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#pregnancy and childbirth

coochiequeens · 2 years

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Reproductive choice is so much more than access to abortion. It’s also knowing all the risks of childbirth and way to heal after birth.

“You’ve got two minutes to make your decision.”

The delivery doctor looks up from between my legs. I gaze at the ceiling and focus on a fluorescent light, trying to push my fear into its glow.

“What are the risks?” I ask.

“If you have an emergency c-section at this stage, the primary risk is permanent damage to your uterus and risk of hemorrhage,” the doctor replies. “If I deliver with forceps, there’s a chance your baby may have a small amount of facial bruising. If you go with forceps, it’ll be over in a matter of minutes.”

I choose forceps. Twelve people suddenly appear in the room: doctors, nurses, paramedics, students. They line up solemnly against the back wall. Someone wheels a tray of gleaming metal instruments to the bottom of the bed.

“Right,” I hear. “One big push.”

Then there she is. My daughter. Pale and silent. Then red and screaming. I hold her as I shake convulsively, in a stupor after 50 hours of labor.

Two doctors spend an hour sewing me up. I don’t understand what is happening to my body, only that my baby and I have made it to the other side. Alive. At that moment, that is enough.

“You have a severe third-degree tear and a shattered tailbone,” my obstetrician tells me later that day. “Keep icing it. Use Dermaplast. See me in two weeks. You may experience fecal incontinence, so I’m going to refer you to a pelvic floor therapist.” He glances at my exposed stomach, riddled with a furious network of stretch marks. “Oh dear,” he grimaces. “Your poor belly.”

A critical fact I did not know at the time is that about 90% of people who give birth vaginally will experience tearing. Tears are classified in grades of severity, from one to four. The more common first- and second-degree tears involve lacerations in the vaginal and perineal tissue. With third-degree injuries, the tear extends from the vagina to the anus. In a rarer fourth-degree tear, the laceration extends from the vagina through the perineal area and anal sphincter muscles and into the rectum. Interventions such as forceps and vacuums can significantly increase the risk of a severe tear.

When the epidural wore off, the pain was indescribable. Back at home, I waddled around with my newborn strapped to my chest, legs as far apart as they would go, giant ice packs falling out of the flimsy mesh underwear provided by the hospital. Simply sitting in a chair sent pain shooting through my body. Getting out of it took an agonizing ten minutes. I didn’t dare look at my Frankenvulva in the mirror.

When I went back for my obstetrician appointment two weeks later, it turned out that one of the stitches wasn’t sewn correctly and there was a piece of skin hanging where it shouldn’t. It had to be burned off. A shadowy sense of shame began to surround me. Despite the traumatic nature of the delivery, I felt okay talking about my birth and my broken tailbone. But the fact that my vagina had ripped almost to my ass? I didn’t really discuss it with anyone ― including my husband.

“Simply sitting in a chair sent pain shooting through my body. Getting out of it took an agonizing ten minutes. I didn’t dare look at my Frankenvulva in the mirror.”

I felt as though I’d been neutered. Unsure of how I could ever even entertain the idea of having sex again. Convinced that the pain would last forever (ultimately, it took over two years for me not to be aware of it).

Every time I peed, I had a water bottle on hand to help dilute the searing sting. Like so many other women, I just dealt with it in silence. My pelvic floor therapy sessions petered out as I went back to work a couple of months later. I could barely make time in my schedule to pump, let alone take a cab into downtown Chicago for twice-weekly appointments.

Well, this is motherhood, I thought. The moment a child is born, the mother stops being the patient. We’re expected to smile. Be grateful for our baby. Be quiet. Just deal with it.

Many women don’t realize that childbirth can involve such extreme injury. Fortunately, that’s starting to change. In 2018 ― a year after I gave birth to my daughter ― Keira Knightly wrote a personal essay about her first childbirth experience. “My vagina split,” she wrote. “You came out with your eyes open. Arms up in the air. Screaming.” She wrote that women are then expected to hide: “Hide our pain, our bodies splitting, our breasts leaking, our hormones raging.” In 2020, Chrissy Teigen tweeted in response to people complaining about taking PCR tests, “My vagina was ripped to my asshole giving birth to Luna. I had a vagasshole. Fuck your swab pain.”

