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“Margaret…”
“Oh dear,” His wife yawned, “You only call me that when you have something grave to say…”
“Only that I love you.”
“I think someone is inclined to agree.”
John lifted his head ever so slightly from where his cheek was pressed to her rounded stomach and kissed the spot where he was being kicked at by an overactive leg in utero. Reeling back, he sat up and placed his hand on her side, now caressing that same spot with his thumb, vaguely feeling the shape of a little foot through her skin. It was too dark to know for sure but he could have sworn he glanced up and saw a smile on her face, even for a moment, as it was illuminated by the pale moonlight seeping through their bedroom window.
“And now the other one is roused.” Peggy sighed, rubbing a circle on the opposite side of her abdomen where she was now being kicked— or punched, rather— there too.
“They’ll settle down in a few minutes. They always do.” He assured her, shifting to lay back down in his usual position.
“If one of them wasn’t lying on my bladder.” She groaned as she threw her legs over the side of the bed and wriggled a hand underneath her bulging stomach to support it.
Ever the gracious husband, John crawled out on his side and came around to offer her his hand, steadying her as she slowly stood and obliging her to use him for keeping her balance. It wasn’t that she wasn’t strong enough to move on her own but carrying twins had been putting a lot of strain on her thin frame, especially since they nearly doubled in size a few months back. But, she already loved the pair of them more than life so this pregnancy coming to fruition and being able to meet them would be payment enough for what her body endured. Her grasp on his bicep tightened as a pain ran through her lower back, prompting John to pause and look back at her, likely fearful that something was going wrong. She feigned a smile to let him know it was alright and they continued to stumble across the room to their chair framed chamber pot, bought not long after they found out she was with child in the hopes of easing some of the stress on her body if she could sit on it in these latter months.
Hiking up her chemise, she lowered herself gently onto the pot’s wooden frame, arching her back as her tail bone made contact with it and momentarily made her back pain worse, and drew in a deep breath to try to dissipate it. John squatted before her, bare elbows resting upon his bony knees as he took her hands in his own and lightly massaged them with his index finger and thumb. Doing her business temporarily relieved some of the pressure off her pelvis but one, if not both, of the twins still felt as though they were sunk into it, nearly pushing against her pelvic bone and forcing her to retract a hand to clasp the front of her swollen abdomen.
Noticing the worry flooding her husband’s eyes, she attempted to alleviate some of it by saying, “I’m alright, I’m alright.”
“Perhaps I should fetch the doctor just to be safe.” He nevertheless insisted, eyes flicking between her bump and her own gaze.
“John— Please don’t leave me.” She pleaded, fearing what would happen if she was left alone.
“Of course,” He sympathetically nodded, patting the hand that remained in his, “I’ll have to ask Abigail then— if she’ll grant us one last favor.”
“Abigail? I thought she had already gone.”
“She’s set to depart in the morning, but she should be asleep downstairs if she hasn’t taken an early leave.” He explained as he stood, kissing her knuckles before letting her hand fall.
Panic now engulfed Peggy’s chest as she watched him turn on his heel and a cramp below the lower baby began, almost bending her in half. John took down the stairs so quickly he just about slipped on the lacquer hardwood steps, only realizing halfway down the stairwell that he should have thrown on a shirt, only able to imagine how awkward and uncouth it’d be a face a (former) master who was virtually indecent, even if he still had on breeches. But this matter was more urgent than any item of clothing or the lack thereof, so he continued on and winced at the sound of his own knocking upon the door to Abigail’s quarters.
“Abigail?” He called as a precaution in case the knocking hadn’t been loud enough to wake her.
After a few moments, the door cracked, swinging open further when Abigail acknowledged who was standing there. She had quite obviously just gotten out of bed, standing in only her shift with no scarf adorning her head, and appeared baffled that John was needing her at this hour, not at all comforted by the worry in his eyes and body language. He opened his mouth to say something once he met her eye but, surprisingly, found the words faltering on his tongue in bitter irony.
“I know you’re no longer under our service,” He finally managed, “But, Peggy may or may not be going into labor and she does not wish to be alone, so I was wondering if you might grant us one last request and fetch the doctor as I stay with her.”
“Of course, sir.” Abigail nodded out of courtesy, smiling to assure him that she meant it.
“And I am forever indebted to you for all that you’ve done for us.” He uttered, taking her hands and squeezing them, before allowing her to close the door and bounding back up the stairs himself.
Peggy was still sitting atop the chamber pot when he returned, now folded over as she waded through the pain and worked to stabilize her hitched breathing. They waited out her current pain— which they could only assume was a contraction— before John crouched to help her up, rubbing her back during the minute that she needed to lean against him before he could lead her back to bed. Having not expected the children to come quite this soon, they hadn’t gotten around to looking for a birthing chair or anything of the sort, so their bed would have to suffice, so long as the sheets were changed afterwards. As medicine was something he dabbled in, at least by way of reading scientific news, John had heard of the budding tradition of permitting husbands to sit in on births, which he hoped the doctor and midwife would acquiesce to it since something about the idea of letting Peggy go through this alone turned his stomach. Although he was still marginally anxious, there was a solace for both of them as he clambered to her side, tenderly holding her as they patiently waited for the doctor to arrive.
