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eiirisworkshop · 5 months

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Chiaroscuro

A Star Trek TOS fanfiction Complete fic available to read on Ao3 here.

Chapter 1

“Considering how well things went last time 'round,” McCoy griped, “I can't say I'm looking forward to this.”

Kirk clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I don't think Starfleet much cares whether any of us are looking forward to it, Bones. The Summit meeting is on our way and at least this time we only have one ambassador to worry about.”

“Yeah, yeah.” McCoy tugged at the cuff of his dress uniform tunic. “But the one we've got is the one I'd most like to avoid. If he's not dyin' on us, him and Spock'll be glaring at each other the whole damn trip and swearing they're doing no such thing. I dunno that I've got the mettle for either.”

Kirk stifled a grin. “Well, you have about five minutes to prepare yourself.”

McCoy huffed and grumbled something to do with a Southern summer not being enough time.

Right on schedule, five minutes later, they were docking at Hestia-1, an independent space station variously described as a floating city, a grand bazaar, and an island of lost toys. It also happened to have been the site of a recent trade agreement signing, which had brought Ambassador Sarek and his wife to the station. Now Kirk went to meet them—as was his duty, even if it was merely a formality—and escort them to the ship, McCoy and Spock in tow along with a couple security officers.

Sarek and Amanda were waiting for them in the station's gardens. Kirk plastered a standard, diplomatic smile across his face. “Ambassador, I hope you're in better health.”

Sarek contemplated him a short moment. “I am.”

“Glad to hear it.” He turned to the ambassador's wife. “And Lady Amanda, always a pleasure.”

“So nice to see you again, Captain,” Amanda said pleasantly before turning to greet her son. “Spock, how are you?”

“I'm fine, Mother,” Spock said diplomatically.

“Of course you are.” Amanda gave a faint smile, almost a smirk, Kirk wasn't entirely sure he hadn't imagined—at least until Spock's eyebrow twitched up in turn. Amanda's smile widened as she turned again. “Doctor, I trust you're well.”

“Doing quite alright, thank you, ma'am.” McCoy gave a half bow.

For his part, Sarek just nodded his way through the niceties.

Once the ambassador and his wife had been shown to their quarters, the ship had been resupplied, and all the necessary bureaucracy with the station had been seen to, the Enterprise continued on her way.

The end of Alpha shift found Lady Amanda sitting in the Officer's Mess with Lt. Uhura and Nurse Chapel, sharing an angular pot of aromatic bright pink tea between them.

“He does have to be mindful not to overexert himself, still,” Amanda said to Nurse Chapel. “Even so, I can tell he is much more comfortable thanks to you and Dr. McCoy, and Spock, of course. I wish he'd tell you himself how grateful he is, but….” She trailed off, shook her head, and sipped her tea. “In any case, I know he'd rather be alive than dead, and I must admit I prefer him that way, too. At least since the council meeting on Babel I've managed to convince him that as his wife I deserve to be kept abreast of his health.”

“You have the patience of a saint,” Nurse Chapel said dryly.

“I genuinely don't know how you stay sane,” Lt. Uhura breathed, pouring herself another cup of tea.

Amanda shrugged. “I love him. It's amazing what love will teach us to tolerate, even to find endearing. Even so,” she grinned at them, “it is quite nice to have the opportunity to relax and spend time with other human women once in a while.”

“We have to stand together,” Lt. Uhura said, holding her cup out for Amanda to clink her own against. “Otherwise these men are going to drive us all crazy.”

“No matter their species,” Nurse Chapel added, clinking her cup with Uhura's, too.

Amanda laughed.

“Anyway,” Nurse Chapel began, “is that why Ambassador Sarek's been in your quarters more or less ever since the two of you joined us? He's having to rest?”

“So he says.” Amanda sighed. “I suspect, though, that the greater part of the truth is he's taking it as an excuse to avoid most of the crew. I do believe he's still rather embarrassed over causing such a fuss last time.”

“Sarek? Embarrassed?” Uhura teased. “That sounds unlikely.”

Amanda laughed softly. “The thing about Vulcans is they're not unfeeling, as much as they claim to be—I think you've both worked with my son long enough to know that. If anything, they feel more deeply than we do, it's just that it does take more to rouse their emotions than it does for us, and of course, no matter what they're feeling, they won't admit it. That part's mostly cultural and it's the most frustrating.”

“I can imagine,” Uhura said sympathetically.

“I can't.” Nurse Chapel snorted faintly. “I have almost the opposite problem, working with McCoy. His mood changes on hardly anything and I have to keep up.”

“Somehow, that's why he and Spock are friends,” Uhura said conspiratorially.

“Are they really?” Amanda asked. Uhura and Chapel nodded. Amanda smiled. “I'm glad to hear that. I knew he and the Captain were friends, but I'm heartened that he has more than the one.”

“The three of them are like this,” Uhura said, twining her index, middle, and ring fingers together. “The three Musketeers. There are jokes among the crew that one of these days we're going to find a planet where triple marriage is the norm and the whole world will assume the three of them are hitched, and they probably won't even notice until someone starts asking about their honeymoon.”

Amanda had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing too loudly. Nurse Chapel almost choked on her tea with mirth.“I hadn't heard that one!”

“I heard it from Sulu,” Uhura giggled. “He says it's been going around Engineering.”

With a soft fwshh, the door to the Mess opened and Spock walked in, hands clasped behind his back. The three women looked at each other and burst out in redoubled laughter.

One of Spock's eyebrows twitched up. “Am I...interrupting?”

“Of course not.” Uhura smiled angelically.

Spock fixed her with a stony stare for a moment then turned his gaze to Amanda. “You wanted to see me, Mother.”

“I did.” Amanda got smoothly to her feet and stepped around the table. “Are you free now?”

“If I weren't, I would not be here,” Spock pointed out.

“Naturally.” Amanda folded her hands into her flowing sleeves.“I was hoping you'd show me around the ship.”

“You've been given a tour of the ship previously,” Spock said, with a vague hint of puzzlement.

“I have,” Amanda agreed, “but never by you, and it's been some time. Indulge me, won't you?”

Spock took a breath and ever so slightly dipped his head. With a warm smile, Amanda followed her son out of the Mess.

“I sense,” Spock said softly as he and his mother walked down the corridor, “that you have ulterior motives for this.”

“Yes, but I'm hardly hiding them, Spock.” The cowl neck of Amanda's dress slipped off her shoulder and she fixed it. “I so rarely have the opportunity to see you, and even when I do we barely get to talk. Show me around, I'd love to see your favorite places on the ship, and I'm sure you've seen all sorts of incredible things during your duties that you could tell me about.”

“Well,” Spock began thoughtfully, turning his steps toward the ship's botanical garden, “have you ever heard of tribbles?”

“I haven't.”

End of chapter! Read the rest on Ao3 here.

