Author: TheLadyHoll
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Yes, they are mine. I own them. Come to me my pretties and dance, DANCE I SAY. Or, more truthfully, not...
Andrea saw the other woman’s throat tighten convulsively and she grabbed a basin that was thankfully placed nearby the bed, only just managing to bring it underneath Miranda’s chin in time for the other woman to rid her stomach of its contents with violent heaves.
Exhausted, and sick and scared and embarrassed, tears began to roll down Miranda’s cheeks even as she was still being sick.
“Shhh, sweetheart it’s okay. It’s just your body getting ready to push. Our babies are almost here, this is a good thing; it means things are moving along. Remember? The book said that was one of the signs you’re going into transition.”
“There, there were so many doctors last time, and nurses, all yelling directions and orders and telling me which way to push and turn, I, I don’t, ah, know wh-what to do,” Miranda panted, looking through her spread legs at Andrea.
“Hey,” she caught the older woman’s attention and rubbed the legs she was sitting between reassuringly. “You do whatever your body tells you to do until the doctor gets here. Can you promise me that? I don’t want you to be embarrassed, or scared to do anything or ask me to do anything. Okay? If you love me like you say you do then you’ll do this for me. So little pushes, just little ones, okay?”
The older woman’s gaze was totally focused inward as she followed Andrea’s prompt and began to bear down. Andy continued to talk to her softly throughout the contraction, although she never received a response from the labouring woman. When the contraction had ended however, Miranda’s gaze always returned to hers and it was like she was able to hear Andy once again.
Cool hands cupped the tired muscles of her abdomen and Miranda gladly let the younger woman take her weight as she leaned against her.
“Andrea, I can’t. I can’t do this,” Miranda whispered, her eyes closing in shame and defeat as a tear escaped.
“You are,” Andy moved Miranda’s hands to the base of her belly. “Feel how much further down they are now, that’s all you. You’re bringing them down with every push, Miranda.”
The skin beneath their entwined fingers tightened again and quivered and Miranda groaned as she deepened her seated squat involuntarily as her body prepared to push once more.
Miranda moaned, stretching the lips of skin as they parted and widened to reveal a sliver of the baby’s head.
“Good girl!” Andy cheered, “You’re doing so good, you’re doing so well my love. When you bear down now I can see the head.
Panting heavily, with her gaze focused on some unknown, unseen object, Miranda gave no indication she had heard Andy, or had noticed that the younger woman had urged her on as though she were Patricia saying ‘good girl’, but her fingers twitched and moved slightly to slip a finger just inside herself to feel the baby.
“See? He’s right there, he’s so close.” Andy cheered her on as she watched the older woman push again so that the crown bulged against her skin
Miranda strained, her face growing red as she grit her teeth and pushed, feeling the burning mass move lower as she rolled her hips to move it into her hand until it dammed at her pelvic cage and refused to move any further.
The pressure she felt was intense, but it soon became obvious that despite Miranda’s best efforts, the baby wasn’t moving down any farther and a change in position had to be considered.
Hands and knees on the bed in a position she had previously sworn she would never adopt no matter how tired or desperate, Miranda rocked back and forth, trying to work the baby down further as Andrea dug her hands and elbows into the small of the editor’s back at her request as the way the baby was currently lying was pressing a nerve in her spine and sending her back into spasms that clashed awfully with the still steady contractions.
“I can’t push, any harder,”
“Yes you can, I know you can. You’ve been so strong…you’ve been so strong for our babies and they’re so close,” Andrea brought Miranda’s hand to rest on the distended skin below her belly. “Our babies are so close.”
“Help me.”
Miranda looked up at Andrea, not saying anything else. But her eyes pleaded with the younger woman and Andy knew she was reaching the end of her rope, 12 hours of labour after a high risk pregnancy at forty nine was taking chances no one would want to place a bet on.
“Always, always my love.”
“I’ll sit behind you and hold your legs back, you push as hard as you can and press down on your belly so they don’t move back after the contraction. Good, chin on your chest, now push Miranda, push!”
