented oil onto his hands, rubbing them together as the smell reached Sybil's nose. It was similar to the same heady oil Mavis had poured into her bath. Sybil sighed and she inhaled the perfumed air while Malchior began to knead the sore flesh of her swollen midsection.

"Ahhh," she moaned, "That...feels wonderful, my lord."

Malchior did not spoke but relished watching his laboring empress sigh and moan in pleasure as his hands worked and caressed the tight, translucent skin. Her body was ripe, swollen with life, ready to erupt with his child and seeing her writhe upon the silken sheets was a delicious sight to behold. The baby's movements made ripples across the surface of her belly as it squirmed, impatient with the slow labor. He traced his fingers over the shifting mound as his other hand continued to firmly massage the underside of her stomach.

"Let me see if you've progressed, my empress." He carefully slid his oiled fingers into her sex. Sybil moaned, enjoying the feeling of him inside her despite her current ordeal. "About two, two-and-a-half fingers open." He slowly withdrew from her cunt and began to run his fingers over her sensitive clit. Her gentle signs became lustful moans of pleasure and her hands gripped the sheets as he teased her. After a moment of delicious torment, he rubbed more oil on his hands and began to rub her belly.

Sybil opened her eyes and saw the hungry look on the god-emperor. She slowly raised herself up into a sitting position and held out a hand.

"Please, I think I need to kneel while I labor. My back..."

Malchior helped her up until she knelt upon the bedding and supported her heavily pregnant figure from behind. Her belly hung between her bent knees, resting on the bedding, and the large baby pressed down against her gradually opening cervix. Malchior continued to cradle and rub her stomach. He pulled her in close, his erect cock pressing into her back through his trousers, and began to kiss the nape of her neck. Sybil released a series of moans and sighs as he continued to kiss her until another pain seized her once more, tightening around her like a fist. Her voice raised from a whimper into a painful cry, her hands pressing into the sides of her solid midriff. Malchior placed his hands atop her and whispered encouragements into her ear.

"Breathe, Sybil. Like this," and he led her through the pain, both breathing as the contraction gripped her body. As it passed she sagged against with a soft cry. The demi-god continued to caress her belly and kiss the side of her tired face. "You're so beautiful right now, my love. So strong and beautiful."

"You wanted to see me suffer, remember?" she replied with a wry smile. He softly groaned as he clutched her belly.

"I think you've suffered enough, my empress," he gently replied. "I could still delay this, let you rest for a day, and then make sure your labor is easy...painless..."

"No!" she fiercely shook her head. "I...I want my baby and I want...I want to suffer, Malchior.  I want you to watch me in agony as I birth this child. Just...promise me she'll be okay." Sybil ran a hand over her swell. "Promise me...if something goes wrong, you'll make sure she-"

"Sybil stop," Malchior interrupted her, "You will be able to bear this child. Those things Dysarq said were just horrible lies: I will never allow you or our children to perish in childbed."

The two remained kneeling on the pallet as Malchior hungrily kissed his prydia, cradling her belly through each contraction while Sybil moaned, cried, and panted through the cruel pain. It seemed her labor had stalled: after two hours the contractions were still about fifteen minutes apart. Sybil sat against the pillows once more, her knees bent, as the emperor gently checked to see her progress.

"Still the same," he calmly replied as he withdrew his fingers from her soaking sex. Sybil groaned in dismay. She had hoped for some progress after two hours of laboring in her beloved's arms. Her waters still remained intact and her womb no more open than before: two hours spent in vain! Malchior laid beside her and kissed her greedily, distracting her from the disappointment. She felt a familiar ache between her thighs as fire flushed through her body. She looked up into her husband's face as the lustful blaze burned in her eyes.

"Fuck me," she whispered, "I demand it, Malchior!"

Malchior's eyes widened, ignited with the same carnal flames that now burned in her. " You demand it, royal whore?" he teased. His hand moved from her cheek and slowly trailed down her body. Sybil shivered in delight and kissed him again.

"You promised to break my waters, to ravage me without mercy as I struggled to bear your child." she whispered, "Do it, Malchior! I need you!"

" I did promise, my little whore," he growled into her ear as he slowly slid his trousers off. "I did promise to fuck this child out of you."

"Please..." she whimpered, rolling onto her side to allow him better access. She felt him slide next to her on the pallet and lift her leg up, crying as her cunt ached to be impaled. "Oh Malchior, please..."

"Is this what you want, Sybil?" he teased her soaking folds with the tip of his massive rod. She nodded and moaned with each brush against her sex. Malchior buried his face into her neck, kissing her clavicle. " You do not know how long I've waited for this moment: fucking my whore prydia as she labors with my child, breaking her waters, and then finally watching as the royal baby mercilessly plows through her. Oh Sybil...thank you."

Sybil did not have time to reply as the emperor penetrated her hard. She screamed in a mix of surprise and pleasure as his cock stretched her open and began to thrust mercilessly into her.

"Oh gods, yes!" she screamed, "Harder!"

Malchior roughly gripped her belly, pulling Sybil into him and allowing him to plunge into her sex. Sybil felt him slam into her cervix repeatedly, his thick member filling her and hitting every pleasurable spot. She released a series of moans and screams in rhythm to his thrusts. The emperor groaned: the sounds of her cries only goaded him on and he had missed the feel of her cunt tightly enveloping his rod, missed feeling the baby kick inside his beloved as she begged for his cock.

"The Five Realms may think of you as their empress," he hissed, "but I'll always know you're my royal whore, Sybil. Wicked, wicked whore: begging to be fucked even in the throes on labor!"

"Yes!" she screamed. "And you're just as wicked, Malchior! So wicked! Oh gods!" She gripped his hand, the one holding her belly, as she felt another contraction begin to build. The pain and pleasure began to wrap around her, each building off the other into a mix of glorious torment. She moaned, her voice rich with agony, and her eyes began to flutter.

Malchior knew what was happening as he felt her stomach muscles begin to tighten. "Suffer for me, Sybil," he demanded. Sybil moaned in reply. The sensation of her stomach being seized by such pain only made him thrust faster and harder into his laboring beloved, his own orgasm building. He watched her face shift from ecstasy to a visage of torment. Her stomach surged, rock hard. Sybil bucked violently against his body: she began to shake as the combination of her orgasm and the contraction melted into one. She threw her head back as a raw scream tore from her throat: the pain and pleasure peaked at once and held her body prisoner. Malchior roared as he finally came with one last, deep thrust. His own body quaked with a forceful release, hot and thick. Sybil's cries continued as the tightening band of pain remained around her midsection. She gripped the sheets, gasping for air between her moans. The afterglow still cascaded through her even while she was tortured by the cruel contraction: it was both heaven and hell.

Something gave inside her, forcing a low groan from her lips. Malchior felt it as well and withdrew from her sore sex: a torrent of water burst from between her open, shivering thighs and spilled across the red, silken sheets. The contraction finally faded, leaving the empress trembling and drenched in sweat and birth fluid.

Malchior rose, quickly slipping back into his trousers, and grabbed some towels. He placed some on the soaked bed and used others to clean Sybil's legs and thighs. He gently kissed her stomach as he dried her with the soft towels. She weakly opened her eyes and gazed at her emperor. The chamber was now filled with the burning light of sunset, igniting his long hair into bursts of scarlet, crimson, and ruby. She watched as he placed his hand on her swell and felt the baby's position.

"Is she...okay?" an exhausted Sybil asked. "That wasn't too..."

"She is fine, my love," Malchior replied much to Sybil's relief. She gave a tired smile and stroked her belly. Malchior kissed her stomach once more. "Your labor should begin to hasten, now."

*****

Night fell and the birthing chamber was illuminated by the ethereal glow of candles and the small fire burning in the hearth. Sybil stood before the long wooden table, gripping its edge, moaning as another contraction held her. Behind her, Malchior rubbed her back as his empress groaned in pain. After her waters broke her labor did pick up again and the royal couple had spent the past hours pacing the chamber floors or kneeling on the pallet as Sybil panted and wailed with each fresh contraction. It was nearing midnight and now her pains were less than five minutes apart and lasting what seemed like an eternity. Her frame was soaked in sweat and every joint ached. As the contraction ended her body sagged against the table, her knees weak, and Malchior laced his arms through hers for support.

