After Ever After

4. Finding Bliss

Your head rested in the crook of Tom's neck as you leant against the side of the bathtub, knees and elbows aching from the hard porcelain. You'd never felt such exhaustion in your life, your limbs weak with fatigue, screaming for reprieve as they shook, though you forced them to continue to support you. You yearned to close your eyes and sink gratefully into a deep sleep, but sleep was not on the horizon.

"Hold that, you're doing great"

You had been reassured that it was okay to make noise, encouraged almost, but it took all your effort just to remember to breathe and push, groaning or swearing in the brief interludes between contractions.

"Okay and rest" coached Sarah, your ever calm and patient midwife. "Baby's nearly here!" she said excitedly, though you didn't share the excitement. You supposed however many hours of labour did that.

"Nearly over" Tom murmured encouragingly, kissing your cheek.

You made a noise of disagreement. "I don't want to do this anymore" you huffed, voice muffled in his neck.

Your contractions had begun the previous afternoon, successfully interrupting the family gathering for Tom's belated birthday lunch. After waiting to determine if it was the real deal or just more annoying Braxton Hicks contractions, you'd tried to quietly tell Tom that you thought you were in labour only for him to very excitedly, and oh so loudly, cheer 'Y/N'S IN LABOUR!', ensuring that not only the families knew, but the whole damn street too. Fortunately for you, the boys had all left almost immediately of their own accord, leaving just the parents and Granny Tess behind.

"But darling, imagine how amazing it would be if it happened at home, with three generations!" Tom had pleaded as you'd not so subtly pushed the remaining family members out the door.

'Tom, a person is going to be exiting my vagina. No!' you'd hissed furiously as you'd leant against the kitchen counter, smiling as politely as you could manage mid-surge at Nikki, who hovered close-by in the hopes that you'd change your mind.

Finally it was just the two of you and though he'd wanted the families present, or more specifically Nikki, Tom had ultimately conceded that it was calmer and more peaceful just the two of you. You'd laboured at home for as long as you could, arriving at the hospital late the next morning only to be told that you were a mere 4cm's dilated. Despite this set-back you had refused pain medication, mostly because the gas made you dizzy and your fear of needles was greater than the fear of pain (or at least it had been when they'd offered it), and the hypnobirthing app was still being useful (when it wasn't doing the cringey affirmations).

Instead you'd done everything Sarah had suggested to speed things up; bouncing on an exercise ball, walking up and down the halls, getting stuck in a squat and Tom lifting you out of it. The most relief you'd had was in the tub, except for a painful and stressful period of time when your contractions had overlapped, the pressure in your pelvis making you feel like you were being torn apart. It was your breaking point and you'd asked, with the help of colourful language, for the epidural. Instead, Sarah had broken your waters ('You know it's meant to be lucky if the baby's born en caul', 'I don't give a FUCK!! I just want it out! Oh my God! I'm sorry - ooh fuck - for swearing at you') and the frequency of the contractions had settled instantly, only for her to brightly tell you that you were at 10cm's and 'Now the hard work really begins!'. An hour of pushing later and still no baby, you were wishing you'd insisted on the epidural.

"Do you want to touch the head?" Sarah asked.

"No" you muttered sullenly. "I want this to be over"

Tom chuckled. "I love you" he murmured, kissing your neck.

"Ooh fuck" you groaned as another contraction began, pushing instinctively.