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9ndreus · 4 months

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Shuhite Sunday is great and all but I think we're really sleeping on the chaotic potential of Midwife Monday

#start the week off right #bildad the shuhite #shuhite sunday #midwife monday

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bil-daddy · 21 days

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Hey Bildad, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about Tumblr and its culture and unspoken rules? I am asking you in particular because this is basically the first time I have ever interacted with someone on social media and you were one of the first people I followed and you following me back made you my first follower, and you never forget your first (platonic). You also seem like a really cool and chill dude. Sorry that this isn't really on theme for your blog but I didn't really know who else to ask. Thank you in advance!

Now I'm no tumblr expert, but I can try my best with whatever questions you have.

To start off, I think the most important thing about Tumblr is reblogging stuff, which it looks like you've already been doing. So good job, kid, have an ox rib (platonic)

Another important thing is to change your profile picture to something other than a default, so people don't think you're a bot and block you. Anything'll do really.

Well anything except a sexy woman in a bikini. That'll just make people think you're a porn bot.

If you need some inspiration, there's always me (Bildad the Shuhite)

I'm gonna open this up to my mutuals now. What do you all think? What are some rules of Tumblr @bedurder (and everyone) ought to know?

#bildaddy answers #have an ox rib (platonic)#bildad brainrot #bildad nation #bildad the shuhite #bildaddy #bildad the shuhite army #oh bildad we're really in it now #oh bildad the shuhite we're really in it now #Tumblr #Tumblr rules #tumblr etiquette #bildad #bildad my beloved #bildad the shuite #midwife monday #midwife and cobbler monday

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lionofchaeronea · 6 months

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Some poetry for your Monday. This was ostensibly inspired by an IG prompt "bonfire smoke," although it pretty quickly left the prompt behind. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

SACRAMENTS

Your midwife was A bonfire's flame. Thunder named you With its name.

Baptized by A double priest (Waves on the shore, Sun in the east),

To follow where The wolf may lead Is your one And only creed,

Your catechism Is the cry Of hawks descending From the sky.

When you die Black soil will take you, Countless creatures Will unmake you--

Chilly dew Upon your face The only unction In that place.

To such a one, A golden ring Would be a feeble, Foolish thing:

We'll wed, therefore, With fingers bare, Our notaries The earth and air.

#poem #poetry #writing #creative writing #nature poem #nature poetry #love poem #love poetry #lyric poem #lyric poetry #poems on tumblr #poets of tumblr #poets on tumblr

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stateofcharles · 2 years

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family time - GR63

pairing: dad!George Russell x mom!reader

word count: ~ 4,4k

warnings: fluff, labour and birth, fluff again, just fluff really be ready

summary: (requested by Anon) Please do dad!George part 2, pretty please! Him and Jack are making my hormones go crazy + (requested by Anon) Please please write part of Dad George, I am obsessed with the first part and need more.+ prompt n.3 was suggested as well by Anon, thank you lots, i loved writing it! Some glimpses into parenthood with George

a/n: this can be read as standalone or as a part II to this. I HAD TO SORRY, the photo of george meeting little jack made my hormones fly as well and i couldn’t resist. it took me quite a while but i’m actually really proud of this and i also gave the best of myself, so here enjoy this +4k! <3

1. Meeting the twins

It was a calm, sunny, spring day when your babies decided to make their appearance. Your waters had broken early in the morning and as soon as you had realised it you had let out a scream that woke up George immediately. When he noticed the soaked bed sheets it took him only a couple of seconds to join the dots. He helped you to put on some comfortable clothes before grabbing your hospital bag and guiding you to the car. During the ride you could only focus on breathing, while your boyfriend was calling his parents to tell them what was happening.

When you reached the hospital you were laid on a stretcher and brought to the maternity ward. The rest of the day passed almost in a blur, you were too concentrated in your pain to remember clearly what was going on around you.

You just had a vague memory of your midwife, at some point during the evening, telling you that the moment to push had come: you had grabbed George’s hand and poured all your energy into bringing your babies to the world.

After almost two hours you heard the first crying and the little girl was placed on your chest. You were completely captured by her tiny fingers and her buttoned nose, but what made you sob even harder was George sticking out his pinky and the baby grabbing it almost immediately, as if she knew that he was her dad and that she was safe with him. You turned towards him, finding his eyes glistening as well and you tilted your head backwards to leave a kiss on his lips.

Your moment of heaven was interrupted by another contraction, which reminded you there was another baby on their way. The nurse temporarily took the newborn from your arms so that you could push with all your strength, and it was a matter of just 10 minutes before another newborn was crying on your chest, another babygirl. The twins were soon reunited and they both latched on your nipples, whilst both you and your boyfriend were staring at them in awe.

It felt so surreal, the four of you were engulfed in your bubble of pure happiness. George leaned his forehead on yours and then moved slightly to nuzzle your noses together. “Thank you for everything love” he murmured before placing a kiss on your daughters’ heads.

Suddenly a nurse woke you up from your state of trance to ask you whether you already had the names for the babies. Your boyfriend threw you a glance and you nodded, still completely sure about your choices.

He smiled at you before turning to the nurse again, “Amelia Joy and Emma Mae Russell”

2. Visiting the paddock

When your girls were a little older than 1 you and George agreed that it was time for their first race weekend. It was the second race of a double header and you had decided to join your boyfriend only for Saturday and Sunday.

