#ctm fanfic

[clobbo]

Mother of the Year

A scene for the end of S13 Ep 8 as Sister Julienne comes to terms with her award. Obviously Shulienne, and also a short visit from Miss Higgins.

Once the photographer had left the hall, Sister Julienne began to feel a little bit more relaxed. Posing for a camera on a stage had never been something she’d done before, and to be honest, it wasn’t the most comfortable experience. She was grateful for the youth and vibrancy of Trixie and Joyce who seemed to take it all in their stride and take her under their wing in that way.

The night itself had been superb. Sister Julienne had enjoyed listening to and relishing the stories and tributes to the mothers of Poplar. Heart-soaring stories of love and care. Motherhood was something she was surrounded by in her work, although so very often she just saw the very beginnings as it was blossoming. She spent less time with mothers in full bloom once they had found their stride. It had been such a celebration to hear amazing stories from around the district of mothers who had meant so much to so many people.

When Sister Monica Joan and Sister Veronica had got up on stage she had no idea what was coming. She was surprised to see them there as she’d not been made her aware of any plans. And as they began to speak she thought perhaps they might be talking about their dear friend Shelagh...although Shelagh’s children had already given their own tribute. Hearing her own name though - well to say she hadn’t expected it to was an understatement.

Aside from the fact she wasn’t actually biologically a mother, she had never really taken into account that she could be seen as one. She was simply doing God’s work...which was to love, as best as she could, all that she came into contact with.

Laying her flowers down on the table, Sister Julienne smiled and greeted the many well wishers and congratulations coming from those around her. Comments and congratulations swarming around her. So deserved. Thank you, Sister. No-one better. None of us could have said it better. We have been so grateful for you, Sister.

She smiled, and nodded. And really, had little to say in response, other than “It has always been my pleasure to serve you all.”

She removed the rosette from her habit and placed it next to the bouquet on the table - it seemed frivolous and wasn’t really in keeping with a life of humility. Around her her friends, colleagues and community were celebrating the whole event, music had started and some of the children were dancing. There was true joy.

Sister Julienne smiled to herself and took a brief look around before making her way towards the exit.

* * *

Sister Julienne inhaled deeply, taking in the cool evening air. She already felt instantly more peaceful by stepping outside and closed her eyes with her face to the stars. God was good. God was very good.

She became aware then of a presence on the bench just to the side of her, and she turned to see Miss Higgins staring a little less peacefully into the middle distance. Sister Julienne immediately felt her heart pierced with sorrow. Miss Higgins had faced so much in the last few days that Sister Julienne could hardly believe she was still standing, let alone able to attend this event with the composure she had. She took a seat next to her on the bench, both women sat facing forward not turning to look at one another.

There was silence for a while, and Sister Julienne did not know what words she could offer, if any. Over the last few days Miss Higgins had been a semi-frequent visitor to Nonnatus, Nurse Crane offering her meals and the general solace of being around others. The pair had a firm friendship, which Sister Julienne could see was of enormous comfort to Miss Higgins at this time. She, however, didn’t know the woman well despite having worked together now for years. Their acquaintance had been almost strictly professional up to this point.

“The air is very refreshing,” Sister Julienne said quietly. “It is quite stuffy in there.”

Miss Higgins nodded. “Congratulations,” she offered in response quietly, genuinely and tentatively.

Sister Julienne shook her head, smiling. “It is quite remarkable, and not a title I feel in the least bit deserving of.”

“People want to show their regard for you, Sister.”

“I understand that. And I am not ungrateful of the gesture in the slightest. But it doesn’t sit comfortably with me....at least not at the moment. Perhaps that will change.”

“Motherhood...being a mother I think...” Miss Higgins began, her eyes still fixed ahead of her. “Well, I think it means a lot of different things. And I think to be one, is such a privilege.”

Miss Higgins looked down and swallowed any threatened emotion. She wasn’t likely to lose her composure, she had always been a resolute, firm and an in control woman. But Sister Julienne had felt the energy shift around her, a sadness pressed in to them both. She rested her hand on Miss Higgins arm, a touch most unusual for the pair of them to experience together.

“It most certainly is,” she squeezed her arm. “And it is not a privilege that will go away, or fade or disappear, Millicent. It will always be with you.”

Miss Higgins looked up at that moment, her eyes damp and reflecting the surrounding light from the hall. She nodded, agreeing with Sister Julienne. “Thank you, Sister.” She squeezed the nuns hand in gratitude and stood up making her way to Nurse Crane’s car where her friend was waiting for her.

Sister Julienne gave a wave of acknowledgement to Nurse Crane as the pair headed back in the direction of Nonnatus House and Sister Julienne leant back on the bench closing her eyes.

I cannot understand the meaning in this. I love these people, this community, my work...but I don’t need the recognition. I would always have continued to do the work joyfully and to love as best as I am able if no one would ever have recognised it. It is what You have called me to do. There are so many genuine mothers who deserve this recognition. Mothers who have sacrificed their lives for their children, who have changed their world to make sure their children have everything they have ever needed. All I have ever done is do exactly what I was called to do...hardly seems like a sacrifice.

“Penny for them?” came Shelagh’s voice as she sat down next to Sister Julienne.

Sister Julienne smiled. She knew Shelagh would be here with her at some point this evening. She’d noticed Shelagh keeping a quiet eye in the background on her, provided her a small smile when the attention ramped up and she began to feel uncomfortable.

“I was just taking it all in,” the nun explained. “Letting the idea of it all...settle.”

“It isn’t a bad thing to receive praise, you know,” Shelagh offered quietly, holding the rosette that Sister Julienne had left on the table, knowing that the idea of praise and attention would be niggling somewhere in Sister Julienne’s thoughts.

“No. But I don’t need it, I haven’t asked for it...”

Shelagh chuckled quietly. “I think that’s the point and what got you the nomination!”

Shelagh shuffled along the bench closer to her Sister and took her hand, resting her head onto her shoulder. The peaceful surroundings only slightly interrupted by the distant murmur of chatter in the hall from the celebrations inside. The wide open starry sky above them, Sister Julienne tilted her head so it rested on Shelagh’s, the pair sat next to each other, leaning on one another.

“I love looking at the stars,” Shelagh began. “It reminds me of how vast it all is, and how delicate and intricate we are. How, in all of the world, we are here in this one space. We could be anywhere, but we were placed here...to do God’s work...to live the life he wanted us to, right here.”

She paused for a moment, hearing the slow breathing of Sister Julienne, totally relaxing in that thought.

“You didn’t need an award tonight, it’s true. You don’t need it because you are already loved and cherished right here in this place. But, how are we all to repay such love that you’ve shown? It’s not the title, or the flowers, or the rosette...it’s our honour and our privilege to show our love and appreciation to you. And this is the way we were able to do that. There is no doubt to me that you were called to be a mother right here in this community and to all these people...In all of the universe, in all of the world, this is exactly as it was always meant to be.”

“Being a mother is a privilege...” Sister Julienne repeated from her earlier conversation.

Shelagh smiled. “Well, yes. But it’s also hard work. And it’s joyful. And it hurts. And it’s realising you don’t know what you’re doing, but doing it somehow anyway out of love. It’s disappointing. And it’s rewarding. It makes you furious...and it makes you love fiercely.”

“Yes, I suppose that does sound rather familiar,” reflecting on everything she had felt whilst working in the Poplar community.

Shelagh sat up right to look directly at her Sister, emotion beginning to etch its way into her voice. “Sister, having being cared for by you has been the greatest privilege I have known. You have taught me so much, cared for me so patiently and kindly, sat with me in my darkest hour and offered me your wisdom and your love at every turn. The privilege and the honour have always been mine.”