#eiiri made this #fanfiction #star trek #star trek tos #spirk #star trek fic

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wrathbites · 2 years

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I am lowkey now obsessed with vampire!Shepard/Kaidan. I never knew I needed this in my life until right now. Could I perchance throw out an idea for a fic? The first time Shepard feeds off Kaidan for some reason? Bonus points if they're together romantically by then.

INHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALES AND SCREAMS FOR A YEAR. Ahem. 'Nonny, you have no idea how delightful it was to come across this message. It made my weekend, never mind my day. I only set out with this AU because it sparked joy for me, but hearing others say they also enjoy it? Hearing this from you? Receiving a prompt about it? I'm still on cloud nine, never intending to come back down lol

aofihuehfurwghurwg okay so onto the fic. I hope you don't mind, but this isn't a "first feeding" so much as a "first taste" (I have... several... first feeding ideas now. 9 to be exact. [I have AUs of an AU now oh god]) and they're not romantically together yet so I need to skip on those bonus points buuuuuuuut. For at least another two of those ideas I have rattling around in my skull, those points would apply. Alas, trying to wrangle them onto paper and into words is proving somewhat of a challenge XD

So uhm. With that! I hope you enjoy!

Risk the hostages now, or countless others later. Save a few, or potentially hundreds more. An impossible choice but Shepard makes it. He always makes it, he has to. So Kaidan and Vakarian follow his lead when he steps aside, and allow the batarian terrorist safe passage.

Except — the gravity well shudders under his fingertips, tortured by another with claws hooked deep. Except Shepard's mask of indifference doesn't quite cover his eyes. They burn as he catches Balak by the arm and yanks him to a stop, drawing every remaining gun to his head.

Except Shepard's grin is a vicious slash of teeth with no humour, fangs a threat when he leans in close and says, ever so softly, "are you really willing to walk away from the Batarian Scourge, Balak?"

And then all hell breaks loose.

Shepard's already bled through his undershirt by the time Kaidan's kicked free of the last of his armour, mentally cursed up a storm over the new set of bruises smarting across his back, and gone limping off to medbay in search of him. There's a fist-sized dark patch spread under his ribs, no bandages in sight, and blood coming away from Chakwas' fingers with her meticulous scrubbing. They look up when the door swishes open. Kaidan doesn't miss Shepard's eyes rolling heavenward.

"Could you excuse us for a few minutes, please, Doctor?" he asks. Her lips press into a thin line of displeasure as she dries her hands, gaze snagging on his sidearm — standard protocol, whether she likes it or not.

"Remember the rules, gentlemen — there's to be no maiming one another in my medbay," she says in a tone that'll brook no nonsense, only departing when she receives acknowledgement and agreement from them both. Kaidan engages the lock behind her, moves over to the window and tilts the blinds for privacy, finds Shepard watching him when he turns back around. Still seated, still playing the docile vampire when he'd been anything but just an hour ago.

"Why do you still bother with restraints?" Kaidan asks when it's clear silence will reign otherwise. They won't hold him, not for long, not without the assistance of a stasis field, and yet Shepard's making no effort to free himself.

Why? Why leave yourself a moment's vulnerability. Why trust me?

Shepard twitches his shoulders forward, all he can do with neck, arms, chest, waist, and legs all bound and secured. "A false sense of security is better than none at all, I've found."

"Uh-huh. Sure, that's believable, but I'm pretty sure Chakwas knows ten different ways to incapacitate you before you can so much as snap your teeth in her direction."

"One, actually."

"Shepard."

"Alenko," he parrots back with a scowl and, Christ, what Kaidan would give to knock his other fang loose. Insufferable bastard.

"Seriously, Shepard, c'mon. Are they even necessary these days? You've been a vampire how long?"

"Almost six years," Shepard's back to that staring habit of his that doesn't involve a single blink, eyes boring into Kaidan like laser sights as he approaches, gait the same as it would be if he was pacing the rest of the ship, neither slow nor cautious because he doesn't need to be either —

"And when was the last time you attacked a human?"

"About the same length of time."

— not around Shepard.

"So why?" The stare breaks when Shepard glances down, watching Kaidan pry open a buckle and loosen the strap around his left wrist, followed by the one at his forearm. No breathing, but there's a catch around an unnecessary swallow. Hm.

"They're... one of the conditions I must abide by."

Conditions. To return to active duty. Kaidan's placement as his watcher, the sidearm Kaidan can lay hands on at all times, more he's not aware of but Shepard hinted at their first day aboard. More, including restraints. Fucking hell.

"Six years handling humans like fragile glass, and they still treat you like a monster."

His other arm free.

"My species didn't exactly win humanity the First Contact war with diplomatic discussion, Alenko. The caution is warranted."

His chest next, still as the death he walked away from.

"The day caution becomes cruelty is the day it should end," Kaidan replies, taking a knee to work on the bindings around Shepard's legs. He freezes, however, when cool fingertips brush the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. It's one thing to have a vampire's hand so close to his throat, but to have them skirting his amp jack?

Kaidan's turn to swallow.

"Speaking from personal experience, Alenko?"

He looks up and Shepard's fingers ghost around, settle under his chin and tip his head up, grey eyes fixed where his pulse hammers fast.

Oh god.

"Something like that," he replies, a sandpaper rasp, mouth gone dry

"You underestimate the threat I pose to you," Shepard says next, soft as a whisper, still fixated on Kaidan's throat while freeing his own one-handed.

"Or maybe," Kaidan says, reaching for the restraints around his waist, "I listen to what others say about you, and decide I don't see what they do." The last one comes loose with a faint hiss as it slides from his hand, and just like that Shepard's free.

If Kaidan had true cause for concern around him, it'd be proven in that moment. He'd be flat on his back with teeth in his neck and hands holding him down, bones creaking in protest of a vampire's strength. He'd be struggling like a hooked fish, dark energy screaming between them, and ultimately he'd lose.

But it's not death looking back at him. It's Shepard, gaze lifting from the heartbeat he can see and Kaidan can feel, halting just as his breath does when Shepard's thumb lifts to his mouth, not quite making contact. Not yet.

"And if I tell you I'm a danger?"

A moment's vulnerability.

Oh. God.

"I'd ask if you were planning to kill me or kiss me."

The slightest pressure from Shepard's fingers and he stands, turned free when Shepard doesn't follow suit, stepping back when a jolt of ice strikes his hip in time to the blossom of blue around his sidearm, biotic field humming along his nerves. "I could ask the same of you," Shepard says.

"Conditions," he replies.

There's no flare of panic from Shepard when he removes his pistol from its holster, no flinching aside. No, he gets to his feet, stands straight, hands clasped behind his back. Watching. Waiting for his watcher's judgement.

"Caution," Kaidan continues, turning the pistol sideways and pressing it to Shepard's chest, "at its end when it becomes cruelty."

You're not a monster.

Shepard sets it aside with the same care he shows when settling a hand on Kaidan's side, over his belt. Loose, a question. Will he walk a fine line with danger, or retreat back to safety?

You never were.

He finds the blood on Shepard's undershirt, catches it in his fist and pulls him across that minuscule distance between them.