The previous monday your daughters had cried when they had realised their dad hadn’t come home as usual and your heart had broken a little. Their giggles when they had seen him at the airport on Friday night, though, those were music to your ears. They had started getting so excited in their double stroller that you were almost afraid they would fall from it. George had picked Emma up, while you had taken Amelia. Both girls started waving their arms and laughing and you could swear George’s eyes were glistening.

On Saturday you arrived at the paddock late in the morning. The babies were asleep in the stroller, so you swiped your badge and you calmly headed towards the Mercedes hospitality. On your way you met Alex, whom you greeted and you had a word with, mainly about the babies and his plans with his girlfriend to join you and George for a dinner once back in England. In the meantime the girls woke up and they received plenty of raspberries on their tummies from uncle Alex.

At the hospitality you were welcomed by Lewis, who embraced you in a tight hug before focusing on the babies. Amelia literally lightened up when she saw the man and started kicking her legs; Lewis threw you a glance, as if asking for permission, and when you smiled he picked up the little girl. On the contrary, when Emma saw that the man was wearing the same T-shirt her daddy had, she started babbling “dadadada”, which you knew was the word both babies used when they wanted your or George’s attention.

Lewis then, who was playing with little Amelia in his arms, told you that George was speaking to the engineers and that he could take the three of you to see him. You gladly accepted and the older man guided you through the garage.

Your daughters soon became the main attraction of the whole team. Whenever you would walk next to someone who knew who you were, they would immediately stop whatever they were doing and they would greet the girls. You had lost the count of how many times you had repeated “This is Emma, while Lewis is holding Amelia”.

Finally you got to your boyfriend, who had his back to you and was speaking with his engineer and Toto. When the twins noticed their daddy’s presence they didn’t waste their time to make themselves heard. They simultaneously started their babbled “dadadada” and George immediately turned around.

He smiled brightly when he saw the girls and quicked excused himself to the others to hurry to you and take Emma from your arms. He peppered with kisses her whole face but before he could even turn Amelia started stretching her arms towards him, wanting to be held. George took her from Lewis’ arms as well, so that he was now standing proudly with one twin per arm. In the distance you saw Mercedes’ social media manager snapping photos of the moment, and you knew it was just a matter of time before the whole F1 fandom would start going crazy for daddy George.

George then introduced the girls to Toto and his race engineer, and when he stepped outside the garage with still the babies in his arms he was met by Charles and Daniel. Knowing your daughters were in safe hands, you allowed yourself to relax a little and you went to the toilet and organised the babies’ bag in case of emergency .

By the time you had come back there was no sight of your boyfriend or your babies. Before you could even panic you heard giggles from inside the garage, so you went to check. You found yourself in front of probably one of the sweetest scenes of your life.

George was sitting in his car with Emma on his lap, while the girl was clicking any button she could reach. Beside the car there was Amelia, who had come back in Lewis’ arms, who was trying to stretch towards her dad to sit there as well.

After a couple of minutes George took her as well, and now both your girls were on their dad's lap, being still so small to fit at the same time. Your heart skipped a bit at the sight and you had to fight your tears back. The babies were clearly happier than ever to be with their daddy, and you could tell George was having the time of his life as well, spending time in his car - probably one of his favourite places - with two of the most important people in his life.

Furtively you pulled out your phone and took a photo of the scene, too sweet and spontaneous not to be remembered, and you set it as your lock screen immediately after.

Later that night you were lying in bed after a tiring day. The twins hadn’t stopped moving not for a minute, too thrilled by everything going on around them, and they started moving even more when the mechanics cheered after George took pole in quali. When he came back to the garage the first thing he did was smash a forehead kiss on your daughters’ and then he bent his back down to kiss you and nuzzle your noses together.

Now he was having a shower and the girls were in their bassinets already asleep. You opened Instagram and the photo you found on your homepage made some little tears escape your eyes. It was the photo the admin had taken at the garage: George was facing away, he had his gaze turned towards Amelia, in his right arm, who was pointing something outside the garage whilst Emma, in his left, was playing with his T-shirt collar. The second was a snap of the babies on his lap in the car: Emma was leaning on George’s shoulder laughing with crinkled eyes and Amelia was focused on pushing the buttons on the steering wheel. What took you a while to notice was that there was a third photo after that one, and it was of you staring at your family with a hand over your mouth and clearly teary-eyed. The caption filled your heart with love, “The sweetest (and best) family ever is here❤️”

You quickly liked it and left a heart emoji in the comment. And the admin was indeed right, your family was indeed the sweetest (and the best).

3. Stuffed animals and sunflowers

One of the first toys the twins were ever gifted were 2 stuffed animals, the first presents from uncle Lewis: an elephant for Amelia and a bunny for Emma. Both girls had immediately become attached to them, almost obsessed with them - much to their uncle’s delight.

They would carry the animals literally everywhere: in their bassinets, in their highchairs while eating, in the paddock, when going out for a stroll and you and George almost had to fight every evening when it came to bath time, because the twins wouldn’t let them go even in the bathtub.

You had lost the count of how many times you had to wash them because they were too dirty or soaked in drooling due to the twins teething. When the babies would realise their plushies had disappeared they would start crying non-stop, and calming them was almost an impossible challenge.

That was why you knew that day you were screwed.