"I can't do this," she mewed, "I thought I was strong, but I'm too-"

"You are strong, Sybil!" Malchior lovingly whispered into her ear, "You are the strongest woman in all the Five Realms."

"I doubt that," she muttered. She looked over to the soft rug spread before the hearth. Malchior followed her gaze.

"Kneel?" he asked. Sybil nodded.

"...kneel, please."

He carefully led her over to the fireplace and helped her down until she was kneeling on all fours, her belly pressing into the red fibers of the rub. She closed her eyes and panted: the baby was so low now, the pressure almost unbearable. Malchior returned to her side and knelt. He placed a goblet of cold water to her lips, which she gulped down in seconds, and then resumed rubbing her sore back and stroking the side of her stomach.

"You're both going to be fine, " he softly reassured, "Do you think my magick will fail you now after all this time?"

"I'm just...scared," Sybil replied, "So scared..."

"But I'm here with you, beloved. Nothing and no one will hurt you or our daughter. Remember my sigil?"

Sybil slightly raised her head. Something had bothered her but only now did she remember what it was. "Malchior?"

"Hmm?"

"I thought...you said it had only been a dream when you sealed me. Remember?"

Malchior sighed. "I lied."

"But...you were gone. How did you return and then leave again? It doesn't...make sense."

The emperor caressed her face: it seemed the birthing chamber was a place where the truth would come to light as well as see their child born. " I did leave, with some men, that evening. We...that is, I, needed to see the oracle again. I needed to know if Dysarq would succeed and I needed to know...if you were my prydia after all. As we camped for the first night I heard you...calling for me. I knew you were in danger."

"The nightmare," Sybil answered. Malchior nodded.

"Yes. I had...to get to you, so I quickly set a portal back to the bedchamber and found you in bed, crying, but I could also feel his presence. I shouldn't...have left you alone: I knew then that unless I did something he would rob me of the both of you. So..."

Sybil closed her eyes. "You placed your seal-Aahhhh! Malchior!"

Her head pressed against the floor as her womb squeezed and hardened around the babe. Her voice filled the chambers; she felt her hips creak as the pressure behind the giant baby forced it into her pelvis. She gasped frantically for air as the pain overrode all other though.

"Breathe, Sybil! Breathe!" Malchior urged. He moved before her and lifted her panicked face up to meet his own. "You need to breathe!"

She slowly found control over her body and began to breathe deeply, exhaling each time with a long moan, tormented moan. Malchior pressed a cold cloth to her face as she worked through the contraction, knowing that the icy water would feel good against her hot face.

"Ahh...ahhh...ahh...too big," she cried, "The baby...too big."

"You can do this, my prydia," he replied, "All these months you've said you can handle anything this wicked emperor gives you."

"...I guess you're not...the only liar...here."

Malchior could not help but laugh. He leaned down and kissed her mouth. "I do not believe you were lying, Sybil."

" Tell me...what did the oracle say?"

"What do you expect? When I arrived she laughed, wanting to know why I was there if I already had my answer? There was no use in asking if you were my prydia: my seal lay upon you and our child. When I asked about Dysarq she said the seal would protect you from him...but not from me. The oracle warned me that I was on dangerously close to making myself unworthy of a prydia; it happens sometimes if one partner does not honor the other. 'the choice' she said, 'would lie in the Empress' hands'."

"...and I have made my choice, Malchior."

"I know."

*****

As the hours passed the pains became even more intense, almost on top of one another until Sybil felt as if she were suffering an endless contraction. She returned to the pallet, exhausted, and writhed upon the pillows as her body was tormented by wave after wave of excruciating pain. The contractions were frighteningly strong; Malchior barely could see the faint outline of their baby as the muscles of her womb mercilessly tightened into a clenched fist of pain. His hands tirelessly kneaded the sore flesh and his mouth sprinkled kisses on the taut surface of her surging belly, her heaving chest, her pale neck...

A new pain welled up inside Sybil's worn body: an urge she could not deny. She threw her head back against the pillows as her body followed its instinct and bore down. Her thighs opened as the baby finally made its first move towards the world, a journey that would not be quick. She wailed with effort as the felt the massive head sluggishly began to force its way through her hips - her bones creaked at the sheer girth and Sybil feared she would be split apart by the royal babe.

Malchior quickly slid his fingers inside and felt the top of the baby's head just begin to press against his fingertips.

My precious child...

"Let's get you to the birthing stool," he spoke with quiet urgency, not watching to scare his wife but also feeling a mix of excitement and anxiousness. Sybil said nothing, only moaned as he lifted her to her feet. Each step brought a whimper from her lips: the baby entering her canal made walking difficult and awkward. She gripped his arm and the other cradled her low-hanging belly. She could see the stool waiting for her by the fire, the sturdy rope hanging near-by: it seemed so far but somehow she found the strength to make it. She gripped the rope and slowly slid down until she was squatting on the stool. The position opened her hips more and gravity helped bring the baby's head down lower into her canal.

"Ahhh Malchior, she's so big!" Sybil moaned.

"Our beautiful, Artemian princess," he whispered as he sat behind her and supported her tired, heavy body. "She's coming, Sybil. You just need to stay strong."

She gripped the rope, just as she had done all those times before with Ansela except now her labor was real. Sybil felt the next contraction build and prepared herself to push again - she was strong! She would bear their child, and many more; she was the Empress of the Five Realms and would give her beloved many, many heirs.

Her knuckles went white with the sheer force of her grip upon the rope while she bore down on the baby. Her voice roared with determination and pain, echoing up into the rafters, and she opened her thighs as wide as possible.

"Yes, Sybil!" Malchior urged, "Push! Just like that!" He pulled her in close, his hands lovingly caressing her contracting belly, and began to kiss her face and neck. As she pushed he would murmur encouragements and then mention how her laboring cries were driving him insane with desire. She could feel him becoming hard and she could not help but enjoy knowing her agony was filling him with lust.

"I'm surprised you don't force her back inside and fuck me again!" she panted, "You're such a vile, horrible emperor. So wicked..."

"Do not tempt me, little empress!" he growled into her ear. "Your ordeal is still not over." The fantasies helped distract Sybil from the excruciating pressure as the large head continued to brutally force her open.

"Tell me...more, Malchior! What else will you do to me?"

The emperor spun tales of delicious torment: she would give birth before all his guards like a common whore, or perhaps he would force her to carry out her imperial duties while laboring before the court. There would be a special undergarment that would not allow her progress beyond the babe only partially crowning - she would spend the whole day as their baby's head bulged between her thighs, a damp mound behind the silk and leather of the garment. She moaned and begged through all the stories and felt his painfully hard cock throb as it pressed into her. Her fear was replaced by hungry desire: she almost wanted Malchior to force her on all fours and violently ravage her sore sex. Instead, it drove her as she continued to bear down and moan, feeling his heir painfully fill and stretch her. She must have pushed for a solid hour before she finally felt the enormous head barely press against her folds.

"Malchior! Oh god, she's coming!"

Malchior moved from his place behind Sybil and knelt before her so he could see her progress. He watched as she pushed, the lips of her cunt slightly bulged out and he saw the baby's head barely peek out from behind her folds before retreating back inside. Another push forced her sex to swell out a little more, fluid dribbling from her lips, and a second glimpse of the head from the almond-sized opening.

"I see her, Sybil!" his eyes sparkled with excitement and wonder. "She has your lovely, dark hair!"

Sybil reached down to the growing mound between her thighs and slipped a finger inside where she immediately felt the soft surface of her baby's head.

"...baby!" she gasped. "My baby!" Her emotions overwhelmed her and she began to weep with joy as she carefully caressed her child with the tip of her finger. Malchior took her face in his hands and begin to kiss his empress as his tears mingled with her own. She kept her palm placed against her labia and she bore down again, groaning and yelling with effort as her child slowly came. Her lips refused to part beyond a shy, modest opening forcing her sex to swell out with each push until it jutted out to painful proportions. Malchior gazed at the massive bulge and softly ran his fingers over the stubborn lips.

"You need to stop pushing, Sybil," he commanded, " and let your body stretch for the head."