“Oh Shelagh...” Sister Julienne took her friend in her arms and kissed her gently on the cheek. “I could never have loved you any more than if you were my own flesh and blood.”

The two women looked at each other, smiling amongst their tears. Shelagh opened her hand to display the rosette from earlier. “May I?”

Sister Julienne nodded, and Shelagh reattached the rosette to the habit, placing her hands on the nuns shoulders and beamed. “I could never have asked for more in my life. And I could never have been more proud.”

Mother of the Year

#call the midwife #sister julienne #shelagh turner #shulienne #millicent higgins #ctm fanfic

[deepdowninmybones]

I'm new in Turnadette world, but these two have work some magic on me.

Here is my first CtM fan-fiction...it's a Multi-chapter AU story starting during 12x05 (since the link is not working...we're going old-school: copy and paste...here below!)

For all those who wanted that test to be positive 💖

A SPECIAL THANKS TO @miss-ute THAT ENCOURAGED ME TO DIVE IN THIS ADVENTURE.

Everything is just as ought to be

Chapter 1 - Shall we open it?

Mid September

He came home late that night, still upset about Spencer Wray's story.

The lights were off, the house was quiet. He was tired, but he needed to let go of the flow of thoughts that had invested him in the last few days.

He sat at the table, in the dark, the smell of the stew that Shelagh made for dinner still in the air. He really needed moments like that, soothing his senses and stop being Dr Turner to get into the shoes of the man Patrick Turner, the husband, the father. He sighed with a half smile, realizing that truth to be told, that side of him had no less thoughts than his professional alter ego.

The husband... of his Shelagh. God, how he loved that woman! So petite but so extraordinarily strong, delicate and bold at the same time (oh so much bold sometime…). They'd been married for ten years now, but he hadn't still finished wondering how much he loved her.

That woman who only a few days before had stormed into the Maternity Home, demanding to speak to him in private. He knew right away that it was serious... and it really was. He barely had time to close the door of his office and sit down when Shelagh blurted:

"I'm pregnant, again."

And then…there was Patrick, the father.

Timothy's father, his 20-year-old son who had been involved and quite shocked by the consequences of schizophrenia of the young Wray. His first born, everyday more and more like him, physically and temperamentally, who was growing into a young man and at the same time was also beginning to face the dark side of the medical profession.

Angela's father, his angel girl, to whom they would sooner rather than later have to disclose her whole story... reveal her about the special way she became part of their unique family.

May's father, who he loved so much that he was breathless at the thought that at any moment someone could come and tear her from their lives.

Teddy's father, their miracle, so like Shelagh in features and so like to him in character. A little rascal that with his funny faces could always make them smile, but at the same time a very sensitive and attentive kid, especially to his sisters and his mommy.

And...

He couldn't help it, the thought of a new baby possibly joining their family filled him with joy. He hadn't hesitated for a moment to be happy about it, not even when Shelagh had taken it out on him, her voice broken by tears, saying she was afraid she wouldn't make it because she was too old and too tired, that the house wasn't big enough, that they might not be enough. Of course they'll be enough! They will always be enough!

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs roused him from his thoughts. He knew those footsteps very well. He looked up and saw her coming down, wrapped in her blue robe.

"I couldn't sleep. The results of the test has arrived today…but I didn't open the envelope yet."

"I couldn't sleep either. You weren't in bed and I missed you" said her, going down the last few steps.

"Come here," he invited her with a smile, extending his hand towards hers than he kissed softly the back of her hand.

That gentle hand of his was her refuge and protection. Of course she was still scared (terrified to be honest) of what could happen from now on, but she knew deep down her heart that with him by her side she could face any storm, they had already done it in the past. They did it every day. They would do it again, no matter what.

She sat on the other side of the table, grabbed his other hand. They looked into each other's eyes, smiling tenderly.

"So…Shall we open it?" asked him.

"Oh Patrick, what if…"

"Shelagh, whatever the result, we will face it and we'll be fine."

He put his right hand in his jacket, taking off the envelope. She got up from the chair, approaching him. Patrick made her sit on his lap. They opened it together, their hands trembling, then Shelagh pulled out the sheet of paper with the result stamped from the lab.

In the center, typed, in capital letters well marked, there was written POSITIVE.

"Oh Patrick!…a baby.." stated Shelagh in a whisper

"A baby…" echoed Patrick, smiling.

"Am I allowed to be scared?"

"Shelagh, darling…you can, of course. But do know that everything is just as ought to be, because we have everything a family could want." reassured her by holding her in a warm embrace.

After a moment of silence, he softly added "And am I allowed to be happy?"

His question drew a smile on her face.

"Of course you can. I know you are happy. And I want you to know that, despite all my fears, I am too."

Overwhelmed by the emotions, they head to their bedroom still holding hands.

Once slipped into bed, they spent a few more minutes in each other arms, enjoying the moment. Before falling asleep Patrick whispered in her ear "Once more, we did it against all the odds my love".

#turnadette #call the midwife #ctm fanfic #shelagh turner #patrick turner #turner kiddies

[weshallc]

HAPPY 75th BIRTHDAY NHS

Call the Midwife Special AU FIC

HAPPYBIRTHDAY @ilovemushystuff I know you aren't 75! but I hope you enjoy this. Like the NHS you are so loved, appreciated, valued and vital to this community. But in a much better state than the NHS. ❤💌🎈🎁🎂

Thank you @fourteen-teacups for being the most patient person in the world. It felt like 75years since we started writing this. 🥰@roguesnitch yes you can adopt a donkey.

Disclaimer: Any resemblance to TV presenters living or dead are completely coincidental. Absoloutley. 😬

July 5th 2023, Aylward Care Home, Poplar.

“Come on Jack, do you want to have a wee sit in the garden? It's a lovely morning. Let’s fetch your cardi.” 

The tall man is stooped, no longer able to carry his previous imposing six foot stature. Bent by age and years of working his failing muscles and bones are always tired. He turns his head to look at the young fresh faced girl at his side. He likes this one. They are all nice, pleasant, some a little kinder than others. But they are busy, they have mouths to feed, medicines to dispense and bums to wash. This one she seems to have more time than others. Maybe it is because she has the gift of youth. She has time to play with. Jack’s time is running out. Time has started to tease him. Started to play cruel games. Time does not play fair. Time plays by its own rules.

A loud noise alerts Jack and he clings to the girl. She doesn't panic but steadies her friend. For a split second he is back in Derry, but only for a second.

“It’s only the telly Jack. In the day room, don’t worry. Someone’s put the sound up.”

An older woman appears in the corridor, older, but not as old as Jack. He thinks she has a  beautiful smile and a hint of a foreign accent. This one always makes him laugh. He asked her where she was from once and she said Hackney and then she roared with laughter. Jack laughed too; he didn't know why, it just feels good to laugh. But he never asked again.

“Who’s in the day room?”

“I’m not sure, I thought there was just one lady, but it can’t be. You take our Jack the Lad, here, into the garden while I go check it out, Amy.”

Amy. That's her name, sweet Amy. They wear name badges but the writing is too small.

“Thanks Flora.”

Ah yes, Flirty Flora. Now he remembers.

Amy returns to the day room, the telly is still too loud for her own comfort, but bearable. Flora is fiddling with the hearing aids in the ears of the only other occupant. She is being brushed away. Flora doesn't notice or if she does it doesn’t bother her,

“You want to hear, don't you? I’m too big to be a fly, you know. Can’t swat me away so easily.”