Emma and Amelia had just fallen asleep on the sofa - weirdly without the toys, so you decided to clean their room up. You found Emma’s bunny on the floor and you quickly placed it on the shelf, then bent down again to pick up the elephant as usual. You frowned as you noticed it wasn’t there, normally they would lie in the same place, but still you decided not to worry: it probably had been left somewhere in the house, so you kept tidying.

Terror flashed in your eyes when you finished cleaning but there was no sign of the little elephant. You knew for sure that wasn’t going to end well. You had looked for it everywhere but in vain, it seemed to have disappeared. Suddenly you heard the door opening and you knew it was George even because you could hear the twins babbling; they had woken up as your boyfriend had stepped in, it was like they had a radar and they were always awake whenever their daddy came home.

You chose to forget for a moment about the whole plushie matter and instead focus on your family. Both you and George played with them for a while on their little mattress in the living room before you noticed it was dinner time. As you headed to the kitchen George went to the babies’ room to get their pyjamas and bathe them.

“Darling?” you heard him call you from upstairs, “where’s the elephant? I can’t find it” You panicked. Shit. This was going to be a mess, you knew it.

You reached them in the room, where George was standing in the middle. Emma was peacefully playing with her bunny on the changing table, whilst Amelia was curled in her daddy’s arms, her head tucked in his neck and you could already hear some sniffles: it was just a matter of time before she would start crying frantically.

George threw you a glance, meaning tell me we haven’t lost it please, but you could only panicky nod. He murmured “fuck!”, but it was already too late. As if she had seen her parents’ glances and understood the meaning, Amelia started crying abruptly, her sobs were more heartbreaking than usual.

“Phan dada,” she managed to say through the sobs, “phan, phan”, it was like a chant at some point.

Emma seemed to sense her sister’s sadness because she started crying as well. Good! Now you had two crying toddlers that you didn’t know how to calm. George started rocking Amelia in his arms and you picked Emma up to do the same, but nothing seemed to work.

“Oh god, where could we have left them? Georgie?” you asked, almost freaking out. Finding that plushie had out of sudden become the aim of that night, considering that now the twins would refuse to do anything without it.

“I don’t know, last time I saw it was this morning when you went with them to the grocery store.” he answered, as nervous as you were.

“Wait, what if she left it in the cart? Or somewhere at the shop? Nonono George, it’s the end if this is what has happened, they will drive us crazy.”

From the outside it could seem a funny scene, almost ridiculous, but you actually knew very well that it was a matter of life. Your sleeping - and your headache - quite depended on it.

George handed you a crying Amelia as he headed downstairs. Great, now you had two crying babies to calm! You followed him ready to throw him the worst insults, when you saw he was picking up his Mercedes’ keys. He checked the clock, 19:28.

“Babe where are you going?” you asked.

“Going to the store, I have about half an hour before it closes. I’ll look for the toy and ask the salesperson if they’ve seen it.” And with that he was out of the door. You knew why he was so determined to find the damn elephant: lately he hadn’t been sleeping very well, too worried about the car’s not-up-to-par performance and a sleepless night was the last thing he needed, his headache was already pounding.

While he was away you tried everything to soothe the twins’ sobs. After a while Emma’s died down and she - thank god! - decided to focus on the cartoons you had put on the TV while chewing her bunny’s ears. Amelia was instead desperate and you had tried everything to distract her: bottle, food, pacifier, cartoons, cuddling, rocking through the room, but nothing seemed to work.

It was a little after 8pm when you saw the lights of George’s car in the driveaway. You anxiously waited for him to walk in but when he did and you saw his disappointed face you were struggling yourself not to cry. It was going to be one of those nights and you really weren’t ready. You loved your daughters but a night of sleep was really appealing.

You sighed disconsolately and sat on the couch. George headed to the kitchen to grab something to eat and brought you a slice of the pizza left in the freezer. He sat next to you and switched the TV from cartoons to some sappy movie, but neither of you paid attention to it. Emma fortunately didn’t fuss when she saw the cartoon disappear, but on the contrary Amelia was still whining.

George was clearly losing his patience: he never yelled at the babies when they misbehaved, but you could spot his nervousness. You didn’t want him to take it out on Amelia, so you decided to go out for a while with her, one last attempt to calm her.

“Babe,” you whispered not to worsen his evident headache, “I’m gonna grab the car and take a drive around here to see if she calms down.” You left one kiss on his forehead and then briefly nuzzled your noses together.

He nodded and you could see the relief on his face knowing he was going to have a bunch of minutes of silence. Before you could exit the door he called you, tiredness obvious in his voice.

“Y/N,” poor boy, he really was tired “today I drove some people from the team to the circuit when we went testing, I moved the babies’ seats in the trunk.” He rubbed one hand over his eyes, you could tell he was going to fall asleep soon.

“Ok Georgie, thanks.” You left another kiss but on his lips before leaving.

When you were in the driveway you started talking to the baby still in your arms, “Mel you see the stars?” you pointed your fingers to the sky, “look how shining they are! And that’s the moon baby”. Even this attempt was totally futile, instead your baby started again to whisper phan, phan. You sighed heavily, understanding it was a lost fight. You just hoped the car ride would make her fall asleep.

You went to open the trunk to take the seat and that was when you saw it: a glimpse of a plushie ear popping up from under the seat. You quickly lifted it and there you saw the elephant: it had been under there the whole day and now it was a bit flattened from the weight of the seat.

You immediately grabbed it and showed it to the baby, “Mel look! It’s phan!”