"I can't" she cried, " Malchior I need to-"

"You need to stretch!" he firmly replied. "I'm taking you back over to the bed where you can rest and I can help your lips open."

Sybil didn't even have a moment to protest; Malchior picked her body up in one swoop and carried her across the chambers back to the bed once more. She leaned against the pillows and gripped the backs of her bent knees, pulling them as close to her body as possible. Malchior grabbed the bottle of oil and poured a few drops on her bulging labia before gently rubbing and massaging the tight, red tissues with his fingers. Sybil gently moaned as his fingertips would brush against her clit as he rubbed her glistening mound. He dripped a small cloth into a nearby bowl of hot water, enchanted no doubt to hold its temperature for hours, and then placed the hot compress into her swollen sex.

"Breathe," Malchior coached, "When the next pain comes, don't push: you need to stretch around the baby's head."

Sybil nodded as she felt a pain already on its way. Her moans started and the uncontrollable urge to push began to take hold. Before she was even aware of it Sybil was bearing down hard. Malchior's palm remained firmly pressed against the cloth-draped bulge, applying counter-pressure to his prydia's pushing.

"Sybil, you need to breathe! Don't push!"

"I can't!" she wailed, "I need to push!"

"Look at me!" Malchior leaned over and gently cupped her tired face. "You can do this Sybil! If not for me then for our daughter. If you keep pushing you will tire yourself and possibly tear which could...cause complications. I can't have anything happen to either of you. So breathe, pant - scream if you must!"

"I'm sorry, Malchior," she whispered. He sighed and kissed her face.

"There is nothing to forgive. You are so strong, my love, and the baby is almost here." He looked up at the lancet windows and noticed the first soft blushes of sunrise. "Look, Sybil: the sun is coming!"

She wearily followed his pointing finger and saw the soft pre-dawn light. "This labor will never end, Malchior."

"No, my empress: this will be the first morning out precious baby sees. Her first morning in all the Five Realms." He gently removed the hot compress and used his finger to gently stretch her stubborn lips once more. They had parted slightly, grudging giving the Artemian baby's head passage as it struggled to crown. As the next contraction came Sybil fought the urge to push and instead white-knuckled the sheets as her moans and cries filled the birthing chamber. She closed her eyes and wondered if she could honestly survive such an ordeal, but she had faith in her emperor's magick: he wouldn't let either perish.

The light outside slowly grew as Sybil fought her natural instinct to push. Malchrior continued to rub the burning, sore lips with oil and apply the hot compresses to the stretching swell between her thighs. With each contraction her lips slowly began to peel back around the enormous head, much larger than a mortal child's, until finally, the baby had nearly crowned. Sybil was exhausted, her throat raw from all her cries. She panted, her eyes half opened, as her stretched sex burned from the sheer girth of the child. Malchior placed another goblet of water to her lips and a cold cloth to her face, reviving her momentarily.

"Sybil, look."

Kneeling between her bent thighs he held a small mirror in which she finally caught the first glimpse of her baby. Malchior was right, the child had her dark curls which she reached down and gently caressed.

"Hello," she softly whispered, tears beginning to spill down her cheeks, "Hello my little sweetheart."

"I need you to push now, okay?" Malchior gently spoke, overcome with his own emotions. "Small pushes, Sybil."

Seeing and feeling her daughter, after all the months of sorrow and heartbreak, filled Sybil with a renewed vigor and determination. She pulled her thighs back once more and pushed , groaning as she felt the burning become more intense. Malchior placed both his hands on either side of the crown, pushing the flesh and tissues back around the massive head. Dawn began to fill the room and the first rays spilled through the windows and touched the damp, crowning head of her baby. Malchior gasped; this was a fortunate omen. A new era for his empire dawned with the birth of his firstborn. He gently bent over and gently kissed the exposed head of his soon-to-be-born princess.

Sybil's heart swelled: this dawn marked not only the birth of her daughter but also the beginning of her life, her new life as empress and wife to the man she loved. The old Malchior and Sybil were gone and now, in this new day, they were reborn. They would heal, they would love, they would build a family.

"She's coming!" Malchior excitedly spoke. He grabbed more towels and placed them around Sybil as the head finally crowned. He was amazed at the size of the baby's head jutting out of his mortal wife's sex. He looked back at his wife, his eyes filled with love and admiration. "Oh my prydia, my beautiful, empress. You look absolutely sublime."

"This will not be the last time either, Malchior," Sybil vowed before bearing down, driven to give Malchior their long-desired daughter.

He continued to press her burning lips down around the baby's skull as the empress whimpered with each push. Slowly the head emerged, the brow popping out as he supported her thin perineum. The nose, ears, mouth...all the little features slowly appeared as the head finally erupted in a spray of fluids.

Sybil collapsed against the cushions with a tortured cry, gasping for breath. Malchior cradled the baby's head, checking the neck for a cord and smiling when he found none. He took his wife's hand and placed it on their child's face. Sybil's fingers ran over the damp, chubby cheeks of her newborn with love and tenderness.

"...Avalee," she whispered, "My little Avalee."

"That...is a beautiful name, my love," Malchior replied.

"Malchior," Sybil looked at her husband, a serious expression crossing her weary face, "I want to name her Avalee Thyra...I think...that is best."

The demigod was dumbstruck. For a second he said nothing and Sybil feared she had misspoken, reopening old wounds in the emperor's heart.

"Sybil...," he finally spoke, his voice choked, "...I am not worthy of you."

Before Sybil could reply she was gripped by another contraction and she realized she still had to birth the shoulders. The head gently turned until the babe faced her inner thigh, the shoulders nestled against her pelvis. The two now focused on delivering the child: the journey was almost through. She jerked her legs back as far as possible and pushed with all her strength as the shoulders pressed against her pelvic bone. Malchior held the baby's head and worked to maneuver the wide shoulders free.

"Push!" he urged, "As hard as you can, Sybil!"

Sybil screamed, all her energy focused on pushing out the large baby lodged in her hips. The child did not budge, remaining firmly stuck at the shoulders. She began to panic after the second push: this was taking too long and her daughter needed out!

"She's not coming!" Sybil wept, "Oh god, she's going to die!"

"She's not going to die, Sybil!" Malchior reassured his terrified empress, "but I need you to get on your hands and knees." He helped her carefully turn until she knelt on all fours. Seeing the head of his child, so large compared to the mortal frame of his beloved, left the demigod in awe. He gently took hold and commanded his wife to push. Sybil strained with every ounce of effort left in her body. She forced herself to focus as the massive child stretched her every so slightly, tried not thinking about her daughter remaining trapped in her canal...Even now, so close to birth, she could feel the final few kicks: the child was struggling just as hard as she.

"Yes! Good!" Malchior smiled. "Keep pushing just like that!" A shoulder began to stubbornly slip through her stretched and burning sex. Sybil roared in agony as she pushed once more. Malchior was finally able to get a grip on the emerging shoulder and coax it out. The second quickly followed, allowing the emperor to pulled the rest of his daughter free as the remaining waters gushed out onto the towels. Sybil collapsed face down on the pillows: her body shook and shivered from the shock of delivering such a large child. Her consciousness reeled somewhere between the light and the dark. Malchior cradled the slippery, red newborn princess in his hands. He rubbed and gently patted her back and chest until finally the silent baby jerked and gasped for air, releasing a strong, reedy wail. Malchior sobbed.

The sound of her baby pierced the darkness clouding Sybil's mind and slowly reawakened.

Her baby.

It was alive.

"Avalee..." she softly murmured. Malchior turned his empress over and placed the squalling babying in her arms, weeping with joy. Sybil looked down at the baby: the same dark hair as her own, curls and all, yet her father's nose and eyes. She was so large and heavy in Sybil arms and yet she still found everything about her tiny and perfect. Sybil began to cry as well and kissed her newborn daughter. The three were now together.

****

The Five Realms rejoiced.

Everyone who saw the princess could not help but fawn and coo over the newborn. Sybil recovered in her chambers, the child never out of her sight. She was besotted with the little girl, singing to her as she nursed the Artemian princess or nuzzling her precious face. The other noblewomen who came to see the princess also came to pay respect to their new empress. They were happy for Sybil, who had suffered so and who convinced Malchior To allow them to bear children of their own. A few of the ladies were now pregnant themselves and they kissed Sybil's hand in thanks.