The rise of celebrities talking about their own birth injuries helped catalyze a tide change in the types of conversations I heard around me. Other mothers began to talk more openly about the brutality of birth. I joined in, galvanized by the knowledge that I was not alone. Instagram became a hub of support and community, with pages such as Life After Fourth Degree Tears dedicated to sharing people’s stories.

One day in 2019, two close friends and I were frustrated by the fact that we still couldn’t go to our local Walgreens or Target to pick up items to help our other new mom friends heal during their fourth trimesters. So we decided to do something about it. We innovated and secured two patents for our dream postpartum recovery underwear and a suite of ice/heat packs specially contoured to fit between the legs or over the uterus. They can be inserted directly into the underwear and stay in place to help with tenderness and swelling. We wanted to ensure that the next wave of people giving birth had access to a more functional and therapeutic option than the mesh hospital freebie.

Yes, tearing is almost certainly going to happen if you have a vaginal delivery. Most people will have a first- or second-degree tear. The more severe injuries ― which are far more challenging to recover from ― are uncommon (about 6 in 100 births) and scary to contemplate. But not talking about it means that many people have trouble getting adequate information prior to delivery and feel unprepared and unsupported during recovery.

Now knowing firsthand the risks and severe consequences of tearing in childbirth, here’s some advice I’d share with other mothers-to-be:

1. Knowledge is power.

Educate yourself on the risk factors of severe tears and incorporate prevention and aftercare strategies into your birth and postpartum careplans. You cannot actually prevent a significant tear ― it’s largely due to forces outside of your control, such as the size of your baby and your anatomy. But seeing a pelvic floor therapist in the months before giving birth may help reduce recovery time after delivery, no matter how severe the tear. Perineal massage and stretching prior to delivery may also help with muscle pliability and help mitigate the impact of the tear.

2. Be your own advocate.

During delivery, you can ask your doctor, doula or midwife to support your perineum with their hand as you push, which has been proven to help reduce the severity of tearing. Press for a proper diagnosis and review of your injury (many moms I know were told they had a tear, but had no idea to what degree). If you suspect something is wrong, don’t brush it away: You know your body best. Talk to your doctor.

If you suffer from a major tear, request regular check-ups with your medical provider until you are fully healed. If you are working and still in discomfort, speak to HR and see if there are ways for your company to help support you as you heal. And if you think you may have PTSD from your delivery experience, reach out to a mental health professional. There are some incredibly effective techniques to help resolve feelings of anger, grief and shame that can arise from a difficult birth.

3. See a pelvic floor therapist after delivery ― no matter what.

Every OB-GYN, doula and midwife I’ve ever spoken to says the same thing: They wish pelvic floor therapy was mandatory and accessible for every single person who gives birth. Book some sessions for a couple of weeks after your due date in advance. You’ll be glad you did.

4. There are ways to ease the pain.

Ice therapy is proven to help ease discomfort and speed up recovery time. Sitz baths are a blessing. Stool softeners are your best friend. Use a peri bottle when you pee to help dilute the sting of urine. Donut cushions arereally helpful, too, as they prevent your vulva/perineum from coming into direct contact with your chair.

5. Know that you are not alone.

Research indicates that women’s pain levels after experiencing a second-degree tear or greater can be linked to their risk for developingpostpartum depression. Combined with the intimate nature of the topic and how so many of us don’t feel comfortable talking about our vulvas in general, it’s little wonder that so many women feel isolated and alone in their pain. But you are not. The statistics alone prove it.

You do not need to suffer silently, as so many of us have beenconditioned. By talking, sharing and ensuring we have the means to take care of ourselves ― and each other ― mothers and birthing people can find a connective, collective resilience and invaluable support system to help us as we move through the pain, onwards to the other side.

Mia Clarke is a writer and the co-founder of the women’s health innovation company, Nyssa, which released its bestselling FourthWear Postpartum Recovery Underwear in 2019 and has been featured in Forbes, Vogue, Fast Company and more. She also edits Body of Knowledge, a new content platform dedicated to interrogating the under-discussed realities of womanhood and has written about miscarriage for The Washington Post. Prior to working in women’s health and innovation, Mia was a music journalist and the guitarist in the British indie rock band, Electrelane.