That sentence seemed to awaken your whining baby. Her eyes literally lit up when she saw the animal in your hand and she wasted no time in catching it. As soon as she had it in her hands she put it in her mouth and you could see her drooling. Good old habits.

The car ride was useless in the end and you were ready to come back in. However you couldn’t forget George’s tired and sad face. You came up pretty quickly with an idea. While Amelia was still biting her plushie you hurried yourself to collect a couple of sunflowers from the ones you had been growing in your garden and you put them in your baby’s hand.

She stared at you right in the eyes while you were speaking, “Listen Mel,” you pointed a finger to the flowers, “now we give these to dada, because even if he’s tired he went to the store just to look for phan. You give them to him and you say ‘thank you dada’, fine?” She just shook her hands and you could only sigh, hoping she had understood.

George was still on the sofa when you entered, he lifted his head up as soon as he heard the door opening: he clearly couldn’t understand why you were already back. When he saw that Mel had her toy in her mouth he heaved a sigh of relief: he was going to be able to sleep later that night.

You placed Amelia on his lap and the baby started giggling at the sight of her daddy. George was still tired but this time you saw a little smile he was trying to hold back. No matter how tired or angry he was, his babies could lift his mood in a second.

You handed the flowers to Mel and she gave them to George. Seeing his confused face you reminded your daughter, “Baby, what do you say?” She seemed to struggle for a moment but then she babbled “Tek dada phan”

George’s eyes filled with tears, a blend of commotion and tiredness, and he hugged the baby tightly, keeping her close to his chest. “Anytime baby” he whispered on the top of her head before pressing a kiss there.

The baby then quickly threw herself out of her dad’s arms, falling on the couch next to her half-asleep sister and screaming “EMA! PHAN!” Both then began to play with their animals, mainly smashing one against the other, but happiness was blatant on their faces and in their little laughs. That’s the only thing that matters you thought as you fell into George’s arms, a soft smile adorning both your mouths.

4. Braiding time with super dada

You were running late, extremely late. George had decided to bring you and the twins to the event he had been invited to, an occasion to spend some family time - and also to give the audience the content they loved.

You had just finished your shower and had worn the suit you had chosen with your best friend: a plain black suit that felt very comfortable and which you preferred to an elegant dress, considering that you would spend the whole night running after two toddlers who loved to walk around everywhere ever since they had learnt how to.

George was for sure going to spend the night talking to important people and other celebrities, so you had already reckoned that looking after the kids would be on you. You didn’t mind though: Emma and Amelia were becoming more and more of comedians, always managing to put a smile on everyone’s face and laughing for anything.

When you walked out your bedroom and you arrived in the living room what you found was a battlefield. Emma was running around shouting dadadada - her favourite word apparently - while George was busy trying to braid Amelia’s hair. He was wearing his trousers only and he was clearly in a rush, unsuccessfully attempting to make braids out of your daughter’s hair. The girl wasn’t helping though, too busy laughing and moving her head to follow her sister’s running.

You caught Emma just before she could bump against the wall and you brought her on the sofa placing her on your knees; George next to you breathed a sigh of relief. Both girls were still laughing out loud for no reason, and in the end you couldn’t help but giggle as well.

George was staring at you as if you had three heads. You tried to contain your laugh, “Sorry bubs but you know their laughs are contagious.” He slightly shook his head, knowing that deep down you were right.

“Ok girls, listen now,” you called the attention of your babies, “now mommy puts cartoons on the TV and you watch them whilst we do your hair, fine?”

“MOMMY TOONS!” Emma shouted, so you grabbed the remote and set some random ‘Peppa Pig’ episode, a cult classic to make the girls sit still.

“Ok babe now let’s braid these princesses’ hair.” You winked at your boyfriend before starting your work. Both Emma and Amelia loved to be dressed in the same way, so you had picked two identical dresses and decided to braid both their hair, embellishing it with some little bow hair band.

Halfway through your work of art Amelia spoke, “Mama, dada good wok?” she asked, wanting to know if her dad’s work was coming out well.

You smiled and nodded to your girl, “Of course baby, your dad is good at everything, isn’t he?” and your baby nodded back.

George had really become a master in taking care of the girls throughout the years, and he would do anything gladly: from brushing their hair to choosing their outfits, cooking them their favourite meal - fruit salad with too many strawberries, and he even loved cooking biscuits with them to surprise you in the morning.

You made sure to take photos whenever you caught them in one of these moments and you sometimes would share them in your stories. The fans would go insane for those frames you provided them and every time ‘Dad George’ would trend on twitter for hours.

“Super dada” Emma exclaimed after a couple of seconds; you saw George’s eyes immediately paint with tears, he still wasn’t used to it even after two years - and you honestly thought he would never go to.

‘Super dada’ was the writing you decided to print on your daughters’ onesies for George’s first Father’s Day: that morning you had carefully placed them on his chest and they had woken him up - well, as much as two two-month-old babies could do, and when your boyfriend had opened his eyes he had found you beside him with his breakfast on a tray and a present in your hands.

When he then had picked Amelia up he had noticed the onesies and that was when he bursted into tears. The twins had quickly followed and in a couple of minutes the four of you were all crying. Needless to say that was one of the most beautiful - and most emotional - days of your lives, one you wouldn’t easily forget.

