5 hours and 274 pushes later, Smurfette was still laying on the pile of leaves, crying out every time a birthing pain came. She squeezed Hefty's hand, trying to feel some sort of reassurance. She'd felt so relieved when she saw him. It made her relax a bit, and she thought it made things go a bit smoother. She tried not to break his fingers as she pushed again. Hefty kissed her hand.
"I'm losing the circulation in my hand," Hefty stated.
"Deal with it," Smurfette dismissed, but mustered a playful smile. He let go of her hand to replace Smurfblossom's soiled cloak with a fresh towel, to which she felt relieved. She did regret having to use one of her friend's garments to give birth with, but there really wasn't anything she could do at the time. Hefty circled back to hold her hand again, switching hands between contractions.
"Are we smurfing anywhere?" Smurfette asked impatiently.
"We're almost there!" Mother Nature said. Smurfette glanced at the doorway, now patched up by vines. Smurfwillow had carried Smurfblossom out of the tree, which relieved some of the burden. A few Smurfs had entered the tree to check up on her, but only for a short time. She tried to turn away when Papa and Smurfwillow reentered the tree. Hefty ran his finger down her cheek.
"I know what she said, Hefty." She drew in a breath. "About the other baby." She could see the fury in his eyes, but gripped his hand. At first he thought it was another contraction, but she looked at him pleadingly. "It's alright, Hefty. It doesn't matter what she thinks."
Smurfwillow sighed, releasing Papa's hand. "Smurfette, I am so sorry. I - "
Smurfette cut her off with another cry. This time felt different, like something was...coming down. Mother Nature smiled. "There's baby number one!"
"Really?" Hefty asked, the anticipation clear in his voice. He kissed Smurfette's fingers.
"Alright, push as hard as you can, Smurfette." She tucked her chin in, pushing as hard as she could. It felt like all the other contractions, really painful but nothing significant. She relaxed a bit after the sound of a baby's cry rang through the tree walls. Smurfwillow knelt beside Mother Nature with a towel ready. A tiny smurfling the size of a small grape wriggled in Smurfwillow's arms as she cleaned it off.
"It's a boy!"
Smurfette beamed. Her first little bundle was here, and he was healthy. All that was left was his little brother or sister to - She screamed louder than she ever knew she could. Hefty winced, and he could hear the faint cracking of his knuckles. She had been in excruciating pain for 18 hours, but this was unimaginable! Nothing could compare to this sort of pain. She tried pushing, but it somehow made the pain worse. Hefty's worried face turned to panic.
"What's wrong with her?!" he demanded.
Mother Nature gasped, turning back to Papa Smurf. "Quickly, some towels! And sarsaparilla leaves, plenty of them!"
Papa ran from the tree to retrieve the items, Smurfette still oblivious to what was happening. She found she could barely lift her head up, falling onto the pile of dry leaves now crumpled and soiled underneath her. She was so tired, she wanted to close her eyes. She wanted to sleep...
Hefty cradled her head, his cold fingers caressing her face. He kept shaking his head. "Don't fall asleep, Smurfette," he kept saying. "Stay awake, look at me! Look at me, I'm right here. I'm right here with you! Please, don't leave me!"
Smurfette realized what was happening: she was dying. The wetness she suddenly felt wasn't just fluid. The pain she felt wasn't natural. She was slowly withering away, just as she had given birth to her son. She tried desperately to hang on, and out of the corner of her eye he saw Papa running back in with towels and shiny sarsaparilla leaves. He handed the leaves to Hefty, who brought it to her face.
"Smurfette, eat this," he instructed gently, though his face still alert with terror. She leaned forward and nibbled a piece of the leaf. She breathed in, immediately feeling stronger. She took another bite until finally she had eaten the entire leaf. She felt better than ever, still in pain, but better. She repositioned herself just as she had done not two minutes ago. She brought her chin to her chest and pushed forcefully. It hurt so much more than it had the first time, but she was determined. She held it until finally a second baby cry rang through the tree. The pain instantly subsided, leaving Smurfette exhausted on a pile of what used to be leaves. She looked up, still breathing heavily.
"Is it...?"
Papa Smurf held the second smurfling, even tinier than its brother, in a fresh towel.
"It's a girl!"
Smurfette sighed, taking in that it was all over; she was a mother. Smurfwillow waved in a few Smurfettes to bring in tiny hats and the blankets they'd brought for themselves. They fawned over the little smurflings before handing each to Smurfette. Still in shock and awe, she took the time to closely notice every inch of her babies. Her son was noticeably bigger and heavier than his sister. She could see a bit of her in his chin and nose, his already feisty nature coming from his father. She faced her daughter. She was tiny! She looked so much different from either of her parents and, apart from a full head of thin, tawny blonde hair, had no real indication that she belonged to either Hefty or Smurfette. The baby Smurfette opened her eyes to stare at her mother. She lasted a good five seconds before closing her eyes again. She had her mother's eyes.
