A boy - 1947-48

After having moved in with Patrick, Marianne felt that as the local GP's wife, she should engage herself in the community and church. Since she had decided to give up her work, she would have more spare time once the school year was over.

Together with Marianne, her piano had moved into their flat. Patrick loved coming home and finding Marianne playing the piano, completely immersed in her music.

Marianne also took a keen interest in making their flat, previously inhabited by bachelor Patrick, nicer and more comfortable. She sewed new curtains, picked out a new carpet for the living room and decorated the walls with pictures.

The new Mrs. Turner regularly attended All Saints church and soon offered her support to the vicar whose wife thankfully tasked her with leading the parish's children's choir.

Even though Patrick was as busy as usual with frequent late night and weekend on-call schedules, both he and Marianne marvelled in married life. They enjoyed sharing their flat, not having to commute across town and finding their own rituals as a couple. Moreover, they both dreamed of their baby that they hoped would come along sooner rather than later.

One Sunday in late July, when the Turners had been married a little over four months, Marianne stood in front of her wardrobe deciding which dress to wear for the summer fete taking place that afternoon. For the second year in a row, she would conduct a children's choir – but this time, she was not just stepping in to help Fred but it was her own choir presenting its repertoire carefully chosen by her on stage.

All of a sudden, Marianne felt dizzy and had to sit down on the chair by her vanity. She watched herself in the mirror and a smile formed on her lips. Patrick, who had just entered their room in search of a clean shirt, came up behind her, placed one hand on her shoulder, bowed down and placed a kiss to her temple.

"Getting ready for your big day, Mrs. Turner?" he asked. He loved calling her Mrs. Turner, still in disbelief that they were married now. "Do you remember last year's fete? It was the first time people saw me with my lady friend," he chuckled. "It was a splendid day, wasn't it, dear?" he added.

Marianne's eyes met his in the mirror and she said in a low voice: "If I am correct, we might bring someone else with us for next year's fete." It took Patrick a while to take in what she had just said. He raised his eyebrows and asked disbelievingly:

"My love, you mean you are…?"

Marianne smiled again and turned around to face him directly. She cocked her head and said "I am not entirely certain yet, but everything seems to point to it. It is still rather early but…I have missed my last cycle and I simply feel… different."

Patrick got down on his knees and hugged her tightly, pressing his head against her chest. "I could not be happier," he whispered.

Later that afternoon, the Horringers arrived and it took Patrick all of his strength to not give away the possible good news. Marianne noticed how he had to bite his lips several times but Ted and Barbara were so smitten with their three-month-old daughter Elizabeth that they did not notice. Patrick and Marianne both took turns in holding the baby and later, curled up together in their bed, expressed their happiness to each other to soon be the parents of an equally beautiful little baby.

A few weeks later it was confirmed that Marianne's suspicion had been correct. She was expecting a baby, due in May 1948. Her pregnancy carried on without any major complications. The dizzy spells ended when she had entered her fourth month and apart from those, she only felt tired throughout the day and often went to bed right after dinner.

Patrick was more than excited. Marianne repeatedly had to remind him to not act as her doctor but rather as her husband. "If I feel I need to see a doctor, I will call on Nonnatus House or visit Ted but please stop scrutinizing me every minute," she told him. Patrick apologized and tried to sneak a peek at her ankles, looking out for abnormal swelling.

1948 arrived and Marianne and Patrick began the year full of optimism. Their child would be born soon, a manifesto of their shared love. Patrick also was overexcited about the arrival of the newly established National Health Service. This would mean giving care to so many more people in need.

Marianne felt happy and in good hands among the Sisters of Nonnatus House who regularly checked on her pregnancy. The Sisters had constantly extended their antenatal care services and were about to employ two nurses, paid for by funding from the National Health. They also planned to organize a weekly mother-and-baby clinic once the National Health was up and running and Patrick eagerly spent many hours with Sister Julienne and Sister Mary Margaret planning what was needed and how to best deliver their services.

Two weeks before their baby was supposed to be born, Mrs. Parker moved in with the Turners. With Patrick being out frequently, Marianne felt safer having someone close by at any time. Patrick had made it a habit to come by the house several times during the day since the surgery was not far away anyway.

Three days after Mrs. Parker had arrived, Patrick walked from the surgery to his flat when he spotted a Nonnatus bicycle leaning next to their door. He knew that Marianne was not scheduled a routine visit that day and ran inside. He entered their bedroom where Marianne was standing in front of their bed, breathing heavily.

"No fathers in the delivery room, Dr. Turner," he heard the stern voice of Sister Evangelina.

He chose to ignore her and went to his wife. "How are you, dear? Can I do anything?"

"Dr. Turner, I think it is best you leave now," Sister Evangelina urged him.

Marianne looked at him with a forced smile and said "I am all right, dear. Now do as Sister Evangelina says. There is nothing you can do at the moment."

Mrs. Parker who had sat on the bed got up and ushered Patrick outside. "Why didn't you call me?" Patrick asked her angrily. "For how long has it been going on?"