After a while your girls’ hair was ready so you carefully placed them on the sofa, Peppa Pig still playing on the screen, hoping they wouldn’t destroy their look while you two finished getting ready. When both of you were standing you gently slapped George’s butt, “Hey!” he exclaimed, turning to face you with an amused expression on his face.

“C'mon Mister, we don’t wanna be late and you still need to finish dressing up!” you encouraged him while you headed to the shoe cabinet to grab your heels.

“I’m sure neither you nor the fans would mind if I showed up like this, I mean-” he pointed at his six pack, “this is some hot sight, right?”

You came back with the shoes in your hand and you couldn’t help but laugh at his foolishness, “I’m sure it is but I’d like to keep it just for me,” you went to hug him, “and besides your fans see already enough in those thirst traps of yours that you love to post.” You crossed your arms falsely pissed whilst he laughed.

“Well then-” he stopped to lower his mouth to your ear, “I’ll make sure you’ll be the only one who will enjoy this sight tonight.” As he whispered you felt a shiver running down your spine

“Well, deal.” You replied in the same tone before leaning in to leave a kiss on his lips.

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raemaekae · 4 days

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Filming starts this Monday 29th April 🥳

#call the midwife

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thatdayindecember · 1 month

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Part 2, labor + delivery

It was time to get induced.

I got the balloon thing on Monday the 5th around 11. Around 1pm, we were home and I was already having contractions 5 min apart. Within a few hours, they were 3 min apart. And they were baddd. There was no position possible. I was in AGONY. Like, 9/10 pain. Called the hospital but since the balloon catheter hadn't fallen out, I just had to wait at home until my appointment the next morning.

Needless to say, didn't sleep all night. Contractions never stopped.

At 7am, we had to he back at the hospital. They checked me and, thank god, I was 3 cm dilated. They started me on meds to speed it up. The pain got even worse. After a few hours, they finally decided to break my waters. And the pain got worse again. Around 1, after 24 hours of crazy contractions, I was only at 4/5cm and I couldn't take it anymore so asked for epidural

I got it around 2.30pm. And I didn't feel anything anymore. It was great lol. Then my blood pressure dropped a lot. And everyone started to panic, bc baby's heartrate was also dropping. Luckily they somehow fixed it real fast.

I didn't feel any contractions anymore so i was even able to sleep a little bit. Around 4.30, I woke up bc I was feeling contractions again. Everyone thought I'd just didn't push the epidural button in time so we waited for it to kick in again.

But it didn't. The pain continued to get worse. Finally, at 6pm, they decided to check me again. To everyone's shock, I was fully dilated.

Baby was still up a little high though, so they told me to lightly push on every contractions to see if baby would come down. Around 7.15 they came back. Baby hadn't moved. I was starting to panic, bc I hadn't gotten more epidural anymore so I could feel the pushing better, which meant I was in A LOT of pain. So the midwife decided it was time to just start active pushing and see what would happen

Well, what happened was I PANICKED even more lol. It was so scary and painful and I truly thought I wouldn't be able to do it. With every push, 4x per contraction, contractions basically back to back, I thought I would pass out or throw up. It was insanely painful. I kept saying I couldn't do it. But after a while, suddenly everyone got excited bc they could see baby's head! That helped me feel more confident so I somehow managed to find more power and pushed harder.

But then the midwife and nurse got stressed. They told me to stop pushing bc baby wasn't doing well anymore. I wasn't allowed to push for the next contraction. Let me telllll you, that was a nightmare. Pushing hurt like hell, but NOT pushing was even worse. Luckily after not pushing for one contraction, baby's heartratw was normal again so I could continue.

It wasn't long before I felt the infamous ring of fire and I had to slow down so I wouldn't tear open completely lol. Slowly but surely, I could feel baby coming out. It hurt like a mf. It felt like an eternity. I was so exhausted. But I had to keep going. And then the midwife said the next contraction would be my final pushes and then he would be out

And he did. I pushed and I felt him come out. A little after 8pm on feb 6th, my baby was born <3. Within seconds he was on my chest and after a few more seconds, my little perfect baby boy was crying.

I'll never say I instantly forgot the pain (everyone who says that is either a superhero or lying) but it was all worth it.

Unfortunately I did tear a little but, but luckily not that much. The stitching was horrible though. The tried to numb me but needles down there is noooo fun lol. And it didn't really work everywhere either. So half of the stitches I felt being done. And it took ages.

We stayed in the hospital for one night to monitor baby since I had taken benzos a few times in the last weeks. He was doing great though, and I was OK too, so around 11 the next morning, we got discharged and could go home

#savs stories #savs birth story

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 months

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Dancing monk icon by Marcy Hall Art

* * * *

Blessings on this eve of the Feast of St. Brigid!

I feel especially blessed to have had the joy of joining with a group of dancing monks online last Monday to celebrate Brigid's call to us as midwife, muse, and transforming fire.

February 1st-2nd marks a confluence of several feasts and occasions including: the Celtic feast of Imbolc, St. Brigid’s Day, Candlemas, Feast of the Presentation, and Groundhog Day in the northern hemisphere! (Imbolc is August 1st in the southern hemisphere).

Imbolc is a Celtic feast that is a cross-quarter day, meaning it is the midway point between the winter solstice and spring equinox. The sun marks the four Quarter Days of the year (the Solstices and Equinoxes) and the midpoints are the cross-quarter days. In some cultures, like Ireland, February 2nd is the official beginning of spring.

