Oddments

Disclaimer: I am not a Theologian, a Historian, or a TV Producer; I therefore do not own any thing. Nor am I a parent, chock any issues up to inexperiance.
Pairing: Thomas Cromwell/ Elizabeth Wyckes Cromwell

Prompt #35: Birth

"Thomas… Thomas." Cromwell was awake immediately, there was fear in her voice and something wet on his leg.

"Wh-what is it?" he asked, poised, ready to spring from bed and fetch whatever she needed, these last few weeks before the birth were the most important Mother Fennel had said.

"My water broke."

"What?" he knew that meant something but for the life of him he couldn't recall what.

"My water broke – the baby is coming!"

"Now?!" Now?

"Yes! Mother Fennel said the first one may be early." Her words were bouncing off of him, nothing but 'its coming' sinking in.

"But it's the middle of the night."

"Do. You. Think. It. Cares?" Pull yourself together Thomas! His mind chided. The baby was coming, Elizabeth needed him. He sprang from bed.

"I will have to get Mother Fennel – can … do I… should I…" Elizabeth rolled her eyes heavenward and slowly got out of bed. "Don't get up!"

"Mother Molly said that I shall be alright alone for the time it takes you to retrieve her. And Thomas, I'm not staying in that wet bed." He nearly fell trying to pull both his shoes and coat on. She laughed and waddled (for she hadn't been able to walk properly for over a month) over to him, helping him with the buttons his shaking fingers couldn't manage.

"The sooner I leave the sooner I return." He said pulling for the door. He was running on nothing but pure adrenaline, logic no where to be found.

"Thomas, dear, you do need to hurry, but you can take the time to put on pants." He looked down at himself – nightshirt, jacket, linen shorts, untied boots.

"You're right, you're right." He'd never been so out of sorts in his life, how was he going to survive fatherhood?

"You – you are never touching me again! NEVER!" Elizabeth informed him the moment he crossed the threshold of the room she demanded he be in. there was no arguing with a pregnant woman, especially not a pregnant woman in labor.

"That's a promise you'll be regrettin' Mistress Cromwell." Midwife Molly Fennel quipped from between Elizabeth's legs. "Hold her hand Master C, the time to push is near." Thomas did as he was told, his wife's hand wrapped around his like a vice but he didn't flinch – this wasn't about him.

A contraction hit her and she howled, sounding a thousand times more heart wrenching than when he was below stairs.

"Alright 'Lizabeth, deep breaths." The midwife said… "And push!"

"AHHH!" Elizabeth screamed, tears sprang to Thomas' eyes, only partially due to the fact he'd never be able to use his hand again.

He'd never felt so powerless – never. She was in such pain – something was hurting her. And there was nothing he could do.

"Deep breaths Beth, deep breaths." It was a chant he kept until she grabbed him by the collar and hauled him down to her sweaty face.

"I. Don't. Want…" the baby was coming and she lost all control.

"One more push! You're doing great!" Mother Fennel exclaimed.

"This is ALL your fault you bastarddd!" her insult was interrupted by her scream of pain and… a new sound. The sound of a very healthy set of lungs.

"The baby is here!" Mistress Fennel praised, "A very healthy girl."

"Did you hear that Elizabeth?! We have a daughter!" Thomas looked into his wife's eyes, she was exhausted, and ecstatic.

"A daughter?" She whispered, voice gone from screaming.

"Yes! You did it!" A daughter. As beautiful as her mother, Thomas felt nothing he'd ever felt before and it was all good.

"You did not want a son?" The moment ended and he looked at his wife with narrow eyes, was she joking?

"No! I wanted you and the baby to survive healthy and happy. Did you want a son?" She closed her eyes and licked her parched lips.

"By the end Thomas…" she sighed, "I jut wanted her out of me."

Note: All I know of birth is that which my mother told me, which focused mainly on the loss of all bodily functions and extreme pain. Of course after she tells me of the horror of child birth she in forms me that, while she does not want one NOW or anytime soon she would like at least one grandchild. I told her to get a dog.