'Can I come in?' the young midwife appeared around the heavy door, looking frazzled. 'No, sir. Not yet. Everything is going perfectly, not to worry. You'll see your wife soon, please try to be patient.' With that, she slammed the door in his face. Again. Leaving Victor back pacing nervously.
It was finally happening. His and Victoria's first child was being born. And had been in the process of doing so for what felt like the past five long did it take to have a baby anyway? It had been the middle of the night when Victoria, now approximately the size of their entire house, had shaken him awake and said 'The baby's coming. Could you go get the midwife please?' Victor had sat in shock for almost a minute before jumping up and full on sprinting across the hall to where the midwife was staying in preparation for this moment and, through some combination of babbling and gestures, managed to convey his point. And now here he was, hours later, still locked out of his own bedroom. Approximately every ten minutes for the past ten hours, he had knocked on the door and asked (politely, he thought) how Victoria was. And, every ten minutes for the past ten hours the midwife had politely told him to shut up and wait.
Nine and a half minutes later, when he was just about to knock again, the midwife poked her head through the door and said 'You can come in now.' Victor was at the door and opening it almost before she finished speaking. His gaze swept the room, desperately searching for he found her, surrounded by pillows and blankets and holding a tiny bundle. As he watched, a tiny fist poked its way out of the bundle and waved itself around. The baby. His gaze zeroed in on the bundle and the tiny, waving fist. He'd been so worried about Victoria he'd almost forgotten the baby! He stared from Victoria to the gently waving fist and back again. He did this for the next few minutes until Victoria spoke. 'Victor? Dear? Why don't you come over here.' He stopped gaping like an overgrown fish and took a few hesitant steps into the room. Somehow he made his way over to Victoriaand their new baby. He looked down at the bundle again. Victoria smiled. 'You can hold her if you like,', she offered. He nodded furiously and she chuckled at his eagerness. 'Now hold your arms out, curving your hands up. Yeah, like that. Now just bring her close to your chest and hold her there.' Neither Victor nor Victoria noticed the midwife as she quietly packed up her equipment and left, closing the door behind her.
They looked up from the baby (their daughter!) and their eyes met and a thought struck Victor. 'What will we call her?' Victoria smiled and it struck Victor that even now, sweaty and exhausted, his wife was the most beautiful woman in the room. 'I thought we might call her...Emily.' Victor flashed back to that night so long ago when the Corpse Bride disappeared forever. He thought about the grief and tragedy she had lived and died with and worried about the thought of his daughter having to go through any or all of that. But then he remembered the way she had played the piano, the way all the dead people had loved her, and the way she had sacrificed so much and been so brave, and realised he wanted those qualities in his daughter. 'Emily it is.' And they smiled at each other, both remembering the woman to whom they both owed so much.