Eight months pregnant...
"Everything's perfect," Dr. Wentz smiles, removing the ultrasound from Emily's stomach. "The baby's tiny but I don't think it's a health issue. You said you were a small baby?"
"Six pounds, yeah," Emily replies, sitting up after wiping the jelly from her swollen stomach.
"You can expect about the same weight for this little one," the doctor grins.
Emily smiles, relieved.
Her mother has been pressing her to find out the sex of the baby, but Emily was determined from the start to have it be a surprise.
"Have you started your mat leave yet?" Dr. Wentz asks.
"Not yet," Emily replies, expecting the slightly disapproving look.
"Emily, you can't be on your feet all day," the doctor scolds.
"I've been doing a lot of paperwork," Emily assures her. "It's not like I'm traipsing around London with this huge belly, chasing down serial killers."
Dr. Wentz shakes her head at Emily.
"Mat leave," she tells her sternly. "Now."
Emily sighs, sitting up slowly. It's still so odd to see this belly when she looks down, and it's even more odd to try to sleep or do anything, really, with it. But she's constantly rubbing the underside of her growing belly, wanting he or she to feel the comfort of their mother.
Two weeks later, a knock sounds on the door of Emily's half-packed apartment. She opens it to find her mother standing there, regal as ever in a scarlet skirt suit.
"Mom," Emily says, surprised.
"I know you said not to come," Elizabeth waves dismissively as she steps inside and places a kiss on Emily's cheek. "But I will not sit in Paris and wait to meet my grandchild, nor will I let my only child give birth all alone."
Emily feels her eyes tingle. She hates it. Hormones are horrible, horrible curses put on pregnant women and she can't wait until the smallest thing doesn't make her cry.
Elizabeth rests a palm against Emily's porcelain cheek and smiles warmly before she pats it gently and walks further into the apartment.
Emily and her mother have never been overly close; the kind of mother and daughter who consider each other best friends. Elizabeth can drive her crazy and Emily knows exactly how to rile her mother up a little bit, but Elizabeth has been a pillar of strength for Emily during this pregnancy.
Emily had been nervous to share the news with her mother, but Elizabeth had done her daughter the courtesy of not saying 'I told you so,' when she learned of David's choice to abandon Emily and the baby. She was a firm believer in women taking care of themselves, and she raised her daughter not to depend on a man.
"Oh, darling, are you sure this is best? All of these boxes around, in the way?" Elizabeth frowns.
"It's fine, Mom," Emily closes the door, walking into the main room where her mother stands. "By the time the baby's here, we'll be in Verona. I've already got everything ready."
"You've already found a house?" Elizabeth asks, a little surprised.
"Of course I have," Emily replies, frowning.
"Don't get upset, darling, I was just planning on taking care of that for you," Elizabeth replies, fully aware of a pregnant woman's moods and not about to rouse Emily into one.
Elizabeth considers Emily carefully.
"How are you feeling?" she asks, touching Emily's forehead gently.
"Like a planet," Emily replies dryly, moving to sit down on the couch. "And yet the doctor says the baby is only about six pounds."
"Like mother, like daughter," Elizabeth replies, sitting down beside Emily and picking up a baby name book from the coffee table.
"And if it's a boy?" Emily raises an eyebrow.
"It's not," Elizabeth replies confidently, opening to see where Emily has flagged certain pages of the book.
Emily's body jerks slightly as she feels a slight cramp.
"What is it?" Elizabeth demands.
"Nothing," Emily waves a hand. "Just Braxton-Hicks. I had them yesterday, too. The doctor said it's common."
"Well, yes, they're common, but are you sure it's not labour?" Elizabeth asks, looking at Emily with concern.
"I still have three weeks to go," Emily replies.
Elizabeth raises her brow as she takes a breath before leaning back into the couch.
Emily wakes up with a start. She looks around, confused, at her dark bedroom, wondering why she's awake. Another stab of pain causes her to jerk forward, clutching her stomach.
"Oh, fuck," she mutters.
"Emily?" she hears, and a moment later her mother is walking quickly into her bedroom.
"Mom, what are you doing here?" Emily frowns.
Elizabeth had told Emily that she got a room at a nearby hotel, but it's 4:30 AM and Elizabeth is still dressed and looking wide awake and ready for a board meeting, in a pair of slacks and a sweater.
"I don't want you alone when you're this close to the due date," Elizabeth replies, coming to the bedside to check on her daughter.
"It's just those cramps again," Emily murmurs tiredly. "And I have to pee. For the tenth time since I went to bed."
Elizabeth helps her daughter to manoeuvre herself out of bed. Just when she gets upright, standing up, Emily feels a slight pop and then both Prentiss women look down to witness the steady stream of fluid the pools on the floor.
"Wha…what the hell is that?" Emily stares, suddenly terrified and confused, even though she knows exactly what it is.