To say that Malchior was a proud father was an understatement. Seeing the mighty and fearsome demigod cradle and hold his newborn, his eyes aglow with love and tenderness...Sybil could not help but smile.

"Look, Avalee," he whispered, cradling his daughter before the windows, "One day you will reign over all of this!"

"Oh Malchior," Sybil sighed, "She's only two days old. She'll worry about that soon enough!" Malchior gave his wife an apologetic smile.

"You're right, my love. I just...I can't believe she is real."

*****

Sybil was crowned empress the same day as Princess Avalee was christened. They royal family rode through the capital as the people cheered. Sybil realized that she had never really left the palace and had no idea that she was so well loved. Stories of her ordeal as consort and of her wise advice had won her over: not only was she Malchior's prydia she was also a worthy successor to Thyra as empress.

Malchior looked at his wife, garbed in her coronation robes and wearing the Imperial diadem, and his beloved daughter cradled in her arms. The christening gown, first sewn by the princesses namesake, glittered and sparkled in the glorious light as the baby calmly watched the scene from her mother's arms. Nothing in the realms or the mortal worlds would tear them from him. Sybil turned, looked into her husband's eyes. She was thinking the same: nothing and no one would come between them. Their love was strong now and grew stronger as each day passed and they learned to heal. Malchior leaned in and they kissed.

The kingdom rejoiced.

#a debt of vengeance #birth #birth stories #pregnancy #pregnant #Pregnant Fantasy #fantasy #childbirth #Birthing

[renee-writer]

Shamrock to a Thistle Chapter 49 The Birth

Can we do a trial of labor,” she asked her mum already knowing the answer.

“I am sorry love. I will assist Dr.McCarthy.”

“What is going on?” Jamie asks, looking between them.

“They have to be delivered today, by c-section.” Claire explains. “ hospital bag in the car?”

“Yes, of course but..”

“Don't worry Jamie. Everything is under control.” His mother-in-law says. But worry he does as he escorts Claire out to the car and they race to the hospital. She is eerily calm, messaging Catalina and Cully, as well as his parents to tell them what is going on.

“Claire I..” She takes his hand across the seat.

“Our children are coming today Jamie. We will soon be holding Joseph and Allie in our arms.”

“Aye, there is that. Ye will be okay?”

“I will be fine.” She is taken straight back to be prepped. Jamie is also prepped. He is shown how to surgically scrub his hands and arms before being placed in blue scrubs, a blue cap covers his curls, and blue botties over his shoes. That had went over c-sections in the child birth class. He just never thought it would actually happen. They were both so committed to doing this natural.

When he tells Mary this when they meet outside the double doors that lead to the surgical suit, she smiles behind the mask “Men plans. God laughs. It will be alright. They are in excellent hands. Pull your mask up. Claire awaits you.”

“Aye,” he pulls it up. Now only his blue eyes show as he asks,” what do I do Mary?”

“You hold her hand. Talk to her. Get ready to meet your children.” They walk in together.

Claire lays on her back, her enormous belly blocked by a drape. IV's run. Her vitals and the babies heartrates on display. “Hi love.” He walks up, takes her hand and a seat beside her.

“You look funny.”

“Aye. Ye think our bairns will know me in this get up?”

“They will recognize your voice.”

“Ready? We are making the first incision.” Dr McCarthy asks.

“Ready.” Her voice is steady but her hand tightens in his.

“I've ye love. Breath with me.” They do first stage lamaze breathing as the doctor and her mum opens her up to receive the children.

“A bit of pressure.” Her mum says. She fills it. The sudden absence as her first child is lifted out of her. It is a queer nauseous feeling. “As promised, the boy is first.” Joseph Christopher is lifted up and over the drape for his parents to see.

“Oh, look at you!” his mam coos. His eyes are tightly shut. His dark curly hair stands up everywhere. He is very white.

“A max! Ye are sae white.”

“He will darken. It takes a few days.” Mary says as she moves him over to the waiting warming table to be weighted and measured.

“A bit more pressure. The lass is pretty far up.” She returns to focusing on the next birth. A pull, almost a jerk, and Allie Maria is freed. She is screaming at the injustice of being moved from her nice comfy home as she is lifted up to meet her parents.

“Ah lass. Dinna fret. It isn’t all that bad.” Her hair has a hint of red amidst the black and is just as curly as her brothers.

“Oh my darling daughter.” Claire is freely crying as she is moved to join her brother. They are soon weighed, measured and cleaned up. Jamie holds one in each arm as Claire is stitched up. They have quieted under his touch and their voices.

“Ye are brawly bairns. And sae beautiful.” Their eyes have opened and to their parents delight, they both have blue eyes.

“That isn't likely to change.” Mary explains. “They will have some of both of you.”

She is moved to a room where she is finally able to hold her children. She can't get over how soft their hair and skin are, how tiny their fingers and toes are. That they are theirs. She holds them close and whispers all her hopes for their future.

“Would you like to nurse them before we bring the rest of the family in?” Mary asks. “And you formally introduce them?”

“Yes.” She positions them like foot balls, on either side of her and her mum helps her guide their mouths to her nipples. “Ah. That feels weird.” She looks down on them as they eagerly take their first meal. Their daddy also watches them.

“It doesn’t hurt?” he asks.

“No. It actually feels good.”

“That is the hormone that causes the milk to let down. It relaxes the mum.”

“That is amazing.” After they are feed, Mary goes to fetch her husband and the others. They come in. Catalina minus Mauve( who is with her dad) Alana and Bruce, Cully and Fraser, and Christopher. Jamie holds Allie, Claire Joseph.

“Guys, may I introduce ye to our bairns, Joseph Christopher and Allie Maria. Children, yer family.”

“Christopher?” Her dad says, as tears fill his eyes.

“Yes dad. Jamie insisted.”

“Aye. He will have me and my da's last name. He should have part of ye too.”

“Son, thank you.”

“Da, the next son will be after ye.”

“If, Claire says as she adjusts her daughter, “ I do this again.”

“And the lass, for Mary and I?” Allina asks.

“There is no two women I want my daughter to take after.” Tears and hugs are followed by everyone having a turn holding the babies.

“I don't recall Mauve ever being this little.” Catalina says as she holds her niece in her arms.

“She wasn't. She was a regular heavy weight compared to Allie.” Claire says with a laugh.

“I am holding my son's son.” Bruce whispers as he rocks Joseph.”

“Aye. Isna he the must brawl lad ye have ever seen.”

“Aye son. He is.”

“This will be us soon.” Cully says to Fraser as they have their turn.”

“Aye, I canna wait. “

Allina simply weeps as she holds her grandchildren in her arms. The Anderson’s head home the next day, where the real adventure begins.

#my writing #losely based on outlander #shamrock to a thistle #the birth

[antibodykrp-blog]

   — devour your kings.

war has little to do with how people go about their lives. this is about twenty-three year old lee yuna, better known as a heiress and hitmen networker.

canon: n/a part of: 9chan

freeform:

                    o.

this is not always remembered from the birth; for once, this starts at three in the morning. cold water in bathtub, ankle deep ocean. she shivers, counting her ribs. skin is a garment of mortality.

what is mortality if not a manmade concept; what is mortality when she is forged of the absence of a father.

this story begins in the extraction of deicide from the stomach of urban decay, when her throne no longer overlooks the rivers coursing, their streams carrying the weight of the weeping death.

                    i.

conventionally, however, she carried too much flesh and wore smokes as heart. she reminisces over growing up by the varying shades the rooms exuded. umma’s bedroom spilled too much sillage, a man a dusty memory on cold wooden floor and umma a weary inkling in pristine bedsheets. the living room contained the hollow mouth of a non-familial affair, the air almost synthetic with the chemical touch of scrubbing. the guest rooms often cloaked in the ghosts of footsteps; missing the pressures of foreign bodies on the beds. hallways were bound in leather fisted sighs, the echoes of hellhound howl against the rattle of windowpanes.

her bedroom: a collection of question marks, engraved on every sinew of it.

also a witness to dreams of afterlife. an illusion of a safe haven; travesty scattered but nobody was laughing. a reminder of umma’s fingers, fisted around her wrist.

her bedroom eventually smelled like the dining room, where all seeds of finery bloomed in every season. this was not what it meant, to be born with silver spoon in her mouth. instead, it was golden spine that structured her posture; sit straight, chin up, gaze fixed. umma crushed liberty with bare palms until the shards drew blood. threw a lit matchstick after pouring gasoline to imbibe the flamed innocence. stained glass a portrait of women with crowns implanted into their throats. they swallowed ruins of empires for dinner and dreamed of personal colossuses.

