WARNING: There is mention of lemon, and there is a TRIGGER WARNING in the large majority of this chapter. Please skip if you do not want to read. A more specific marker is added just before the trigger.
Chapter 45: It's an Emergency
Beau looked up as the front door opened; Edythe stepped in, immediately pulling her barn shoes off in the mud room and pulling her shirt and pants off. Beau raised an eyebrow for a moment, his hand covering the tablet screen where he had been conversing with Archie and Amanda. But Edythe just smiled, pulling a loose cardigan that she'd left on the front bench and pulling it on, keep her hair up in its twist as she made into the house, having disposed of the soiled clothing in the laundry bin.
"How was it?" Amanda asked, as Beau pulled his hand away. Edythe grinned.
"Tons of fun," she said with a giggle, "Who knew castrating calves at four A.M on a Saturday would be such an adrenaline rush?" Beau smirked, amused, but leaned down as she came toward him, stretching up on her tip toes to press her lips to his cheek.
"Happy Valentine's Day, love," she murmured.
"You too," he responded, "Though I'm still a little surprised you decided to start it with a three A.M wake up call." She mused as she leaned into him, her nose already taken in one her favorite dishes that he makes. Her stomach grumbled; Beau chuckled and pointed to the already freshly made plate on the breakfast bar. She pecked him on the lips in thanks before moving to dig in.
"You spent the morning castrating bull calves?" Sky asked, as she came into the room on the other side of the screen. Eleanor was sitting on the back of the sofa in the Thompsons' living room, with Archie at the counter and Carine besides him.
"Yes," Edythe said with an eyebrow raised as she went cut her first piece of the chicken piccata Beau had prepared. Sky grinned at her through the screen.
"'Atta girl," she praised, and Edythe laughed as she took the first bite. The food tasted especially delicious after a long morning under the Arizona sun. Edythe hated to be directly under the rays, but it was tolerable in February, and it was for a fun trip. She knew she would never be a fan of the climate, but she would make do for the rest of the time she had here.
After her sisters' visit in her first semester, Edythe had learned to cope with the radically different life she lived in the Southwest. She spoke to her family at least once a day via video chat, often more; it made her feel less isolated. Beau, as always, was supportive and made sure to plan trips and things with Edythe that he knew she would enjoy, like hiking the canyons—though only when the sun was not as its peak.
Beau's credits from Ithaca had transferred seamlessly to the bachelor's program in English, thanks to Carine and Earnest. He had just finished his degree credits that past December, and had accepted an editorial role in a company that was completely based virtually, with no brick and mortar buildings. This allowed him to stay at home most days and would be able to continue with the company once they moved back to Ithaca.
Edythe was finishing up her third year; with only one year to go, it felt she was in the homestretch. But with her licensing exam coming up in June, she was getting more and more anxious as the days went on. She spent most of her time studying when not in class, which she knew left little in time for Beau. That's why she had promised him they would have this evening to themselves, after she spent her morning 'de-manning' livestock.
"How is studying going?" Amanda asked her now, as if knowing what she was pondering.
"It's going," she said with a wrinkle of her nose, "I've never cared much for livestock; cats and dogs are so much easier."
"That's because you learned from the human perspective first, and in human medicine, humans are apparently the only patients that exist. No offense." Amanda said, adding the last with an apologetic glance toward Carine. But the matriarch shook her head, brushing off the statement as she responded.
"It is often true; I have found in my experience speaking with you, how much human medical school creates a tunnel vision for students, to think there is one way and one way alone that physiology or anatomy can work. It is marginally acceptable for medical school, but not for those students that need to understand a multitude of species."
"You're telling me; my head hurts all the time," Edythe replied, kneading her forehead just at the thought.
"You really should take a break," her mother chided her, "Your mind won't retain it if you just keep pushing it further down, trying to swallow it all."
"Oh, don't worry, she's taking a break tonight," Eleanor cut in, her teasing tone light and her eyes on her sister through the screen. Edythe raised an eyebrow in a playful challenge, knowing of the lingerie her sisters had sent her as an early 'Galentine's' gift; Beau had yet to see them, but they covered so little of her body that Edythe could hardly justify calling them clothes.
