The woman sighed, one hand laying on her flat stomach. "Are you sure?" she asked politely.
The doctor nodded. "You're pregnant. Now, I must ask... Are you in a stable relationship?" Her voice was soft and soothing.
She smiled and nodded her head, her right hand moving to her left to play with the silver band, embedded with ruby and diamonds, that rested on her wedding finger. "I'm due to be wed on the thirteenth of December," she confessed. "How far along am I, doc?"
"Well, Doctor Thompson, you're roughly seven weeks along. Are you nervous?" The other doctor gushed, leaning forward. "It's in two weeks!"
"Feel a little queasy now, if I'm honest." Rowan laughed, tossing her head back. "Now, am I healthy enough to be carrying a baby?"
The doctor hummed in thought. "I'm going to prescribe you some prenatal vitamins. Be careful when taking any form of medicine - no medicine is one hundred per cent safe for the baby. So if you have any pains, such as a headache, think of other ways of stopping your pain - don't immediately go for the hedex or the paracetamol. Try and wait it out. I'd recommend you eat plenty of protein but make sure meats are cooked to death - raw or undercooked meat is especially bad for you and the little one."
"All right - thanks, doc." Rowan pushed herself up from the chair and shook the woman's hand. "Guess I'm going to ask Richard for some time off, aye?" She laughed. "I hope he doesn't replace me."
"I don't think he will, dear," the older woman reassured her. "You're the best ENT surgeon we have! What's your success rate?"
"Hundred per cent," Rowan admitted shyly. "At Otology."
"Ah, I love how humble you are," The woman sighed. "You're an absolute star, but you're so humble too. Oh, brilliant. Does that transfer over to the nose and throat as well?"
Rowan shook her head. "Ninety eight in nose and ninety-nine in throat." Rowan laughed, coughing slightly as the woman began to clap.
"Oh, so brilliant! So young, too - you're only twenty-three, correct? You're our resident genius, right?" Rowan nodded, ducking her head to hide her crimson face. "All right - here's your prescription slip, love, and tell me how your fiancé reacts." The woman winked. "Oh - wait, here is a fact file on what's good, what's bad, and how to cope with impending morning sickness and all that lovely business."
Rowan smiled and nodded, taking the file and prescription slip.. "Good bye, doc. See you in a month!"
The woman found her car and drove the chemists. She handed the slip to the woman behind the counter, sighing. Did Gregory even want children? Sure, they were having unprotected sex, but that didn't mean he wanted children. It just meant he found rubbers restrictive. "Thanks," Rowan mumbled, taking the medication. "Have a good day."
She got back into her car and put her head in her hands. Did she want children?
Did it make her a bad person if she said no?
She got home in record time - they still lived in Scotland, near her parents. Freda and Frederick both still lived in their house with Anna - Gregory and Rowan had moved in together when he turned eighteen. They'd rented a tiny flat above a shop for a while, piling their money up while living rather poorly. She didn't go to Liverpool for University - instead she stayed close, finding one that was only four or five miles away from her flat. They soon had plenty of money to move out, but Gregory had waited until she graduated University to show her their new home.
It was a shock to see the whitewashed stone of their new home, but a welcome one. It had five bedrooms - Gregory had claimed that it was for Anna, Rudolph and Tony, one spare if he was put into the dog house, but she privately hoped it was for any children they may have.
She pulled up to the drive and took the files with her inside. Gregory worked from seven until three o'clock - she worked eight until six o'clock. Not the best hours for their child, but if Gregory owned the amount of the Sackville-Bagg Corporation as the heir, she was sure he could get paid leave from work long enough for the baby to be six months, right? She wasn't allowed to work as a surgeon from twenty five weeks, apparently, so she'd become a consultant until she was at thirty weeks. Then she was off work for as long as she needed, allowed to work part-time until the baby was a year and a half old. I can do this.
She sighed, biting her lip and kicking her boots off at the door.
"Gregory?" she called. "I'm home - I had to stop by the chemist. I have something I need to tell you..."
"In the living room, love!"
She released a long breath and nodded her head. I can do this. She walked into the living room with a wide smile, blinking when she saw Gustav and Eduard on the sofa. "Hello!" she greeted, leaning down to give them individual hugs. "Well, if you're here too, I'll tell all three of you."
