Hopeful Soul: A Phantom Story

Chapter Fifty-One.

CHRISTINE:

Childbirth was the most unbearable experience I had ever had - until I heard the cry. Labor was surprisingly quick, at almost an hour, and my child was large and healthy just like everyone kept saying. It wasn't until the physician announced the gender that I practically bawled my eyes out - I had a son. They laid the boy on my chest, patting off the mess with towels as he let his presence in the world be known. He was so cute with big, puffy cheeks, large, blurry eyes and red, parted lips that made me smile so brightly - he was perfect.

The physician took a blade to his cord and tied it with tulle, my little boy still crying from the cold of this world, "I'll start you a bath, Christine. You may stay for the night, if you wish."

"Thank you, Madame."

With my son all dressed in his night clothes - the beautiful, white garments given to me by Meg - and wrapped in a blanket, he began to settle down. The physician nodded at me and went on his way, Meg stepping into the room. She smiled at my son and gently stroked his head, "He's beautiful, Christine," she kissed the top of his head and I responded by holding him gently to my chest, "Do you have a name?"

"I want to wait until Erik-"

"Christine?"

At the sound of my husband's voice, my son seemed to smile. His feeble, little hands, still wrapped up in the blanket, twitched a moment at Erik's voice. Soon enough my husband entered the room and I saw a single tear roll down the cheek of his mask. Meg curtsied to him before leaving us alone, Erik then removing his mask and fedora, "Oh my," he rested his hand on our child's back and looked at his face - a sniffle, "Such a beautiful child."

"He's our son, Erik," I grinned, "We have a son."

He laughed, kissing the newborns head. The child indeed smiled at his father, his puffy eyes shut. Erik was crying harder than ever, in realization of how he was capable of creating this beautiful being, "What should we name him, Erik?"

He laughed, wiping the tears from his eyes, "It is customary for the boy to be named after the father, but I do not want that. Is there a name you'd wish."

I thought of my father and how he probably doted upon my son from above. The child had his wavy, brown hair, though the hair could grow darker in time and become like Erik's. I knew that my father would love the child and decided to use a French variation on his name, "Gustave."

Erik smiled, stroking the little boys back, "After your father?"

"A variant on my father's name. But yes," I kissed my sweet boy and sat up for a moment of air, "after my father."

"Christine," as soon as Madame opened the door, Erik has his mask back on, "your bath is ready. But try not to use too much soap so that the boy can smell you. Feeding is hard if you do."

"Alright," I slowly rose from the bed, with Erik's help, Gustave still laying in my arms, "Erik, would you hold him while I bathe?"

He accepted the baby boy into his arms, "Of course," said he, with a kiss to his nose.

"Thank you."

My bath was rather quick, though it was warm and relaxing and eased my sore hips. Dressing into my nightgown, I still smelled of newness - of new life. Returning to Megs room, I found the birthing bed gone and Erik still holding Gustave. My infant was bawling and I took him in, his little head rooting round my chest. He nursed after I unbutton the top of my nightdress, "I suppose he was very hungry," Erik laughed, "He would not stop crying when you left."

"Well at least he is better now," I softly kissed my husband on the cheek, Gustave continuing to nurse from me, "You will be a good father, won't you?"

"I will try as best I can. In the meantime, there isn't enough room for us on the bed and I am slightly tired. Gustave will want to stay with you. I'll rest in the loveseat."

After giving me a kiss, he left and in came Meg. She softly smiled at me, then went into bed, "Will you need the lamp, Christine?"

"No, that's alright. You can blow it out."

I laid into bed just as she blew out the lamp and rested Gustave on his side with me. He stopped nursing and so I patted his back, gazing about his face. It was his newness that made him so adorable, but his big, cloudy eyes - which drifted open in the dark - seemed to gaze up at me with such love. I smiled at this and kissed him on the nose, his eyes then drifting shut into slumber. I followed my sweet child into sleep, but remembered then that sleep would be difficult with a crying baby.

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Trying to decide where to end this story. If anyone had any ideas, please say, because I'm still thinking 😆

As always, thanks for reading!