Amy smiles and sees what she thinks is a hint of what might be one in the resident resisting Flora’s ministrations.

“Who turned the sound up?” Amy asks as she looks around the otherwise empty room.

“No idea, I don’t think, my lady here, could reach the remote or figure out which button to press. It took me five minutes to guess how to turn it down again."

“Maybe Dangerous Dave is playing pranks again.”

“That’s what I thought but his daughter has taken him out today. It's Wednesday. If you ask me, that TV set is spooked. It’s always doing it.”

Flora completed her challenge of securing and tuning in the hearing aids, She gently takes hold of the arm that was flying into her face and asks if all is now comfortable and clear. She receives a slight nod in response, perceivable only because Flora knows what to look out for.

“Is this the right channel?” asks Amy.

“Yes, It’s 9 o'clock time for Lorraine.”

“I hope it isn’t that footballer’s missus again, right annoying she is.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“What give up this life of luxury for some sweaty millionaire, as if? The residents would miss me. You’d miss me.”

Flora smiles at Amy's protestations and thinks she may have detected another slight nod elsewhere.

A squeaky non descriptive tune pours out of the television and the screen is a vibrant mix of pink and white.

Three people sigh as Lorraine appears before them on screen.

Lorraine, a jolly looking white woman with dark shoulder length hair, who looks to be in her late fifties, fills the screen. She begins to talk to the camera. A Scottish lilt in her voice.

 “Good Morning everyone, how are you today? I hope you are all well. And if you are feeling well this morning, it might be in part to do with the focus of our show. That’s right we moved out of our cosy wee West London studio to venture east into Tower Hamlets.”

It becomes clear Lorraine is standing in front of an old building probably dated back to the late 1800s.

“The reason we find ourselves in Poplar this morning is to celebrate the 75th anniversary of the birth of the National Health Service. And what better way to do that, than in the Patrick Turner Health Hub that has provided primary care predating the formation of the NHS. In all that time it has been the working home of one family.”

The camera now pans out to reveal a Victorian building that has been extended and modernised over the centuries. Some additions are more historically sympathetic than others. Lorraine continues.

“There has been a Turner working here since the end of the Second World War. Including our very own medical expert and friend of the show, Dr Teddy Turner.”

A man of similar age to the presenter pops into view. He is tall, but doesn’t overshadow our host. His hair is dark but the light grey that highlights his unruly tresses may once have been blonde. He is smartly dressed in a dark tailored three piece suit, pink shirt and tie haphazardly adorned in medical equipment such as thermometers, stethoscopes and those things for looking in your eyes and ear.

 “Good Morning, Dr Turner.” 

“Good morning, Lorraine and welcome to Poplar.”

They chat in the tone of two old friends surprised to have bumped into each other at the doctor’s that morning.

“Well, it’s lovely to be here and the staff have made us very welcome. I’m sure the last thing they wanted on a busy Wednesday morning is a TV crew to contend with, but they've been really lovely.” 

“I think like everybody else involved in patient care we are only too glad to have the opportunity to celebrate 75 years of the National Health Service. And share a little bit of our part in that incredible history.”

“Well, shall we do just that very thing? After the break we will be venturing inside the Patrick Turner Health Hub. Where we will be meeting more Turners talking about the last 75 years of working within the NHS. We’ll be looking at some of the most significant changes over that time, with a family that has always been at the cutting edge, if you will please pardon my pun.”

Those who went to brew a cup of YorkshireTea during the intermission miss the NHS75 anniversary retro adverts for Radio Rentals, pink wafers and playtex girdles.

“Welcome back. As you can see we’ve moved into a sort of conference room. Is that right, Dr Teddy?”

“Yes, it's where we hold training days for our staff and the wider district. We also run information sessions for newly diagnosed diabetics, dementia support, mental health, stopping smoking, drug and alcohol advice. And of course women’s health, which here at Patrick Turner’s we specialise in.”

“Well, we are going to come on to that, but I see over here some lovely people. I would like you very much to introduce us to.”

The camera moves towards a group of people sat around a functional table with mugs in front of them of various sizes and designs.

“This is my big sister, Angela. She was a full time GP here for over thirty years and now runs a lot of our education programmes and Well Woman clinics. Her daughter Jools has taken over her mantle and also her office and is currently one of our full time GPs.”

A slim blonde woman who appears to be in her late 50s or early 60s becomes the camera operator's focus. Her hair is tied back from her face, which is thin and angular, but her blue eyes have a gleam and her lips are failing to hide a smirk. She carefully clutches a blue mug and seems to be holding it quite tensely at a deliberate angle. A few letters are revealed between her fingers UK, THE, IES.

“So she’s your niece. We might be able to catch a word with Dr Jools later, but she’s busy seeing patients right now. Is that right, Dr Teddy?”

“Yes, she is my niece. No-one does nepotism quite like the Turners.”

“Moving on.” Lorraine is starting to sound as if she is wondering who is running this show? “And who is this distinguished looking gentleman next to your lovely sister?”

“This gentleman also celebrates his 75th birthday this year. He's actually slightly older than the NHS. This is Sir Timothy Turner, Lorraine. Or as I refer to him Lord Buggerlugs.”

“That seems very unkind, but having a sibling myself it's relatable. I must also apologise to anyone offended by any inappropriate use of language so early in the morning. Regular viewers will know this is to be expected when Dr Teddy is my special guest.”

“I’m seeing a disapproving glance from the lady next to Sir Timothy and the main reason we are here today. Dr Teddy’s, Sir Timothy’s and Dr Angela’s mum is also here. Dr Teddy, please introduce us to this remarkable lady.”

“Lorraine and viewers this is Sister Shelagh Turner, my, sorry, our mum. She came to Poplar in July 1948. It was the inception of the National Health Service. She arrived as a nurse and newly qualified midwife to work on the district with the nuns at Nonnatus House.” 

“I wonder if I could ask Sir Timothy to explain a wee bit of the history of Nonnatus House and its relevance in the East End of London.”

The camera focuses on a tall gentleman looking a good ten years older than his siblings. (They definitely appear to have been a good ten years). He is also dressed as smartly as his younger brother, but minus the novelty tie. Anyone who studied medicine in Edinburgh would recognise this tie’s pattern. He clears his throat and looks directly into the camera.

“Only if you cease referring to me as Sir Timothy. I accepted my knighthood from the late Queen in recognition of my rewarding career as a GP and as an advocate of the NHS and Public Health. I am now retired from medicine. I do continue to campaign for justice for those who through negligence contracted Hepatitis C and the HIV virus as a result of blood transfusions. Compensation has still not been fully distributed and no UK public body has ever admitted responsibility. Therefore, my job is not yet done. So therefore, I’m just Tim.”

“That’s so well said, Sir Tim. And that seems to be a thread that runs through the Turner family. Generation after generation. Your father, the late Dr Patrick Turner who this medical practice is named in memory of, was an early advocate for the families affected by Thalidomide. As you have so rightly reminded us, you have spoken up for all those affected by the 20th century Factor 8 scandal. Your sister, Dr Angela Turner is a voice many will be familiar with on Women’s Hour on Radio 4 sharing her wealth of knowledge on the menopause and postnatal trauma. And of course our own Dr Teddy brought clarity and evidence based truths to our viewers during the recent Covid pandemic.”

For the first time they all look less assured, even Dr Teddy is lost for words. He and Angela both look towards their older brother.