"Tell us what, love?" Gregory asked, leaning back in the plush armchair.
She took another breath. "I'm pregnant."
Silence.
Gregory's eyes rolled back in his head and he slipped down in the chair. He fucking fainted. Rowan's face dropped.
Gustav began to laugh, batting Eduard away when he began to cough. "How far along?" His voice was weathered with age - he was nearing ninety now and it was beginning to show.
"Seven weeks," Rowan smiled nervously. "So I'm going to have a little belly for my wedding."
"And it will be the best little belly there," Gustav promised. "Gregory!" he suddenly shouted - Gregory shot up, his eyes wild.
"Where's the fire?" he yelped, standing up. "Oh - wait - pregnant? Really?" He turned to Rowan with wide eyes
"Seven weeks," she admitted, shuffling her feet. Eduard chuckled and stood. "It's why I was late home."
"But we don't have a nursery!" Gregory fretted. "Or a car with four seats! Oh, what will father say - we're not married yet! Shotgun wedding! Bastard baby!"
"My baby is not a bastard!" Rowan hissed outraged.
Eduard and Gustav began to laugh. "Come, come, little lady - give me a hug." Eduard said, pulling Rowan into his chest. "We'll leave you and Gregory alone - would you like us to tell Freda and Frederick?"
Gregory paled. "Oh god, no. Mum will kill me. She made me promise we were having safe sex." Gregory groaned loudly. "Grandpa, we'll need your help making a nursery, okay? Rowan won't be doing anything in her condition - I'm not risking anything. A little baby!" he cooed, clapping his hands together. "My little baby! Oh, I hope it's a little girl. She'll be the most spoilt little princess ever."
Rowan smiled, relieved. He wasn't upset. "When will we be telling our parents?" she asked, hugging Eduard fiercely before moving on to Gustav.
"Well, we're going to theirs for tea in half an hour, so maybe then?" Gregory suggested, reminding Rowan of that dinner agreement.
"Oh, bollocks." She shot up the stairs, changing out of her clothing and into something a little more elegant. "Okay, ready!" she called.
She heard Gustav's distinctive laugh and smiled, one hand going to her belly. Maybe this won't be so bad.
Anna answered the door with a wide, beaming smile, throwing herself at Rowan. "Flint proposed!" Anna gushed, dragging her inside to the house. Rowan gave Flint McAshton an awkward nod - she still refused to treat him like a member of the family, despite Tony's newfound friendship with the other man. Despite the pity she once felt for him, she didn't like him.
"Congratulations, hun. Do you want me to leave my announcement until later?" Rowan whispered into her ear. Anna shook her head. "I'm pregnant."
Anna let out a loud shout. "Really?" she shrieked, releasing her. Rowan grinned, Gregory coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her stomach. "Oh, how wonderful! I can put that into my novel!"
Rowan snorted, throwing her head back into Gregory's chest. Anna had taken English Language, Literature, History and German at A-level. She was now a world-renowned author - known best for her series The Little Vampire, where she recounted her life up to the introduction of the Thompsons. Names had been changed, obviously, but it was, essentially, a dramatised autobiography. Her real age of eighteen was hidden through a helpful pseudonym - Anna McAshton. Tony had scowled at that.
Rudolph greeted them with a jaunty wave, stepping into the dining room. Tony sighed and waved too, following behind. The pair was absolutely clueless about what to do with themselves, although Tony had ideas of becoming an artist and Rudolph was interested in Medicine.
Anna grabbed Flint and said, "Dinner's being served. You're just in time!"
They entered the dining room and sat down, Dottie and Bob rising to hug their daughter and Freda doing the same to Gregory. They all sat down as Frederick brought out platters of food, Rowan next to the already-seated Gustav and Eduard.
"Now, before the meal begins, I have an announcement to make." Anna said, standing up. "I've been with Flint for five years now and he's... Well, we're engaged."
"How lovely!" Freda beamed. Rowan started to clap and soon others followed. "I wish you the best."
"I have an announcement, too!" Gregory stated, pulling Rowan up. She blushed and coughed awkwardly - Gustav and Eduard both began to laugh again. "I'm pregnant!" Gregory gushed, before realising what he said and back-tracking. "Wait - we're pregnant!"
Rowan was giggling, leaning into his side. "I'm roughly seven weeks along," she expanded. "Baby. Me. Gregory. Pregnancy." she explained further, as Bob's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
Bob groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "You're having a bastard."
