Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I had, the characters would've done this a looong time ago.
Author's Note: I'm rubbish at writing this sort of scene but I gave it my best. I don't remember a lot of my own experience with childbirth because mine's five now and my mind's blocked out the pain (scientists say that the female mind forgets the pain of childbirth so that it'll be willing to go through the process again) so I had a rough time getting the feel of this chapter just right. I hope it's believable enough, since I'm truly writing vague recollections. Anyhoo, enjoy! This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are, as always, mine.
She doesn't know if she can do this. Her husband and her mother are on either side of her, telling her to push and that she's almost done but she's been pushing for hours and she hurts all over. She can hear the Doctor encouraging her and telling her that everything is going well but she's just so tired; she's worn out, exhausted by the constant pain that the contractions bring and she really doesn't think she can do this. She shakes her head and blinks back the tears forming as she feels the pain start to build, her mind telling her that her body can't take any more. She's Kathryn Janeway, the intrepid captain who beat the Borg and brought her crew home against all odds but she's sure that the mind-boggling pain of childbirth is going to consume her and she needs it to stop.
"I can't," she whispers, her hand shaking as she reaches up to grab at Gretchen's arm. She looks between her mother and her husband, her lower lip trembling as she tries to make them understand how serious she is. "Mom, I can't."
"You can, Goldenbird," Gretchen soothes, her hand covering Kathryn's as she smiles through her own tears. "You're doing so well, sweetheart. I know it hurts and that you're tired but you're so close. Just a few more pushes, darling, and she'll be here and you can rest."
Kathryn shakes her head, crying out as the pain hits its peak and her body bears down; it's not so much a conscious action at this point, at least not in the beginning. She groans through the contraction as she starts to actively push, desperate to bring this child into the world to end the struggle. This pain is a little different and it threatens to sap what little sanity she has left at this point, but she makes it through the contraction and falls back, her mind hazy in the aftermath. She sees Chakotay lean over her, his brow furrowed and his eyes moist as he smiles at her.
"Her head's out, Kathryn. Her head's out and you've got one more big push to get her shoulders out, okay?"
She nods, her breath catching in her chest as the wave of fire washes over her again; she loses track of everything but the circle of lava in her lower body and how it's steadily growing. She cries out and pushes harder, the agony of the lava searing through her, and she's certain she's about to burst into flame when the pain is gone. Its absence is abrupt and she's confused until she hears the soft sound; there's a tiny whimper and then a startled wail and Kathryn's heart leaps.
"You did it!" her mother beams and Kathryn lifts her head slowly, tired and sore but ready to see her child. Chakotay's standing next to the Doctor and even from across the room Kathryn can see his tears. Gretchen tucks a pillow behind Kathryn's back so that she can see a little easier and Kathryn watches, speechlessly in awe, as Chakotay turns with a tiny bundle tucked in his arms. She's shaking by the time he gets over to the bed and she looks up to see his tears fall faster as he speaks to the newborn in his arms.
"This is your mother," he whispers, leaning down to settle their daughter in Kathryn's arms. Kathryn's fingers tremble as she pulls the blanket away a little, taking in the dark curly hair, the serious blue eyes that blink up at her, and the little scowling mouth that opens and closes. Kathryn's so in love that she can't breathe and she finds it almost impossible to tear her eyes away from the perfect little girl in her arms. When she manages to look up at her husband, her voice is hoarse but strong.
"She's perfect," she says, tears slipping down her cheeks. "She's just so perfect."
Chakotay laughs, nodding as he kisses Kathryn's forehead before shifting a little so that Gretchen can slide closer and see her newest granddaughter. Kathryn relinquishes the baby reluctantly, her tears falling faster as her husband and mother huddle over the child and admire her.
"I hate to interrupt," the Doctor says, "but I need to log her name for the official records. Have you chosen one yet?"
Chakotay looks to Kathryn and nods; they'd discussed names at great lengths and it takes a few tries for Kathryn to find her voice amid the emotional upheaval she's experiencing.
"Her name is Lanna . . . Lanna Gretchen Janeway."