“We’ve all been inspired by our parents. Dad was a great believer in medicine's ability to heal after witnessing the return of the injured as a child in Liverpool from 1914. He was able to compare those times to the wider use of antibiotics which he witnessed as an army medic during WWII. As a GP working through the 60s he saw, thanks to vaccination, the demise of TB and Polio both of which had previously left their scars on our family. The Thalidomide scandal was a heavy blow to recover from, for a GP who only wanted to prevent and ease suffering. Fortunately he  married Shelagh, who loved and believed in him completely." He nods towards the lady sat next to him.

"Through her religious background she understood the way ahead isn’t always clear or certain, She always used to quote St. Julian of Norwich to us as children, ‘He did not say you would not be assailed, you will not be laboured, you will not be disquieted, but he did say you will not be overcome.’ My father was not a religious man, but I believe he drew strength through my mothers steadfast faith in God, and even more so from her faith in him.”

“Thank you Sir...Tim. Well, I think that’s given us all a lot to think about as we go to another wee break.” 

Viewers who want to adopt a donkey are infuriated by adverts for Babysham, tinned spam and a Tiny Tears doll. 

 “Welcome back to Lorraine in Poplar.”    

“So here I am, sitting next to the mother of these fine boys and the gorgeous Dr Angela, Sister Shelagh Turner.”

 “Greetings”

A small woman with steel grey hair pulled into a tidy bun sits between Tim and Angela. She wears a tailored navy jacket with a delicate gold pearl and ruby brooch on the lapel. She holds her mug less furtively than her daughter and viewers can clearly read the words If In Doubt Just Ask Mum.

“From what I’ve been told by your son you qualified as a midwife in 1948.”

 “I did.”

“Dr Teddy, your mother is Scottish!” Lorraine cries in surprise, because obviously she hadn’t introduced herself to her guest before the show. “I can see we are going to get along quite famously. Can you tell me the changes you have seen over the last 75 years?”

“Oh my dear, you may have to cancel one of those shows that follows this one, about relocating abroad or selling something you found in an attic, for me to tell my story.”

Viewers are frantically trying to work out how old Shelagh Turner is as this indomitable lady cooly answers every question. She brings a sense of calm to the temporary studio, in a building she has been familiar with most of her life. If at that moment anyone asked Alexa or Siri to show them the meaning of professional they would instantly produce a picture of Shelagh Turner. 

“My mother died when I was young. I nursed her through her affliction, as I would my father too. I didn’t want to be a greengrocer, like my family before me. All I had ever done since being a small child was nurse. I knew no other life. So after my father died at the end of the war I headed to London. They were crying out for nurses and that is who I am.”

“The greatest change I’ve seen besides the obvious advances in technology, is the reliance on single use plastic. Nothing was disposable in my day, including syringes and enema tubes. Everything had to be autoclaved and reused. But technology has to be the most significant advancement in the day-to-day practice of nursing care. We didn't have machines to do the work for us. If someone was receiving blood or intravenous fluids, through a drip you understand, we had to calculate the drip-rate in our heads or on paper. Then we had to count the drips in the reservoir every 15 minutes to ensure it wasn’t going too fast or too slow. There weren't any machines beeping to alert us to problems.”

Angela, who had been quiet up until this point,just watching the whole shebang with the same amusement of someone not at the top table observing a bridesmaid with a nosebleed, chose this moment to interject.

“I think a lot of current nurses would be happy to get rid of those infernal bleeps.”

“I’m sure you are right, dearest. When I first qualified, the only machinery I was familiar with was the iron lung used to treat Polio patients..."

Below the lens two hands brush against each other.

“I remember it well.....” He says.

“Too true, dearest. It may now be antiquated and look barbaric but we were glad of it during the Christmas of 1958.”

“Did you have Polio as a child, S...Tim?” 

“I did, Lorraine. As Mum said, I ended up in hospital over Christmas when I was ten-years-old. My parents had to cancel their wedding.”

“Oh no! Deary me.”

The presenter appears to be lost for words. This part was obviously not rehearsed. Guest co-presenter Dr Teddy is of no help as he has the countenance of the youngest child, who is always in bother, becoming aware that his big brother is finally going to get it.

“I suppose that wouldn’t be considered very shocking or unusual these days. But just for the sake of propriety, Timothy’s father, Patrick, was a widower. Timothy sadly lost his mother to cancer a couple of years earlier. Another dreadful disease we have made great strides in treating in the last 75 years.”

“You and Dr Turner worked with the Nonnatus nuns, I'm led to believe. They may not be known to our wider audience, but are still very much remembered with affection and gratitude in Poplar, am I right?”

“I hope so, I would like to believe so. The Order of St Raymond Nonnatus trained as nurses and midwives in Euston, arriving in Poplar in 1899. Once the NHS formed, the nuns worked alongside state trained nurses and pupil midwives, most of whom lived in the convent originally based in Leyland Street. They moved to Wick Street in 1959, where they stayed until the late 70s. The Turner practice was always closely linked to Nonnatus. Patrick, my husband, unusually for the time, had a special interest in women’s health. It wasn’t like today, women were just expected ‘to shut up and put up’ as Sister Evangelina used to say. She was a rather bold nun who was always a little ahead of her time and not afraid of telling it like it is, or was.” 

Shelagh pauses for a moment as if she is recalling something she chooses not to share. Angela, sensing her mother’s brief loss in concentration, picks up the thread.

“There were more home births in those days. Mum and Dad ran what we would now call a mother and baby unit, but they were known as maternity homes. We are actually sitting in what was once a four bedded ward. The rest of the rooms were divided up to house our phlebotomy service and provide extra clinic space. One of the labour rooms we still use for minor surgery. Most health centres provide a particular service these days so there isn’t a doubling up of specialities. Patients will know they may be sent to a different centre than their own GPs surgery for let’s say, diabetic advice, heart monitoring, eye checks and podiatry. At Patrick Turner’s Health Hub we have continued my parents’ work. Focusing primarily on women’s health, neonatal care and respiratory conditions, something my parents as ex-smokers were very keen to learn more about and educate their patients.” 

“Sister Shelagh, you were a smoker? I am shocked to hear this.” Lorraine looks horrified, she appears so wholesome.

“Oh, everyone smoked during the war years and into the 60s. It was even thought to be good for you at one time, or so the tobacco companies wanted us to believe.”

Dr Teddy suddenly realises he hasn’t spoken in over ten minutes and is getting paid for this.

“You didn’t smoke when you were a nun though, did you Mum? I blame Dad, he was a bad influence. Tim told me he remembers him smoking in clinic." Before his mother's glare alone ruins his blossoming media career, Lorraine interupts.

“A nun!? You were one of the sisters, Shelagh?”

“Yes, I was, when I first arrived at Nonnatus in 1948, but not when I left in 1958. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Lorraine is looking at all Shelagh's children seated around her. “Your children are giving all your secrets away today, Shelagh. I think Dr Teddy might end up on the naughty step when he gets home.”

“It was a long time ago and I learned everything I know working with the Order, especially from my dearest friend, Sister Julienne. But the last sixty years have been the happiest and most fulfilling of my life. And the majority of  them have been spent working within and for the NHS. And that’s why I’m here with you today.”

“Nice deflection back to our main topic today, Shelagh. Are you after my job? The producer in my ear has just asked me to not let you leave before I book you in for another show... on your own without your lovely family. Oh! I see.. before the Daily Mail gets to you first for your story, he‘s added. Don’t think that will be happening anytime soon, looking at the expression on Shelagh’s face.”

“We are off for another break now, viewers.”

Viewers wanting to take out an over 55s life insurance policy securing themselves a free pen are now on the phone to the TV regulator Ofcom in protest to advertisements for Brylcreem, old Spice and the Dandy and Beano.