"Why do people keep calling my baby a bastard?! We'll be married by the time it's born!" Rowan muttered, sitting down. "It's not like it's a shotgun wedding, either - it's been in planning for two damn years! We've been together for seven!"
"Congratulations, honey," Dottie beamed. "But Tony, if you bring home a pregnant girl, I'll kill you."
Tony choked on his own spit. "Mom!"
"Congratulations," said Frederick gruffly. "I hope you don't suffer horribly with morning sickness, like Freda did with Gregory. That was agony."
"Gregory was agony," Freda laughed. "But didn't you promise no unprotected sex, son?"
"Well - you see - erm..." Gregory floundered.
They had a white wedding, just like Rowan had hoped.
Snow fluttered from the sky, big and chunky, sticking to the already existing snow. She was shivering with the cold, but it was how she wanted it.
Bob took her arm and she beamed, walking down the aisle, her stomach fluttering.
Gregory gasped, holding Rowan's hand tightly. "Is that - is that my baby?"
Rowan turned to look at the ultrasound screen. She saw one defined blob, but there was something to the side of it as well. Unless her baby had floating limbs in her stomach, there was something else in there with it. She listened for the monitor to relay the heart beat again, and she heard two thumps - one following in quick tandem. "Two babies."
"Two babies," the ultrasound technician echoed. "Two hearts, see? Two hearts, two babies. Congratulations, Mrs. Sackville-Bagg, Mr. Sackville-Bagg - we can't determine gender yet, but you're having twins! There doesn't seem to be any abnormalities with either of them, but this little devil in front is making it hard for me to see the other baby. The only thing I can say is that you need to eat a lot more as you're now eating for three, and no strenuous lifting. Plenty of sleep, and perhaps have your hours cut at the hospital."
Gregory nodded. "I'll take on more hours at work to deal with the losses, okay?"
"No, you won't. Richard has offered me a consultant position - I just need to take a crash course and I'll be working as a consultant full time." Rowan smiled. "It's a bit more money as well, because I'll be doing private patients."
"So you're currently... at twelve weeks. Come back again at sixteen weeks." The ultrasound nurse wiped the jelly from Rowan's stomach and the blonde woman sat up. "How's the morning sickness?"
Rowan groaned. "It shouldn't be called bloody morning sickness. It should just be called pregnancy sickness - I puke when I wake up, I puke when I smell coffee, I puke when I smell wine, I puke when I smell car exhausts. I can't hold anything down apart from black tea at the moment and I fucking hate black tea. I have three cups a day with every meal, in the hope it'll hold down some substance - I'd drink it all the damn time if I wasn't terrified of the impacts of caffeine on my babies."
Rowan carried on heatedly, the nurse smiling. "I thought this pregnancy thing was going to be a blast when I didn't experience the dreaded 'morning sickness' - and suddenly, suddenly it hits me. End of the first trimester, they say, it'll be over, they say - it's just bloody began. And don't get me started on the random hair growth - or even the blood in my snot. Or even the constant, aching pain in my boobs!"
"Well," The woman gave Rowan a sympathetic look. "You're heading into the second trimester. Your breasts will continue to get bigger and the nipples even more tender. Buy a softer tooth brush as well, because your gums will be following the blood in your snot. You're going to experience dizziness, leg cramps, shortness of breath, bladder and kidney infections..."
"Beautiful." Rowan muttered drily.
The ultrasound technician focussed mainly on the prominent baby. "Oh," She laughed. "Would you like to know the gender of this little one?"
Rowan and Gregory shared a look before simultaneously saying, "Yes."
"Well, this little one is definitely a little boy. See?" Rowan stared at the grey blob with the splayed legs. "He wants you to know it, it seems," The woman laughed. "And the other one is a... little girl. Congratulations, dear. A boy and a girl."
Rowan grinned. "Could we have a picture of them?"
"Certainly!" The woman focussed the wand on the first one and then moved onto the second.
"I guess we can start on the nursery properly now, right? The room's big enough for the both of them. Are we going stereotypical blue-boy and pink-girl?" Gregory asked quietly while the nurse did what she did.