As the days slowly lengthen in the northern hemisphere and the sun makes her way higher in the sky, the ground beneath our feet begins to thaw. The earth softens and the seeds deep below stir in the darkness. The word “imbolc” means “in the belly.” The earth’s belly is beginning to awaken, new life is stirring, seeds are sprouting forth.

In many places the ground is still frozen or covered with snow, but the call now is tend to those very first signs of movement beneath the fertile ground. What happens when you listen ever so closely in the stillness? What do you hear beginning to emerge?

St. Brigid is said to bring the first sign of life after the long dark nights of winter. She breathes into the landscape so that it begins to awaken. Snowdrops, the first flowers of spring are one of her symbols.

On the eve of January 31st it is traditional to leave a piece of cloth or ribbon outside the house. It was believed that St Brigid’s spirit traveled across the land and left her curative powers in the brat Bride (Brigid’s Mantle or cloth). It was then used throughout the year as a healing from sickness and protection from harm.

Often in Ireland, I have heard Brigid described as a bridge between the pre-Christian and Christian traditions, between the other world and this one. She bridges the natural and human world. Brigid sees the face of Christ in all persons and creatures, and overcomes the division between rich and poor. Our practice of inner hospitality as monks in the world is essentially about healing all of places we feel fragmented, scattered, and shamed. One of her symbols is her cloak which becomes a symbol of unity. All can dwell under her mantle.

[Thanks to Christine Valters Paintner and to the dancing monks]

#Saint Brigid #Ireland #the Dancing Monks #Christine Valters Paintner #celtic christianity #imbolc #in the belly #seasons #winter #feast days

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221b-bitch-st · 3 months

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happy midwife monday to everyone but especially those of us who have school starting this week/tomorrow. may bildad the shuhite be with us in our struggles

#august whispers #bildad nation #bildad the shuhite #midwife monday #bildaddy #bildad my beloved

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newtonsheffield · 2 years

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I love midwife Mary, i really do. It must have been so hard for her to watch her lively Katie with so much love to give be so diminished after Baz was done with her. I keep flashing to the scene of Mary and Kate meeting, then flashing forward to Kate crying in Mary’s arms after the latest Baz/Ant scene. Mary is strong for her, but heartbroken on the inside. I want to hug both of them.

Okay but Imagine they’re sitting at brunch on Sunday and Mary mentions Anthony in an off handed way and Kate suddenly bursts into tears.

Mary wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter’s chest, rocking her gently just like she used to when Kate was a tiny girl.

“Oh sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

“I think I’m falling in love with Anthony.” Kate took a shuddering breath, “And we’ve kind of been… spending time together and I tried to… I don’t know I wanted maybe be something more but he just left in the middle of the night because Baz called and I’m so fucked up I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

Mary could feel her heart breaking in her chest for the tiny girl who’d been chipped away at until there was almost nothing left. And she’s been trying to claw her way back to normalcy, Mary had seen the little smile on her face as She watched Anthony down the ward, clearing her throat embarrassedly when Mary looked pointedly. And now it might all be ruined.

“You are strong, and capable and confident, and Baz is not worth this. He treated you appallingly, and I don’t know what’s going on with Anthony but if you need to cry go ahead and cry, sweetheart.”

And she knows it’s not right, because Anthony already looks terrible when she sees him on Monday morning but she can’t help but click her tongue.

“Boys who make my baby cry don’t deserve juice.”

“Kate was- Kate cried?”

“Kate is a person, Anthony. And I know she’s capable and confident and it’s very easy to imagine nothing hurts her but it does. So you need to talk to her, and you need to explain what happened, like an adult. Because you both deserve more than this.”

#all i am (all that i ever was)#kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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prettylittlelyres · 3 months

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Violins and Violets - update

Monday 29th January 2024

I took my writing to the library on Saturday and wrote 2,296 words by hand! I hardly ever write by hand anymore (love fine motor issues) but I find using a pencil with a spongey grip is fantastic for getting around the discomfort. (I get my grippy pencils from The Works, £1 for a pack of 5 - I try finding even the grips alone for less than £1 each and I come away sad and disappointed. Then the grips are reusable and easily transferrable to any other pen or pencil.)

I got 1,665 words written on Sunday evening, around watching "Call the Midwife", playing "Sims 4" and chatting to my friends, and that brought me up over 56,000 words for January's contribution to this draft. The total for the manuscript is now over 74,000 words, and I want a maximum of 78,000 words, complete by bedtime on Tuesday 30th January. My plan is of course to use February to rest my writing muscles.

Today and tomorrow, I need to write about 2,000 words, which is almost exactly my daily average for this month. It's been years since I've written this much every day, and I'm so pleased with myself! But I will be glad of that rest when it comes.

Let's hurry and see how much I can write before I start work in twenty minutes!

#writeblr #blog #violins and violets #violins and violets series #amwriting #nanowrimo #support your local library #writer's life #violins and violets book 2

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weshallc · 3 months

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Bern's Night (part of the Crown Jewels series, Call the Midwife AU)

(Previously published on A03 and FF.net nothing new, sorry.)

Chapter One: Fair Fa' Your Honest, Sonsie Face

“Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o’ the pudding-race! Aboon them a’ ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm : Weel are ye wordy o'a grace As lang’s my arm.” Address to a Haggis by Robert Burns 1786.