I'm not afraid of you.

Shepard's cool to the touch all over, lips, teeth, the line of his jaw, the tender skin around his own amp jack. His tongue, soothing the sting when Kaidan nicks himself on one of those fangs, his breath when he draws back, his exhale Kaidan's inhale, his moan Kaidan's secret.

I never was.

"We shouldn't —"

"Shepard, if you hit me with fraternisation regs now, I swear to god I'll knee you in the balls and see how quick you recover from that."

Laughter, tucked into his shoulder when Shepard ducks his head, Kaidan's fingers buried in his hair and free hand sliding around his back, finding the stain twin to the one on his front.

"I meant I haven't fed yet. I can't — you can't — be bleeding. Around me."

"Another one of those wonderful conditions you agreed to?"

"Mmhm. No direct feeding from a human. My own preference as well, but..."

"Go, then. I'll wait."

"You will?"

"I mean, I won't stare at you while you're uh. Feeding. That'd just be weird. And I promise I won't snicker if you stick an IV line in the bag and 'slurp it up like a slushie'."

Shepard's still laughing some ten minutes later and it's just as well he can't choke on inhaled mouthwash, else Kaidan would have some awkward explaining to do when Chakwas quizzed him on the cause of secondary death.

He catches her smile when she spies his sidearm on her desk. What she does with it after they leave medbay, back to business as usual when it's decidedly not, he never asks.

And he notices the missing cut later, when he's checking and rechecking the repairs on his armour. Smooth skin where there shouldn't be. He swipes his thumb over his lip. No dried blood to be found, no scarring, either.

No mark from Shepard's kiss except the memory.

#Wrathreplies #Wrathwrites #Rhys Shepard #Mass Effect fanfiction #kehfiuehsfuhrufherhfgiurgfhriufhufhifuwro HI THANK YOU SO MUCH #Sunlight and Stardust vampire verse

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cinnamonrollstark · 5 years

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Irondad Bingo: Trope: Sick Fic

@irondadbingo

□□□

Your toothbrush is the red one. Damn thing has your name on it- you've got no excuse to forget. The bathroom is twenty-two steps from the bedroom, and a sharp left turn away. It shouldn't be that hard.

But somehow, it is. If it weren't, Tony wouldn't get cavities in the back of his mouth, or piss his pants in search of the toilet. This is meant to be a natural occurence, and it likely would've afflicted his father were he to have lived long enough, and yet, it feels like an intrusion on his life, a bomb dropped for absolutely no reason other than to throw him off course.

If it were as easy as simply reminding himself of these things day to day, then Pepper wouldn't have to find him in the hall, confused and frustrated, and scared because he doesn't know which way to turn next. She wouldn't have to brush his hair or remind him to wash it when it gets oily. But she does. And that is how it goes.

Dementia robs him of most luxuries. It was always Tony's longtime goal to find happiness one day, and as soon as he'd found it, the rug had been ripped from underfoot, and he'd landed in an abyss, with no direction, no map, and no way to get out again.

And yet, some days, the confusion clears. He is lucid, happy. These days are getting rarer as of late, few and far between, but when they occur, he never takes them for granted. He steals lucid moments of sunlight, wind combing through his slowly graying hair. He hugs his daughter, who grows with such rapid force that he's entirely sure he's missed years of her life in between the clarity. He stands at the bank of the lake, toes dipped in the water, letting sand tickle the soles of his feet. He takes these moments in as deeply as he can, as often as he can.

Today is no different. It's been three months since he was last completely lucid, and lately his ability to walk and talk as he once normally did is fading. It's somewhat early in the summer, about a week into June. Crisp light filters in through scattered windows in the lake house, framing Tony's figure as he looks out the window. The day has been slowly slipping through his fingers, and he knows what's coming. For all the planning and paperwork they've put into this, it's far harder to come to terms with as it actually happens.

Slim arms weave through his own, his hands in his pockets, and wrap around his waist. Pepper, the familiar scent of her perfume. Her breath elevates his chest against her own, her chin on his shoulder. "What're you doing?" She asks, swaying a bit against his body.

Tony lets out a soft exhale and turns to face her, returning the embrace. "Just thinking," he admits, not quite able to look directly at her. "Not gonna lie, Pep," he clears his throat, "I'm scared."

Pepper runs a soft hand across his hair and smiles with tears in her eyes. "I know," she swallows, and the pain in her voice is evident, "but you know it's going to be okay."

This is a quiet, loving lie. They tell this to themselves to feel better about what will happen later tonight, what they've been expecting for months now. They are settled in their decision, of course, but are nowhere near happy about it.

Morgan is not quite old enough to understand it in its entirety; at eight, she is obviously intelligent, but the rapid decline of her father's health was beyond her comprehension in its earliest stages, and now, as it is coming to an end, she is more so confused about what will happen after than why it is happening at all.

Many long talks with her, mostly on Pepper's end, as Tony is often unable to get a clear point across, have lead her to a stable acceptance of the subject.

Peter, on the other hand, has been so against the idea from the beginning that Tony's been fearing the worst- that he wont show up at all. He's 19, now, taking a gap year between high school and college. Other than lower-level villain defense, Peter isn't up to much at the moment, and his freedom to participate in the last clear days of Tony's life makes his absence all the more painful.

◇◇◇

Pepper's fingers lather shampoo through Tony's dark hair. She plants kisses on his soapy, wet cheeks, and cries as calmly as she can. It's moments like this, moments when he's aware and lucid that she misses him all the more. Every good moment has felt like the last in recent months, and now that is truly how it is.

It feels odd getting dressed for the last time- casual, comfortable, but something other than his standard pajamas- and his wife helps him pick out his last pair of clothes. He's gotten quite skinny, still muscular, but much smaller. Her arms fir around his waist so easily that her wrists overlap. She whispers that she loves him into his neck, and he tells her he loves her right back.

Tony pays a visit to Morgan's room soon before the doctor arrives. His daughter is sitting on her bed, eyes locked outside the window. She hugs a stuffed animal to her chest.

"Hey Maguna." He sits on the edge of the bed with her, and she glances warily at him. "You doin' okay?"

He runs a hand over her soft but messy hair. Her lips pout out in the way that they do when she's about to cry, and he kisses her cheek as the tears spill over. She doesn't sob or wail; it is resigned mourning.

"I just don't get why- if you're okay right now- why you have to go."

Tony takes in a deep breath. He had a feeling this question would come, as it is a perfectly natural reaction. He swallows the lump in his throat and hugs her from the side.

"Its because I'm okay right now that I know it's time to go. Thing is, kiddo, that things haven't been so easy for me lately. Things that everyone else can do without even thinking. And I don't always get to look at you, and see you for you."

He has to pause in order to not break down- six months ago, he forgot who she was. Simply didn't understand why this stranger of a child was in his house. It hadn't made sense to him when she'd burst into tears, and why he'd followed suit, as if some part of him knew what a self-betrayal it was to forget his own daughter.