Andrea opened the wide v of her lover’s legs even wider, holding them in place with her own ankles twisted under. Miranda’s body stiffened in her arms, but the older woman kept her chin to her chest and Andrea felt her trembling with effort as she bore down again, red faced and teeth gritted as she let out a long, low, guttural moan.
A low moan escaped through tightly pressed lips, all attempts to stifle the sound failing in the face of the pain. Miranda felt the hideous pressure at the base of her spine again and tried to straighten her back to release some of the tension, but to Andy, that straightening of her back and the cold glaze that felt as though it had stripped her to the bone, brought even more tension, metaphorical this time, into the room and Andy met Miranda’s glare evenly with her own calm, neutral expression. Biting back her response, Andy chose to say nothing rather than risk further argument and left the room with a sharp turn of her heel, going down to the nurses’ station to find more ice chips.
Miranda watched Andy leave and her heart seized with a cramp that forced a cry from her lips as it coincided with the peak of her contraction. Cupping her abdomen with both hands, Miranda tried to breathe and pant through the pain, but it was like a vice tightening around her and Andrea still hadn’t returned. What if she didn’t? What if…”
“Miranda?”
Andy came back to find a terribly distressed Miranda hunched forward and holding her belly as she tried to catch her breath, hyperventilating broken by intermittent sobs and gasps for air.
Immediately, Andy was on her knees at the foot of the bed, reaching forward to smooth Miranda’s hair away from her face and letting her fingers trail over the editor’s body, looking for some reason why she was so dramatically affected, when the contraction being tracked on the monitor’s screen showed it to be the same intensity as the last.
Scooching forwards, Andy gently pulled the editor into her arms and began gently rubbing her back and rocking.
“Shhh, what’s the matter? Are you in any more pain?”
Miranda shook her head; “we, the fighting, and y - and, and you left, I thought.”
“Baby, I just went down the hall to get you ice chips. Hey, I’m here, you’re okay.”
Her senses coming back to her, Miranda was horrified at her reaction. Andrea was right, she needed to put her trust in the younger woman, fully. She thought she had; already they shared bank accounts, life insurance policies and soon, guardianship over the girls as well as the babies Miranda was working to deliver at that very moment.
“I th-thought it was going to b-be like last time, Caroline and Cassidy, Jeremy late, not there, so scared, so much pain. It all came back.”
“Do you really think I would leave while you’re giving birth to our babies? I am right here, right where I want to be. And I’ll be right here as you bring these babies into the world, doing whatever it is you need of me.” Andy’s hands rubbed up and down Miranda’s thighs as she attempted to soothe her, and the editor was reminded of the ache she felt in the back of her thighs and the knots in her back.
Andrea must have seen her wince, because she pounced on the older woman’s movement instantly.
“Mira -”
Eyes still closed tightly, Miranda took a few deep breaths before opening teary eyes and looking at Andrea.
“Where does it hurt? Can you show me?”
“Everywhere,” Miranda croaked, her voice hoarse from tears and holding back her cries of pain. “It hurts everywhere.” She hated herself for this weakness.
“Okay, okay. Let’s try a different position.” Slowly, Andy helped Miranda to turn on her side, applying pressure where Miranda directed in long, smooth strokes until Miranda could lie semi-comfortably supported by the cushions that also propped up the weight of her stomach so that the clenching muscles didn’t pull on the vertebrae of her spine.
Andy eyed the monitor that was keeping track of Miranda’s contractions and she reached over to run the back of her hand down Miranda’s cheek. “Do you think you can try to sleep for a little while before the next contraction. They’re gonna be in soon with some more pain medication, but it would be so good if you could get some rest before things heat up again. And the pain medication they’re gonna give you might let you sleep through the milder pains.” Andrea’s hand moved in light circles on the tight drum of Miranda’s belly - looking back and forth between the monitors and her sweet love, so uncomfortable out of her element and sick with pain.
“Andrea, the next few months are going to be filled with sleepless nights and days in and out of the hospital and all order and scheduling sent into chaos. I think it’s safe to say that it’s almost certain that we’ll slip and snipe at each other. But at the end of every day, I’ll find sleep and peace so long as you’re in my arms. But only then.”