“Welcome back. So, we are going to end today’s NHS75 special with a lovely gift for the Turner family. It’s the least we can do after all this family has done for us over the last 75 years. This is a complete surprise for the Turners. Not all of the Turner children are here today. Tim, Anglela and Teddy’s sister, May, is also in the family firm. She chose to follow in her mother’s footsteps. No! She is not a nun. But the Chief Nursing Officer in a hospital based in Hong Kong. When did you last see May, Shelagh?”

“Oh, it was before Covid, she was due to come home Christmas 2020 and couldn’t and she's been so busy she hasn’t been able to reschedule. She’s so dedicated.”

“Wonder where she gets that from?” Tim and Ted say in unison.

“I don’t like flying now at my age. Angela went out there last year, didn’t you, dear? They’ve always been very close.”

“Look up at the big screen on the wall, Shelagh.You won’t see a video about vaccination or what to do if you are having a stroke. But, who is this?”

The numbers for the surgery disappear from the screen and are replaced by the bright smile of a Chinese woman wearing a white silk blouse, giggling and shouting “now” repeatedly.

“Hello Mum, Hello Fam! How are you all? And how is dear old Poplar?”

The East London room is full of forcefully expired air and cries of “May”.

“I'm going to leave you all to chat privately, in a moment. But can I just ask, May? You grew up in Poplar, do you have good memories?”

“Oh, yes. I came from Hong Kong in 1963 and couldn’t speak a word of English. Patrick and Shelagh fostered me and eventually my birth mum gave permission for them to adopt me. Mother Mildred brought me and some other children, who were orphaned or estranged from their parents, to start new lives. But I remember Poplar with so much love; the sisters, Fred, Vi and Reggie who ran the corner shop. Darling Aunt Trixie and Jonty, my friend Colette and her mother, Nancy. Then there was Pastor Robinson. Too many to name.. Nurse Crane and Miss Higgins mustn't forget them. And lots of girls called Alison. I actually thought all English girls were called Alison for a while. I even thought about changing my name to Alison. Everyone was so welcoming and helped me feel right at home. It was just a shame about Teddy really.”

“Oh! That Turner sense of humour. I see it is intact over the miles. Angela is nodding her head in agreement with your remarks about your younger brother. I need to maybe have a few minutes chat with her in the Green Room after the show. You returned to Hong Kong, May, as a nurse. Can you tell us a wee bit about that?”

“Of course. As much as London will always be my home. I wanted to give something back to my place of birth. The reason Mother Mildred brought me to England was because there wasn’t provision for someone in my situation over here in the 1960s. I wanted to return and see what changes had been made and if I could contribute in any way. It also gave me a chance to meet my Chinese mother again and thank her for giving me the opportunities I had because of her sacrifices.”

“Did you get to spend much time with her, May?”

“Yes, I did. She passed away a few years ago. I got a chance to say goodbye and to be with her at the end of her life as she was at the beginning of mine.”

“That’s lovely May. I’m going to let you catch up with your family now. I’m sure your mum has a lot of questions for you to answer. Probably starting with when are you coming home? Thank you, May Turner.”

“And thank you to all my guests on this NHS 75th anniversary special. Thanks to all the Turners: Shelagh, Tim, Angela, May and our own Dr Teddy. I will be back tomorrow with more inane guests to chat with. Won’t be anywhere near as much fun as this, I promise you.”

The camera focuses on Dr Teddy Turner who is rubbing his right forefinger against his thumb.

"We will leave you with the words of the Health Secretary in 1948, Mr Nye Bevan."

"No society can call itself civilised if a sick person is denied medical aid because of lack of means."

As the credits roll the camera moves to on an outside wall. It focuses a well polished brass plaque on which three lines are written.

KENILWORTH ROW MATERNITY HOME AND SURGERY DR. P. TURNER

"Here, here!" Is followed by cheers and clapping.

“Well that was the best episode of Lorraine I've ever skived off to, with a cuppa, in all my working days.”

“Flora, we are not skiving, we are socialising with the residents and attending to their recreational and creative needs.”

“You do have a way with words, our Ames. You applied to tech to do those exams you need, yet? You know the ones to get into Uni to do your nursing.”

“No, I haven’t. Stop nagging me. I’m not good with exams, Flo, you know that.”

“You’re very good with people though, Amy. More than good. And the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

“Counts for nothing Flora, you have to be one of those clever buggers to be a nurse these days. I’m happy here with my Grans until Aldi or some other supermarket makes me a better offer I can’t refuse.”

“Well. I’m going to keep nagging. But in the meantime, I Wouldn’t say no to Dr Teddy checking out my auld ticker with his stethoscope, one day.”

“Oh Flora, you are crude. His niece is my doctor. She’s brilliant, she really helped me out with that little problem I had.”

“Well, I could have helped you out with that, Amy. Change your washing powder or tell that man of yours to dip it in Domestos bleach before he comes near you next time.”

“Flora, you're shocking......are you alright, love?”

Amy notices tears streaming down their companion’s face, but her eyes remain bright and clear.

The young carer dabs those tears, “Magic hankie cures all. As my gran used to say.”

“Poor old love, probably brought back memories. Talking about them Nonnatuns,” Flora added. “You alright Sister? I know where there is a nice piece of Victoria Sponge with your name on it. Amy here will put the kettle on.”

“How old do you think she is?”

“Dunno. No one seems to know. No one knows how long she’s been here. Dangerous Dave says she made a deal with God to look after the people of Poplar for all eternity.

“You know Dangerous Dave talks bollocks, right?”

“I’m just saying what I heard. So about Dr Teddy, do you think he's on Tinder?”

“He’s sixty-years-old, Flora. Get a grip.”

As they leave to put the kettle on and cut the cake. The sound coming from the televison set suddenly increases.

#call the midwife #nhs75 #ctm fanfic #turners at 75

[thymefortea]

I can only Nancy’s reaction to finding out Shelagh was a nun in her former life.

Wasn’t clear if Nancy was at the dining table when Sister Hilda lamented Sister Bernadette, ex-nun, planning the centenary… so in my head, maybe she didn’t know Shelagh was a nun until Sister Veronica brought it up.

One thing I love about Nancy is her “tell it like it is” bluntness without much regard to her audience (“Honest to God, sex, who needs it?!”), along with being a bit nosey. It’s fun to think about her asking Shelagh point blank after that meal how she went from holy orders to marrying the local doctor. And Trixie with a knowing smile, being the only nurse who knew her as Sister Bernadette. 😉

Any lovely writers out there want to fic a missing scene?

#call the midwife #ctm fanfic #ctm ficprompt #turnadette #Nancy corrigan #shelagh turner #sister bernadette

[hey-lady]

Knowing Their Names

New Turnadette fanfic! I have been working on this for a bit now here and there, but here's something. I have a multi-chapter fic I hope to be releasing soon, but in the mean time, enjoy this!

Read it on A03 or fanfic.net!

—

“I am glad you were able to make it to Teddy’s performance.” Shelagh quietly hushed her thoughts into the darkened room. She laid on her side, gazing at her youngest son’s sleeping profile. Unlike Timothy’s completely Turner looks, she could see clear evidence of Mannion genes plastered across his small face. The only real evidence of Patrick’s fatherhood was around Teddy’s eyes, floppy mop of hair, his incredibly stubborn attitude, which even Shelagh conceded could have been from either or both sides of his parentage, and his mischievous, playful spirit that was so clearly his father’s private personality. 

