Summary: Did you ever wonder why Harry and Ginny only had three children? Birth is as safe as life gets. A story about the eventful birth of Lily Potter.

Warning: There is some mild description of childbirth in this chapter and will be more in later chapters, but nothing too shocking in my opinion.

Disclaimer: Nope, I do not own Harry Potter.


Chapter 3

No matter what Ginny was telling Hermione, she was getting her hopes up.

The backaches she felt this afternoon were stronger than what she experienced before, and though it felt a bit early to talk about being 'in labour', there was definitely something going on.

It seemed as if the boys were feeling it too, because they were even rowdier then normal. When she had to tell James off for the third time for snatching Albus' toys and Albus went into a full whine again, she almost wished she had let Hermione take them with her.

Instead she abandoned the laundry and opted for one of her more desperate measures.

"Who wants to go outside and play Quidditch?

"Me! Me! I want to! Mummy can I play?"

Both of her sons launched themselves yelling at the door to the garden, James stepping onto Albus' foot, the latter completely forgetting to cry.

Ginny followed them with a sigh. She knew she'd have to play with them and throw quaffles at them (bewitched to go very slowly) for at least an hour, but at least it would stop the bickering. Plus her aim was for them to be so exhausted afterwards that she'd get them to eat and go to bed easily.

So far, the plan was working well. Instead of fighting, Albus and James were brotherly guarding one hoop (about three inches above the grass) on their toy brooms while Ginny was throwing quaffles. A few times she felt the sharp backache again and had to breathe deeply until it subsided.

At one moment, James noticed her clenching her knuckles and asked:

"What is it mummy? Is the baby kicking again?"

She had to breathe deeply before answering.

"Yes, dear, the baby's kicking indeed. Maybe he's kicking because he wants to come out."

"Does he come out now?"

"No, not now." She ruffled the boy's hair. "But maybe in the night or tomorrow."

'Oh." Said James, quickly losing interest as nothing exciting was happening at the moment.

"Will you throw the quaffle at us again mummy?"

An hour and a half later, the boys were both sitting on the couch, watching a muggle television program. As Ginny had hoped, they were both tired and she had given them a snack to keep them quiet.

The backaches were coming more and more frequently now and demanded more of her attention. There was no reason for kidding herself any longer: these were contractions, she was in labour! At first she felt like doing a little victory-dance (thank Merlin, finally!) but when the next contraction overwhelmed her and reminded her how breathtakingly painful childbirth was, she refrained.

She was shuffling along in the kitchen and let her mind wander back to the birth of her sons.

….

When she was 41 weeks and 1 day pregnant with James, her contractions had started. Harry had flooed the midwife, Meriam, they knew from the prenatal visits, who came to their home to examine Ginny. For some hours the three of them remained there as Ginny's contractions grew stronger.

They went to the hospital when her water broke and the amniotic fluid appeared to be stained with meconium. Meriam had told them that this meant that the baby had pooped in the amniotic fluid. In ten percent of all cases this meant that the baby suffered from lack of oxygen. As a precaution Ginny had to go to the hospital where they could monitor the baby more closely during the rest of the birth.

Ginny remembered thinking that she absolutely didn't like leaving her home at that moment. Her contractions had been increasingly painful for five hours, and according to Meriam she had already seven centimetres dilatation. All she wanted to do was stay there in her own comfortable bedroom where she could pace, groan and breathe in private.

But of course, if it was better for the baby, she would go to the hospital. So Harry took her emergency bag, which thankfully stood ready at the door, Ginny hoisted herself into a pair of sweatpants and off they went. Apparating when one was distracted by a contraction was not advisable, so they travelled by Floo powder to St Mungo's.

Ginny still remembered the agonizing sensation of spinning around in hot flames and having a major contraction at the same time. As she stumbled out of the fireplace into Harry's arms she was bent double and crying from the pain. To add to her misery the spinning sensation had made her nauseous and she vomited right there in the hall and on her own shoes.

As she was hoisted into a wheelchair and wheeled towards the elevators she felt as if every single visitor and patient was staring at her. She imagined what they would see: a hugely pregnant witch, with damp hair and puked-on shoes, gripping the armrests and sweating profusely while she tried not to scream as the next contraction began to build. She had never felt more vulnerable and exposed in her life.

She hadn't had time to concentrate on this feeling for very long, because as they wheeled her into the maternity ward, a strong urge to push had overwhelmed her. She was then hurried onto a delivery-bed and within five minutes she gave birth to her first son.

Ginny smiled at the memory of the awe she had felt when studying that perfect little face.

Her labour, she was told later, had been uncharacteristically fast for a first child, just over five hours with the last three centimetres in less than half an hour. Meriam had warned her that with a second child the process was expected to be even faster.

Therefore, when she was pregnant with Albus, one of the first things that she discussed with Meriam, who was her midwife again, was to give birth at home. Harry had looked slightly alarmed at the idea and that night in bed he confessed that homebirth sounded scary to him. But once Ginny told him how those few moments in that wheelchair had made her more miserable than all the pain of labour together, he understood.

Ginny had encouraged him to voice his worries during the antenatal visits, and Meriam had explained to both of them the pros and cons, and the possibilities. In case of any complication, she told them, they had no choice but to go to the hospital. But if all went well, staying home was a safe option and in Ginny's case even a preferable one as her labour was expected to be fast.

So when Ginny put James in his crib one evening, three day's past her due date, and she felt the first contraction, Harry called for their midwife and Ginny transfigured their couch into a bed, on which she installed herself.

As predicted, her labour was even faster this time. By the time Meriam arrived, the contractions were coming so fast and with barely a pause in between that Ginny started to panic and hyperventilate. Only when Harry and Meriam helped her to regulate her breathing again and kept her concentrated during each contraction, she regained some sense of control. In barely two hours she was fully dilated and within three bone-wrenching and toe-curling pushes her second son was placed in her arms.

Giving birth at home turned out to be a good experience for both Harry and Ginny. Feeling secure and protected in her own home Ginny had felt the privacy to deal with the contractions in her own way, whether that might be pacing, crouching, rocking and groaning, moaning or screaming. A silencing charm cast at the stairs made sure that James slept soundlessly through the whole event. Most of all, Ginny liked that after the birth, she could comfortably take a shower in her own bathroom and rest in her own bed, with Harry right next to her and Albus in between them. Harry for his part, liked that he could stay with Ginny and their new son, instead of having to go home alone while they slept in the hospital.

Both agreed that their third child would preferably be born at home as well.

A sharp contraction brought her to her senses. They were coming quicker now, she'd better floo Harry.

She breathed until the contraction was over and turned in the direction of the fireplace. Before she had taken two steps another contraction hit her, much stronger than the previous one. Panic began to build inside her chest. She could hear her own rapid breathing and felt all her muscles tense in an attempt to ward of the agonizing pain in her abdomen. She bent double and gripped the kitchen table.

Panic was now flooding her along with the pain. She needed to contact Harry, and fast! Or else she would be all alone, giving birth on the kitchen floor, with her sons sitting only ten meters away in the living room….


Love it? Hate it? Let me know what you think!

Love, Zimra.