#Pregnancy and childbirth #childbirth can result in injury

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thegoodmexican · 2 years

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#pregnancy and childbirth #Abortion #mexico

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pressnewsagencyllc · 17 days

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Trump says he'll announce his position on abortion Monday, a key moment in the presidential race

NEW YORK (AP) — Former President Donald Trump says he will finally announce Monday when he believes abortions should be banned, after months of refusing to stake a position on an issue that could decide the outcome of November’s presidential election. The presumptive Republican nominee wrote on his social media site Sunday night that he plans to issue a statement on “abortion and abortion…

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#2024 United States presidential election #A #Abortion #AP Top News #Donald Trump #Election 2024 #elections #Government and politics #health #p #pregnancy and childbirth #supreme court of the united states #Trump

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thefallofruins · 2 months

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First time dad! Sukuna

“This is…mine?”

He looks down at the little wrapped bundle in his arms, a look of confusion etched onto his face. His eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at the little thing, who looks back at him with equal interest.

Except her eyes are filled with innocence. And they share a resemblance with his. Such a beautiful contrast, you think.

“She is.” You chuckle softly, correcting him, still incredibly tired from the pains of birthing his child. But the sight of the father holding his daughter for this first time was so amusing that you couldn’t help it. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

Sukuna doesn’t respond immediately, still fixated on the small…tiny little thing he’s holding. He’s so uncharacteristically gentle with it…like one mistake and she’ll shatter. He raises a finger to her plump cheek, caressing her soft skin.

“Like you,” he finally responds, as the little girl’s tiny fingers immediately latch onto his, wrapping around them. A soft smile forms on his face as he looks at her, then at you. The wonderful woman who graced his cursed existence with such blessings.

He wants to say something, but a strange…slimy feeling of wetness on his finger prevents him from doing so. He looks at the little one in his arms, slurping on his fingers.

“Oh, so you’re a brat too?” He pulls his finger away, and hell breaks loose. He is even more confused now.

“She’s hungry, Kuna,” you pout, extending your arms from the bed, “Bring her here.”

He shuffles closer to you, his hand working surprisingly gently as he hands the little girl to you, and she immediately latches onto your breast as you loosen the robe to feed her.

“Has my appetite.” He grumbles, causing you to chuckle again. He stays for a while, internally swearing at the sight of you and your little girl— that if anything ever even tries to touch either of you, he will rip the world to shreds, and god knows what ends he’ll get to to keep you safe.

“Brat,” He mumbles, one of his hands resting on your head, making you look up to him as he ruffles your hair slightly. “Thank you.”

#dad! sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #Sukuna fluff #ruins posts #tw pregnancy #tw breastfeeding #tw childbirth

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one-time-i-dreamt · 2 months

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I had a daughter and I raised her until she was 6 and then I woke up.

It was so realistic too. I’m a trans man and I even experienced childbirth, that shit fucking hurt like cramps but on steroids and crack.

Her name was Judith, her favourite colour was purple and she loved dinosaurs and I miss her so much and she doesn’t even exist.

There was absolutely no need for it to be so realistic and detailed I’m devastated. 😭

#dream #daughter #family #trans #childbirth #pregnancy #birth #dinosaur #realistic dream

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pamgkrthwrites · 6 months

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Just imagining about how Bakugou loves seeing his pretty little pregnant wife fuss about him. He loves when you come to visit him in the office, he loves it when you bring him some your food and drink for him to have for lunch, he loves seeing you waddle over to him.

He loves it even more when you bring your first child with him. He loves seeing your two’s 2 year old daughter with your hair texture but his hair colour and his eye shape but your eye colour just look up at him. He feels as if he is falling in love all over again.

And if he sees anyone - and I mean anyone - even look at you funny, he will find a way to get rid of them(because you can’t fire people in Japan).

Don’t even get me started on how he reacts hearing your in labour. He’s doing paper work, hears the phone ring and just picks up. “What?” Then he hears your whimpering crying cause your water broke and your in pain and your due date isn’t for another 3 weeks.