— ➳♡ —
To John’s consolation, he had been allowed to stay in the room and had soon provided Peggy with his hand, which she gladly accepted and almost immediately began to crush the life out of it as she was hit with the worst contraction thus far. Abigail, who had grown far too awake to go back to sleep after beckoning the doctor and listening to Peggy’s pained shrieks, scrambled around assisting the midwife and making sure there were vital items, like the cloths for swaddling the babies in, preemptively prepared. Presumably, the long stretch of time between Peggy’s water breaking and the first birth was due to the twins fighting for dominance, clashing with each other until one finally won out and came into the world screaming. John sat forward on his knees to peek at the hollering bundle in the midwife’s arms, just barely catching a glimpse of rosy blotches on pale grey skin.
“It’s a baby girl.” The midwife announced as she scrubbed the newborn’s limbs and hushed her crying.
John’s eyes instantly watered at the statement, covering his overjoyed smile with his free hand while his heart swelled with love. Not only were they having two little miracles of their own but one of them was a girl! Most fathers would have scoffed at the notion, regarding sons as preferably, but he was glad they were having children period, let alone at least one daughter. His head was swimming in warm feelings when Peggy squeezed his hand to get his attention.
“John, don’t start crying just yet; there’s another one coming.” She reminded him.
He removed his hand from his mouth and wiped the tears at the corners of his eyes, settling back into her side, kissing her cheek before he lost the chance to the labor of the second child. The sibling seemed to be content with having the womb to themselves as they moved into the previously occupied space and lingered just above their mother’s pelvis for nearly half an hour until Peggy and her body had other plans, forcing them to relinquish inhabitancy. They came out sobbing twice as loud as their sister and John couldn’t help but chuckle to himself over the children’s first rivalry. Uterus now devoid of warring offspring, Peggy let out a heavy sigh and laid her head on her husband’s shoulder, smiling when he kissed her forehead, and looked to the midwife to hear the sex of the second baby.
“Baby number two is a little boy,” She asserted when she caught wind of the happy parents staring at her, “Who would like to hold who first?”
“The girl, please.” John beseeched quietly, excitement returning to his eyes.
The midwife stepped over to hand Peggy the baby boy and Abigail stood up from where she had been sitting in a chair across the room, cradling the girl until her brother turned up so that their parents could admire them in unison. The little girl was half rolled over in her blanket, fists curled against her chest, so John set her snug into the crook of his arm and used his other hand to one of her tiny ones around his index finger. As if surprised by the action, big blue eyes blinked at him and he didn’t recognize that there were tears streaming down his face until he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Darling,” Peggy giggled, “You’re crying on her.”
“I’m sorry, angel,” He apologized to the gorgeous little babe in his arms, “I’m just so delighted to meet you.”
After a short huff, it looked as though she accepted his apology, leaning into his touch as he stroked her squishy cheek. Her brother, ever the whining type, rapidly grew jealous, despite his mother showing him the same amount of affection, and so his parents exchanged kisses before swapping bundles, both coddling them into their chests funnily enough. Peggy cooed to their daughter, saying that her father only cried on her because he loved her so dearly, hoping it would further solidify his earlier apology. The son’s fuss died down as his father pushed back the cloth surrounding him and kissed the top of his head, prompting little fingernails to scratch at the chest he was pressed to.
“I know I should have asked this earlier, especially as it weighed on my mind for so long,” John voiced, running his hand over the fuzzy hairs on his son’s head, “But what names did you have in mind for them?”
“Well, I was thinking of Fredrika if we were to have a girl.”
“Fredrika?”
“When we were ten, Freddy and I made a pact to name our firstborns after each other,” Peggy disclosed, “And since we all now know I’ll be the only one of us to have children, I thought I would still make good on that promise.”
“Of course. No, it’s a good name; a strong name for a strong woman, no doubt.”
“And what were you thinking for a boy, then?” She returned the question.
“Well, since her name is a little bit more masculine-leaning, now I’m thinking of perhaps a more feminine-leaning name for him,” He shrugged, “Evelyn, maybe.”
“Evelyn? I quite like that.”
Evelyn was pleased with the name choice, so it seems, as he grinned into his father’s chest and fluttered miniature lashes. John’s chest was beginning to ache from all the love in his heart for his children and most of all his beautiful, courageous wife who gave them life in the first place. He sniffed as he felt another round of tears welling in his eyes the longer he thought on it but this time he did nothing to stop them, too overwhelmingly grateful that his life had been spared so that he could be in this moment and become optimistic of the future— their future.