                                        ( umma did not teach to forgive or forget.                                           umma did not teach to bend or kneel. )

inevitably, her ribcage became the amphitheater for both                                                         tragedies and carnages.

come hither. this story is about                        destruct and deconstruct.

                    ii.

before destruct, comes construct. welcome to the topography of the unknown.

umma is an epitome of a crooked tabernacle; dichotomy of the holy and the cursed. she dons the robe of transcendence well, too well, but below her feet is the pile of bones that turned into a mountain.

one of them is about the twisted fates, scattered and swapped to the point where the line is too distorted.

the universe tucks this secret in its crevice, and it’s lost in the forgery of innocence.

there are two men, umma in-between, but she is never of anything less. instead, she is everything more. her guns have murdered more than their tallies combined, but they are a team. and umma introduces little yuna to them, telling a tale about a girl whose fingers would command empires too wide for the horizon to cover.

                    iii.

the summation of her childhood and adolescence matched the synthesis of secondhand dreams. formulaic. a heiress and a girl equaled carefully molded paths; taloned fingers digging deep into the space between the columns of her neck.

step one: sharpened her teeth and nails to bite and claw — this competition of being a queen was more than just about the throne; attending tea parties in designer dresses turned into hours of martial arts and manner lessons when she grew older. everyone could be a socialite, but she was destined to be a manmade machine. step two: recited the rosary of leaderships between her teeth, all prayers of men in the name of the king – and she should never be a queen, but a woman king.

men were flasks of transience: a shooting star she should never have prayed to.

( there was no wish-granting coming from mortals. )

step three: forfeited her blood for the infusion of inhumanity – this personal anarchy was the anatomy of being. weaknesses existed for the sake of normality instead of being regarded as flaws. flaws were a termination of this empiric dream. ( walk straight, chin up, shoulders open; carry your weight with confidence. )

step four: stitched lips and clicked heels. she was a formation of youth preserved on pages; she was a capillary to the systemic vessels of a clique. and break break broken, she snapped in two when she saw what they would do to become walking skeletons. and spilled, like gasoline lighting the flames which fumes ended up with her distancing herself from umma.

since then, she calls this ‘living’.

                    iv.

also spelled as becoming everything umma does not want her.

                    v.

and just as girls were tied in ribbons of secondhand throne ( post-survival by the hands of savior ), she built her body on fairy tales. fogged meadows at dawn and tonal festivity at dusk. but there would never be any prince to slay the vultures in her head for her; and there would never be a right-hand side verses for her.

her being was architected to conquer the ocean and its shores, their topography the scriptures of her soft violence. she came into the barren land with no church in sight but she prayed for a god’s death. a funeral held in the silence caught between her teeth.

commandments were for women stringed to patriarchy. her knees were never scraped for men. romance is sometimes made of calloused hands of the guillotines in the morgue.

girls like her only knew how to love with her knuckles, and how to consume with her monstrosity.

there is no story if it is not sutured by her, she decided. she will devour all kings and stand above their corroding remains.

ashes to ashes, glory to glory.

#ab: accepted #civilian

[roseserpent]

Late night depression just skip this.

Me: *scrolls through contacts deleting most of them, gets a phone call from a contact i just deleted* Me: hello? Old high school buddy: hey! Haven't heard from you in a while, just wanted to make sure you're doing well. Me: who's this? Old high school buddy: uh...we went to high school together. Me: sorry wrong number. I dropped out of public school. Old high school buddy: What no! You were there our freshmen year. You came out as bi! I'm still waiting on that show with another girl. Me: Yea. No. Not a gal I'm a dude. Old high school buddy: You ain't a dude. You were the short angry girl with a weird name nobody could pronounce, and had a nice rack and a- Me: YOU HAVE THE WRONG FUCKING NUMBER DUDE! I have reached this point in my life where I've decided to seperate myself from all my friends from college and before. And I like to think it's because I had a lot of issues in high school and before which caused me to be in fight or flight mode almost every waking moment. I was in a lot of school fights and was sexually harassed and pressured to do things I desperately didn't want to do but i was just so fucking tired of fighting it, and for some reason I felt as though if I fuckin said yes then they'd stop! It got to this sickening point that before I dropped out I actually threatened to gouge this boys eyes out with a pencil if he didn't stop touching me. If he wouldn't stop putting his fuckin hands under my clothes, i was just so fucking sick of it! And for this 'friend' to call me disrespecting my sexuallity and gender and complimenting me on the body parts I have is just disgusting. I've been working so hard to just be the way I want to be perceived but things just go so fucking wrong. At work: hey Maeghan can you please try wearing more feminine clothes to work. Clients are complaining about you dressing like a boy. They think its unprofessional. With parents: I know its hard in times like these for kids to know what parts they have, but you ARE a girl. Your name is Maeghan, not Maximillian, or what ever you're friends are calling you. Its on your birth certificate. Get it through your head. You're not gay no matter what you think, you've dated plenty of boys to prove you're not. Don't forget you'll go to hell if you choose to be gay. With sister: Do you think you can wear a little bit of make up or wear something pretty. You're a very pretty girl. Stop being so gay its gross and I dont want you to suddenly flirt with me. First why the fuck would i flirt with my sister and second why does it matter if I'm not wearing womens clothes to work. Its formal wear and it fits. I just, god...Ive been trying to run away from everything really. Make myself a life where people don't know me as a gal, and can't remember a time when i ever "was". I don't want to talk to or be around my old friends because when I've told them they've established that they don't give a shit and ain't willin' to change how they address me. I've been saving up to go back south so far away from these fuckers and just completely start over. Yea but now that I'm going back to college I can't do shit. Oh joy. I'm just at this point in the night where my brain just ain't shuttin' up and my thoughts are on over drive. Sorry.

#r.s. talks #r.s. rants #depressing thoughts #sorry #im a terrible person

[skylers-labyrinth]

Our birth story.

Almost 10 months ago the most incredible thing happened to my family. Skyler came earth side & we all got to meet the little girl who would steal our hearts the minute she opened her eyes.

I’ve never given a full run down on Skyler’s birth story & thought I might do it now. Nearing the one year mark, no better time to tell the story of how she came in to the world.

April 22nd 2016, 7 days overdue, I was booked in to be induced at Kempsey Hospital. Due to doctors being on call/not available I didn’t have to wait the full 10 days that they usually let you go over.

Brandon & I spent the night before talking about what we were scared of, how nervous we were, what she would look like, how excited we were to finally meet her. I don’t think I slept more than 2 hours that night.

8:00am on the 22nd we arrived at the hospital, two bundles of nerves ready to take the biggest leap of their lives. We met our midwife, Rosie. The white haired, bright eyed angel of Kempsey Maternity unit.

8:30am a male doctor who’s name I can’t remember arrived alongside the lovely Rosie. When they arrived he explained what the plan of action was. Prostin Gel at 8:30 Wait 6 hours If nothing has happened, another round of Prostin Gel at 2:30 Wait until the following morning If nothing has happened, break my waters & put me on an IV drip to kickstart labour.

So at 8:30 the doctor administered the first lot of Prostin gel. Uncomfortable, unpleasant, but bearable. And then Brandon & I bunkered down for the wait, crappy tv on some random channel. Every now & then he’d ask if something was happening but it was all a big nope. We fell asleep for a few hours & woke up just as one of the other midwives popped her head in to check on me. It was around 12:30pm by then but still nothing was happening.

1pm. They brought me lunch. I didn’t eat it. Nerves or whatever else it was, I just couldn’t stomach the idea of food. But I had started feeling something similar to minor period cramping & that was a hopeful sign.