“You have me,” Andy whispered as she watched the strained features relax in the kind of dead sleep that only comes with utter exhaustion.
The older woman must have been truly exhausted, Andy thought as she watched the monitors register a sizeable contraction; and although Miranda’s brow furrowed in her sleep and she moaned softly, she didn’t wake. Rolling the exercise ball over to the side of the bed to sit, Andy made sure she maintained contact with the editor, noting that her sleep was easier and the pain of the contractions not as evident in her face with Andy’s touch.
Miranda woke 20 minutes later with a low moan and sleepy eyes that looked up at Andrea. Slowly, she came back to herself, and Andrea did her best to distract Miranda from the now constant contractions that rippled through Miranda’s belly with increasing force.
“I cannot wait to be able to hold you again.” Andy leaned over to kiss the only part of Miranda she could reach, and her lips bussed the pale shoulder
“As do I, my darling. I’ve been craving the feeling of your weight on top of mine for the last 6 months,” Miranda replied, remembering the day her stomach had ‘popped’, and the resulting bulge just above her hips preventing certain positions in lovemaking. Although, her smile grew wicked, Andrea had made sure Miranda knew how beautiful and desirable she still was with an intense but tender round of lovemaking where she had lavished attention on all the places pregnancy had altered on her body - bathing her abdomen in kisses and running her hands over the editors slightly widened hips and thickened waist until they torturously teased the undersides of her ever so sensitive breasts and held their weight in her hands, brushing over them with her thumbs until Miranda had screamed.
As if reading the other woman’s mind, Andy spoke up, moving both hands to Miranda’s belly and framing it with them as she mused aloud. “I will miss this belly though.”
“Trust me darling, there will still be plenty of it after the babies are born. Thank God for maternity leave otherwise I would have had to resort to caftans and elastic waists at Runway.”
Andy swatted her thigh lightly. “Oh stop, you know that would never happen, or that Nigel would ever let that happen. Nonetheless, I’m always going to love this belly because it will have given me the four loves of my life, and belongs to my first.”
“Flatterer,” Miranda scolded smilingly, but soon after her features screwed up in pain once more, and Andy’s hands flew to help her move into a comfortable position, if that was possible, before returning to the tensely contracting globe they had just been conc over, applying pressure and a gentle massage until the monitors showed the contraction’s decline on the LED screen.
Reaching for the ice chips on the side table, Andy spooned some into Miranda’s mouth before laying a cold cloth over her forehead and gently patting her cheeks and neck with another.
“Oh God, that feels so good.” Miranda groaned, lifting her hand to press the compress more firmly across her sweating brow. Andy repeated this over and over. For Miranda, the cool damp weight of the cloth over her eyes grounded her slightly and allowed her to pretend that she wasn’t in the hospital and that it was just she and Andrea someplace warm and safe where she could relax and rest her body and give birth without the fear and pain that was so excruciatingly acute whenever she opened her eyes or when she couldn’t feel Andy’s hands on her or her presence next to her.
“Andrea, I, I’m concerned,” Miranda looked downwards, her fingers tracing the faint linea nigra that bisected her abdomen but that she knew with time would disappear in the time it would take her to recover.
“When they come out, if there’s something wrong - something we didn’t catch and they’re not, and they don’t - ” Miranda’s diatribe of fears was interrupted as she began to gag once more and Andy held the basin while Miranda retched, the deep heaving pushing the babies even deeper into the birth canal so that Miranda could hardly sit upright and when she was finished, collapsed back on the pillows with her legs spread apart to the sides as she shifted her hips fruitlessly to ease the pressure she felt. Once the retching had stopped, Miranda was even more pale-faced than before, her arms laying limply by her sides and her breathing laboured. Andy brought yet another cool cloth to Miranda’s face before offering typical hospital dixie cups filled with water and mouthwash respectively and encouraging the woman to spit back in the basin before she disappeared outside the room to dispose of the refuse.