"And I always want to look at you, and know you. And know your mom. And your big brother. I don't lose those things because I want to; it's just not in my control. But this is."

Morgan nods, a tear slipping from her cheek and over her lip. "I know," she admits. "I just wish you could stay."

◇◇◇

They eat dinner as a family, waiting in anxiousness for the arrival of Doctor Kleptach. Three chairs filled, and four spaces set for the meal. There is an emptiness that has yet to be filled, and it certainly isn't meant for the doctor.

Pepper keeps catching Tony's eyes, trying to reassure him that Peter will be coming, there is no way he'd miss this, but Tony isn't so sure. It feels as if Peter has completely separated himself from the family, as if he's rejected this new reality. Tony can't blame him; the last time the kid saw him, he was lost in the hall, wetting himself because he couldn't locate the bathroom in time. It must have terrified him, or at the very least, grossed him out.

It's coming down to the last twenty minutes before the doctor arrives, and Tony is certain that he wont be seeing Peter again until... well, until the time comes.

But there's a timid knock at the door, a catch of breath in each person's chest- and a tidal wave of fear that the doctor has arrived early. It's Tony who stands and makes his way to front of the house weakly, terrified that this means his time has been cut short. The doorknob turns, the door slides open-

And he's there. Peter launches himself into Tony's arms and he holds him there for a moment, hugging around him tightly. Tony tries not to focus on the way that Peter is quietly sobbing against his chest. When he finally let's go, Tony sees it in his eyes- this willingness to fight his own disagreement for the betterment of everyone else.

It's when he sees Peter standing there, red-eyed and tear stained, that he knows he can't go through with this. As much as it may have felt right, once, Tony still has a family. And though he falls apart, so often, now, he still has his good days.

He pulls him in, again, another embrace, and no longer for the last time. There will be many to come, and many to remember, even as he slowly loses those recollections, and moments in time that seemly do not exist any more. He is here, breathing and living right now.

When he turns to see his family, who stand awkwardly by the table, emotionally weary, he nods- and Pepper seems to understand, a slow-spreading smile on her cheeks. "Really?" She asks, breathless.

Tony grips Peter around the shoulders and smiles. "Really."

◇◇◇

Over the course of Tony's last years, he still lives out his good days. Most times he can be found, sitting on the patio of the lake house, across the table from his wife, trying his best to play stuffed animals with his daughter, or telling the few old stories he remembers again and again and again to the boy he is so thankful to call a son.

He does not always remember their faces, but they will always remember his, and that is enough.

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fialleril · 7 years

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I just had to deal with all this transphobic bullshit in therapy (because why should my doctors bother to actually respect me) and I cried all day and I just feel awful. If it's not too much trouble, could I get a snippet of Anakin totally destroying someone who absolutely deserves it? Verbally, physically, I don't really care, I'm just in serious need of a revenge fantasy. I don't care what universe it's in. I love all your fics and I'd really appreciate it if you could take the time. Thanks!

Posting this publicly with permission - I hope it helps! (And I hope you can get access to a therapist who will respect you.)

This is another snippet from the Jedi reformation AU. In which Anakin and a couple of Padme’s former handmaidens plot to help a group of enslaved people escape from the palace of the king of Brundia. A king who just so happens to also be Anakin’s Jedi assignment at the time. Also, at least one character has now officially migrated to this fic from Anabasis.

Takes place less than a year before AOTC. Warnings for discussion of slavery.

Anakin’s transponder goes off almost the minute they dock onBrundia. He hesitates a moment after settling the ship and powering down, justlong enough that Obi-Wan looks over at him with a raised brow.

“I know you’re not excited about this mission, padawan,” hesays dryly. “But I do hope I won’t have to drag you off the ship. We don’t wantto keep His Majesty waiting.”

“Of course not, Master,” Anakin mutters, exaggerating hissigh just that much more than necessary. It makes Obi-Wan roll his eyes, and hemisses the way Anakin taps twice against a pouch on his utility belt as he pullshimself to his feet with a groan.

King Marlonartan the Seventh, formally styled His RoyalHighness, Lord of the Fifteen Mysteries, Prince of the Infinite Isles, Augustand Radiant Fount of Wisdom, Crown of Justice and Throne of Mercy, King Ordainedby All the Powers of the Cosmic Oneness, Marlonartan, Seventh of that Line, isnot someone who likes to be kept waiting. He’s also, apparently, one of thosepeople who believes that on time is in fact late. It’s a common belief amongMasters, though they never seem to apply it to themselves.

Obi-Wan and Anakin present themselves before the AugustPresence at exactly 17:00 galactic standard time, just as they were scheduled.The Fount of Wisdom glares down at them from his jewel encrusted throne and mutters,peevishly, “I had understood that Jedi were always punctual. You disappoint me,Master Kenobi. I would expect to be shown more respect by the emissaries of theSupreme Chancellor.”

“I do apologize, Your Highness,” Obi-Wan says, bowingdeeply. His annoyance is obvious in the Force, though nothing of it shows inhis outward bearing. Anakin follows his lead, teeth gritted to hold back ascoff. He’s already imagining how he’ll describe this scene to Kitster.

Their assignment is simple enough: they’re on securitydetail for the duration of Brundia’s week-long celebration of the Exalted andMost Holy Day of the Birth of the King. The Council believes that KingMarlonartan, who has a history of predicting threats against his person, mayactually have reason to be concerned this time, so they’ve sent Obi-Wan andAnakin to babysit.

“This assignment is fairly routine, and we don’t expect muchresistance,” Master Windu had said. “But Brundia is a strategic world in ourefforts to combat the spread of the Separatist movement.” Then his eyes hadnarrowed and he’d added, “And Padawan Skywalker could use the practice indiplomacy.”

Obi-Wan had agreed of course, his embarrassment not quitehidden in the Force, and Anakin had bowed and said, “Yes, Master,” and that wasthat.

Later, when he messaged her with the news, Padmé respondedwith a long string of laughing faces. “Someday,” she wrote, “we’re going toattend the same diplomatic summit, and I’ll get to see the show in person.” Shealways calls it “the show,” mainly because she finds it absolutely hilariousthat the Council still believes Anakin causes diplomatic incidents out ofignorance, rather than out of very deliberate choice.

Padmé had offered a bit of teasing advice, too. “I’ve metKing Marlonartan before,” she wrote, followed by a grimacing face that made himlaugh for longer than it probably should have. “It’s pretty much impossible todo too much bowing and scraping, as far as he’s concerned, so you can get awaywith quite a lot there. Just…try not to call him a rich Core Worlder to hisface.”

“No promises,” Anakin wrote back, and he’s fighting a grinthinking about it now.

But he manages to mold his face into an expression of deepcontrition as he bows low, his right palm pressed to his brow, in the properdisplay of Brundian fealty. “Please forgive us, Most Merciful Highness,” hesays, eyes trained on the marble floor. “I am only a learner, and I fear my aweof your magnificent palace caused my Master to be delayed.”