She turned to Hefty, tears streaming down her face. He'd been staring at them too. Why wouldn't he? They were both his children. He must have wanted to hold them too. She glanced to their son and wordlessly switched him to his father. She cradled her daughter with her free hand, the baby curiously grabbing her finger.
"Hey," Hefty whispered, bringing the baby close. "Listen. Listen to this."
Smurfette listened carefully, and giggled. The little Smurf made little popping noises, almost as if he were calling something. It was adorable as it was quizzical, but he was just a baby. The little girl in her arms was silent, as if listening to her brother.
"What should we name them?" Hefty asked.
"You don't think it's too soon?" she asked, knowing how long it took to really name a Smurf. She supposed her daughter would be easier, sticking to Smurfette tradition.
Hefty shrugged. "Well, I'd like to keep track of them somehow."
"Fair point."
"Hefty Jr.," he said quickly.
"What? No!" Smurfette protested.
"Why not?"
"Because," she defended. "I think there can only be one Hefty Smurf at a time. Besides, I don't think that's all he is. Here." She adjusted her hold on her daughter, switching with Hefty. "You name our daughter, I'll name our son. Deal?"
Hefty rolled his eyes. "Fine."
Smurfette couldn't let her husband and son be named the same, but now her mind was blank. What was she supposed to name her son when he was only two minutes old? Her eyes trailed from her baby to the leaves on the ground, the bark of the tree, the rain outside, and the sounds of the animals within the forest. He was born in a tree, in the forest. It seemed fitting to her.
"Forester," she decided. "Forester Smurf." The baby in her arms yawned and nestled into his mother's arms, implying that he liked it.
Hefty smirked. "I like it. Not exactly Hefty Jr., but I like it."
Smurfette removed one arm to lightly punch him in the shoulder, sending them both into fits of laughter. "So, what about her?" She fingered her daughter's blanket, the baby wriggling in her sleep.
Hefty was silent for a long while. Would it really be harder to name a girl? Smurfette stared at him staring at the smurfling he held. It was as if he didn't hear her. He shook his head.
"You said I couldn't name Forester after someone else. How can I do that to her?" He was referencing how all the girls' names began with "Smurf". Smurfette almost chuckled, but that left his decision more vague.
"Come on, Hefty. We can't smurf here forever," Smurfette reminded him.
"Alright, alright! Okay. Um..." the baby started to fuss, Hefty trying to quietly hush her. She eventually settled back down, barely visible in her father's arms. He muttered something under his breath.
"Ette...Claudette...Paulette...Mary Annette..."
"What are you doing?" Smurfette giggled. "Do you think she's an 'ette'?"
"It just sounds right. No offense," he gestured to Smurfwillow. "But I don't think she looks like a flower."
"Well, go on, Hefty," Papa probed. "We haven't got all smurf."
"Um...Florette!"
Smurfette gently hushed her husband, grabbing his arm. She glanced at Forester and his sister, but thankfully they were still both asleep. She sighed. "Just remember to be quiet around them."
Hefty smiled sheepishly before handing Florette to her mother. "Forester and Florette."
"Hefty, I'm ready to go home now."
Something Smurfette noticed right away: Florette was very different from any baby she'd ever experienced. True, she didn't exactly have experience. But, she had taken care of some baby birds and even a mouse at one point. Even Forester was calm the whole way back to the Village. As soon as Florette was greeted by the crowd of Smurfs waiting to meet her, she started crying. Smurfette tried to soothe her, but she wouldn't stop. They had no choice but to travel back to the village with Florette screaming her head off.
As the stork landed back in the village, Smurfette slid off patting her daughter's back. Curiously, Forester had slept the entire trip home. His sister's crying didn't seem to bother him. They entered the house and decided it was the right time to go to bed. Hefty set Forester down in his crib while Smurfette rocked Florette in her cradle. Florette had the strongest set of lungs she'd even heard. She didn't know how long she'd been in there until Hefty came in and shook her awake.
"Hey," he whispered. "she's gone down a bit."
Smurfette turned, noticing Florette's cries had turned to small whimpers. She stood to follow Hefty back to their room, but stopped at one of Florette's particularly sad-sounding noises. Her maternal instinct kicked in; she turned and carefully scooped up her daughter, who immediately started crying again. She paced over to Forester's crib and laid her down beside her brother sleeping peacefully.
She gazed at her two babies, awestruck. Florette still whimpered, as if going through some terrible nightmare. Forester opened his eyes a bit, and Smurfette almost thought he'd start crying too. Instead, his tiny hand met with his sister's and he closed his eyes again, the little popping noises echoing the room. Florette's whimpers faded until Smurfette could no longer hear them.
She rubbed her son's head. "You're such a good brother. I love you. Both of you."