This is set about a year in the future. Owen and Amelia are happily married :) And let's face it-we all need some Omelia fluff!
Twinkle, twinkle little star, do you know how loved you are?
~Sandra Smith
"Ames," he rubs her shoulder gently as he kneels next to their bed, hoping she wakes. "Amelia, you have to get up."
She groans, mumbling something he can't quite hear into her pillow. He tucks back the hair sprawled around her head, a mess if he's ever seen one, and kisses the back of her neck. Then, leaning closer to her ear, he whispers, "You'll be late for work."
"No," she whines, her left hand coming up to rub her eyes. "Too early."
"It's lunch time," he chuckles.
"Need sleep. Not work."
He shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His wife is not a morning person...or just generally a 'wake up' kind of person. He ruffles her hair, his fingers tangling in some of the knots, before he runs his hand down her arm and toward her hand. Reaching the closest one, he laces his fingers with hers and tugs, pulling her in his direction ever so slightly. "Rise and shine," he sings.
It's enough to make her turn her head, finally meeting his eyes. "You're enjoying this far too much."
He grins. "Just a bit." He tugs on her arm again. "But, really, you need to get up."
"Five more minutes," she groans, tugging his arm in her direction instead, snuggling up to his chest.
"You had five more minutes, five minutes ago." He presses a kiss to her temple. This has been happening more and more frequently, her resistance seemingly growing by the day.
"I'm tired."
"I know, baby," he says soothingly. "Maybe we can get you a blood test after your shift." She mumbles noncommittally, but he takes it as the affirmative it is. However, when she still doesn't move, he wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her up, her squeal of surprise causing him to chuckle. "Shower. Now."
"Only if you come with me," she says, wrapping her legs around his waist to further secure her.
"Then you'll definitely be late."
He feels her smile against the tender skin of his neck. "Worth it."
Needless to say, it isn't just a bug or a vitamin deficiency. With the test results staring back at her, it all becomes clear. She's pregnant. They are having a baby. And she is absolutely terrified.
"Amelia-"
"-Don't 'Amelia' me," she huffs. "I don't want to do this right now."
"We can't ignore it forever." He sits next to her on the on-call room bed, close but not close enough that she'll try to push him away.
"I'm not ignoring anything."
"So pulling all these night shifts, not talking to me, missing staff meetings, all of that's normal?" He shakes his head. "Please, talk to me."
"I haven't been-"
"-You have." At her look of indignation, he places his hand over hers, noticing how clammy it is. She's really having a rough first trimester; apparently morning sickness is quite the bitch this time around. "You practically run in the other direction when you see me."
He earns a lighthearted sniffle out of her, a chuckle mingling with the tears she's holding back. "I'm not even in my second trimester and I already can't move as fast as I want to." He nods, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. "Is it possible to get nauseous from walking?" She sniffles again.
"I'm sorry." He looks into her eyes. "That this is all so hard on you."
She scoffs. "Hard on me? I'm miserable, Owen." A tear falls and she squeezes her eyes closed, trying to hold the rest at bay. "I don't know if I can do it," she whispers, her voice breaking. He removes his hand from hers only to wrap his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. He feels her shudder, holding it all in, and then a repeated, "I don't know," in a high-pitched voice so vulnerable his heart breaks for her further.
"I know you're scared." He rubs his fingers along her exposed arm, so gently it gives her goosebumps. "But you can do this. We can do this." He presses a kiss to the top of her head. "Unless you don't want to. Because we could do that too." He breathes softly, just wanting his wife to be okay. "Whatever you want to do, we'll do it."
She shudders again, but this time she doesn't fight it. Her breath, hard and ragged, falls against his chest, her tears starting to darken the navy blue of his scrubs. "I'm scared," she breathes against his chest. She feels him nod, and moves to wrap her arms around his waist, pulling him even closer. "I-I," she exhales, "I think I want this."
Her tears continue to flow freely, but he doesn't mind. He tilts her chin up, giving her a loving smile. "Then we'll figure it out." He leans down, placing his lips over hers, the gentle motion calming her racing heart. Pulling back, his nose brushing slightly against hers, he says, "You're not alone this time."
She smiles through another round of tears, except this time it's more from happiness than fear. "I know."
"Good." He pulls her into another hug, squeezing her tightly. "We really should get an ultrasound though."
She nods. "Yeah." She pushes back the fear that has been eating her alive for weeks. She has Owen. And she needs to trust him. He can be the strong one right now. "I could see if Arizona's free?"
"And after we can go to the store and pick up some ginger root. Maybe some mint tea." He chuckles. "You know, so that you can walk away from me as quickly as you want."