When she came back, Miranda was lying mostly on her back on the bed, her face red and distressed once more. “It’s coming NOW! I need to PUSH. I can’t, I can’t. Oh God, will someone get a doctor in here. “Aah!” Miranda moved her hands underneath her thighs, trying to breathe as she had been instructed and evidently bearing down hard if the redness of her face was any indication, pushing into her bottom with a grunt of effort that was decidedly un-Mirandalike. “I, I can’t stop, I - I have to push and - ooooh,” the flow of speech stopped as Andy watched as the lines on the monitor peaked and underneath the light camisole saw Miranda’s abdomen as it tightened and quivered once more, hardening into a sinewy ball of knotted muscle.
“I’ve pushed that…f-fucking buzzer a hundred fucking times,” Miranda spat out, her features scrunching up mid-contraction as she leaned forward to push. “Where are they? Is it so much to ask that a doctor be, ah!, present or to attend, ungh, to their own damn patients when they’re in fucking labour with high-risk infants? Ohhh.” Miranda groaned, her pitch changing now as the contraction ended although unable to move from her semi propped position with the babies so far down the birth canal and preventing, essentially, her from freely moving her hips as the baby was dammed in her pelvis.
“There’s no one at the nurse’s station, and I’ve called the hospital administrator but have only gotten voicemail. Apparently there’s a collision - a bus and a streetcar collided and the local hospital is diverting some of the incoming to NYP because of overflow.”
“That may explain the nurses but what explains the obstetrician’s absence? Surely none of the injuries require a speculum. You’ve tried both numbers, correct?”
“Yes, I think this would qualify as an ‘emergency’, don’t you? And I don’t know, general surgery skills maybe? But we’re gonna be just fine.” Andy lied through her teeth, hoping with everything in her that it would be that she WASN’T lying to the older woman.
“Do you want some more ice chips?”
“No! I do not want some more fucking ice chips!” Miranda swore, “I want a doctor in here, NOW.”
Andy sighed, “I’m going to do another lap around the wing, see if I can find anybody around or free.”
All of a sudden, Miranda’s anger vanished, and her greatest desire now was for Andy to not leave the room or walk out the door. It was silly, but the thought paralyzed her.
“No! Please.” The quietly spoken word stopped Andy in her tracks. “Please don’t go,” Miranda repeated in a small voice, not meeting Andy’s eyes and worrying the hem of her blanket.
“Sweetheart, as much as I believe with all my heart that these babies will be born just fine, I don’t want to leave anything to chance. You are so precious to me.” Miranda hiccupped miserably, knowing the brunette was right and the babies’ best chance was for there to be a doctor attending.
Andy glanced up at the monitors and then her watch, “Okay, we have four or so minutes before your next contraction. I’ll be back in 3.” Andy smoothed back the damp curl and pressed her lips to Miranda’s forehead. “Breathe baby, just breathe,” instructed Andy as she began stepping back before jogging down the hall.
This entire pregnancy had been a non-stop parade of doctors and specialists, and medical professionals and nurses, and now, when their presence would have been welcome there seemed to be none to be found. What kind of weird Twilight-zone shit was this?
Taking a risk, Andy ran down the seven flights of stairs to emergency, worried about getting stuck on the elevators and Miranda consequently being left completely alone, and was instantly confronted with complete and utter chaos. Triage was completely full with the passengers from the bus that had overturned, and although the injuries seemed to range from the mundane and superficial, the number of incoming paramedics and ambulance teams seemed to indicate a second wave of more serious injuries from those that had been trapped under the wreckage and needed to be extricated. Still, Andy grabbed blindly at a pair of green scrubs, “my wife is in labour, she’s high risk and there’s no one on the obstetrics floor.”
“Mat team should be up there as far as I know, lady, I’d get back to your wife. There’s nobody down here that can help you.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Andy pushed back her hair in frustration, knowing she had about a minute left before Miranda’s next contraction and seven flights of stairs to run back up before she could rejoin her love.
Wide eyed and terrified, Miranda looked up at Andrea as she came through the door as every muscle seemed to contract inward, forcing more and more of the head through her widening channel, the lack of pain medication meaning that she could feel every burning centimetre of progress.
Like it or not, this baby was coming, and it was coming fast.