He rushes out of his office and everyone just moves out of his way. He is a panting mess when he finally gets to you in the hospital, holding your hand tightly as you give birth to your baby boy.

Let’s just say he is not happy his boy came early. It almost felt as if because your body kept your daughter two two weeks longer, your body decided to even the scales and make you give birth to your son early.

Bakugou’s blood pressure is so high all because this baby came early.

His son proves to be a trouble maker, having his hair texture but your hair colour and having Bakugou’s eyes. This little shit learnt how to walk early and his word was fuck.

Turns out his little angel of a daughter was trying to him to say shit.

He is utterly outraged.

But not surpised.

He does have to comfort you from though, considering your a crying mess that your baby didn’t say mama first.

Honestly though he can’t wait to put a third one in ya. He misses seeing you waddle.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #Bakugou x reader #Katsuki Bakugou x reader #Bakugou Katsuki x reader #Bakugo x reader #Bakugo Katsuki x reader #Katsuki Bakugo x reader #reader is female #tw pregnancy #tw childbirth

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srilanka1234 · 1 year

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Shocking! Record number of ‘foreign objects’ found in UK patients after surgery

#health and medical #maternal and child health #medical fields and specialties #medical treatments and procedures #obstetrics and gynecology #pregnancy and childbirth #surgery #women's health

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natjennie · 1 month

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okay, bear with me this requires a lot of context. imagine that you wake up on a space ship with an alien species capable of telepathic communication with you. they are also capable of instilling you with the knowledge that everything they say is completely true, there is not a hint of uncertainty in your mind. they have weapons capable of obliterating earth pointed at the planet, and are forcing you to do one of two things in order to not fire. within the fiction of the scenario you are not being given the choice, but you the real you is picking which one of these things you'd rather have happen.

you must eat an 8 ounce serving of human baby meat, by default prepared like a steak (different preparations can be requested). you do not have to keep the meat down once you're done, but you have to get all of it in your body at one point. they do not provide any information about where the baby came from or how it died. if you complete this, they will deposit you back on earth and you will be free from legal repercussions of cannibalism, and it is generally agreed that you are also free from moral blame as it was against your will.

you will be surgically impregnated with a human embryo and must carry it to term and give birth. the embryo does not contain your dna, but otherwise you don't know anything about its origins. the aliens have advanced medical technology that gives you sufficient anatomy to carry and birth the baby, and keeps you healthy throughout, with no risk of long term complications or death. you have the choice to keep or give away the baby once you have given birth, and will be deposited back on earth.

if you refuse to comply in either situation, they destroy the earth and you are forced to live the rest of your life aboard the space ship as a prisoner, until you die of natural causes.

so,

#tw: child death #tw: childbirth #childbirth #child death #tw: cannibalism #cannibalism #tw: pregnancy #pregnancy #aliens #how else do i need to tag this #let me know #i only realized right as i finished typing that this could be triggering im sorry #please tell me if i need to tag anything else

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joelsgreys · 3 months

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softness

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Joel’s a little unsure of doing skin to skin with his newborn daughter.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. established relationship. (TW) PREGNANCY. mentions of premature birth, minor descriptions of childbirth, mentions of birth weight, it is implied that reader is breastfeeding her baby, semi accurate medical journal research, girldad! Joel, mentions of scars (Joel), mentions of insecurities and anxieties, if i missed anything, please let me know! NO MENTION OF READER’S AGE. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER. no physical description of child except for her hair color/type. very minimal editing.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i had this outline sitting in my drafts and i decided to finally just write it out and post it. it ain’t much, but it’s honest work. it is part of the safe and sound universe.

She’d made her entrance into the world early.

About four or five weeks, the commune’s doctor thinks.

Without ultrasounds, it’d been a guessing game.

And a fucking terrifying guessing game at that.

For several months, all you could do was hope.

Hope for a smooth pregnancy.

Hope for a safe labor and delivery.

Hope for a strong, healthy baby.

When you went into labor earlier than the doctor had predicted you would, all of your hopes shattered, the pieces falling around you like shards of broken glass you couldn’t put back together even if you tried.