She leans back, pushing his shoulder, a look of mock indignation on her face. "Jackass."
He shrugs, her laughter mingling with his. They'll talk later, more in-depth and with many more tears and bouts of sarcasm. But in this moment, they're happy. They will be okay. And, for now, that's enough.
They make it past the first trimester and it's like a weight is lifted off their shoulders. Leaving the ultrasound, a new sonogram picture in hand, they let out a collective sigh of relief. Their baby is healthy-a healthy little girl.
"What about Sophia?"
Amelia leans further into him, his steady gate helping her to remain upright. "Everyone and their sister is named Sophia." She shakes her head. "Vetoed."
"Hazel?"
"I'm not giving my daughter the same name as someone from a teen romance novel."
He chuckles. "How do you know that's where it's from?"
She shrugs. "I've had five teenage patients in the last week. I'm all caught up." She wraps her hand tighter around his arm.
Noticing, Owen asks, "Dizzy?"
She nods. "Not too bad though. Better than the nausea," she grimaces. "Now that was hell."
He nods, silently offering his agreement. "Lunch?"
"Please," she moans. "I'm starving. Baby's hungry."
He shakes his head softly, looking down at his wife with fond exasperation. But, instead of teasing, he says, "I'm sure she is." The smile she gives him makes it worth all the while.
She's in the middle of surgery when she feels it. She's had enough training and practice to keep her hands steady, but the firm kick to her stomach takes her by surprise. Turning to Bohkee, she says, in the calmest voice she can manage, "Page Hunt." She's thankful that no one questions her and, careful to keep her hands precise, she continues to clip the aneurysm. It's an easy surgery, one she's done hundreds of times, but it takes all of her willpower to not address the movement. Breathe in. Breathe out. She places the final clip, removing her gloved hands with a sigh of relief.
It happens to be just in time. "You paged?" Owen asks, pushing the door open quickly, a surgical mask in his hand, his eyes worried and breath labored.
Amelia looks over and nods before turning to Stephanie. "Edwards, you close." Then, making her way out of the OR, she holds her bloodied hands in front of her.
"Is everything alright?" Owen asks again-she's oddly unresponsive, her expression difficult to decipher. She doesn't answer, just pulls off her gloves and throws them in the biohazard bin, then removes her mask.
Stepping closer to her husband, a grin forms on her face, her dimples becoming prominent, her eyes shining brightly. He lets out a sigh of relief at her change in demeanor. Without words, she takes his hand in hers, bringing them to rest on her protruding stomach. "Wait a minute," she says, moving his hand slightly to the right. Her grin broadens even further as she feels their little girl kick. "Feel that?"
She looks up, meeting Owen's glassy eyes. "Is that?"
"Mmhmm," she says. "Baby girl likes brain surgery apparently." She chuckles.
He smiles as, yet again, there's pressure against his hand. "Just like her Mama."
Shaking her head, palm to her sweating forehead, Amelia asks, "Have you seen my ring?"
He turns from his paperwork, setting it down on the kitchen counter to look at her. "Your wedding ring?"
She nods. "Yes, my wedding ring. You know the one: gold, has a diamond," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she looks underneath the stack of mail. "And before you say anything, I didn't lose it, I just misplaced it." She turns toward their wall of bookacases and starts her search on the shelves at eye-level.
"Amelia," he says, halting her tirade, placing the delicate china she had picked up-his mother's wedding gift to them-back on the shelf. He takes her shaking hands in his, ready for the tears. They've been appearing a lot lately. "Your ring is on the dresser, in the box. Remember, you put it there so you knew where it was when you 'weren't bloated like PMS coming to steal your soul.' Your words, not mine," he clarifies, chuckling slightly.
She exhales, a single tear falling. "My brain is turning to mush." She rubs her temples. "I know there's a word for it, I mean, I'm a neurosurgeon so of course I know, but I can't seem to make the words come out of mouth," she whines, moving her hands as if the motion would bring the thoughts to mind.
He shakes his head, "Almost there." He brings her hands up, kissing her knuckles.
"Almost there."
Owen wakes up to a dip in the bed and shifts onto his side. It's hard for her to get comfortable nowadays-to fall asleep and stay asleep is quite the feat-so he's prepared for her to brush him off or ask for some strange food as a result of her cravings. He is not, however, prepared for her to be sitting up in bed, back straight as a rod, legs folded criss-cross, and hands poised in meditation. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes, he places his hand on her thigh. "What are you doing?" He tries to stifle his grin-it is way too early for this much excitement.
"Breathing." She lets out a breath, slowly opening her eyes. "It helps with the contractions."
Immediately, he sits up. "What? Contractions? Now?"