The lack of control over her own body terrifying her, Miranda felt more and more of the baby come out despite her best efforts to hold it back and to stop herself from pushing against the pressure from the heavy weight between her legs. Dignity in this process was no longer even a consideration. All that mattered now was the end goal of delivery.
The strong contractions pounded over her like waves against the shore, rolling through her flexing abdomen and squeezing the muscles until she was breathless from the powerful surges that caused her body to push and bear down of its own volition, giving her no measure of control as her womb heaved and strained, forcing more and more of the small body through the tight channel, past her aching hips and finally the infinitely sensitive band of flesh that plastered itself thinly against the emerging crown of the baby.
“Miranda, the head’s coming. I can see it now, you’re doing so good.”
Miranda shook her head, breathing hard. “I can’t, there’s too much pressure, it’s too big!” she tried to reach between her legs to keep the fragile band of skin from tearing as the head passed through.
“No, you’re not,” Andy said firmly, even as she picked up Miranda’s reaching hand and pressed her lips to the back of it, avoiding the tape and tubing of the IV.
“I’ve got you, and I’m not gonna let you tear.”
Miranda’s eyes fluttered closed with relief as Andy cupped the straining flesh stretched painfully thin and the warmth of her palms easing the burning and stinging as they gently framed the emerging head.
“Miranda, Miranda I can feel him!” Andy’s tearful cry rang out jubilantly as she slipped her fingers another inch forward. “Oh my God, Miranda, that’s our son!” Running her finger over the wrinkly, bony, scalp Andy moved her hand back, using two fingers to continue the stretching exercises they had been taught in Trish’s Lamaze class.
“He’s so close, we’re so close,”
Unable to speak, Miranda focused on the pressure and feeling of fullness where Andrea’s hand had been inside her, pushing lightly now and panting, wanting to feel for herself in any way possible, her son before and as he left the shelter of her body. She wanted to keep that contact, as pathetic as that sounded she told herself. But she needed to feel that he was real, and healthy and whole. Oh God, the intense pressure was returning and the sensation increased a thousandfold and Miranda was left in no doubt that there was something inside her determinedly making its way out and offering no respite in its attempts. God, she just wanted this to be over. She was so ready for this to be over.
Sweat rolled down her face, whose colour changed back and forth between a beet red and a ghastly white with each successive contraction.
“J-just k-keep your hand there.” Reaching down between her legs Miranda moved the flat of Andrea’s hand so that it was pressed flush against the swollen flesh at the juncture of her thighs - the warmth and gentle pressure easing the unbearable stinging and burning as the first baby’s head moved down through her. She didn’t realize the soft moans she was making as Andrea’s second hand moved to cup her cheek before dropping once more to make careful patterns on the tight skin of Miranda’s belly with her fingertips. The light, random touches kept Miranda’s mind focused on that physical sensation instead of the ache in her back and belly and thighs.
Miranda gasped and arched her back, the dramatic involuntary curvature of her spine bringing her nearly to a sitting position even as her knees bent and legs parted further as her body prepared itself for the birth with increasingly powerful contractions.
Reassured by Andrea’s hand supporting the fragile tissue she pushed again, gasping as she felt the ring of muscle burn and stretch. Then relief as gentle fingers soothed the tight band of skin through which the infant’s head was trying to pass, circling and stretching so she wouldn’t tear.
“I can’t, I can’t” Miranda sobbed, tears of exhaustion rolling down her face. She moaned, trying to catch her breath between contractions. “It won’t stop…I ha-have to push but I don’t want to.”
“There’s so much pressure,” she groaned, letting her head fall back as she panted.
“Okay, now you’re going to give me little pushes, okay Miranda? Just short little pushes one after the other, alright?”
“Good…Oh Miranda, you’re doing so good; little pushes, keep going. That’s it!”
Miranda suddenly heaved her body forward, a guttural snarl leaving her lips as she bore down, feeling the head emerge even more with the long, hard, pushes.
“Oh geez, slow, Miranda slow for the head.” Andy held the flat of her hand against the baby’s head as the skin widened and stretched to make room for it. She knew better than to exert any pressure, but if she could at least moderate the speed at which the head was delivered, maybe she could keep the already stretched skin from tearing.