Then 2:30pm rolled around & the pains hadn’t progressed at all. And 2:30 brought with it another visit from the doctor & Rosie. Second lot of Prostin was administered & the wait began again.

I can safely say the hours we waited were the longest of my life. I just wanted something to happen, some magical switch to flick & for it to finally be happening.

At 5:30 they brought my dinner in. I forced myself to eat because as far as I could tell, labour wasn’t progressing past slight cramps & I was going to be here for the long haul.

At five minutes to 6 I basically forced Brandon to go in to town & get dinner. He hadn’t eaten since we got there that morning & there was absolutely zero action going with me besides the odd cramp.

So at 6pm on the dot he walked out of the hospital to be greeted by my Dad, Mum & Ama who thought they would come in & relieve him for a while so he could go grab some dinner (great minds & all that). The only problem being, Brandon leaving the birthing room acted as a kind of firing button & the minute he closed the door behind him I was hit with an actual contraction. There’s not really any way to explain what a contraction feels like, you can try to relate it to something akin to period pain but there is no comparison. It’s like your entire body is seizing up & then tearing itself open each contraction. It sounds horrifying & it is in those moments, but the only thing I can assure expectant mums of is that you will not remember it for the pain. You will remember there was pain, but you won’t recall the exact magnitude it was.

So Brandon left the hospital, telling my parents & grandmother that I was fine & there wasn’t much happening. But when they walked in to the birthing room expecting a cool, calm & collected Rhiannon, instead I was laying on my side in the foetal position riding out the first of what would be many many waves to bring our girl earth side.

And that’s where it started. That was the kicker. And from there it just went.

The were nurses, doctors, midwives, there was Rosie & a sweet student-midwife named Tahley. There was Brandon returning with his KFC in hand & panicking when he realised what was happening. There was my parents, my dad asking if Brandon & I wanted them to leave, so worried about us having “our moment” that he didn’t realised how much of a help the three of them were just being there. My mum doing all she could to walk with me through labour & keeping a constant eye on Brandon. There was my Ama, just bringing her beautiful aura into the room & calming everything.

There was a shower at one point, me on my knees & Brandon running his hand over my hair while the hot water worked magic to relieve each contraction.

There were 2 checks I can remember. Talks of dilation. 3cm, 3.5cm. Not much progression. There was fear.

There was a heartbeat though, Skyler’s heartbeat. Hummingbird fast & strong as ever. There were machines, beeping, printing out each wave of her heartbeat.

There were attempts to get me on pain relief. I remember Rosie giving me the mouthpiece for the gas & I also remember vomiting over the edge of the bed after not even one inhale. I think it was around then that I remembered Brandon walking in with his dinner but I couldn’t recall seeing him eat & in the middle of a contraction I looked at him & asked if he’d eaten it. He said yes, & I returned my focus on riding out each contraction.

Now, for any expectant mums reading this, I have a few friends preparing to welcome a bub in to the world, what I’m about to say is maybe not what I’m supposed to tell you. So if you’d rather stay with the idea of beautiful, magical, meditation-style birth imagery then turn away now. Just skip to the next paragraph, no one will blame you… Still with me? Ok. Here it is, the thing you’re not supposed to tell pregnant women; birth is not beautiful in the picturesque way it can sometimes be made out to be, birth is not picturesque or perfect. The fact women do it? That is incredible beyond words. The fact we survive it? Even more so & it does border on the magical. But birth is sweat, tears, screaming, birth is guttural, animalistic sounds. Birth is losing yourself to bring another life in to the world & in that process, you become someone else. Birth is not “beauty”, birth is utter truth & complete reality. It is terrifying, painful, burning, stretching, hot, transcendent reality. The beauty, well, that comes after.

There were talks about my dilation not progressing. About how it might be best to put an IV in my hand “just in case” I might need a c-section. There was more fear. What if I couldn’t do it? What if my body didn’t give me the chance to do it? What if? What if? What if?

All of this in a little over an hour. 7:30pm. I was standing again, I think I went from laying to standing over 100 times during labour. I was standing & it was only minutes after Rosie had checked my cervix & given the “roughly 3 & a half centimetres” call. Just as my body had been doing for over an hour, it tensed & released. But different this time, immense pressure & an absolute need to push. Whether I had decided or the universe just felt it was time, I was going to push.

I was on my knees again. Beside the bed with a mirror & two midwives between my legs. There were mentions of trying to check my cervix again but the contractions were so close together I could hardly lay still for more than 20 seconds at a time & the idea of anyone touching me at that exact moment was horrifying to me.

So instead I pushed. I told Rosie I wanted to push & she encouraged me. My dad was concerned for me. The idea that maybe I hadn’t dilated past 3 & a half centimetres & that pushing would cause a problem. I could see he was concerned. But as always my Ama was there, diffusing & calming.

Then I was on the bed, Brandon was on my left. He’d been near me at all times, I don’t think I remember him being more than a metre away for the entirety. It’s been talked about more as of late how sometimes dads/partners get forgotten about in the moment that is birth. But from my perspective, I never once wanted to forget about my partner. I wanted his hand, I wanted his presence. And it was there. He never faltered. He was steadfast. An anchor in a sea of fear & lost-ness that I was sailing on.

It was 7:50pm, I was pushing, Rosie broke my waters at about 7:40, I had been pushing for 15 minutes at most. Skyler was coming, this little girl we had all waited what seemed a life time to meet. But when Rosie told me she could see Skyler, I froze. I looked at my dad, who had taken over for my mum on my right, holding my hand, & I simply said “I can’t do this”, but my wonderful dad, he looked me dead in the eyes & told me I could. So I kept going, I found a place in my head where I could escape to & I just went with it. Every wave, every push, every moment. I just went with it.

But one push, at 8:13pm on Friday the 22nd of April & suddenly there was Skyler, she was wrapped in her little amniotic bag & the midwives gently cut her out before they handed her to me. She was wide eyed, she was sweet & pink & crying. She was her dad, from the minute we saw her she was him, with my mouth & the bluest crystal eyes she inherited from her great-pa who we all wished in that moment could have been there.

Brandon cut her cord. There were tears & laughter. There were embraces & thank you’s. There were stitches, over 40. Something I can safely say was a worse experience than the birth itself.

But that beauty I mentioned before? There it was, finally. There was Skyler. Our Skyler. Our impossible girl. A 7lbs 2oz, blonde haired, blue eyed, soft little girl. She was present from the moment she came earth side. Inquisitive, awake, alert & ever present. She was given her Daddy’s last name & she was also given the task of mending our family from such a huge loss the year before.

And now here we are. 10 months later. Planning her first birthday. Nurturing this sweet, smiling, joyful soul. Basking in the light that she brings. The warmth that she provides. The love she so willingly shares.

So that’s our story. Skyler’s story. How she entered our world & the wonder she brought with her. That’s the beginning.

#birth without fear #induced childbirth #induced birth #child birth

[datingadviceonreddit]