“No! No, it’s too soon! It’s too fucking soon!” you’d cried out, the sheer panic setting in and seeping into your bones as a warm, clear liquid dripped down the insides of your legs and pooled around your bare feet. You had been in the kitchen making Ellie breakfast and packing her lunch for school—one second you’re standing there in front of the food pantry debating with yourself on what vegetable to throw into the kid’s lunch bag with her sandwich and the next you’re calling out for help as an intense pressure nestled itself between your hips. It wasn’t until you heard a faint popping sound and then felt the gush of fluid between your thighs that you’d realized what was happening. An unmistakable first sign of labor, you’d experienced your water breaking. “This can’t be happening, it’s not time yet!”

Joel, who by some stroke of sheer stupid luck had the morning off from patrol duty, instructed Ellie to run upstairs and gather some clean clothes along with a pair of boots and the warmest coat you owned that still fit. November had brought along the first snowfall of the season—the frigid temperatures outside were anything but kind and the clinic was on the opposite side of the commune, a fifteen minute walk he wished you didn’t have to make in your condition. “I know this is real fuckin’ scary darlin’ but y’need to stay calm. I need you to stay as calm as possible. Y’think that you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

He’d been just as terrified, but he masked it well.

On the outside, he kept a calm, collected composure for your sake and for Ellie’s too, shoved aside his own fears so he could be the support you both needed, act as the glue that held yours and his little family unit together should anything were to happen. But on the inside, he was scared shitless, to say the least. He couldn’t be certain he would have the strength to hold himself together if something went wrong, if he lost you—or his unborn child.

Admittedly, it had taken him a few months to come to terms with the fact that he was going to be a father again at this stage in his life. The thought of him changing diapers at his age was one he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around—but the moment he felt that first little flutter of movement one night as you lay curled up against his side fast asleep, something shifted. That night, he had stayed wide awake, his large hand splayed over your bare belly in hopes he would feel that little flutter again.

“Joel, I’m really fucking scared. What if it’s too early—”

“Baby, look at me.” He reached up and gently took your chin, holding it between his thumb and index finger as he coaxed your gaze to meet his own. “S’gonna be okay,” he’d assured you, softly. “If this is happenin’ now, it’s because she’s ready, alright?”

For a split second, that panic had ceased.

“She?”

Confused, Joel’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“You just referred to the baby as a she, Joel.”

“I did?”

“Yeah—just now.” You’d stared at him with curiosity and took a step back, cradling your belly in both of your hands. “Do you think we’re having a girl?”

Sheepishly, he had shaken his head at you.

“No, I just—m’sorry. I ain’t all too sure why I said that.”

He truly, honestly hadn’t.

It’d slipped before he could even think about it.

But his accidental slip had been right.

After thirteen hours of grueling labor in Jackson’s small clinic, you’d given birth to a little girl, the sound of her loud wailing filling the whole room like a sweet melody eliciting a sob of joy from you and a shaky sigh of relief from Joel.

“Holy shit, she’s here! She’s actually fucking here,” Ellie breathed, her eyes going wide. Her arms were still wrapped around one of your legs—despite you warning the teenager about what she would see, it hadn’t stopped her from volunteering her assistance in the childbirth process. She watched on in a mix of both fascination and disgust as Dr. Porter, a woman in her sixties who served as Jackson’s sole physician, lifted the infant and immediately placed her onto your bare chest to clean her off. “This has gotta be the grossest, most amazing fucking thing I have ever fucking seen in my life.” Gently, she set your leg down onto the bed before walking around it to stand beside Joel. His hand was stroking your hair, his dark eyes trained on his crying newborn daughter. It was the perfect moment for Ellie to run her mouth and tease, “You’re not gonna cry, are you, Joel? I’d think you’re a lot fucking tougher than that, old man.”

“Shut up,” he’d muttered under his breath, putting an arm around her and pulling her against his side. He almost couldn’t believe this was now his life—a life he would have never even known if he hadn’t flinched twenty years ago when he had pulled the trigger.