He can feel Obi-Wan looking at him, and his Master’scuriosity prodding at the edges of his mind. Anakin hides a smirk and lets histhoughts fill with the pious desire to do well, to have a successful missionand meet the Council’s expectations. That makes Obi-Wan even more suspicious,but as a shield it’s effective, and a moment later his mind withdraws. Anakin’sglad that he’s looking down, so the laughter doesn’t show on his face.

The truth is, the obsequious bowing and constant use offlowery, inflated titles come easily. Resistance in the form of scrupulousobedience is a lesson older than his oldest memory, and in a place like this,where even the hint of a double meaning is completely lost not only on the kingbut on his Jedi Masters as well, it’s almost fun.

King Marlonartan nods graciously and offers his forgiveness,and then they’re dismissed to meet with the king’s security team.

“What was that, padawan?” Obi-Wan hisses the moment the ornatedoors of the throne room close behind them.

Anakin offers his best innocent, eager to please smile.“Diplomacy, Master,” he says. “I really am trying to do better. I know howimportant this mission is.”

Obi-Wan looks at him for a long moment with narrowed eyes.Finally he sighs. “Just try not to cause a diplomatic incident this time,” hesays wearily. “That’s all I ask.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin says dutifully.

He doesn’t manage to slip away until nearly midnight, afterthey’ve gone over King Marlonartan’s security arrangements twice andestablished a shift for both regular guards and Jedi protectors.

Obi-Wan’s on watch now, and Anakin is supposed to besleeping. He’s going to be horribly tired through his shift, he knows, but he’srun on less sleep before and this is far more important.

Rabé and Yané are waiting for him in an all-night dinerthat’s half the city away from the palace and might as well be on anotherplanet. The streets here are narrow and dingy, lit by sporadic stabs of blindinglybright light that serve only to cast the rest of the street in deeper shadow.The air is full of myriad food smells, some more appetizing than others. It’s afar cry from the perfumed air of the palace. Anakin breathes it all in with asigh of pure relief.

He spots the two Naboo women instantly, though they’ve goneto some pains to make themselves unremarkable. Without the makeup and fineclothes, neither of them looks all that much like Padmé, which helps.

He slides into the booth next to Yané without a word, andjust manages to hold back a laugh when they both simply blink at him.

“Can we help you?” Rabé asks at last, her voice pointedlycold, and a snort of laughter escapes Anakin in spite of his best efforts.

“Well I hope so,” he says, grinning, as he reaches up to tapa finger against his padawan braid, tied up and around the short tail of hairat the base of his neck.

Their eyes widen, and Yané blurts, “Ani?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, laughing again. “Do I really look thatdifferent without the braid?”

Rabé snorts. “It’s not the braid,” she says. “I swear, Ani,the last time I saw you, you were still shorter than me. What the hellhappened?”

That’s an exaggeration, of course, but she does look a good bit shorter than heremembers, so Anakin lets it go.

“Jedi nutrition,” he says dryly. “It’s very exact.”

“I’ll say,” Rabé mutters, eyeing him up and down. “You oughtto market that diet.”

“A Jedi never strives for profit,” Anakin says piously.

“Oh, sure,” Yané says, nodding sagely. “That’s why you havea major fundraiser every year, and that charity gala in the Senate.”

“Well, the generosity of the people of the Republic isdifferent, of course.”

“Of course,” Rabé says. She smiles wryly and slides adatareader containing the diner’s menu across the table to him. “Are youeating?”

“Troona, yes,”Anakin says. “The king had a feast tonight, and Obi-Wan and I had to worksecurity. They served caviar and a bunch of little things on sticks thatprobably cost more than everything in this place. It was awful.”

“Poor baby,” Yané says, patting his arm. “We picked theright place, then. My sources tell me the Aldoshan curry here is enormous, andhotter than the lava pits of Mustafar.”

Anakin orders the curry, and when the waitress comes back afew minutes later to see how they like their meals, he asks if she has any hotsauce. Rabé and Yané stare at him, aghast, and even the waitress looksimpressed, but Anakin just shrugs them off. “I’ve been cooking for Obi-Wan foryears now, so everything’s been mild. I’m not going to miss my chance at realfood.”

“It’s amazing you have any taste buds left,” Rabé says witha laugh.

“Core Worlders are just weak,” Anakin says, grinning arounda mouthful of curry. “So, what have you got for me?”

“Big news,” says Yané, glancing around surreptitiouslybefore sliding a datastick to him. “We’ve got a group of twenty-three comingalong the Ryloth trail next week, and half of them need ID. But the moreimmediate concern is right here on Brundia. And it’s going to complicate thingsfor you.”

“Ah,” says Anakin. “I knew I had a bad feeling about thismission.”

Rabé rolls her eyes. “No, you just picked that up fromObi-Wan,” she says. “He always has a bad feeling about everything.”

Anakin snorts. “True. Okay, so approximately how many of theking’s servants are actually slaves?”

For a moment Rabé and Yané both just stare at him. Then Yanéshakes her head. “You picked up on that, huh? I don’t know why I’m surprised.Our sources say there are nineteen people working in the palace who…didn’texactly choose to work there.”

“How diplomatic of you,” Anakin says dryly. “And you’ve gota contact?”

“Dinsa Atray,” Rabé says. “She’s a Twi’lek woman, not mucholder than you. The information’s all there.” She gestures vaguely at him, buthe knows she means the datastick.

“You’ve got a transport ready?” he asks.

“Ready and waiting,” Yané says. “We just need thepassengers. But we haven’t been able to get admission to the palace, and Dinsaand her people can’t get out.”

Anakin smiles. Maybe there’s a reason he’s here on Brundiaafter all. Even if it does mean he’s almost certainly going to end up breakinghis promise to Obi-Wan. And he’s not likely to do himself any favors in MasterWindu’s eyes, either.

Oh well. He’s got a reputation by now, so they won’t exactlybe suspicious if another of his diplomatic missions goes awry.

“Leave that to me,” he says with a grin.

Dinsa Atray isn’t hard to spot, once he knows who to lookfor. She seems to be always present at every banquet the king holds, and heholds a lot. She’s Marlonartan’s personal server, it seems, and that could be aproblem. Anakin watches her, demure and silent as she serves her master anotherglass of sparkling wine, and wonders how he’s going to explain Marlonartan’sassassination, if she moves before he has a chance to talk to her.

One thing he knows for sure: if she does move, he’s notgoing to stop her.

But two days go by, and no one tries to kill the king, andfinally Anakin manages to catch Dinsa alone. They’ve just endured yet anotherfeast, and the king’s gone off to bed with Obi-Wan on guard duty. Anakin’smeant to be sleeping, but he has much more important things to do, and anywaythe food at tonight’s so-called feast was even worse than usual, so maybe hehas an ulterior motive for visiting the kitchens. Or maybe it will just make agood excuse.

Dinsa starts when she hears him enter, then spins aroundwith a knife in her hand. Startled or not, she holds the knife like someone whoknows what she’s doing.