"Will You Recognize Me? Call My Name Or Walk On By." Don't You (Forget About Me), Simple Minds 1985

Monday 25th January 2016

“His knife see rustic Labour dight, An’ cut you up wi’ ready sleight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like ony ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin’, rich!”

The room was swept in darkness apart from the light of the wolf moon and the North Star penetrating the cold window panes. All eyes were facing towards a wooden table and the elderly man stood behind it. He was in his late 60s and wiry, small for a man, but with a silver mess of what once must have been a bonnie head of fire red hair. The body may have looked weak, but the intensity in his bright blue eyes cut through the dimly lit surroundings.

As he spoke again, his voice filled the room, cutting through the anticipating silence. It was a voice that could take a knife and slice right through a soul. The knife in his hand in turn sliced through the offering in front of its high priest. Years of performing the same action with such a passion resulted in precision. The faithful entranced by the spectacle all gasped as one, as the incision was violently made. No one dared to speak. Suddenly the trance was lost as artificial light rudely brought everyone back to the present with a blast of the pipes.

“All done then Reverend Mannion? Can I serve the Haggis now? Don’t want it getting cold now do we, not at £15 a head.”

“Aye, Violet the ceremony is over, it’s time for eating and drinking something the bard would have approved of, rightly so.”

The kilted clergyman winked at an auburn haired girl in the crowd and tipped his whisky tumbler toward her. She raised her own glass and winked back. Her companion at her table was much taller with dark hair styled in a tidy no-nonsense bob.

The tall one leaned toward the small one and asked, “If it’s already dead, why does he have to kill it?”

“What?”

“The Haggis if it’s already dead why does he have to kill it?”

Her friend opened her mouth to speak, but she saw a tender hand take hold of Chummy’s arm and explain it was all just ceremony, it was tradition.

“Like all that malarkey at our passing out parade, the day we got our badge. That wasn’t about police work, was it? It’s just tradition. It’s what the English do well.”

He had been doing really well up until then, but a golden raised eyebrow made him alter his stance. “It is what us Brits do best.”

The raised eyebrow whispered to the police constable. "Peter, Chummy really doesn’t think a haggis is a real animal, does she?”

He was not the kind of man that would turn heads, but he had a kindness in his eyes and an openness in his face that she thought some would see as attractive. If only Camilla wasn’t his superior and they didn’t work such long hours together, what might have been?

She knew her friend well and sensed more queries would follow. Not sure as a Scot brought up on Tweavenside and now living in London, she could provide satisfying answers. Picking up their empty glasses and heading to the bar was a strange sort of refuge for a vicar’s daughter and inner-city missionary.

There was a queue, well, sort of a queue. In London, a queue was made up of people standing in an orderly line and the person who had been stood the longest getting served first. In Poplar-on-Tweaven it resembled more of a rugby scrum and the person who shouted the loudest being ignored and anyone who called the barmaid by name being bunked up the order. She wasn’t familiar with busy bars, but she was bright enough to work out the system.

“Val, when yer ready, hen.” The request came from someone not sure that was their own voice they had just heard yelling those exact words.

All her life, she had been immersed in the wonders of the Bible and was still amazed at how so many miracles had been performed. She had heard all the CPR arguments regarding resurrections and all that, and was still not convinced. But she now knew how Moses had parted the Red Sea. He had known the barmaid’s name was Valerie.

“What can I get you, chick?”

“Here! I was first.” A grumpy voice struck up.

“Oh Al, you are always first. Let me serve this lass and then I will sort you out.”

“Promises, promises.”

“Yeah, in your dreams, pal.”

She was starting to feel uncomfortable. She hadn’t meant to jump the queue. Maybe she should go back to the table and let Peter get the drinks. A man’s voice interrupted her thoughts. It was quieter than Al’s but held an authority. It wasn’t a Tweavenside accent, but it had a northern softness.

“You serve our impatient friend, Valerie. I will see to this young lady.” Then turning to his new customer, “What can I get you, pet”

“Erm, a whisky and lemonade and erm a pint, please.”

“Which whisky and a pint of..?”

She wasn’t sure; she nudged her bottom onto a vacant stool for security.

“Are you with the law?” The tall bartender nodded towards Chummy and Peter.

“Yes, yes, I am.”

“OK, so that’s a Famous Grouse and diet lemonade, just a dash. And a pint of Buckles Best. And for you?”

He stepped back a minute. “Your Reverend Wilf’s daughter?”

"Yes, I am.” Bernie suddenly felt more sure of herself. She was never completely certain of who she was when back in Poplar.

“Bernadette?” The stranger was grinning now, his brown eyes glinting under the harsh bar spotlights. Or were they green?

“Well, that’s my Sunday name. Most people call me Bernie, even Dad.”

“Well, since I’ve never seen you in here on a Sunday or any other day. I will call you Bernie. I am Patrick Turner. Most people call me Paddy, a few Doc.”

“Oh no, you won’t have seen me here on a Sunday or any other day. I live in London now and before that, well, I am not a big drinker.”

“What can I get you then?” asked Paddy loitering near the coke and lemonade pumps.

“A gin and tonic please, better make it a double. It’s quite busy, save me coming back.”

Paddy smiled. “Premium gin?”

“Yes.”

While the optic was emptying into the glass, he asked, “You must have known this old place when Evie ran it?”

“Yes, I know Evie and J..Jenny”

“Oh yes. Jen was here when me and the wife took over. She was a great help. We get a text every now and again, doing well for herself now all loved up.” He winked at her as he ended the sentence, causing her to panic slightly.