Miranda just shook her head dumbly, eyes all but unseeing as her focus was directed inwards and she stared forwards, seeing nothing as the widest part of the head stretched her and her thighs shook with the effort of holding them apart as wide as she could to make room. “Out, I need him out.”
Still supporting the half born head with one hand, Andy reached up to rub the taut skin of Miranda’s stomach, breathing her own sigh of relief along with Miranda’s as she felt the older woman relax as the contraction subsided.
“He’s coming. You’re doing so good.”
Miranda reached a trembling hand between her legs in a wordless request and Andy guided her hand the rest of the way until her fingers brushed something warm and slick and unfamiliar.
Dull, tired eyes brightened as she ran her fingers across the small circle of scalp that was crowning and her breath caught as she greeted her almost-born child.
Andy grinned widely back, leaning forward to capture Miranda’s lips in an enthusiastic kiss. She smoothed a thumb over the back of Miranda’s hand from where they rested clasped over her belly.
“I love you so much.”
Exhausted past words, Miranda simply gazed into the younger woman’s eyes, hoping to convey the depth of her emotion even as her lungs screamed for air.
Andy’s hand cupped a flushed and reddened cheek, “Tell me what to do. Tell me how to make it better.”
“Behind.”
Nearly vaulting over the bed in her attempt to get to Miranda and taking the trembling hands and gripping them tightly in her own, Andy brought their arms in until they were at Miranda’s side once more, kissing the mottled skin on the back of the hand not connected to the IV and guiding Miranda’s body with her own into a position to push so that her body cradled the older woman’s, holding it up where she wasn’t able to anymore and letting her use her strength to push instead.
Squeezing the brunette’s hands so tightly throughout the next two contractions that she was sure her fingers would be black and blue, Miranda now gripped her legs behind her knees and put her chin to her chest as she followed the younger woman’s instructions. Andy’s hands rested on Miranda’s belly from behind and she felt the organ beneath her fingertips contract powerfully and draw the hard bulge in her belly downwards. Miranda was so intensely focused in that moment that Andy knew words and idle chatter wouldn’t be welcome. Instead she focused on being what Miranda needed her to be, and at that moment the older woman needed her as a means of physical support and refuge as she pushed to the widest part of the head.
Andrea felt Miranda’s deep intake of breath & held her own as the older woman began to bear down in earnest now, grunting, red-faced and sweaty.
“God!”
“I know sweetheart, but you’re so close. Just hold on a little longer…The head’s coming Miranda, there’s so much more of it now between contractions, you’re almost there.”
Every time Miranda screamed, Andy thought she was going to be sick. Finally she couldn’t ignore the tones of Miranda cries as they grew more primal, the urge to push overwhelming any voice of reason in her head that told her to wait until a doctor was there.
There was nothing she could do, Andy realized as she watched the dark circle between Miranda’s legs widen with every choked cry bitten back by the editor. No doubt about it, this baby was coming, and after such a long labour, it was coming fast.
Her breaths shallow and panting harshly as the head stretched her, Miranda held herself up on her elbows and pushed hard, unable at this point to do anything but. All she could do was push. As the head came to a full crown and didn’t move back after the contraction had finished, Andy gently pressed two fingers against the burning skin - letting the head come slowly and making sure the delicate ring of tissue didn’t tear. In a voice far more confident than she felt, Andy instructed the other woman. “Okay Miranda, with this next contraction, the head is going to be out. Let the contraction do the work for you, you just worry about breathing. You’re going to need to save up your energy to push when it comes time for the shoulders. We’re just going to let the head come nice and easy.” Miranda nodded, exhausted past words and holding back a frustrated sob as it felt as though the small body was slipping back into her congested womb rather than the direction she desired as she fought against her body’s urges to dislodge the foreign body. “Just push him into my hands. Gently…gentle, little pushes…good. Just little ones, right into my hands, that’s where you’re pushing
Miranda managed to obey Andrea’s instructions, continuing to pant and let the head come at its own pace until she had fully crowned and had reached the ears, but then the pains intensified without warning and there was nothing she could do to stop herself from bearing down spontaneously in a single massive, bone-cracking push.