And we had a amazing time. I (m25) matched with someone (f28) on Tinder six days ago and really hit it off over texting. I get a decent amount of matches but often feel exasperated that no one seems to want a real, deep conversation.We moved to WhatsApp pretty quickly because the length of our messages were starting to break the app. On Boxing day we had a real deep conversation about what we liked out of intimacy and sex and were on exactly the same page. We are both six months out of serious relationships and are happy, confident people but want that sense of attention, depth and connection you can only have with an intimate partner. That its as much about the emotional and mental feeling as it is physical. We text about it until 2am and it really turned both of us on. We agreed to meet the following evening and so began my longest ever first date.Her photos on tinder were visibly badly taken but when she turned up, Holy God. (She later told me the bad photos were deliberate so she didn't catch guys just after her looks) Greek goddess. Deep brown eyes, expressive, engaged body language. Yes please. We had a few drinks and talked, a red flag however is she was still getting text messages from her ex.An important disclaimer here; her ex has borderline personality disorder and serious depression. I.e. Still messages her saying if you don't talk to me ill cut myself, etc. Heavy shit. Her business, not mine. I'm a trainee mental health counsellor so I accept we all have baggage and we had talked at length about our mental health too. So I was cool with it, she is visibly "over" him but understandably still quite fragile. She said outright she found me attractive because I'm very stable and mentally tough. So yes getting fucked up messages from your crazy ex on a first date (and her reading the messages) is weird and a red flag, but I decided I was OK with it. She showed me some of the messages and asked me for. Y professional perspective, and we had a really good conversation about psychology. Again, her deal, not mine and nobody needs to decide if you want a serious relationship after one date.Back on topic. We go to the second bar. Far less awkward. She gets the message and her phones goes away and stays away. It's a metal bar and I discover that she loves that mind if music and we're singing all the lyrics to Metallica. We start to really flirt, innocent touches etc. I decide I want to kiss her. Bar closes. We go outside, she asks where my place is. I knew from our texts that going home with her on a first date was a possibility but I hadn't had time to clean my apartment. I kind of suggested she get an uber home but she gave me "the look" and I kissed her. Fuck it, life is short, I'm six months out of a serious relationship and I just want to be intimate with someone. I feel comfortable with her. Neither of us are drunk. We go to my place and I make her wait outside whilst I blitz my flat for two minutes. She is friends with someone I work with so I had been "verified" as not a serial killer, she said otherwise she wouldn't have gone home with me first time.We had both said we like sex slow and intimate. So it was probably about 4am until any clothes came off, but a LOT of making out and cuddling in my bed. I lit some candles, brought in my vinyl player and we made out to Pink Floyd, because all romance is made better by a David Gilmour guitar solo. In between, we talked about anything and everything. Just a feel good connection. We started to get naked and just helped each other relaxed. At 5:30am we decided to sleep for a bit, woke up sometime the next day, more making out, I went out quickly to get coffee and food for us. Felt great coming back to a beautiful Greek woman naked in my bed. I've been missing intimacy a lot. It just felt good. Lots of laughter.We decided to take a shower together and only then things get really sexual. She touched me and I made it clear I wanted her. After the shower I went down on her. As a woman she is quite complex and needs to be made to feel really relaxed and comfortable, but is also very sensitive, so I made an effort to try and learn what she needs. She felt great. We had talked the whole time about having sex but also that we both might not feel ready etc. There was no pressure or expectation. Just two human beings giving each other attention.By late last night we were still in bed together. She had put a lot of effort into making me feel good, went down on me (I know I shouldn't compare but oh my god, SO much better than my ex).At one point I went down k and her and she signed that she wanted me to make love to her, and but because I was being cautious about what she might not be ready for I didn't pick up on the signal. She said she wanted a guy to take the lead because she had been fed up of her doing everything with her ex, but admitted she was bad at communicating how she wanted to be treated. I said in that case I'm going to tie you to this bed and do whatever I want to you, and we had a great time making out, but when I went to give her oral she pushed me away saying she was too sensitive. I went back to making out, then tried again, same thing. Me not understanding that not all women need cunnilingus before penetration assumed I was doing something wrong, then tried to have sex with her with a condom but couldn't sustain an erection due to being quite nervous (also didn't help I had spent hours 24 hours with an erection and hadn't come - I can't orgasm through foreplay alone). She was really understanding and we went back to cuddling and it was cool.As we laid together she looked deep in though and I casually asked her what she was thinking about. She's a very direct kind of person and is probably too honest about things, then again the connection we had, we had already talked about most of our previous partners and life, the great memories and the traumas (I'm the son of an abusive heroin addict, it was a two way street). We had also talked about exclusivity and she said she didn't like talking to other guys because the connection between us (just over text) was so great. I told her it was her business and I'm not the jealous type, she's free to live her life, just don't tell me about other guys. She saw a tinder notification my my phone and said she felt a little jealous, I said I found that cute. I think it's obvious we will want something exclusive if we keep seeing each other.Anyway, she said without thinking that she was worried that she would date me then no longer feel attracted to me and that she would only see me as a friend, as it had happened with other people. I was a little upset by that and told her I thought it was a silly thing to say. It's naturally to think privately about someone but you don't tell them what you're thinking, (I didn't tell her this but obviously I'm thinking about her ex and whether she would be a good partner, etc). Because of the chemistry we had been enjoying I was a little bummed and she saw this and apologised with those big, brown eyes. She said she actually liked how I reacted because it showed I liked her. I said I did and then she got on top of me. The moment became quite emotional for both of us but also intimate and erotic and we ended up having unprotected sex. Let's say she didn't just see me as a friend. It felt fantastic and my neck today is covered in love bites. However, she is not on birth control (I didn't cum inside her, not that's an effective method) and we both said that had been stupid, neither of us liked using condoms but we agreed if we were going to keep seeing each other we would need to find an alternative. She left a couple of hours later as she is flying to see family today and needed to have proper sleep and pack, so I called her a taxi at 2am. Since waking up we've been texting and they chemistry is still there. I've broached the subjective of the emergency contraceptive pill and made it clear we need to be more sensible next time. She's genuinely listened and we're discussing options, being adults about it.I have no idea where this will go, or whether I even want a serious relationship or see her as a viable long term partner. 2020 will be extremely busy for me and I'm not sure if I want the investment, but I'd love to have an exclusive, reliable partner who feels the same way and wants to come and spend time with me and make love to Pink Floyd. Ive met her once but that chemistry is great. I do like her. She very obviously likes me. We'll just see how it goes and enjoy the ride. That's the story of my 29 hour first date.Very long post with no actual question, just felt like sharing! via /r/dating_advice

#dating #dating advice #reddit

[chriscoles96-blog]

Second week unsupervised

6/12/18 - clinic day. It was busy I ended up working straight through my break as other midwives had put bookings and birthplans for their women in as I had free spaces. I left at 4:15 without having a break feeling exhausted hoping I would get better at keeping to time.

7/12/18 - my first night shift. It’s always hard going back to nights especially when you hadn’t done any since back in July. Tonight I got given a lady with epilepsy. It was scary as I can’t yet cannulate or touch IVs as I need to complete training days for those. So I spent the majority of the shift finding people to help me and worrying that she might have a fit.

The plan was to take bloods and get a cannula in before having an epidural sited. The lady had scoliosis (curvature of the spine) so the epidural took an hour or two to get sited but she did brilliantly she coped well and she said this was due to being allergic to the majority of pain medications so she was used to putting up with pain.

Once the epidural was sited, I did a vaginal examination she was 3cms so it was decided to start a syntocinon infusion to build up the contractions. The contractions were more or less 4 in 10 minutes from the moment the drop was commenced. Baby didn’t really like the drip so it had to be stopped for a while but it was restarted at a lower level half an hour later. Not long after I did an examination 4 hours post starting the drip as even though the toco wasn’t picking up the contractions she was feeling them and I had palpated them, and she was also feeling pressure, so at 6:30am I examined and she was fully. We sat further upright and an hour was given before pushing was commenced. I went home that morning with her pushing and vertex being visible.

8/12/18 - another birth centre shift being pulled to labour ward. I was given a postnatal women to send to ward. The emergency went a shoulder dystocia followed by a PPH, I made a #2222 call for the first time - was a scary and adrenaline induced experience due to the emergency and importane of the call. However a woman came in with meconium, so I was asked to hand over my woman and take that lady.

She was 3cms with thick meconium, I put her on the monitor and a cannula was put in. She was contracting well so I knew we’d be having a baby soon. Stupidly I said we’d have a baby by 3am - jinxed the situation a little I think.

In fact a female infant weighing 3800g was delivered at 00:23. However the placenta wouldn’t come, it was a retained placenta. She was out of theatre and back in the room by 3am.

I went home after my second night feeling exhausted it’s hard when you drive 30-45 minutes to get to and from work and after a night all you want to do is sleep. Driving down the motorway you can’t have the windows open to keep you awake either.

[inmed]

Obsgyn Hell in Pati

Would you fly in an airplane if you were told the pilots have been forced to work 32 hour non-stop shifts? No. You wouldn’t. Even a child can tell you that we need 8 hours of sleep in every 24 hour period. Common sense: skipping sleep immediately becomes evident as the senses dull, memory gets hazy, mood gets irritable, and decision-making ability goes down the hole. Do these symptoms sound familiar? Yeah, the same thing happens to people drunk on alcohol. A sleep-deprived pilot is no better than a drunk pilot. And nobody will be at ease in an airplane knowing the guy in the cockpit is drunk or sleep-deprived.