But her eyes widen when she sees who he is, and she dropsthe knife on the counter and her eyes to the floor. “I’m so sorry, MasterJedi,” she whispers. “What can I help you with?”

Anakin winces. He can’t help but wonder how many Jedi she’smet before. How many Jedi have come here and left again. I didn’t come here to free slaves, the memory of Master Qui-Gonwhispers in his mind, and Anakin grits his teeth and blurts, “I came to helpyou. And my name is Anakin, not Master.”

He says it in Ryl, and he thinks it’s that more than thewords themselves that gets her attention.

Dinsa looks up sharply, eyes narrowed and expressionunreadable. She’s silent for a long moment. And then, slowly, she smiles.

“You have a Tatooine accent,” she says.

“Mos Espa,” he says, smiling back. “I learned fromGrandmother Imayli.”

Her brow arches again, and he knows she understands the fullsignificance of that. But all she says is, “I didn’t know there were any Jedifrom the Territories.” There’s not a trace of emotion in her voice.

Anakin is impressed, and maybe a little jealous. “There’snot,” he says, and tells himself there’s no hint of bitterness to his smile.But he can see in Dinsa’s eyes that she knows. “There’s just me.”

He tells her that he’s in contact with her transport, andasks what it will take to get everyone out.

Dinsa eyes him for another long moment. “All I really needis a thorough distraction,” she says.

“I’m good at distractions,” Anakin says with a grin.

“And the other Jedi?” Dinsa asks, and Anakin’s smile falls.

Obi-Wan is a true Jedi. He’ll prize the mission overeverything else, and his mission is what they were assigned by the Council: toprotect King Marlonartan. Assignment or not, that’s not Anakin’s mission.

“He’s…good at responding to distractions,” Anakin says atlast, and feels a little guilty for not feeling guilty.

Dinsa only nods. “I understand,” she says. “So we’ll givehim the kind of distraction he can react to.” She eyes him slyly and adds, “Ihave access to more than enough chemicals. All I really need is a detonator. Idon’t suppose you have one lying around?”

“Give me an hour and I will.”

The explosion goes off in the middle of the next evening’sfeast. Anakin will discover later that it takes out the majority of the RoyalAtrium, where they’d feasted only the night before. But tonight they are in theGilded Ballroom, on nearly the opposite side of the palace. The assassinationattempt has been foiled chiefly by the assassin’s bad information, and no oneis hurt in the blast.

Obi-Wan instantly springs into action, taking up position atthe king’s side and ushering him rapidly from the room and into a secure,undisclosed location. Anakin yells that he’s going to secure the perimeter, andignores Obi-Wan’s questioning glower as he dashes from the room.

It’s almost disappointingly easy to disable the securitycams when the palace is on lockdown. The array is pretty sophisticated, and thecoverage is extensive, but the entire system goes down if both the power andthe backup generator fail. Obviously, whoever set off the explosion must haveknown this. It’s unfortunate that, whoever they were, Anakin must have justmissed them – the system control room is dark and empty when he arrives. Atleast, that’s what he’ll tell Obi-Wan and the king later.

Anakin’s duty, of course, is to get everything up andrunning again. That will only take him a few minutes. So he takes his timeexamining the system and looking for clues in the room. The door hasn’t beenforced. It’s almost as though there wasn’t anyone here before him at all.

Less than ten minutes later, he gets a secure transmissionfrom Dinsa. “We’re out,” it says. Anakin smiles to himself and reboots thesecurity system.

An hour after that, there’s another transmission, this onefrom Yané. “And we’re off. Sorry for blowing up your mission.”

Anakin erases the message immediately, but he’s stilllaughing to himself about it days later as he and Obi-Wan are on their way backto Coruscant, King Marlonartan’s rather peevish thanks still ringing in theirears.

#replies #boytranscending #i write things #the jedi reformation au #and honestly this particular snippet could also fit into #the pen pal au #star wars #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #yane #rabe #dinsa atray #slavery

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mybumpbirthandbeyond · 5 years

Text

The Big Day (Part 2)

I’m not going to lie...labour is hard, that’s why they call it labour! However, as women, we are made for it and we can cope. Not everyone will have a great experience and not everyone will have the labour and birth they wanted, but we are all superheroes, no matter how our labour/birth ends up. We need to remind ourselves of what our bodies have gone through - not just in labour, but over the course of our pregnancies. For me personally, it is the single biggest achievement of my life, hands down! It just so happens I'm also lucky enough to have had a very positive experience. My story is not to rub in others faces because I was lucky, it’s to help people realise that birth doesn’t have to be an awful, dramatic experience like it’s portrayed to be on TV or in films.

I left the last post having checked in at the MLU at my local hospital on my due date, 7th April 2019. Most of my family and friends joke that they’re not surprised the baby arrived on time, despite it being so rare! Apparently it’s because I'm such a planner and organiser 🤷🏽‍♀️🙈

I was taken to one of the delivery rooms and hoped to god that this was temporary because it was roasting!! I was at the part of the building where it met the other side, so there was no air coming in the room from the open window and the fan that was already in there was broken. I tried not to think about spending hours in labour in there! The midwife I spoke to on the phone (the less experienced one) came in to check the baby’s heartbeat and how the baby was lying. Heartbeat was never an issue as I mentioned earlier, but the lie of the baby once again was causing problems! When she called her colleague in and they both failed to find the position they told me I would be taken for a scan. I joked that this wasn’t anything new but I was still in shock that they couldn’t find the position even now in labour!!

I was taken for a scan along the corridor where there was a doctor waiting. We were still so taken aback that we were going for a scan when I was clearly in labour that we almost forgot to say ‘don’t tell us the sex!!’. Thankfully the midwife prompted us and the doctor told us when to look away. To be quite honest I had struggled to get on the bed and was uncomfortable lying while I was contracting so I focused on my breathing. The doctor patted my arm and told me I was doing great. For a worrying moment he had let slip that he didn’t think the baby was engaged. I was so speechless I almost lost concentration. At my appointments with my midwife at 36 and 38 weeks I was told the baby was head down and 3/5 and then 4/5 engaged so it was baffling to think the baby would no longer be engaged at 40 weeks!!! Thankfully the doctor corrected himself when he spoke to the midwives and they reassured me they were happy the baby was engaged. Thank the lord!!! 😅

I was taken back into the same room and the midwife said she would take the baby’s heartbeat again and examine me to find out how far along I was. She struggled a bit to find the heartbeat this time but eventually got it. Then she couldn’t find my cervix!!! This is actually quite normal because I think it can have a posterior or anterior lie and can actually move position. Cue the midwife I didn’t like...Her colleague breezed in the door. She is the only midwife throughout my experience at the hospital that put my back up, and my husband’s! She came in and was trying to be friendly and familiar but came across as condescending. I think the way she was, was condescending to my midwife as well. She told me she wanted to find the heartbeat herself as she wasn’t happy that it was clear enough and then she would examine me and find my cervix. Bear in mind that each time, I'm still lying on the bloody bed on my back (worst position ever, certainly for me!!) contracting the whole time. Each time a contraction came, she would stop what she was doing. I felt like I was there for 20 minutes, but there’s every chance it was more like 10. Either way I wasn’t happy!