Andy could see the change in Miranda’s face and feel it in the way she held her body that a decision had been made. A faint shouting could be heard coming down the hallway outside, sounding slightly familiar but time itself had seemingly stopped and moving from supporting Miranda back to kneeling at the end of the bed at the last possible moment, Andy watched as the baby slipped out into her hands soundlessly between bloodied, trembling thighs, the silence of the infant seeming interminably louder than Miranda’s wounded, desperate cry as the baby was born, all at once, in a final rush of blood and amniotic fluid.
Gently, she guided the tiny figure the rest of the way out of Miranda’s body, carefully stroking the baby’s throat and nose downwards to clear the fluid. Not wasting a moment, and moving almost mechanically, Andy picked up the tiny, limp body - laying it across Miranda’s belly for the warmth of the skin to skin contact and grabbing a towel and a blanket as well as the syringe from the unused doctor’s tray of instruments4 to suction out any remaining fluids from the baby’s nose and mouth before wrapping the delicate form in one of the receiving blankets for warmth and cradling the impossibly light bundle in the crook of her arm. It was only then that the magnitude of what had just happened in the last 90 seconds sunk in.
“Look,” Andy breathed, new tears streaming down her face, “Look at what you did, Miranda. He’s perfect.”
“Oh,” Miranda’s breathing, still ragged from her recent efforts, grew even more choked as she gathered the bundle of blankets into violently shaking arms, a common aftermath of delivery Andy remembered reading, so she wasn’t worried, and resting them on her no less diminished but softer belly, mindful of the still attached umbilical cord that dictated just how far she could move him.
“Thank you,” Miranda breathed, never taking her eyes off the mewling bundle in her arms. “Oh, oh God…Oh thank God, thank you.”
Miranda’s hands had instantly reached for the baby the moment she felt the warm, slippery weight on her stomach and she now cradled the tiny body to her, only moving her hands from the baby to let Andrea suction him and wrap him in the blanket. It took an excruciating few moments of silence before the warmth and rubdown stimulated the baby’s fragile lungs and a faint but determined mewling could be heard, the skin that was already unnaturally flushed bright pink from the increased blood flow of the TTTS turning even more so with the sudden influx of oxygen.
Gently, she touched two fingers to the baby’s chest, feeling the fluttering heartbeat beneath the fragile ribcage of the tiny frame. More tears fell as she remembered seeing that same tiny heartbeat for the first and second time, and the terror and joy they had undergone in the following months all because of those two little heartbeats and making sure they were there.
The door burst open, revealing the head surgeon and two nurses, breathless and wide-eyed as they took in the scene in front of them - their most important patient and a high-risk one clearly just having given birth on her own with no one other than the equally stunned looking brunette at the foot of the bed.
“By all means move at a glacial pace,” Miranda croaked, her voice was hoarse and exhausted from the difficult birth but still managed to be no less cutting.
“M-Ms. Priestly, Miranda, I’m so sorry, we just received word you’d arrived.” The flabbergasted surgeon looked at the clock and then at his own watch and then at Miranda and the baby, noting that it had only been twelve minutes since they had gotten the call that a priority patient had been brought in by ambulance, but that news was obviously delayed in its transmission.
“And in the time it took you to walk across the hall, I’ve increased the population by one.”
This seemed to spur the group of medical professionals into action once more and the room was filled with a flurry of activity as the pediatric staff rushed over to examine the newborn cradled carefully between the two women.
“Miranda!”
Dr. Jansen burst in, having clearly just run a substantial distance given the disarray of her hair and clothes and was at Miranda’s side instantly, adjusting the monitors and scanning the readouts from the all-but forgotten machines surrounding the bed.
“Miranda, my God, I am so sorry. There was an emergency caesarean needed on one of the accident victims, no one was allowed in surgery and so I wasn’t even aware you were admitted until after I was finished.”
Miranda heard what the doctor was saying, but her eyes never left the corner of the room where the baby was after being taken out of her arms.
“Please, Dr. Jansen, my son…”
Next up is Baby #2!