If we wouldn’t trust a sleep-deprived pilot, why do we trust sleep-deprived doctors? We can’t blame the passengers and we can’t blame the patients. They probably have no clue and they blindly place their trust in the hands of the professionals.

Sadly, the people who made the decisions to have doctors work 32-hour shifts are doctors themselves: the experts of human physiology! These are the very same professionals who prescribe rest more than any other medicine! Isn’t that ironic and amazingly stupid?

Well, whoever that decided that koas have to pull 32-hour shifts must have the IQ of a ping-pong ball who has failed at understanding the most basic physiological aspect of humans other than the need to breathe: the need to sleep. Not only should this person be stripped of their medical license, they should also be jailed for putting patient’s lives at risk. If I was the chief of an airline company and I demanded that my pilots shall work 32-hour shifts without sleep, and people found out: I would deserve to be jailed. Why should this practice be accepted in the hospital?

Okay, now that I’ve made my four paragraph preamble to set the mood for what’s to come, let me start my diary-like blog entry:

Obsgyn is my first big station. I had Forensic before this. Forensic was basically a load of paperwork and waiting 24/7 for the inevitable: a dead body in the hospital requiring an autopsy ASAP so the family can bury it in the morning. So even though there were just around 10 autopsies during the four week period, the constant stress was irritating: sleeping with the ringtone volume on max. There’s not much else to say about Forensics: it was stinky, we didn’t do much other than get strained wrists from writing endless reports. 

Ok, back to Obsgyn. It is 10 weeks long. That’s two and a half times as long as a small department (such as ENT, Neurology, Forensics, etc.) The first couple of weeks we were in Sardjito. The following three weeks were spent in RSUD Sleman, my favorite hospital so far. Those three weeks were alright despite the 32-hour shifts thanks to the many opportunities to sleep in the comfortable koas room or just quietly escape the hospital. Still, 32 hours are 32 hours and it is absolutely exhausting.  I would say “daily” but a day only has 24 hours. Our 32 hour shifts were “daily” in the sense that when one ended (at around 2pm), we’d go home and then be back the very next morning at 6am for the next 32-hour shift. There is no such thing as “weekends” or “holidays”. Let me give you a run-down of what one shift looks like:

5 am: wake up. shower. call a GoCar by 5:30. 6 am: arrive at RSUD Sleman. Go up to the 3rd floor where the Obsgyn stuff is. Start going through all the patient’s medical records in both the ward and the “VK” (birthing room) and noting down the “SOAP” along with some other important info in my notebook. 7 am: the doctor arrives for a “visit”. Basically a walk through the ward and VK to see all his patients for up to a couple minutes each. We scuttle behind him and try to mumble out the patient’s information that we jotted down earlier. The doctor ignores most of this and asks us simple questions about the patient: “when was the last time hemoglobin was checked? how much is it?” - and usually we wouldn’t know the answer. 8 am: the doctor sits at the nurse station to write stuff in the medical records and the koas stand there waiting for questions. These questions tend to be more about theory and are quite difficult. 9 am: the doctor goes to the poly-clinic. Two of the koas who started their shift the day before follow him. I remain in the ward with one other koas. 10 am: we chat with the nurses and midwives about random things. 11 am: we walk down to the cafeteria and eat something. I buy some bottles of water. 12 noon: we try to nap in the koas room. there are two beds and it’s airconditioned.  1 pm: unable to sleep, I walk into the VK. I notice two women in labor. I sit down at the mini nurse station there and start chatting with the midwives. 1:30 pm: the midwives order me to do “DJJ” (fetal heart rate monitor) on all the patients. Now there’s four suddenly. 2 pm: Finished with the DJJ, I sit back down only for the resident doctor to walk in and ask me to set up the USG and wheel the patient in. 3 pm: My koas partner wakes up and walks into the VK. We sit together with the midwives, talking. 4 pm: One patient seems to be going into the active phase. The midwife orders me to do more DJJ. We start wondering who will assist with the delivery. 5 pm: Another patient is brought in. Suddenly the VK is full. 6 pm: Hungry. The cafeteria is way past closed. What to eat? I start flipping through the GoFood options when suddenly I hear loud noises from behind one of the separator curtains in the VK. I peer in and see that the midwife is already in position to help the patient deliver the baby. She looks at me and asks if I’m going to join or not. Of course I say yes and put gloves and apron on. I feel useless because the midwife is capable of doing everything herself and I’m just standing there watching. 7 pm: The baby is out and I take my gloves off. The gloves never really touched the baby. Instead, I was left to pull the placenta out. Boring. It’s all boring. And I’m quite hungry by now. Back to GoFood options. We walk to the ward’s large nurse station and sit down there, chatting with the midwives. It gets boring quickly. 8 pm: Food is on the way still. And we walk back to the VK. The midwife there tells us that a woman had already delivered while we were absent. We act surprised at how quick it was. A new patient is wheeled in. “God damn it, why do women have to give birth so much?” is written all over my face. I get told to do DJJ and take blood pressure. The GoFood has arrived at the lobby. I run down to get it. 9 pm: We finish eating in the koas room. I waste time on my laptop and my partner sleeps again. I wish I was good at falling asleep, but I’m not. 11 pm: I put my laptop away. I walk to the VK. 12 midnight: another woman starts giving birth. 1 am: the same lady is still giving birth. We all keep glancing at the clock because we know that the baby is stuck. The resident is woken up. I’m drowsy and want to sleep but of course, I can’t. I’m watching the midwives and the resident doctor try to encourage the woman. They start discussing the medications given to the woman. 2 am: the resident finally gives up and decides he will operate for SC (cesarean section). I’m ordered to follow the resident. 3 am: the operation finally begins. I get to help out a bit by holding the suction and passing some instruments to the doctor. I don’t feel sleepy but the core of my bones feel sore. 4 am: the operation ends. the resident is annoyed it took so long. there was bleeding. Small chat with the resident ensues and we walk back to the VK. 5 am: I lay down on the bed in the koas room. Exhausted. 6 am: My alarm rings and I walk over to the ward to go through the medical records again. 7 am: the doctor arrives for a “visit”. I’m wearing the same clothes as I did the last time (yesterday) when he came. He’s wearing fresh new clothes, hair still wet from his shower. 8 am: the doctor asks questions. 9 am: the two of us follow the doctor to the poly-clinic where we do anamnesis and watch how the doctor handles each patient. What was a sort of dull headache becomes a full fledged one: I’m trying to figure out if it’s due to low blood sugar levels or dehydration or because I only got like an hour of sleep. 12 Noon: the patients finally finish. The nurse makes small talk for a bit. We then walk upstairs towards the koas room. The midwives there make more small talk. 1 pm: My GoCar arrives. I feel lucky that the poly-clinic ended earlier than I hoped. 10 minutes later I arrive at home. I finally shower, shave, brush, and then eat (my maid’s cooking). 2 pm: My head touches the pillow and I fall asleep. 9 pm: I wake up. Most restaurants are closed. I can’t go out at this point. I guess I have to call GoFood again to order something from somewhere that’s open late. 10 pm: I eat and then wonder what to do. I can’t sleep again because I just woke up.  I try to work on the PowerPoint to present for my Refkas (case reflection) tomorrow. 2 am: I fall asleep anyways. 5 am: Wake up. And the whole process repeats again.

So, this happened for a total of three weeks in RSUD Sleman. Then, about two weeks ago, I was sent here to RSUD Pati for a total of four weeks. The shift is the same length but the content of the shift is different. Here in Pati, we can’t just relax that much. We’re expected to do a lot more deliveries (by mostly ourselves), suturing episiotomies and ruptures, filling in medical records, doing loads of little tasks such as taking blood, installing IVs, installing IV pumps, and of course studying. After Pati, RSUD Sleman looks like a holiday. 

It is midnight now. Tomorrow morning I have to be at the hospital for another day in hell. So I’m going to leave it there.

Hopefully I get time again to discuss Pati. It’s an interesting place with interesting hospital and I have a lot to say about it.