She eventually got a heartbeat that met her standards. The next words she said I'll never forget because it’s the only time I thought, ‘there’s going to be an argument here.’ She told me she didn’t really think I was in established labour so they’d probably be sending me home. However, when she found my cervix she could just do a sweep while she was there? I looked at my husband and I'm pretty sure the scowl on his face was reflected on mine. I’m not ashamed that this was one of the times my face betrayed how I felt. I told her I would prefer to wait until she had actually examined me before I made any decisions. I think in hindsight, I was obviously coping so well that she didn't believe what I was experiencing was established labour, because within seconds, and I mean seconds, she exclaimed: “Oh you’re a secret worker, you’re about 4-5cm dilated so we will be keeping you!” Never in my life have I felt so triumphant/relieved. Hypnobirthing teaches you many things, but one of the most important is to trust your body, and that’s exactly what I had in my head when she was talking about sending me home. I was confident in myself and in the Freya app and I was right!

Once she had left the room I finally got off the bed and the relief was immediate. I stood over a chair by the window and had some water. When my midwife re-entered, at that point I had a wobble. Bear in mind I had been on my back contracting for the best part of 10 minutes, with a woman who was undermining everything I believed and was about to send me home to come back over 12 roundabouts in total!!! I freaked out a bit and asked if I could elect for a C-section. I will always be grateful to my midwife for her understanding but also the way she was kind but firm, “It is an option but you won’t need it. I don’t think you really understand how well you’re doing!” I explained where it had come from but between her and my husband, they managed to talk me round again so I could focus. She told me she was going to find out if I could have the pool, but if not she would run the bath for me. She said she thought someone was about to deliver in the birthing pool but I might be able to get it later. When she came back, she had made a mistake and someone had come in requesting the pool, but it was first come first served and I got there first. I was never so relieved to see the back of a room! Everything was falling into place - I was in established labour, I was getting the pool and was leaving the hottest room in the delivery suite! In the meantime, my mum was also on her way.

The relief when I entered the room with the pool was immediate - it was so much cooler and so big! As well as the pool, they also had a new block which was like one of those mattresses you get at gymnastics - it was one stacked on the other with bits you could remove so you could kneel on the bottom and lean over the top to get into a comfortable position. I used this initially while we got settled. My mum fed me fruit at this point and I drank lots of water and Lucozade Sport. I remember saying to my mum and husband - what about you two, you need to eat it’s almost dinner time! They joked, ‘oh yeah we’ll just go to a restaurant and leave you to it!!’ 🙄🤣🙈

I’m not going to lie, I constantly had the feeling of needing the toilet and was unable to go. This is the pressure from the baby and the pressure I felt was unbelievable. My show and my waters still hadn't gone at this stage and I knew if they did it might ease but I had to put up with it for quite a bit longer. After the fruit I was actually sick so that was all I ate through labour and didn’t eat again until the baby arrived. It’s amazing what you can do on so little food! After I was sick the midwife offered to run the pool. While they were doing that, (the midwives were my own and the lady who had initially tried to find the baby’s position) they told me they could set up the gas and air. If i remember rightly, (I'm not a wholly reliable source!!) I said I would want it at some point, but I would hold off until after I got in the pool.

The pool was amazing! It was like a massive jacuzzi bath, really deep. I immediately felt the relief and the weight of the bump felt so much better in there. It had to be at 37 degrees for the baby arriving so they told me to let them know when it cooled, as they would have to keep re-topping up the heat. My husband jokes that when I eventually asked for the gas and air, I did it so politely that midwives almost laughed! I think I was about 8cm when I asked for the gas and air. My midwife’s colleague came back in and helped her set it up. She gave me really good advice which was contrary to what I thought I would do. The mouthpiece that I thought I would use, would mean I would have to alter my breathing for it to be effective, so if I had a breathing technique, the mask would probably help the most. This is why it’s not a birth plan, it’s preferences! The advice was invaluable and the gas and air helped so much. Honestly the best thing there is!!! I left the bath at some point to go to the toilet and noticed my show had come away. Finally! Though still no waters at this point.

I would advise anyone who has birth preferences, to write them on your notes in the app that the maternity team set up when you have your initial booking appointment. I had my birth preferences from the Positive Birth Company but I also put them into my app. What made me do this, I'm not sure, but I'm convinced the midwives saw them on the app through their system. I never handed them my handwritten ones, but they seemed to know I didn't want to be examined unless completely necessary, and that the room have dimmed lighting with little interruption as possible. They regularly checked the baby’s heartbeat which they could do even though I was in the pool, but I wasn’t examined again after the first examination at 4/5cm. This is why I can’t be certain of what stage I was at when I got in the pool, had gas and air etc, I can only estimate.

Two hours from giving birth there was a shift change and my midwife was finishing. I had a bit of a moment where I didn't know how I felt about that. She had done so much for me and she wasn't going to be there at the crucial moment. I felt bad I couldn’t have had her there and she told me she wasn’t back until the Tuesday so would have to find out what I had then. Something about that seemed so final! However, I think with hindsight it worked out for the better. The midwife who took over was significantly more experienced and there was just an air about her that she knew exactly what she was doing, and in a crisis she would be the one to go to. She spoke even less than my previous midwife but quietly monitored the baby’s heartbeat every now and then.

There is a period in labour referred to as ‘transition.’ This is the point where you move from the uterus muscles drawing upwards, to the pushing stage. Quite often, women reach this point and before they’re quite there, feel like they can't do it anymore and want to give up. They often say this out loud. I had told my husband quite clearly - if I get to that stage, you have to remind me that I'm transitioning and will be moving on to the pushing stage. Remind me I'm close to meeting our baby! Well, I have no idea what happened, but transition for me was instant. One minute I was up breathing, then instantly I had the urge to bear down and push. My husband was counting through the breathing with me (as he had done throughout my whole labour!!) and I told him through gritted teeth, ‘it’s not that breathing any more!!!’ Only once I reached that stage, did my waters break. There was some relief at that point I must admit.

Pushing is nothing like it is in films and TV - you’re not straining with all your might - it is completely involuntary and you cannot fight it even if you tried. Your body just knows what to do which is incredible! At the time, I had no idea of my progress other than cues from my midwife. I heard her quietly say to my mum and husband that, when she gave them the signal, one of them would have to press the call button for another midwife. Other than that I had very little idea of what was going on. Between contractions, the midwife still took the baby’s heartbeat and that was the only time I would be aware of what was happening around me. You really do go into the zone! With the pushing stage you feel it’s no more painful than the first stage but there’s a purpose to it so you are more focused.