"Hell no!" Rowan laughed. "I don't want my babies to be stifled by gender stereotypes. If my baby girl likes cars, she'll have her damn cars! If my baby boy wants a pink tea set, he'll get his pink tea set and anything else he wants! I was thinking more cream or brown, to match the wooden flooring. And white. White would be great."
"That's a good start," the nurse said, handing her a brown envelope. "Off you go, dear."
"Another announcement!" Rowan chirped. "Sorry, mum, you're not getting a boy and then two twin boys." Rowan winked, referring to 'that' conversation seven long years ago. "Instead you're getting twins... but take a guess at the gender."
Dottie clapped her hands together, Anna quickly following. "I'm going to say... Double boys." Dottie leant back in the chair.
"Going to go with your mother on this way," Bob shrugged. "Congratulations, honey."
"Double girls," Frederick said smugly. "Like Lily and Lucy."
"I agree with father," Anna said, smiling. "History of twin girls in our family."
Freda nodded - she agreed with Frederick and Anna.
"One boy, one girl." Tony and Rudolph said together, the pair of them grinning at each other.
Gregory placed the two pictures on the table - one of the little man, with his legs flung apart - and the other of the demure little girl, legs tightly closed. "Well?" Frederick snapped.
Rowan pointed to her little exhibitionist. "One boy," She pointed to the next picture. "One girl."
Rudolph and Tony let out little shouts of excitement, which sent Rowan into hysterics. "I have my next scan at twenty four weeks. I'll be even bigger then - estimated size of a soccer - ball."
Rowan looked down at her stomach in shock. She felt something... move. She gently prodded the bump and erupted into laughter when something kicked back. She poked the other side of the bump and felt something flutter - and then one of them kicked again.
"What is it love?"
She lifted her shirt up, revealing her distended stomach. She had a large, gold swirl curling from underneath her trousers to her bellybutton - something the Fae had 'gifted' her with for ruining their all-seeing nonsense. They certainly hadn't predicted Charles killing Rookery - something which had given them all a good laugh. They had stripped Rowan of her abilities, which she was incredibly thankful for, but left her one extra surprise - and as the swirl darkened with every day of her pregnancy, she was terrified to find out what the surprise was. If her babies were too short to be human, or had daft pointed ears - if they had anything wrong, she would be down on the Fae like a tonne of bricks.
Despite the whole 'dream dimension' thing.
She gently poked her belly again and quickly placed Gregory's hand on the place. He let out a loud gasp when something pushed against him. "They're kicking?" he asked - Rowan jumped when the room exploded in noise.
"Can I try?" she heard. "No, me!"
"We're never having sex again!" she screeched, her hair sweaty and plastered to her body. She let out a sharp yell and cried, "I don't fucking care if you don't want me to push - I'm fucking pushing!"
The nurses floundered, trying to stop her from pushing while at the same time prepare for the first child being born. "You're doing absolutely brilliantly, love," Gregory tried to soothe, but his face was drawn with pain. "Come on - you can do it."
"I know I can fucking do it, Gregory!" Rowan roared, her eyes balling up in pain and one lone tear falling on her gown. "This is why I don't want children," she muttered pathetically as the push wasn't fruitful. "It fucking hurts."
"Don't think like that, love." Gregory sighed, brushing a strand of hair away from her sweaty face.
"And why not, aye? I've only just started working properly and I've already fucked it up by getting pregnant!"
Rowan let out another screech as a contraction rippled through her again. She cried out loudly - quickly followed by the nurses gasping and picking up a still, bloodied baby. The nurses cleaned and tapped the baby as it let out a wet cough - before the sound of it's wailing pierced the room.
"Little boy," the nurse beamed, wrapping him tightly in a blue blanket. "Born at eleven o'five, July thirty-first. Congratulations. Do you have a name in mind?"
"Alexander Charles Sackville-Bagg," Gregory smiled warmly at the little bundle, but didn't move to hold the child. "Just one more now, love."
And ninety four seconds later, another cry joined in.
"Rosemary Louise Sackville-Bagg," Gregory told the nurse, finally accepting the screaming baby, the nurse giving the little girl to Rowan. "Thank you, love. Thank you."
Rowan groaned. "Don't be soppy, now - that's so off putting." She accepted the little girl and wrinkled her nose.
Newly born babies looked so disgusting.
"When will they stop looking like red potatoes?"
Et fin. Their future is down to you guys.