Tongues Tied and Hundred Themes
Birth
Who is who: Sophie (Mother), Charles (Father), Cameron (Scotland), Niall (Ireland), William (Northern Ireland), Jonathan (Wales) and Arthur.
Word count: 1491
1
She had not been expecting a fifth child after having given birth to her fourth child in the age of 36, but fate was stranger than fiction and in an age of 42 she got to know the knowledge that she, in fact, was pregnant for the fifth time in her life.
In 1983, she told her husband that they waited for another child. Of course he had taken it with a happy smile, a kiss on her cheek and announced to their children, the oldest already in University, that there was a new addition on the way. Their youngest child, at an age of 11, had looked at them with big, round eyes and asked; "Where is he?" So it was at that Sophie explained and they all were thoroughly disgusted (the older ones, not the youngest) and it was like that.
Even with their children's approval for a fifth child in the family, Sophie was a little bit scared, to say the least. She was in a quite an age to get a child, and there was a bigger chance for the child to be – not so well. Taking risks was what she had been living with her whole life, seeing as she had been born in the middle of the Second World War, and her husband having actually having had a proper childhood in those years. So she knew of risks, and she was willing to take them.
Her mother was 65 years old, and that old lady had been properly telling Sophie that she was ridiculous by getting a child in the age of 42!
"Sophie, dear, this is just stupid for a woman your age." The woman would say and stare at her daughter, always sitting with her knitting stuff.
"Tell me," Sophie said in reply to her mother's "concern" for the birth of a fifth child, "why did you get a child at 39? It can't be any different, mother!" Her mother pursed her lips, ate some lemon drops while knitting the sock in her weary hands.
"42 is not the same as 39, dear." Her mother said, pushing those annoying glasses up her nose, and Sophie sighed deeply and turned away from the annoyance that was her mother.
Of course she could not expect any support from her mother on this, seeing as she might be 42 while pregnant, but when the child would be born, she would already be at the age of 43. She breathed heavily, doing whatever she needed to do and made an effort to sort through the books in the small library that the two women sought out whenever having their weekly talks.
By dinner, they would pull out of the room and they would get down to the kitchen. The nagging from her mother, Sophie just could not handle how much her mother was of an annoyance as she spoke of how it was ridiculous.
Her mother would seat down at the end of the table, and Sophie would always direct Niall and William to sit by their grandmother, much to their complaint. Cameron, on his monthly visitation, sat next to his father, her husband. Jonathan would always cling to Sophie whenever the grandmother was visiting.
"Mum, she's looking at you," Jonathan whispered in his usual worried voice, and he clung to her side and she could only speak to him, asking him to seat himself and act properly.
Dinners were always uncomfortable with her mother at the table, and every Sunday of every week, the woman visited, and the two of them were in the library talking. Months begun to become shorter it seemed, and Sophie's belly begun to swell with the pregnancy. At first she was a little shocked to see the bump, but it became a normal thing, even for her.
Jonathan, her youngest, was always around her, curious and looking at the belly with such big and round eyes. "When will he come, mum, when?" and Sophie knew by those words that the next person in line to be born was not a girl, as she wished for, but a boy. She loved the pregnancy and the doctor was always there by a telephone call away.
Christmas came and went, and her children were ecstatic over presents and the likes, and the snow in the yard that they happily played in after her pestering on them to dress properly. "Take on your cap, and remember your mittens!" She would always call after them in the morning after breakfast.
On New Year's Eve, she was stuffed beyond the peak to eat more and she welcomed 1984 with open arms, and she loved the feeling of being showered in love by her husband by midnight and they both fell to sleep around 1 AM.
January that year was not so eventful and Sophie fell into a habit by sitting in the library reading books all day, sometimes taking a break to sit down in the kitchen with a cup of tea while talking with the butler, who was all happily talking back to her.
When February Sophie sat most of the time inside the nursery, rubbing her stomach in a loving, caring way while humming lullabies, having caught up with the time that the child was soon to come and it was a scary fact. She was prepared, but there were a lot of things that needed to be prepared.
When Valentine's Day came she was eager, a date with her husband (which she had wished and longed for) and the solitude with him in their bedroom, she was such in a love rush that it was getting faintly ridiculous for her to keep up. For her, Charles was perfect. Beyond gorgeous at an age of 46, and she could not help but fall for him every single time he was her sweetheart from the late 50's.
On March the first, their youngest child became 12 years old. "He is getting quite old, now, right?" and the two of them would laugh heartily and feed the child his cake, getting the presents over with and got their kids back to bed. By 10 PM, their oldest son called and wished the youngest a "happy birthday". Jonathan was a squealing machine after that and would not fall asleep until Cameron had sung the birthday song to him over the telephone. By 11 PM that night, they finally got him to bed, while Niall and William sat about doing their homework. Their life was completely normal, Sophie could call it.
The rest of March went with bliss, and the first half of April was calm, the packing and readying the bag for the hospital, and the nursery already done and ready for the newest addition.
It was on the night to 21st of April that Sophie was going into birth. The hurrying and the panic was nothing compared to how Charles had been when they had been in their mid-twenties when they got Cameron. She was tired, cranky and in a lot of pain, but she could bear with it as Charles called her mother, and they went in hurried quickness to the hospital.
They got to the hospital and there was only a blur from there on. Sophie knew that she had shouted mean words at Charles, but the pain was practically ripping through her and she just could not bear it without cussing so much and gripping her husband's hand throughout it.
At 5 AM she threw him out of the room and she just wanted that melon of a child out of her already and she cursed to herself about having actually becoming pregnant in the first place, even if it needed two for that tango.
Around 11 AM, one bristling morning of the 21st of April on the Queen's birthday, the sound of screaming from a child could be heard, and the nurse and doctor chorused out that it was a healthy boy. Ten fingers and ten toes, and Sophie were beyond exhausted and almost collapsed, but took the squirming boy in her arms.
Weird at it seemed, the boy blinked up at her and she swore she could see a small halo above the child's head. Shaking her head, smiling and loving the child already, she wanted nothing more to do than lie down with him and stare at him all day.
A shared bliss between her and her husband (who she had let in again after the child getting out), and she was currently so happy. Even in an age of 43, it was such a happy encounter.
"What do you want to call him?" She asked Charles, caressing the kid's cheek with a finger. Charles sighed, smiled and kissed her temple.
"What about Arthur, after my father?" And they decided, with the newborn baby in their arms that he was to be Arthur; Arthur Kirkland, after the father to Charles.