I do remember my midwife saying: “right Claire, you’ve got until 9:10pm and then I’m going to coach you with the pushing.” That was another thing I had put in my birth preferences - I didn’t want to be coached to push. Something about the way she said it made me think she was aware of my preference, and she was giving me a chance to do it my way, but would help me when needed. I kept an eye on the clock each time and in truth, even when it got to 9:10pm, she didn’t have to say very much to coach, she just guided me of how long to push through. It’s difficult to describe, but with the first push I would make great progress because I had just taken the gas and air and breathed down, but as I needed to intake breath, the baby would slip back again. That’s how it happens anyway, but it was almost like I wasn’t making much progress other than on the first breath. At one point, I must have got close to the crowning stage (the ring of fire is real!) when the same thing happened and my midwife said, “you’ve almost got me putting my pinny on!”

Finally, after what seemed like a good while of pushing, my midwife told me she didn’t think there was much stretch in my perineum (so perineal massage had done zero for me!!), so she would give me one more push, but after that she would advise that she give me an episiotomy, otherwise I might end up in theatre. This would mean getting out of the pool and water birth was no longer possible. I didn’t need to be told twice, and said I would rather we did it now and not risk it. Well if it wasn’t the strangest feeling/most awkward thing trying to climb out this massive pool with the baby crowning!!! The walk to the bed felt like miles and I must have looked like John Wayne!!!! Those hospital beds almost feel like Mount Everest, they are so high!!! I haven’t a clue how I managed it, but once I got on the bed I have no idea what happened next - it was a very quick blur. I can’t remember if she waited for the next contraction, but I remember the second midwife was in the room and I didn’t feel the episiotomy at all - all I remember them saying was “the baby’s head is out, one more push.” Just like that, my baby was born - 9:39pm at 7lbs 10oz. My husband told me it was a boy and there was no crying. I kept asking if everything was okay and they said he was absolutely fine. Apparently, they gave him a rub and he started crying but when he was placed on my chest for skin to skin he stopped crying and was so calm. In total, my labour officially lasted just under 6 hours, which is pretty good for a first baby! They only record the time that you’re in established labour, as contractions can stop and start until that point, and even then your labour can still fail to progress.

We were asked if we had a name for him. Cailean Oliver Black was always going to be the name if it was a boy. Cailean is Gaelic for Colin, named after my dad Colin, who was killed in an accident when I was 14. Oliver for my husband’s brother who died when he was just a baby. We would have been delighted regardless, but having a boy meant so much to us and our families.

I’ll never forget the moment I looked at my son for the first time, it was truly the best moment of my life! We had wanted skin to skin immediately, and then also delayed cord clamping. This allows the blood in the umbilical cord to return to the baby. My husband also got to cut the cord. Another midwife came into the room at that point and I think she was the one in charge. According to my husband (I have no memory of this), she said “so this is the star of the evening.” I don't know if I agree, but it certainly felt like a massive achievement and one I will always be proud of. However, that should be true of all of us who give birth, regardless of how this happens and whether it goes to plan or not. She had actually delivered the baby of the woman who had also requested the pool. I felt so bad for that woman that I had taken that from her, but the midwife assured me she got her water birth by giving birth in the bath instead and she was fine.

I delivered the placenta with the injection. I had always been told I couldn’t have that if I had a water birth, but I guess since I was on the bed at that point it didn't matter. I was supported for the first breastfeed and he latched perfectly. This was probably the best feed we had for the two weeks I managed to feed, but I'll cover that more in later posts. Then he dropped off to sleep cuddling his daddy! I was worried at this point we would be sent home, but my midwife laughed, “it’s 10 o’ clock, you need to be here a minimum of 6 hours so we won’t chuck you out in the middle of the night!”

I was told I would need stitches which was unsurprising. Thankfully, it turned out they weren’t that bad. Because of the expert advice of my midwife, I hadn't torn, but had a few grazes because the baby had crowned for so long, and a laceration. At that point I realised I need to pee desperately! I wanted to do so before the stitches if I could. I walked/shuffled to the toilet but couldn’t go, even though I knew my bladder was full. Unfortunately, that meant I also needed a catheter as well as stitches but it was worth it for the 700ml of urine that came out!!! As it turned out, although I don’t particularly remember drinking lots, I clearly had kept well hydrated during labour which they were pleased about.

I wasn’t prepared for how long the stitches would take - I think I was probably being stitched for 2 hours or possibly even more. My midwife observed while the head midwife did it. I’m not sure why, but it definitely seemed the head midwife had done it more times than my own midwife. I have to be honest, I had a local injection which was fine, but I needed gas and air, particularly for the last stitch in the laceration! I was almost drunk I took that much at that point and it’s easily worse than labour, but she did an excellent job and looked after me well.

At some point before I was stitched and after the birth, I was brought tea and toast and what they tell you is true - it is the best tea and toast you will ever have in your life!! Because I was feeding Cailean, the tea went cold but I shared the toast with my husband - remember, he hadn’t eaten since lunch and this was my worry during labour!

The same woman who brought the tea and toast helped me to the shower. I think I would have preferred a bath at this point, as I almost collapsed in the shower I was so dizzy. It took me ages to get into pjs again and get my stuff together to be moved to the room we would be in overnight. I think by the time I was ready to move it must have been about 1:30am, so that will tell you how long my stitches took and how long it was before I could move! I ended up having to get a wheelchair to the new room. I had to use this to go to the toilet and get onto the bed, but was offered more tea and toast which was great. Through all of this, Cailean was sleeping soundly. He was such a good wee soul and we got some much needed rest, although it was difficult because we just kept checking on him the whole time and couldn’t believe we had a son! I put the way he is completely down to the way he entered this world - calmly and quietly.

My midwife had said she would check in on us before her shift ended, but it turned out she left us sleeping. I was gutted because I thought I wouldn’t get the opportunity to thank her for everything. There are no words to describe how you feel about the midwives who help during labour and then deliver your baby. They are the reason our baby arrived safely into this world - how can thank you ever be enough for something like that? We owed her, and my other midwife everything! Little did I know, I would get the opportunity to see her the following night...

As I said at the start of the post, I've not told my birth story to be smug or to rub it in that I had a better labour than people I know who had a horrendous time. This is to demonstrate that birth doesn’t have to be traumatic, or pain like you’ve never imagined. Unfortunately, sometimes people will have traumatic births, but their stories should be heralded just as much, if not more, than ones like mine. We have all done an incredible thing, regardless of what the details were and I certainly consider it to be my life’s greatest achievement. The high I felt made me realise I could do it all over again and for that, I know I am very lucky. I completely put this down to the digital hypnobirthing pack from the Positive Birth Company and my amazing birth partners. I couldn’t have done it without the tools and the people in my corner to support me. That continues to be the case today, 3 months on - I don't know where I would be without the amazing support from my family!

In the next post I’ll discuss the early days and my (unplanned), extended stay in hospital!

#new blog #newmum #firsttimemum #pregnancy #labour #birth #hypnobirthing #mybumpbirthandbeyond

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