The room glowed with the faint green light that Charlotte had come to know as witch light. Silent Brothers surrounded her in a protective circle as her body shook and quaked. Her hair was plastered to her forehead with swear and her fingers knotted into tight little fists on the bed sheet. Henry sat off to the side, his face a mask of worry and concern. His ginger hair was a skew and his dressing gown was wrinkled terribly. Dark purple shadows rested below his eyes. "Breathe, Charlotte, breath," he said, his voice still husky with sleep but full of love and anxiety. Charlotte cast her gaze upon to her husband, her eyes large in her small face. She tried her best to swallow down a scream as another contraction took hold of her, shaking her entire frame. She could feel her heart beat thumping in her chest like a drum and could hear only the blood rushing in her ears. The Silent Brothers leaned over her, one applying healing runes to her stomach and one dabbing her face with a cool wash cloth. Slowly, the pain subsided, though ever present. She could think clearly now. Henry rolled closer to the bed in his chair and held out his hand to her. She grasped it, her own hand clammy in his large, work-roughened palm. He smiled reassuringly at her and squeezed her hand. "Just breathe, darling. Breathe and push." Charlotte looked to the ceiling the bedroom, trying to concentrate on her coming child. The Brothers had said it was going to be a boy and it had made Henry so happy. If he had been able to stand, he would have jumped for joy and picked up Charlotte to twirl her about the room as he had when he first found out that she was pregnant. Charlotte felt another contraction coming over her. She braces herself and pushed with all her might. She groaned loudly as she felt the baby begin to pass; it was one of the worst things she had ever experienced. As her pelvic bones began to separate, she groaned again.
"The baby is crowning, Charlotte. Keep pushing," said one of the Silent Brothers. She continued to push, her body straining to do so. Sweat dripped down her face and into her night gown. Contractions continually came over her as she kept pushing and breathing. Charlotte felt the baby's head pass through her pelvic area and she squeezed Henry's hand tightly. Within a matter of minutes, the baby had emerged and was in Charlotte's arms. The boy, as the Brothers had predicted, had vibrant ginger hair and his mother's eyes. He stared up at Charlotte, his brown eyes filled with wonder. She had tears in her eyes and a smile on her lips. Henry sat nearby content and awestruck.
"Charles Fairchild. What a perfectly lovely boy you are," Charlotte cooed as she gently rocked the newborn in her arms.
"Darling, I think you mean Charles Buford Fairchild," Henry said, a smile on his face. Charlotte looked over at her husband and shook her head softly.
"Yes, Henry. Charles Buford Fairchild it is."