In the days following her departure from the convent, Shelagh had been surprised to discover his true personality and quickly fell in love with it. She also figured out that Timothy had inherited his mother’s dry and cheeky humor which often explained many things about his relationship with his father. By the time their younger son’s characteristics became known, Shelagh, and Patrick more secretly, rejoiced in their son’s mirrored personality.  But other than that, Teddy was completely hers and something she valued and held dearly close to her heart.   

Similar to his older brother, Teddy longed and fought for the attention and approval of his father. Timothy understood with age that his father’s commitment to his patients and oath trumped many things, but when it came down to it, Dr. Turner would always choose being a husband and father over everything else. Teddy remained too young to grasp this and felt the same jealousy and anger at the demands of his father’s vocation that Timothy had felt at a young age. They all knew he would understand in time, but until then, Teddy knew his father’s love but understood that it came with a price for both of them. 

Patrick had promised Teddy that he would do everything he could to be there for his middle term choir performance. Both parents knew he could not promise his attendance but could guarantee that Patrick would fight hell or high water for his son to his face in the crowd. 

Although he was no longer actively religious, Patrick recited every prayer of thanks and gratitude he could remember as he ran from a forceps and stitches delivery into the institute just before program began.

“Mm yes,” Shelagh could hear the smile on his face as he whispered, “Did you see his smile while he was in the line when I walked in? It reminded me so of Tim at his nativity play the Christmas after Marianne died.��� 

Settling Teddy down following his school performance turned out to be easier with an extra pair of hands. Even then, it had taken nearly thirty minutes, three extra bedtime stories, and both his parents on either side cuddling him in his small bed as he drifted into a deep slumber. His parents had not dared, nor wanted, to move as their youngest slept between them. 

Her gaze fixed on father and son simultaneously as Patrick stroked his son’s hand that he had grasped during his pleas for one more story. “Oh yes. He is such a little dear—at times—and he loves you so dearly.” 

“And I him.” His voice thick, “I can hardly believe that he’s nearly six!” He finally looked up from his son to his wife and continued to speak, “I can remember times in my life so clearly when I felt so incredibly lonely and without hope.” 

“After the war?” She softly asked. 

“Yes, that was one.” He released his son’s hand to push himself into a propped position to wrap his arms around his wife and son. “Another was when Marianne miscarried when Tim was six months. I had no way of helping her through that. I tried, but she pushed me away.” He gently chuckled, “She was always like that.” His face fell at the next statement, “The next was when she got sick.” Shelagh looked up at him and stroked his forearm. “I wanted to help her so badly, but I knew there was no way she could be healed. The cancer was just too aggressive and had already begun metastasizing. I lost her so slowly,” he exhaled, “and in pieces. I could see her fade away each day until she was gone.” 

She could feel him tense underneath her. “What is it, Patrick?” 

He looked down at her with an expression of fear and bits of shame. “Can I tell you something I’ve never said out loud or even really thought?” 

“Oh darling, of course you can.” She shifted a bit so she could rest her head on his chest and look up at him as he spoke. 

Finish it here or here!

#call the midwife #patrick turner #shelagh turner #dr turner #turnadette #ctm #ctm fanfic #fanfic #teddy turner #timothy turner

[bekkalynne]

this afternoon has been filled with anxiety & I need good vibes again. any fic recs?

#ted lasso fanfic #mfmm fanfic #call the midwife fanfic #ctm fanfic

[meadow-lands-faerie]

If I had a penny for every time a fictional doctor held my heart and soul in a vice grip and occupied every waking thought for an indeterminate period of time, I would have two pennies, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it's happened twice.

#Stardew #stardew valley #SDV #Harvey #stardew harvey #call the midwife #CTM #Patrick turner #writing #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #characters #doctors #I love them #gentle bois #Call the midwife patrick

[wayward-sherlock]

close to me master post!!

🍉 written by @wayward-sherlock

🍉 art by @kaiminluu

🎶 spotify playlist! songs will be added for each chapter!! 🎶

ch1 ☀️ ch1 art ☀️ 4 songs

ch2 ☀️ ch2 art ☀️ ch2 surprise! ☀️ 4 songs

ch3 ☀️ ch3 art ☀️ 4 songs

ch4 ☀️ ch4 art ☀️ 3 songs

ch5 ☀️ ch5 art ☀️ 4 songs

ch6 ☀️ ch6 art ☀️ 4 songs

ch7 ☀️ ch7 art ☀️ 5 songs

ch8 ☀️ ch8 art

ch9 ☀️ ch9 art

ch10 ☀️ ch10 art

ch11 ☀️ ch11 art

ch12 ☀️ ch12 art

ch13 ☀️ ch13 art

ch14 ☀️ ch14 art

ch15 ☀️ ch15 art

we can’t wait to see you guys every other tuesday!! 🤩

#all art by tumblr user kaiminluu!! #chapter amounts are subject to change !! #we’re trying to be organized about this guys. lol #byler #stranger things #wayli writes #byler fic #ao3 #close to me #ctm #🍉 #master post #🫧🪴 #💛💙 #byler x dirty dancing #byler fanfic

[fixomnia-scribble]

For the Nonnatus Besties, who demanded a pregnancy fic!

@queenkenzo24 @deepdowninmybones @shelaghdette and the rest!

Scar Tissue (9K) (E)

Call the Midwife

Hope is a heavy thing to bear. But hope has wings, too.

It's a long, long road for Shelagh through infertility to eventual pregnancy, but she's not walking it alone. Even when she needs reminding.

This will add on to the end of "My Fortress Be", when that story catches up.

I had no idea what shape this would take. This turned out rather more gritty than I expected, but infertility and pregnancy losses are not light content.

This went rather psychological as well as being a story of a partnership. Shelagh is determined to be self-sufficient and reliable, and is utterly calm in a crisis, but still liable to come unglued when anyone in her own family is in peril, or might be hurt. She's so used to handling everything alone that she forgets she's never alone - and that means learning to trust people to help shoulder the load.

#call the midwife #shelagh turner #patrick turner #sister julienne #turnadette #pregnancy fic #fanfic #CtM fic #infertility #miscarriage

[lhaagain]

The Ground of Mercy

Summary: There's more to Julienne than meets the eye, even if she doesn't necessarily understand that herself.

Starts in the 1930s and will run right through the series.

This work is a bit of an epic and is a gift for the legendary @linguini17

Part 1: The New Girl

Chapter 1 - A Long Labour

Evangelina came in the front door, hung up her cape and headed straight for the Clinical Room.

“Where is she?” she asked tersely when she did not find who she was expecting. Their latest arrival in Poplar wasn’t going to last six months if she was any judge and this tendency to vanish into the shadows at the slightest difficulty certainly didn’t help.

“Sister Julienne sorted her bag,” Ada said calmly. “And then I sent her up to her room. What on earth happened?”

Read more on AO3

#call the midwife #ctm #fanfiction #fanfic #angsty goodness #AU #spiritual/supernatural elements #Caretaking #Friendship #So much more to come #Sister Julienne #Sister Evangelina

[flamingredanon]

Happy 3rd Anniversary to Completing the Mission!

Wrote a somewhat short and sappy anniversary fic to celebrate.

#ao3 #fanfic #henry stickmin #thsc #happy 3rd anniversary ctm!

[clobbo]

Forewarned is Forearmed

A little scene insert for Series 13 Episode 8 - Shulienne

Sister Julienne took a deep breath. There had been many times in her life at Nonnatus where she’d had to keep the peace between Sisters. However, Sister Monica Joan and Sister Veronica were equal amounts of stubborn and it could be difficult for Sister Julienne to keep her own frustration under wraps with them both at times. It wasn’t an emotion Sister Julienne was comfortable with, but she was only human and it got the best of her from time to time. Perhaps that was why she shut the door a little more forcefully than she had intended.