Though she’d been born a few weeks prematurely, Rosemary Miller was deemed to be healthy—a tad underweight, but nothing to be worried about just yet, according to Jackie, the commune’s nurse. At about four pounds, eleven ounces, Rosemary was the tiniest thing you’d ever seen and somehow even tinier when Joel would cradle her in the palms of his large hands. Despite the fact that you’d been reassured that the baby’s low birth weight was nothing to be alarmed about, you and Joel had been advised it was best if you didn’t take her home until she gained a few more ounces and tipped the a scale at what the books state is a normal birth weight of five pounds, eight ounces.

“We just would feel better if she were here at the clinic where we can closely monitor her weight,” Jackie had said upon seeing the crestfallen look on your face. “Besides, you tore a little and you need time to heal as well, you know.”

Left with very little choice, you’d agreed to it.

“I’m losing it,” you say with an exasperated sigh as you stare up at the drab, gray ceiling. It’s been three days since you had given birth and all you want to do is take your daughter home. In an effort to lift your spirits, Maria had tried to warm the place up and make it feel more comfortable for you. She had swapped out the rough, scratchy bedsheet the clinic provided for you with a soft, knitted blanket she had made herself. She also took it upon herself to pack you a bag with your own clothes, a couple of books to read, and your favorite polaroids of Joel and Ellie. While it had been incredibly sweet of her to do for you, you still wanted out of that clinic sooner rather than later. “I miss our house. I miss our bed. I miss our kid.”

Joel, who’s sitting in an old, worn leather armchair tucked over in a corner of your room next to the frosted window, raises an eyebrow at you and then juts his chin towards Rosemary, who is swaddled up and sleeping soundly in the plastic bassinet beside your bed.

“Our kid’s right there, darlin’.”

You lift your head off your pillow and glare at him.

“I’m talking about Ellie, Joel.”

He chuckles and leans forward in his chair. Next to him sits a brown stuffed bunny rabbit—Ellie had traded a precious comic book for it and gifted it to the baby the same afternoon she was born.

“She’s been comin’ to visit every day after school.”

“It’s not the same,” you pout, shaking your head.

Joel sighs and glances at the cot that he had been sleeping on for the last few days—truth be told, he misses the house too. His back certainly misses the bed. “It ain’t the same,” he agrees, tiredly. His face is worn with exhaustion. Despite you insisting that he go home and get some proper rest, he’s too stubborn to listen and only leaves the clinic to take a shower and change his clothes—and to check on Ellie, who’s got a bad habit of not doing her homework unless you or Joel nag her to get it done. “M’real sorry, darlin’. But you heard what they said. Baby’s gotta gain a little more weight before we can take her home.”

Even from where he’s sitting, he can see your eyes glaze over with tears of frustration. Since the baby was born, you’ve been very sensitive, more so than when you’d been pregnant—something he didn’t think was even possible.

“If she keeps on eatin’ the way she’s eatin’ we’ll be home by the end of the week,” Joel adds in an effort to cheer you up. “Besides, you need to heal before we make that long walk across town and back to the house, sweetheart. S’not like I can just pull up the fuckin’ minivan and drive you girls home like back in the day, y’know?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Ew, Joel. We would not have a fucking minivan.” Dabbing at your eyes with the back of your hand, you can’t help but laugh at the thought of Joel Miller behind the wheel of one of those things. Then, you realize how endearing it would be to watch as he’s loading up Rosemary’s car seat into the van, the muscles of his broad back flexing underneath his shirt as he pulled on the straps to make sure it was safe and secure. You’d climb into the backseat with her and on the way home, you would ask Joel to swing through the nearest burger joint drive through because you’re fucking starving and in need of a proper meal after being subjected to boring, bland hospital food. You shoot him a small smile. “On second thought, that doesn’t sound all that bad. Maybe we would.”

Suddenly, there’s a light knock at the door.

“Come in,” you call, careful not to be too loud.

Dr. Porter walks into the room.

She had been a primary care physician prior to the world ending, according to Maria, who a couple of months ago had given birth to her son while under Dr. Porter’s care. Maria had assured you that, even though the woman never trained in obstetrics, she always went above and beyond for all the mothers to be in the commune. She dedicated her spare time to studying, lost herself in medical books she found on the shelves of the town’s library—kind of like the one that’s currently tucked underneath her arm.