“I was sorry to hear about your loss.” She wished she hadn’t said it.

Val had seemed to deal with ten customers to Paddy’s one and now there were just the two of them alone at the bar. He looked at her in a sort of a non-direct, sort of direct way, under that infuriating fringe she wanted to reach out and push back.

“Loss is as much a part of love as is healing,” he replied with a hint of melancholy, but without irony.

She was stunned and tried to find a corresponding Bible verse, but she drew a blank.

She focused on what was real and what was present. Her dad had taught her to do that. What was in front of her at this precise moment was a glass of gin and ice and a twist of lime. He was now unscrewing a bottle of Mediterranean slimline tonic.

She yelped, “No!” as he lay the bottle alongside the glass.

“Sorry, most people add the tonic to the gin and I cannae bear it drowned.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Surely that would be very presumptuous of me.”

“Aye well, most people I’ve met are very presumptuous.”

“Maybe you have spent too much time in London. if you don’t mind me saying, Bernie.”

“Well, to be fair, we don’t spend a lot of time sitting on stools and propping up bars in my part of London.”

“More’s the pity.”

“Can I bother you for a…”

Paddy popped a black straw into her tumbler.

“I will make sure when you come home next time, none of my staff will be presumptuous.”

“Oh, I doubt you will remember me, Paddy. I only come up to see my Da. I can’t imagine you will be seeing much of me in the future, hardly likely that I would ever be considered a regular.”

“Now, who is being presumptuous?”

Bernie went to put the straw between her lips but paused, realising the stranger was still watching her, she suddenly felt uncomfortable. As heat rose in her cheeks and she suddenly felt awkward on the stool, squirming to find some sort of comfortable position. The stranger smiled in a way she could not understand; it wasn’t smug or suggestive, but as if there were sharing a joke, but she wasn’t sure what the joke was.

She hopped off her seat, for a brief moment realising her arse was in the air, and prayed he had altered his gaze. Focusing anywhere but behind the bar, she grabbed her glass and bottle in one hand, put the whisky against her elbow and waist, the pint in her other hand, turned and swiftly moved toward her thirsty friends.

Shelagh Bernadette Mannion, don't you dare look back and see if he is watching you he is recently widowed with a son, Da said. He is, what do they call them now, a bloomer or something like that? God has shown you his path for you and it certainly does not include the Crown Inn, Poplar-on-Tweaven.

He is still watching me. I can feel it.

#call the midwife #crown jewels au revisited #for a special day #bless her if she only knew #bern's night chapter one

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lledron · 7 months

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Trimester Alluo

Warning: contains unwanted pregnancy, discussion about abortion.

It was gradual. One day he was in perfect health, the next he fainted in Moran's arms.

—Help! Will, Albert, damn it, a doctor!

When he learned what was growing inside him, he felt nothing. The baby would be an obstacle in his brother's plan. What would they do with a baby? And he wasn't even sure about Albert's feelings on this, but it didn't matter: it was his decision. Albert took him to a discreet doctor, who dealt with these matters, sons and daughters of high society.

–It's impossible to perform an abortion, Mr. Moriarty... It's over three months, we can't remove the embryo with medications, and according to your medical history...

His damn childhood weakness attacked again. He clung to Albert's arm.

–Let's try with medications, then…–

Louis's statement only seemed to make the thing cling more to him. Louis never knew when he began to love the fetus, but maybe it was when it spoke to him:

–Believe me, when you come out, try not to repeat everything people say, like parrots do... That will only bring you trouble.

Fear overwhelmed Albert. Yes, Louis could complain about being treated like an invalid, but he couldn't help thinking about the possibilities of death during childbirth or postpartum fever. He never wanted to have children: he had decided since he was fourteen that the Moriarty lineage would die with him. But while feeling the baby's kicks and Louis's tired smile, he prayed. Prayed that the baby would resemble the blond angel with ruby eyes. Prayed that the baby wouldn't inherit anything bad from him, not the distortions that his own mother and he suffered daily.

Victoria was born on a Monday. It was a quick delivery, with a midwife who, like the doctor, had a clientele for these matters.

–It's a beautiful girl... It won't take long for her to be adopted... – said the woman, looking at the crying blond cherub.

–My daughter won't go to any orphanage. Give her to me now– ordered Louis. He had lived in orphanages and didn't want that for her. He didn't love her, but she deserved something better.

And when he held her in his arms, he hesitated to give her to Albert.

–Louis, you need to rest...–

–The crib... she doesn't have to sleep alone...

–Of course– Albert kissed Louis on the cheek with the scar.

–You did a great job, my love. She's perfect.

Will was outside; the midwife had informed him that both were well and that if they changed their minds about giving the baby to an orphanage, they always had her contact.

—Is it her?-- Will asked, seeing Albert come out of the room with the baby.

–No, Will, it's the greengrocer's daughter. Of course, it's her!—Moran said.

Fred leaned forward to see the baby.

– My God, she looks like Louis...

— She's very beautiful...

— What's her name?---

Fred's question made Albert freeze. Right, they hadn't prepared for the baby. Only a crib and a few basic items, but they had never thought of a name.

–Victoria– said Albert.

–Her name is Victoria.

#moriarty the patriot #albert james moriarty #louis james moriarty #albert james moriarty x louis james moriarty #allou

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