She took a deep breath, the air quickly escaping from her in a display of surrender and exasperation.

“Sister Julienne?”

Sister Julienne turned to see Shelagh stood just a little way down the hall. Shelagh looked reluctant, concerned and hesitant. It always struck Sister Julienne that she could see her friends emotions so clearly. She thought herself as generally quite well tuned to people’s emotions - it sort of came with being a nun and midwife. But with Shelagh it seemed different, it seemed to her that she could read Shelagh’s emotions even easier than she could recognise her own at times.

“May I speak with you...?” Shelagh gave a small sigh, and Sister Julienne immediately dropped her hands to her sides. She’d had them just below her diaphragm, trying to feel the exit of the exasperation from her whole body as she sighed in the hopes her frustration might dissipate. As it happened, it only required the sound of concern within Shelagh’s voice for her to immediately disengage with her own feelings and switch her focus away from her bickering Sisters.

“My dear Shelagh, what ever is the matter?” She said stepping towards her. This was somewhat of a redundant question. Dr Turner had been on the phone earlier in the day to say that his wife would be visiting and had alerted Sister Julienne to the latest development with May’s fostering arrangement. He forewarned Sister Julienne that although Shelagh would be visiting in hopes of a practical favour he felt that what she really needed was someone to talk to who could carry the weight of her emotions, and he had struggled to really provide that as he was only just managing his own. They had shared them, but he knew Shelagh needed her Sister in a way that he could not fill.

“I’m sorry...this is a bad time for you...” Shelagh said, noticing the older woman’s weariness just seconds before.

“Nonsense,” dismissed Sister Julienne, reaching Shelagh’s side. “I always have time for you.”

Shelagh ducked her head a gave a shy smile. She knew it was true, but she also knew that Sister Julienne had so many other responsibilities that she felt a wave of guilt come over her for taking up too much of her time.

“Come on,” said Sister Julienne, gently placing a hand on Shelagh’s arm to turn her in the direction of her office. “Come with me.”

* * *

“Patrick said I should come,” Shelagh began. “He said talking to the Order might help as you have links with the Hong Kong Adoption Project. He thought you might have some insight into May’s mother and why she is so keen to speak to us. To speak to May.”

Shelagh had sat down in the usual place for everyone in Sister Julienne’s office - the side of the desk where they all came to discuss their concerns and worries. She directed her question forward to the currently vacant chair, expecting Sister Julienne to make her way there once she had closed the door. Sister Julienne though pulled a chair over from the wall and sat next to Shelagh, positioning herself close and facing towards her. The act itself made Shelagh smile, and relax everso slightly, as if the sheer proximity to Sister Julienne meant she could already feel her compassion and warmth before she’d even spoken a word.

Sister Julienne paused for a moment thoughtfully and then slowly nodded. “We may be able to obtain some information for you...for May.” She paused again, gently reaching out to take Shelagh’s hand. “Forgive me though, Shelagh. The practicalities we will certainly do all we can for you all. But what concerns me most right now, in this moment, is how you are.”

Shelagh removed her hand from Sister Julienne’s grasp and began to play with a loose thread on her coat. There was a long silence between them. Shelagh found herself thinking how easy it could be to let all her feelings go, to indulge in her sadness and anger and confusion at the situation they now found themselves in. To give in to all her feelings though scared her. Where would they end? Sister Julienne had leant forward to try to look Shelagh in the eye, but found her friend would not take her focus from her own lap and the piece of stray cotton, where Sister Julienne’s hand now rested.

Finally, Shelagh looked up at Sister Julienne, her vision blurry with threatening tears. She swallowed and found her words. “If I do not focus on the practicalities,” she said resolutely. “I will break.”

“And if you were to ‘break’...?” Sister Julienne asked quietly.

Shelagh let out a sigh and shook her head. She took Sister Julienne’s hand, Sister Julienne’s thumb immediately gentle rubbing the top of Shelagh’s hand. “I am not sure that even you would be able to put me back together at the moment.”

Sister Julienne nodded slowly and squeezed her hand. “I understand,” she said reflecting on Shelagh’s words. “But know that we are always here for you. I am always here for you.”

“I know, Sister,” Shelagh said attempting to re-gather her strength. She gulped, the lump in her throat growing. “And right now I need to focus on what we can do. What we can understand of the situation. Because the thought of losing her...it...I can’t...”

Sister Julienne watched Shelagh struggle with herself, staggering over the words as tears began to run from her eyes, he words punctuated with small sobs. She let go of Shelagh’s hands and leaning forward took her in her arms. She knew Shelagh was fighting to not give in to her tears but cannot leave her friend sitting with so much torment inside her. She held firmly to her, as if her heart could be healed by such an embrace.

“This isn’t breaking Shelagh,” she said softly over her shoulder. “You are not breaking.”

“Am I not?” Shelagh whispered into her shoulder, closing her eyes and causing further tears drop and land on Sister Julienne’s habit.

“No.” Sister Julienne pulled back slowly from Shelagh, leaving her hands resting on her upper arms, her voice think with emotion. “This is a mothers love...and it should be felt.”

Shelagh nodded. “And what if its decided I’m not her mother anymore?”

Sister Julienne felt her throat tighten with emotion. She had no idea how to answer Shelagh’s question and suddenly felt out of her depth. She had no child she could relate that sort of love to, and she had no idea what lay ahead. Any platitudes of ‘love is enough’ or ‘you’ll always be her mother’ suddenly felt dismissive of what might lay ahead. And although Sister Julienne had every hope and faith that what was best for May would come to pass, if that was a life without the Turner’s she also knew the incredible pain it would inflict.

It was Shelagh who spoke first. “You told me once to have courage,” Shelagh remembered.

Sister Julienne gave a small smile, recalling the memory. “Yes.”

Shelagh wiped her eyes. “It’s good advice.”

Sister Julienne nodded slowly, thinking this over. “Yes. Maybe courage is this. Maybe courage is speaking what we fear the most, giving it a voice so that it doesn’t eat away at us...”

Shelagh continued to dabbed her eyes, and took some shaky breaths trying to regain her composure. She spoke slowly. “Maybe it’s accepting that if Esther is in a good place to have May back, then that...that is something that should be celebrated. Mother and daughter...they’ll be...together again, no matter how much...how much it hurts us.”

Shelagh paused, blowing her nose on a handkerchief that Sister Julienne had placed in her hands. Taking a deep breath she looked straight at Sister Julienne. “But how will we know?” She said desperately, almost pleading with Sister Julienne. “How do we know it is right for May if that is the decision?”

Sister Julienne stood up, putting her hands out to help Shelagh up also. “We are to arm ourselves with the facts. I think Sister Veronica is going to be able to help us...”

#call the midwife #sister julienne #shelagh turner #shulienne #i wanted to see feelings discussed #and sister julienne offering comfort #ctm fanfic

[deepdowninmybones]

CtM Fanfic Everything is just as ought to be

(let's keep going with the old-fashioned copy and paste)

Chapter 2 - Mother's love

Early october - 10 weeks

Two weeks had passed since the news and the progress of the pregnancy brought with it a whole series of symptoms that were physically exhausting her.

For this reason she had not objected in the slightest when Patrick had suggested to slow down her activities. The house and three school-age children were enough to exhaust the energy she had at her disposal at that moment, even if he had immediately taken on the most tiring tasks…including taking the children to school, a moment of the day that could turn into a real challenge when Teddy wasn't particularly cooperative.

