Emma didn't however realise how much pain she would be in for the rest of the day and she was unable to sleep out of sheer adrenaline. Neal slept for most the day in the chair at her bedside and she flipped between smiling at him fondly to wanting to throw something at his head.
They escaped the hospital as soon as possible for fear of the medical bills but Emma made sure to get as much advice as possible about breastfeeding, illness and a whole range of things.
The first week home though she honestly thought she was going to die. She was still sore, the latch-on from breast feeding hurt, and she had never cried so much in her life. Neal often stumbled in on her just sobbing her heart in their spare bedroom over absolutely nothing. The worst thing was though, in Emma's opinion, she had never been so tired in her life. Sleeping wasn't a thing she did all of a sudden. Their son, who they had still yet to name, wanted feeding all hours of the night and day. Then during the day neighbours Emma had never met in their months of living their kept coming round with advice and gifts and company. Emma wanted to scream them all out of the house. Neal forced her up to the bedroom when he saw the crazed look in her eyes. The baby was asleep and thus he forced her too as well.
Emma was snappy with him as well even though she knew he didn't deserve it. She felt like this first week was all on her which again she knew wasn't true. Neal was there every step of the way. He took his share of changing, washing, rocking to sleep as much as Emma did. It was just they couldn't split the feeding. That was Emma's department and, from the books she read at the library during her pregnancy, breast feeding what the best she could give her kid.
She loved her son though but it didn't stop her from wanting to occasional throw him out the window when he wouldn't stop crying. She tried her best to make him stop and failed all advice that told her not to cry with him but she was tired and his crying was giving her a headache and he always did it when Neal wasn't home.
Neal had gone back to work only 3 days after the kid was born and whilst Emma understood that they needed the money she also really needed him with her. To make sure she didn't throw their tiny son out the nursery window.
And while she wouldn't admit it, it drove her so mad that they hadn't settled on a name yet that Emma had started calling him Andy in her head. She'd have to put that in his name somewhere now. He'd become Andy to her and if Neal didn't like the name, there was going to be issues. It wasn't even that they couldn't decide on the name but just that Emma was so tired and Neal was busy again at work that they hadn't had time to talk about it.
The baby was three weeks old before Emma finally found time to talk to Neal about it. He was asleep in her arms at the time on the first Saturday of September and Neal had the day off. She cornered him as he came out the shower, hair wet and dripping and looking so handsome that Emma couldn't help but smile at him.
"I wanna call him Andy," she said bluntly before Neal had a chance to really notice her presence. He didn't pause in his walk towards their wardrobe but instead spoke over his shoulder.
"I know," he smirked. "It's a good name."
"Yeah?" Emma asked suddenly feeling quiet, like a child waiting for approval.
Neal didn't respond until he had pulled his jeans on but then came to sit next to her on the bed. Emma found his bare arm against hers very distracting but tried to push it aside. He stroked their tiny sons cheek.
"He's an Andy," Neal assured her with a confident but soft smile.
"And Neal."
"What?"
"No," Emma laughed, looking up from her baby dark blue eyes – she wondered what colour he'd eventually end up with – and up into her fiancé's warm brown ones. "Andy."
Neal frowned and then his eyebrows rose, "wait, you wanna name him after me?"
"Why not?" Emma shrugged her gaze already drifted back to Andy and she heard Neal clear his thought uncomfortably. Emma immediately tensed.
"Well, it's not really my name," he seemed to think his words through but anger still sparked from Emma. They hadn't mention this Rumpelstiltskin thing in months – in the back of her mind Emma had rather hoped he'd forgotten about it or something – but there it was right back out in the open. Emma took a deep breath.
"But you are Neal to me," she implored, trying to think of a good reason. She didn't think Neal would want to name their son Baelfire (the kid would be terribly bullied) despite the line of conversation but she wanted to name him Neal. "Right?"
Neal's eyes softened but she swore she saw a flash of disappointment in there, "yeah. Yeah, of course. We can name the next one after you."
His cocky attitude had returned and Emma gaped at him.
"The next one?" she questioned veering back from him. "Only if you wanna carry and give birth to it!"
Neal chuckled and Emma relaxed, letting the sound wash over her.
"So, have we decided our name?" she asked quietly, "and you're sure you're okay with it"?
"Yeah," he gazed down at her with a smile before his gaze drifted to their tiny son. "Hello, Andy."
Emma felt tears prick her eyes. She wasn't sure if post-pregnancy hormones with a thing to affect her but the tears were driving her mad. She shifted Andy on her arm to swat them away and being very aware of her baby, wrapped the arm around Neal to place a soft kiss on his lips.