Carine seemed to know what Eleanor was referring to, as did the rest of the company. Beau knew the general gist, but not the specifics. The conversation ended soon after, with all couples wanting to spend the remainder of their evenings with their partners. Beau and Edythe finished eating and cleaned the dishes immediately after.
Just as Beau was putting the last of his utensils in the plastic dishwasher container and closed it, Edythe pulled on his belt loops. He turned to her easily, leaning his head down to press his lips to hers. She stood on her tip toes again to close the distance, and Beau reached down, pulling her up and sitting her on the counter so he didn't have to bend. His hands gripped her upper thighs firmly but cautiously, making sure to not hurt her. He knew she was only wearing the slim boyshort-cut underwear underneath the cardigan and his hands ran greedily across her exposed flesh. Edythe hummed in his mouth.
"I have some things to show you," she told him, her voice husky.
"Oh really?" he inquired, his mouth moving to her throat, sucking behind her ear.
"Yes; gifts, courtesy of Jess and El," she told him. He paused, leaning back slightly to look at her.
"Clothing…specifically," she hinted, "to aid in our itinerary for the evening." Edythe grinned again. seeing her husband's irises dilate at the thought.
"Then we haven't a moment to waste," he said, pulling her off the counter and setting her down. She giggled and moved ahead of him to the bathroom to change. Beau did not know what to expect, but knowing his Edythe's sisters, he didn't have much doubt of what may be in store.
However, when Edythe came out of the en suite, dressed in one of his white linen shirts—unbuttoned—with the deep red V-neck of the lingerie material barely covering her, all rationale thought fled him.
Edythe moved to her husband on the bed, inviting his hands to wander her body as she did his. Even as the fabric was swiftly removed from her skin, the magic of them did not disappear so quickly.
Edythe moaned and shivered as Beau and she made love, joining together in a way that had always made sense to them, that always grounded them. It was the most primal, most sure form of their passion for each other, and one that had helped Edythe find her footing when moving to the valley of the sun. It had been an hard transition, those first few months.
But, as far as she was concerned, the worst was behind her.
What Edythe did not realize how thin of a veil she lived under, and how quickly her world could come screeching to a halt.
She awoke in the middle of the night in late July, her body folded up in pain. She let out a choked gasp, stunned by the flare of agony she felt spreading through her abdomen. Her muscles were locked into place, too scared to move if it were to invoke more pain.
"Beau," she gasped, trying to rouse him from his own slumber.
"Beau!" She said again after he didn't respond, her call colored with panic. Beau jerked awake, Edythe's call bringing him around to turn on his side to face her.
"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked her.
"I don't know," she said, and the fear in her voice immediately triggered her husband's concern. She heard him turn back over, apparently to turn on the bedside lamp and Edythe shifted her legs slightly. Along with the twinge of pain, there was another sensation, one Edythe recognized. As the yellow hue of the bed lamp illuminated their bedroom, Edythe's eyes went down to the giant pool of blood she was laying in.
"Oh God," she said, unable to say anything more as the pain seemed to overtake her. Beau was already up, moving to her side of the bed. He moved to hold her but she pushed against him, not wanting Beau to jostle her aching body. His hands extended to hers, helpless.
"What…..?" he said, bewildered, pressing his forearm to his nose and looking away as he too registered the macabre site. Edythe moaned again as another ripple of pain came through her body.
"Call an ambulance," she told Beau, gripping the bedsheet with her bloody fingers, trying to hold on. Beau moved to obey immediately, moving just far enough from her to keep his head from swimming. He fumbled with the touchpad for a moment before finally getting in the correct numbers.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"My wife is bleeding badly, and she's in a lot of pain. She's lost a lot of blood…"
Archie's panicked voice rang deftly through the silent house.
"Carine!" The coven leader was immediately on her feet, moving to find him; he was in the living room, his eyes half blank, Jessamine besides him as she felt the waves of panic rolling off him.
"What is it, Archie?" she asked, working to remain calm despite Archie's lack of composure.
"You need to go, you need to go now," he said, his honey eyes finally focusing on her. Her eyebrows furrowed and she didn't move. Archie sprinted past her, moving up the stairs. Bewildered, Carine and Jessamine followed him to Carine and Earnest's room, where the psychic was already pulling clothes out of Carine's side of the closet.