"Alright," Elizabeth says calmly, grabbing Emily's go-bag and leading them to the door. "Everything's fine. Don't worry, sweetheart. Everything's fine."
"It's too early!" Emily cries, letting her mother lead her towards the door. "It's too soon!"
"Eight and a half months is a perfectly viable pregnancy," Elizabeth assures her daughter.
She wraps a coat around Emily to protect her from the chilly February air and maintains a calm exterior, even though she's instantly worried for her daughter and her grandchild. Slowly, they make their way downstairs.
"The baby's fine, Emily," Dr. Wentz reassures. "Just a little eager to meet mommy, I think."
Emily tries to smile but the contractions are tearing her in two and she's trying to breathe through the pain.
"Deep breaths, darling," Elizabeth reminds her.
For all the times Emily fought with her mother or was annoyed by her, she's infinitely grateful to have her beside her now, letting Emily crush her hand with each contraction.
Emily tries to control her breathing but a forceful contraction rips through her.
"MOTHERFU—"
"Alllllright, darling, deep breaths," Elizabeth cuts her off.
"I want the drugs," Emily pants. "Give me the drugs."
"It's too late, Emily," Dr. Wentz replies, as nurses help her into a smock and gloves. "The baby's crowning."
"What?" Emily stares, horrified.
"Those weren't Braxton-Hicks, honey," Dr. Wentz replies gently. "You've been in labour for about 24 hours, I'm guessing. And this baby is ready to come out."
But what if I'm not ready? Emily thinks to herself.
But she assertively shoves that thought from her mind, focusing on the baby that she's finally about to meet.
She listens to her mother and Dr. Wentz, telling her when to push and when to breathe. She feels like it's all a hazy, excruciating dream as people encourage her and pat a cool cloth against her forehead. She's pretty sure the bottom half of her body is torn apart but she bites down on the pain, never crying out. Instead, she yells. Elizabeth isn't surprised. Emily's always had a rather extensive vocabulary and had begun expressing her emotions with words around age 13, and she's never been a crier.
Elizabeth learned to live with it long ago, so she encourages the 'goddammits' and 'Jesus Christs' that fly from Emily's mouth as she struggles to push the baby from her body.
"One more, Emily," Dr. Wentz says encouragingly. "Big push."
Emily takes several quick breaths before she musters up the last of her strength and focuses it on expelling the pain. Everything she's read has said that as soon as the baby is out, the pain disappears, because you see your baby and everything else disappears.
She focuses and bears down, pushing until she's sure she'll pass out.
And suddenly, a tiny cry fills Emily's ears and she looks down her baby enters the world.
"It's a girl!" Dr. Wentz smiles holding up the tiny, crying baby.
Emily had demanded the kangaroo care aspect of birth, so her daughter is immediately placed on her chest.
Emily can barely see through the tears filling her eyes, but the image of the little girl's face is immediately emblazoned in her memory. Elizabeth Prentiss's eyes swim as she looks down at her daughter and granddaughter. Speechless, she just watches her daughter, who was so terrified of not being a good mother, expertly cradle the impossibly tiny baby. Within moments the baby's cries subside and Emily laughs through her tears as her baby girl looks at her.
"Hi, baby," she whispers through her tears. "Oh my god, you're so beautiful."
The tears won't stop and when she looks up and sees her mother's own tears streaming down her face, her heart feels ready to burst.
Emily's eyes are immediately back on her baby, and she can't get enough of her. She searches every inch of her face, and in seconds she's connected to this tiny girl in her arms. She knows that she will do whatever it takes to make sure her daughter is safe and happy and loved.
A nurse carefully wipes down the baby as she rests against her mother's chest, and Emily quietly talks to her, running her fingers over the thick black hair; taking in the impossibly long, perfect eyelashes; marvelling at the long fingers and immaculate fingernails.
"She's perfect," Elizabeth whispers beside Emily, staring in awe at her daughter and granddaughter. "She's absolutely perfect."
Emily smiles through her tears, unable to look away from the tiny, beautiful face of her baby.
The large eyes blink slowly as the warmth of her mother's body, the scent that she breathes in, soothes her. The inky dark blue eyes that all baby's are born with will eventually morph into a dark forest-green. Emily remembers, for a brief moment, her fear that the baby would be all David. But now, as she looks at her daughter, she sees nothing to invoke his memory.
"She looks exactly like you," Elizabeth murmurs, her eyes still full as she smiles at her daughter.
Emily looks at her and a half-laugh, half-sob escapes her mouth. Elizabeth presses a kiss to Emily's forehead and then to her granddaughter's satiny smooth cheek.
"Violet," Emily murmurs, entranced with her baby.
The little girl blinks her inky, dark eyes to meet her mother's and another tear escapes Emily's eye as she smiles.
"Yes. You're Violet."