The very beginning of the school had proven to be the perfect excuse to give Mrs. Higgins to tell her that Mrs. Turner needed a break. The secretary hadn't asked any questions and had immediately taken steps to reorganize the shifts without her. Incredibly, Dr. Turner's request to postpone the start of morning appointments by an hour and to schedule a rotation of substitutes for the weekends had also been granted without comment.

No one was aware of the news and for now it was something they wanted to experience exclusively among themselves. The children were too young to ask the reason for those changes in their routine and fortunately the only one who would have needed less than five minutes to understand what was going on was Timothy, who however had returned to Medical School in Edinburgh.

Even though the days at Turner house were long and often chaotic, they knew that once their children were tucked in, the house and the entire world became a space just for them. They spent the evenings lying on the sofa, entwined in their favorite position, caressing each other gently, sharing thoughts and worries or simply silences… A lot of silences lately, because they knew well that it's often in silence that we learn to understand each other.

Patrick was her guiding light, his presence helped her to slow down the fluctuating whirlwind of emotions that hit her: a continuous transition from moments of uncontainable joy to others in which the feeling of not being able to face this situation threw her into absolute desperation. Damn hormones.

That morning she was sitting at the kitchen table where she was trying to fold the laundry she had just picked up, but the strong smell of detergent (which usually put her in a good mood) wasn't making her life easy. After yet another trip to the bathroom, just as she was about to sit down again, the doorbell rang.

"Sister Julienne! What are you doing around here? Did something happen?"

"Does something have to happen for me to come visit you at home?"

"Oh, of course not…Please, come in!"

Confused by the unexpected visit, Shelagh at first appeared unsure about what to do. Sister Julienne knew her very well and, understanding that something was troubling her, found a way to break the ice and get straight to the point of her visit.

"I met Dr. Turner with the kids this morning. Angela told me you were home because you still have a tummy ache. I was nearby and stopped by to see if you needed anything."

When she previously heard Angela pronounce those specific words "belly ache" an alarm rang in her head. The maternal instinct is not something that necessarily comes from being someone's biological mother. Sister Julienne was firmly convinced of this.

"Thanks for the thought, I appreciate it very much…but I feel much better! Patrick always worries too much and then makes the children alarmed too. I'm just a little tired, with the kids going back to school and everything. Come, let's sit on the sofa. I just made some tea!"

"It seems like an excellent idea to me"

Sister Julienne sat down on the settee, shortly followed by Shelagh with the two cups of tea in hand. Sitting next to each other, they sipped the liquid in silence.

Beside Patrick, Sister Julienne was the person who knew her best, who she trusted more, and who she felt incredibly loved by. Having lost her mother as a child, she didn't know much about what that meant to be a daughter, but in her mind it had to be something very similar to what she felt towards Sister Julienne. She was grateful to have her in her life and having her by her side right now made her feel loved and protected. As she thought this, she felt a new explosion of emotions rise in her heart, in her eyes… and the tears fell again.

Sister Julienne took the cup of tea from her hand, placing it on the table. She wrapped her arms around her, giving her time to find the words.

"My darling Shelagh, do you mind telling me what's going on with you? Are there any problems with Patrick? With the children?" she gently asked, taking her hands protectively in hers.

"I…I'm pregnant." she confessed.

"Oh dear!" she sighed. "How long are you?"

"We're not sure honestly. My cycle has always been irregular and the possible moments of conceiving are… let's say…they are not useful in tracing back to a precise date"

"I understand…"

"Based on the calculations we made, I should be at the tenth week…but for now we are based on the symptoms"

"And how did you take the news, if I may ask?"

"Oh Sister Julienne…it was a shock! I don't need to remind you how old I am, or how old Patrick is. With all the difficulties we had, the idea of being able to get pregnant was truly something totally unimaginable. We never thought we would have to take precautions…"

"…but the Lord works in surprising ways sometimes, doesn't he?"

"Yeah…I'd say so. Patrick is over the moon, even if he tries to moderate his enthusiasm in front of me, I know he's totally excited. You know, one night, when we weren't yet certain of the pregnancy, I told him that I didn't want another child, I really mean it. I didn't want it! …but if it had come I would have loved it just like the others."

"And now? Do you want it?"

"Of course yes! I already love him as much as the other four! Now it's here… and it seems clear to me since I'm spending more time in the bathroom than in any other room. I've been living with the taste of metal for two months as had already happened when I was expecting Teddy, my breasts are swollen and sore… And I feel nauseous and dizzy…" and with a voice broken by tears, she added "…and I have constant mood swings!"

Sister Julienne smiled at her and took her hand "What really scares you, Shelagh?"

"What? Well…" she hesitated for a moment, then the words took shape by themselves and she continued saying "I'm terrified of experiencing a new pregnancy like my first one. I'm afraid of losing this baby. I'm afraid of disappointing Patrick! I'm afraid of what might happen if…"

She had finally said it! In that tick, she realized that she had managed to give a name to her anxieties. It was not the "not being enough" thing, not the "house being too small", not their age… but the fear of losing or not being able to experience that happiness.

"Do you remember the words of Isaiah? 'Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go'."

Shelagh nodded.

"Well. And know that I'll be there too." she said, holding her close.

"I know, you are always there and you have always been there when I needed you." answered almost whining like a child.

"Oh Shelagh, let me confess to you something. At this point in my life, I sometimes found myself thinking about the choice I made. What have I given up to be a nun? Could I have a family? Could I have children? You know…I lose my self thinking about what kind of mother I would be, what it would be like. And then you came to my mind. It took me a while to understand that your image was the Almighty's way of answering my questions: showing that becoming a nun didn't make me give up anything… You, your children… your family. You are my most precious gift. My religious life was the way to find you, the way I was allowed to feel you like a daughter and to experience motherhood even without having birthed you!"

Shelagh kept hearing the echoes of those words: feeling like a daughter, feeling her like a mother… Finally they had been pronounced in some way, no matter if implicitly, they were still real and shared.

Sister Julienne wiped away a tear, then smiled and looked Shelagh deeply in the eyes continuing to say:

"Look at you Shelagh! Look what you and Patrick have built together! You sowed love and managed to make life sprout even when they told you it would be impossible to do so! You never gave up, you put love at the center of your family: you raised Timothy as your own son, welcomed Angela and then, against all diagnoses, Teddy arrived. You met little May along your path and you opened the door of your home for her, your family, your hearts. You will be able to do it for this creature too, it will be here before you know it… trust in the Lord, have faith and everything will be for the best."

With tears streaming down her eyes, Shelagh could only nod. She needed those words, she needed Sister Julienne's presence to understand her feelings. Maybe she needed to be called daughter and hearing Sister Julienne refer to herself as her mother to have faith in the unachievable.

Later that night, when the front door opened and Patrick entered the house, he only had to meet Shelagh's eyes and see her smile to understand that something had changed.

She was home, his girl was back.

#ctm fanfic #turnadette #shelagh turner #patrick turner #shulienne

[kayla47]

#call the midwife #ctm #call the midwife fanfic #shelagh turner #patrick turner #turnadette #call the midwife spoilers #S12e05

[callthemidwife-13]

I’m begging someone to write a Call the Midwife fanfic about S12 episode 1 as if Patsy and Delia were still there.

Imagine the talk about lesbians with them in the room.

#call the midwife #ctm spoilers #fanfic #patsy mount #delia busby #emerald fennell

[clonethemidwife]

we have a winner

#church au #au number one #au number 1 #shelagh turner #shelagh mannion #patrick turner #timothy turner #call the midwife #ctm #fanfic