“Hi there mama,” she greets, her eyes shining brightly behind her coke-bottle glasses. Wearing jeans and a sweater, she doesn’t quite look the part—maybe she’d worn a white coat once in her life, but now it was only the old, silver metal stethoscope she had draped around her neck that gave her profession away. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’m okay,” you say with a shrug. “Can’t complain.”

Over in his corner, Joel can’t help but snort.

Ignoring him, you add, “Bleeding’s slowing down.”

“Good, that’s good,” Dr. Porter tells you. “And how about this sweet little girl?” She smiles and makes her way over to the bassinet, keeping her voice low. “She eating well?”

“She is. Her last feed was about two hours ago.”

“How’s she sleeping?”

“Like a rock.”

“And you’ve been doing skin to skin as well?”

You nod. “Yes, before and after her feedings.”

“That’s perfect.” Dr. Porter beams at you with pride. “Keep it up and do it as often as possible. There are a ton of benefits of doing skin to skin with her. It’s one of the most incredible things that a mother can do for her baby. Actually—” She pauses for a moment and pulls the book out from under her arm. “I have been doing a bit of research and as it turns out, there are also benefits if dad does skin to skin with baby as well.”

Joel stiffens slightly in his chair. “S’cuse me?”

“I found this book in the library. It talks about all of the benefits of fathers doing skin to skin with their newborn. It was written some time in the nineties and studies were still being conducted, but I really believe they were onto something.” She hands you the book. “For being preterm, Rosemary’s healthy, but it doesn’t do any harm to try whatever you can to make sure that she builds up that immune system and stays healthy, especially now that winter’s here.” Flashing you a smile, she informs you, “I went ahead and folded the pages for you and made some notes. There’s a few benefits in it for Joel as well. Could be worth a try.”

After telling you she’ll be back in a couple hours to check on you and to weigh the baby, Dr. Porter excuses herself from your room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Curiously, you open the book to the first page that she’d folded for you and start reading the first passage out loud.

“Ongoing studies have found skin to skin between father and child have similar benefits to those that come from skin to skin between mother and child. It regulates the baby's body temperature, blood sugar, and stress levels.” You pause and look over at Joel, who appears thoroughly unimpressed. “It also helps to regulate the baby’s heart rate and breathing rate. Joel, this is incredible! I think you should—”

“No.”

Joel winces. He doesn’t mean to sound so curt.

Your face falls. “Why not?”

“That’s for mothers,” he grumbles. “Y’know, for feedin’ the baby.”

“It’s for much more than just that.” You shake your head and flip over to the next page, scanning both the text as well as Dr. Porter’s notes. “It says here that it also helps the baby pick up their father’s natural scent and promotes bonding.”

“Sweetheart, I can bond with her just fine with my fuckin’ shirt on, there ain’t no need for me to—what in the world are you doin’?” Perturbed, Joel watches you as you take a handful of your blanket, throwing it off yourself. He jumps up to his feet the second he realizes that you’re about to get out of bed. “Don’t—”

“Oh relax, Joel. I should be moving more anyway,” you say, wincing as you sit up and swing both legs over the side of the bed. It isn’t so much pain as it is discomfort—everything had been shoved up and out of place for months, after all. As soon as you stand, Joel’s there at your side, one hand on your arm and the other on your back, trying to guide you back onto the bed. You lightly swat him away with your hand. “Joel, stop fussing over me! I’m fine!”

“Baby, y’need to lie down right now—”

“Take off your shirt.”

His hands fall away from you and his eyes widen.

“What?”

“Take off your shirt and go sit down in the chair.”

The blood drains from his face and he pales.

It’s not that Joel doesn’t want to do it. He does.

He’ll do anything if it’s for his daughter’s benefit.

Still.

The idea of laying his innocent little baby girl on him without his shirt on—it’s uncomfortable. His chest and stomach are littered with several scars. Rough, raised patches of skin that serve as reminders of a brutal past he doesn’t want her finding out about, not for as long as he can fucking help it.

Rosemary deserves to be wrapped up in softness.

The softness of your smooth, blemish free skin.

The softness of the blankets you’d knitted for her.

The softness of the stuffed bunny Ellie had given her.

Joel?

He isn’t soft.

