She was lying in a Muggle hospital bed shouting orders at the incompetent nurses to give her some pain medicine. She supposed it served her right for leaving the house alone in her final trimester.
If things had gone according to plan, she would have been with her sister and brother-in-law when she went into labour, and one of them would have raced off to St. Mungo's to fetch a birthing witch. The baby had decided to come over a month and a half early, something not even magic could fix.
The pain was unbearable, and when a frail woman told her they couldn't give her anything to help the pain, she would have blown her to pieces, if she had her wand on her. Screaming her throat raw successfully drowned out the mantra of "push" that was annoying her almost as much as the pain was.
Thank Merlin that the ordeal only lasted for a total of twenty-some minutes. As suddenly as it had come, the pain dulled as the cry of a infant rang through the hospital. Her child.
She closed her eyes, relishing in the few moments of peace she had, before the nurse came back with a sleeping bundle in her arms.
The first moment she held her son, Daphne began to cry. And laugh, which she couldn't explain. She stroked his smooth round cheeks and kissed his forehead. Her husband would be there soon enough, and she couldn't wait until he saw their beautiful baby.
She fell asleep clutching her child to her breast, exhaustion finally claiming her.
[LCW/ITM]
When she awoke, Daphne was greeted with the sight of her husband sitting in a chair next to her with their babe in his arms. He smiled when he saw her, and she mirrored this look.
"What's his name?" He said softly, so as not to wake the still sleeping child.
"Ianto," she breathed, reaching out to caress the bundle. "After your father."
The man nodded.
"Happy birthday, little Ianto."