She breathes in, holding it to a count of five before giving a slow, steady exhale. "Calm down. They're ten minutes apart, about forty-five seconds each." She closes her eyes again. "We have time." She chuckles, her humor still intact despite the progressions being made. "Labor without drugs can take twenty, even thirty hours."
He takes her hand, lightly holding pressure around her wrist as to show his support without ruining her position. "Still, wake me up next time."
"Next time?" She opens one eye, breathing sharply as the pain comes quickly. After it passes, she relaxes, resuming her meditation. "Let's get through this one first." He nods, not bothering to clarify his words.
"What can I do?"
"Nothing. This helps," she says, motioning to her pose. After a second she adds, "You being here helps too."
"Always. I will always be here."
Amelia's right: the progression of her labor is slow, almost too slow for her to bear. The contractions come and go, most increasing with intensity, but the space inbetween does not provide the necessary relief. They're too painful and she's too tired. It's been nineteen hours and, needless to say, the nineteenth hour is not nearly as relaxed as the first. "Owen, it hurts," she cries, squeezing his hand as another contraction pulses through her system.
"I know, baby, I know." He kisses the top of her hair.
"No, you don't. Because men can't have babies." She lets out a strangled scream.
He nods, pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail once she's relaxed. "Want some ice?"
She shakes her head, breathing deeply. "But there is something you can do for me." She hadn't thought to try it until now, but if the benefits were universal from labor to labor she's all for it. She scoots forward on the bed, careful of her IV. "Can you sit behind me?" She pulls him closer when he hesitates. "And put pressure on my lower back, right side." He follows her instructions, pushing harder, grounding his other arm on her shoulder. "Oh," she lets out a breath. "Thank you," she whispers, soaking up the little bit of relief it offers.
Not five minutes later, Arizona walks in, chipper as always. "Okay, Amelia, let's see where you're at."
"Are you freaking kidding me?" Amelia groans. "I just got comfortable. Or as comfortable as I'm going to get." Owen uses the hand on her shoulder to rub away some of the tension.
"I'm sorry," Arizona says. "But your contractions are more regular, happening more quickly. Got to let me see."
Amelia sighs, but allows Owen to stand back up. Placing her feet in the stirrups, she leans back onto the bed, turning her head toward her husband, lacing her hand with his.
"Looks like you are just getting ready to push. We're going to set up and when you feel the need to bear down, just go for it."
"The fun part," Amelia chuckles darkly.
"It's almost over," Owen says against her damp skin. "And then we'll meet our baby girl."
She nods, quietly preparing herself for even more pain, as delivery nurses filter into the room. "Hey, if I break your hand, do you think the hospital-" Her question is cut short by her scream.
"Okay, Amelia, push," Arizona says, taking note of the change.
Amelia only grips Owen's hand tighter. "Breathe," he says.
She whimpers, "I'm try-trying." She lets out a breath at the end of Arizona's count. "It hurts."
"I know. I can't imagine what that's like. I know," Owen whispers the words of comfort into her ear.
"Alright, Amelia, ready to push again?" She sees Amelia nod. "Good. Ten," she begins. Amelia groans, burrowing her head into Owen's chest. "Just a few more seconds. She's almost here."
Finally, with one strangled scream, their little girl is welcomed into the world. Amelia exhales, shuddering at the letdown of such immense pain. "Is she okay?" Amelia opens her eyes. "Why isn't she crying?"
Arizona smiles, moving to place the baby on her mother's chest, as per Amelia's request for kangaroo care. "She's just fine."
Amelia tilts her head down, smiling at their little girl. "You're quiet, aren't you?" She rubs her pointer finger over the dark layer of hair coating her baby's tiny head.
"She's perfect," Owen whispers, and she thinks she would laugh at the tears in his voice if she wasn't so close to crying herself.
"Yeah," Amelia sighs. She manages to tear her gaze away from their baby just long enough to look into Owen's eyes. "I still like Evelina for her middle name."
Owen nods in agreement. He holds his finger out for his daughter to grab onto, her reflexes already so strong. "Bridget Evelina Shepherd-Hunt," he says, testing it out.
Amelia tilts her head, a smile washing over her tired face. "I love it."
Owen smiles, pressing a tiny kiss to his daughter's head. "I love you both, so much."
She leans her head against his chest, breathing out a, "So do I." She looks to her husband and then back at their little miracle. "So do I."
A baby will make love stronger, days shorter, nights longer, bankroll smaller, a home happier, clothes shabbier, the past forgotten and the future worth living for.
~Author Unknown
Thank you for reading! All of you lovely people are amazing! I'd love some feedback and thoughts :)