Prompt from imagineyourotp on tumblr: Imagine your OTP having their first child. Person B stays up all night making sure their child is sleeping, and also holds the baby all day. After a while, person A convinces person B to let the baby sleep in the crib and finally get a good night's sleep.
"Nan, sweetheart…"
She knows that Ned wants her to relax, but it's part of her penance; she can't. She can't relax.
She promised everyone that once she reached a month before her projected due date, she would stop her investigations and put herself on desk duty, crochet an afghan or wash all the baby bottles or do something that typical expectant mothers did, besides worry. Ned listened to her promise and she saw that tired smile cross his face, the one that was almost patronizing. It's not that they don't believe her; it's that they know her. She never means to be late, or to be hurt, to miss appointments or reservations. She never does.
She didn't even reach her last month of pregnancy. A week before her self-imposed deadline, a car driven by her prime suspect forced her off the road and into the opening between a bridge support and a pillar. Her car was almost sheared in half; she's seen the pictures. She's seen the images of how she looked, slumped over the steering wheel, the airbag deflated and collapsed over her swelled lap, the blood.
George and Kelsey managed to catch the culprit, while Bess called emergency services. The shock of the accident sent Nancy into pre-term labor, and because so much damage had been done, her obstetrician decided to deliver the baby.
Emily spent the first week of her life in an incubator in the neonatal intensive care unit. Ned had the nurses put a small polar bear in the clear cradle with her, and he visited her, singing and speaking to her every day, gently brushing her flushed skin through gloves. Nancy recovered as Emily rested and grew stronger, and every morning she woke up crying, terrified that the accident had ended differently, that the accident had taken the life of their baby. Then Ned reassured her, holding her, showing her the pictures of their daughter that he had taken with his phone.
Nancy and Emily are released from the hospital on the same day, and Nancy sits in the back seat of the car with her new daughter, fascinated by her small face, her tiny fists. She begs Ned to drive slower, slower, until he's forced to take back roads and wave the other commuters to pass him. Nancy is terrified that something will happen, and she swears that Emily won't be in a car again until she's at least a year old. Maybe five.
"We have to take her to the doctor's office for a checkup," Ned points out.
"We'll find someone who makes house calls."
The nursery was ready a month earlier, but when they walk in, Ned's mother and Hannah have clearly been at work. A new pink and purple afghan is draped over the side of the cradle, with a matching one on the rocking chair. Everything is ready for them, but Nancy can't bear to put her daughter down.
She was supposed to carry Emily for five more weeks. Another day isn't a sacrifice.
She puts Emily down only to change her, but the rest of the time her baby is in her arms, smelling of powder and milk and sighs, emitting the occasional bleating cry that leaves Nancy scrambling. Is she hungry, thirsty, in need of a changing, sleepy, aching, sad? Nancy pats her, soothes her, sings to her, murmurs that she loves her; she looks into the small face, Emily's dark eyes, and her heart hurts with love.
"Sweetheart, she probably wants to sleep."
Ned has talked her into sitting up in the bed even if she doesn't want to lie down yet. Nancy's arms ache; she is exhausted, wavering with it, but she cannot let her baby go. She can't. She is her mother and she should have protected her…
Ned reaches for her and guides her head toward his shoulder, shushing her. "It's all right. She'll be right here, okay? In the bassinet, right beside us. She's okay. And you need to sleep, honey. You need to sleep."
Reluctantly she lets Ned gently take the baby out of her arms. "Make sure she has a blanket, and put her on her back," Nancy says, her voice bright. Ned cuddles Emily to him before he gently puts her down, and Nancy hears the baby making soft noises as he covers her.
"Mommy and Daddy are right here," Ned tells Emily softly, and smiles down at her. "Here's your bear. You're home and you're safe now. My beautiful baby girl."
Ned returns to his side of the bed and Nancy glances over at the bassinet, straining to hear any bleat or whimper or cry, but she doesn't hear anything. Ned moves under the blanket and reaches for her, and it takes a few minutes for her to truly relax.
"Both my girls are safe and home with me," Ned murmurs, and kisses the crown of Nancy's head. "I was so scared, Nan. I'm so glad you're okay."
"Me too," she whispers. "Oh, Ned, I'm so glad she's okay."
She wishes she still had Emily in her arms, but she slumps against Ned and he rubs her back. "You're okay," he murmurs. "You're home."
Somehow, incredibly, she falls into a deep sleep; she couldn't sleep very well at the hospital, once she was aware of what had happened. She's grateful to be home again, and with Ned, and that her baby is safe.
Hours have passed when she jerks awake—and the bed beside her is empty. "Shh," Ned whispers, but he's not whispering to her, and Nancy smiles when she sees it. Ned is holding Emily cuddled to his chest, pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed. "Shh. Mommy needs her rest, baby girl. Daddy's got you."
"And you told me she needed to sleep," Nancy says, her voice gravelly with sleep. She begins to push herself up, unbuttoning her nightgown so Emily can nurse if she needs to.
Ned shrugs, and she can hear the smile in his voice, even if she can't see his face. "What can I say," he whispers. "I guess I still feel like I'm dreaming, too. She's so beautiful."
"Yeah," Nancy murmurs, accepting her baby and gently guiding her to her breast. "She takes after her daddy."
"And her mommy too." He moves into the bed again, and brushes the back of one crooked finger down the curve of Emily's cheek. "I can't believe we made her."
"Mmm." Nancy strokes the back of Emily's head. "And she's perfect. I would have lost my mind if anything had happened to her."
Ned touches Emily's foot, then gently tugs her sock back on. "And I would have lost my mind if you had been permanently hurt," he murmurs, and wraps his arm around Nancy. "Either of you."
Once she's finished nursing and has burped, Emily's lashes flutter down and her rosebud lips part. Nancy strokes her cheek and gently moves her back to the bassinet, draping the blanket over her. She sits the bear up and pats its head.
"Watch over her," she murmurs, and moves back into Ned's arms with a sigh.
"Always," Ned murmurs, and Nancy smiles as she falls asleep again.