"Patrick, she is all right. There is nothing for you to do," Mrs. Parker tried to calm him. "Contractions started early this morning, but Marianne did not want to keep you from work. After all, there is nothing you could do anyway. And there won't be for a while. Sister Evangelina is just done with examining her and will leave soon. She said we will have to wait a few more hours until things will be on the move. Go back to work and come back for dinner."

Patrick hissed and opened his mouth as if to say something but stopped. His mother in law was right – he of all men should know better. He would have told any concerned father exactly the same. So he finally gave in and went outside to begin with his afternoon rounds followed by two more hours of surgery to complete, his mind only partly with his patients.

Afterwards Patrick anxiously rushed home. When he entered the flat, he saw light in the kitchen. Inside he met Sister Evangelina who had just poured herself a cup of tea.

"How is she?" he asked nervously.

"Your wife is doing fine, Dr. Turner," Sister Evangelina calmed him. "The birth is now progressing nicely and I expect to greet your son our daughter before midnight. But we are not there yet and I suggest you have something to eat in the meantime. You'll need it."

While she spoke, Sister Evangelina finished her tea, rinsed her cup and then passed Patrick, lightly patting his upper arm and returned to Marianne.

Patrick poured himself a glass of water and drained it quickly. He heard Marianne moan and cry in pain with each contraction and was not able to eat one bite, despite not having eaten anything since his lunch; he was far too nervous. He had been present at probably hundreds of births but he had always been the doctor, experienced in distancing himself from the case in front of him. He had heard as many women cry the same cries and knew this was part of giving birth – but never had he been the husband suffering with his wife's every groan of pain. Never the father who had to stay outside of the room and could do nothing but wait.

Patrick checked his watch every other minute and got restless because time did not seem to pass. He tried flicking through a medical journal, then a novel, then the newspaper, but nothing helped to distract him. Only smoking momentarily calmed his nerves and kept his shivering hands occupied while he restlessly paced his living room.

Two hours later, the contractions came at ever-shorter intervals and Marianne's groans gave way to shrill cries. Patrick knew what this meant. When the bedroom door opened and Mrs. Parker walked outside, Patrick hurried towards her.

"It's all right, Patrick," Mrs. Parker calmed her son-in-law. "I am just getting the warm towels. Baby won't be long now." She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with the said items before disappearing again behind the door separating him from the birth of his baby.

Patrick remained in the hallway in sight of the bedroom door. After he had smoked yet a few more cigarettes, ran his hands through his hair countless times and listened to Marianne's cries, he felt as if he might burst. He could not stand the tension any longer, carefully opened it and peeked inside while Marianne let out a particularly loud cry.

She lay on her back on their bed, her face sweaty, eyes closed. Her mother sat on a chair, holding Marianne's hand while Sister Evangelina was monitoring the baby. "Baby's head is born," Patrick heard. No longer able to control his actions he strode across the room until he stood next to the midwife.

If Sister Evangelina was startled she did not let on, too focused was she on the birth. After a moment, she turned towards Patrick, drew in a sharp breath, certainly wishing to scold him for overstepping, but when she saw the expression on his face, a glorious mixture of awe, fear and love, she swallowed whichever sharp words lay on her tongue. Instead, she turned back towards Marianne who moaned through another painful contraction and shortly after Sister Evangelina cheered: "Here he is. You have a son, Marianne."

Patrick carefully peeked over Sister Evangelina's shoulder while she cut the cord, anxious to not attract more of her displeasure, but eventually his emotions took over and he let out a sigh. He had a son.

Sister Evangelina turned towards him and gently placed the baby, wrapped into a yellow towel, into his arms. She warmly expressed her congratulations and when the little bundle let out a shrill cry, Patrick was no longer able to hold back. Tears ran down his cheek. A son. His son. He was a father.

He quickly looked the whining baby over and he seemed perfectly whole and healthy. Then he wrapped him into the towel again and went to Marianne's side. He passed her the baby and sobbed: "Our son. Marianne, we have a son."

Marianne smiled and cried at the same time. She carefully kissed the baby's head and whispered, "I want you always to be loved." Patrick sat down on the chair Mrs. Parker had vacated seconds earlier and could not take his eyes away from the tiny bundle that had by now calmed down and was looking at his mother, eyes half-closed, seemingly content in her arms.

Almost two hours later, the third stage was over and Mrs. Parker and Sister Evangelina were done with cleaning the room and assisting Marianne to wash and change her nightshirt. Both women said good-bye, hardly noticed by the overjoyed couple admiring their baby son.

Patrick still sat on the chair next to the bed, bent slightly forward and intently watching his son's every move. The little boy's eyes were still half open and he wiggled his tiny fingers.

"He is perfect," Marianne smiled.

"Yes, he is," Patrick whispered. "I think he has your eyes," he said.

Marianne smiled more widely. "And I think he has your nose," she said. They had already decided that they would name the child after its grandparents. Being a boy, he was named Timothy James after Marianne's and Patrick's fathers.

After almost another hour of admiring their son and revelling in the feeling of being a real family now, Marianne's eyes began to droop and Patrick suggested they try to go to sleep. Timothy was placed into the small cot next to Marianne's bed; the cot Marianne and her sister had slept in as babies.