Nothing about him is soft.

Even holding her in his hands for the first time had been something of a battle. Hands that once snapped necks and slit throats didn’t deserve to hold something so pure and innocent.

“This sounds really promising, Joel.” Slowly, you make your way over to the plastic bassinet, ignoring the dull ache between your thighs. With your back to him, you carefully begin to unswaddle the baby. You try not to wake her as you peel off her warm, knitted onesie and matching socks, leaving her in nothing but her teeny, tiny cloth diaper. Gingerly, you pick her up and turn around to face him. “If Dr. Porter thinks we should try it, then it’s for a good reason, don’t you think so?”

Joel swallows harshly.

“What is it?”

“S’just that I—I’ve got scars everywhere, y’know?”

Your expression instantly softens for him. “Joel, you’re her daddy,” you remind him, gently. “She’s not going to care about things like that.” Pausing, it suddenly occurs to you that it’s not just about his scars. It’s about something else, something that runs so much deeper for Joel. He’d done what he had done in order to survive, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t live with the shame—the guilt and the regret. Rosemary begins to fuss awake and you lightly bounce her in your arms as you assure him, “She isn’t going to care about your past or what you’ve done. Her love for you is going to be as unconditional as yours is for her. She’s going to love you no matter what, Joel. I can promise you that.”

His jaw clenches and his lips press into a tight line.

Rosemary starts to cry—she’s cold, no doubt.

The old heater in the clinic hardly runs.

And when it does, it breaks down.

“Joel, please,” you beg over her wails. “Just try it? For me? For her?”

Sighing in defeat, Joel shrugs out of his jacket and he tosses it aside. With trembling fingers, he begins to unbutton his green flannel shirt—his long sleeved thermal henley comes off next and then he takes off the cotton t-shirt he wears underneath for an added layer of warmth during the winter season. As he stands there shirtless, he shivers and his flesh erupts with goosebumps. “Wait,” he mutters as he watches you take a step forward. He drags the armchair away from the window. He then sits down, his heart racing and the anxiety flaring as he gives you a subtle nod of his head. “Okay.”

You walk over to him and place her on his bare chest.

The second he feels Rosie’s soft skin on his, there’s a shift.

It’s similar to the one he felt when he first felt her move in your belly.

He calms and his heart slows—his nerves dissipate.

And Rosemary stops crying.

She scrunches, curls up on his chest, and yawns.

Grimacing, you lean over and pick up his flannel shirt. “Here,” you say, draping it over them as a makeshift blanket. “How’s that feel?”

“Think she likes it, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, his fingers delicately brushing over her soft tufts of dark brown hair. His touch causes the newborn’s lip to curl and he catches a glimpse of the prominent dimple in her left cheek—the same dimple Sarah had inherited from him, Rosemary had inherited too. There’s a dull ache in his chest, but somehow, he still smiles as she peers up at him with sleepy eyes. “Hi, Rosie Posie. S’me, babygirl. Your daddy.”

Rolling your lip between your teeth, you stifle a giggle.

“What?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at you.

“She’s not the only one who seems to like it.”

Joel chuckles, admitting, “S’pretty relaxin’.” He presses his nose into his daughter’s curls and inhales deeply, relishing in the warm, sweet milky scent of her. After a minute, his smile falters slightly. “Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really believe it?”

Your brow furrows. “Believe what?”

“That she’s gonna love me no matter what.”

“Of course I do.”

“How can you be so sure ‘bout it?”

Carefully, you perch yourself on the arm of the chair and press a gentle kiss against his right temple, your lips brushing over his scar. “Because I just am, Joel.”

Somehow, he believes it—he believes you.

Joel tilts his head back, puckering his lips.

Grinning, you give him a chaste kiss before standing. “I’m going to see if I can get a nap in before her next feed,” you tell him, padding back over to the bed. “Do you think you’ll be okay with her for a while, just the two of you?”

“I think we’ll be just fine,” he murmurs, gingerly stroking Rosemary’s silky cheek with his finger. “Yeah. We’ll be just fine, won’t we, babygirl?”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller drabble #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #tw pregnancy #tw childbirth #tw premature birth

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usaitbari · 1 year

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