"Archie!" she said, catching his hand as he made to pass her to retrieve something from her dresser. She had not seen him this out of sorts since Edythe and Beau's car accident with Victor, and her anxiety heightened at the thought.
"You need to get to Edythe," he said, "I just saw a vision of her in bed covered in blood in unbearable pain."
The word froze the matriarch for a solid moment, before she found herself and Jessamine moving to help Archie back. The psychic stepped back for his adoptive mother and wife to finish while he made a phone called. The Cullens had done the due diligence to acquire a private plane that was on stand-by, for situations such as this where they needed to get to Edythe and Beau. Now, the pilot jumped to action at the call, assuring Archie he would have the plane ready to fly in fifteen minutes.
As Archie hung up the call, Carine was zipping the suitcase closed, pulling it off the bed. A moment later, the trio was down in the living room, where they found the rest of the coven had convened, hearing the commotion. Carine didn't pay them much mind, grabbing her coat and kissing Earnest quickly before moving to the garage to her Mercedes. Archie would update them, she was sure; he would also update her when he could. But the coven leader knew the priority was getting to her daughter as quickly as possible. The medical implications were already running through her head, and none of them were good.
Carine was in the car by then, and her foot pressed harder on the accelerator.
"When did it happen, Archie?" Carine asked from the back of the plane. The direct flight from Ithaca to Phoenix was a little over four hours, making Carine about halfway there. Her ear was pressed to her cell phone, speaking in a nearly silent voice, though the plane was empty except for the pilot and copilot.
"It happened only an hour after I saw it," he told her, "They called for an ambulance, and were taken to HonorHealth Scottsdale; it's just off Osborn. I already sent you the address."
"Did you see anything about what the doctors have done? What they have found?" she asked.
"Not much; it took them a while to just be seen because Edythe didn't seem to be actively hemorrhaging, so they had to wait," Archie admitted with a grimace. Carine had to fight her own.
"What have they done, if anything?"
"She's admitted, mostly because they said they don't know what could be causing the symptoms. They took blood, which nearly took both of them out," Archie continued, adding a small laugh to try and lighten the mood. It didn't stick though, as expected. Carine knew he was just as tense as she was, as she mentally willed the plane to move faster.
"Oh…" the small gasp on the other end of the line had her full attention.
"Archie?" she prompted, to no response. She tried again.
"He's having a vision," Jessamine's voice replied for him, close to the phone. Carine waited as patiently as she could, hoping whatever Archie was seeing was giving some information. There was a long, painful moment of silence.
"Carine, are you still there?" Archie asked, and Carine's still heart seemed to lurch at the sound of his voice. It was as if the wind had been knocked out of him, as if he had just been pulled from a near-drowning.
"Archie, what is it?" she asked urgently.
"She's miscarrying, Carine," he said robotically, as if trying to remove emotion from it by making it impassive. But there was a break in his voice. "Edythe's having a miscarriage."
TRIGGER WARNING: MISCARRIAGE AND LOSS
A miscarriage.
It was not what Edythe had been expecting to hear.
For the all the blood that seemed to have poured out of her, and the amount of pain she was in, she would more likely expected a sudden coagulation problem, or even being stabbed in the night by an intruder. But she did not expect this.
The doctor gave the news with little flair, simply stating they were going to admit her for a day or so to see how it progressed.
They asked her how far along she was.
They didn't believe her when she said she didn't even know she was pregnant.
Beau and Edythe had locked eyes, wondering how on Earth this could have happened; they both knew they had been slacking a bit in their protection measures, but there had never been any symptoms that would suggest to Edythe that she was carrying. There was no morning sickness, no cravings, no classic signs, no signs at all.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, another doctor came and did an ultrasound. Edythe watched, seemingly unbelieving of it herself. Only when the doctor's words confirmed it did she believe.
"It looks like you were around 14 weeks along. There is no heartbeat. I'm so sorry for your loss."
There was no inflection, no real emotion in it. Edythe herself felt like she was far away, in a bubble, as if watching this happen to a stranger, rather than to herself.
The doctors told her because of how far along she was, they could not simply give her a pill or wait for the situation to right itself. They told her she would have to be induced.
She'd asked if she could have surgery instead. They told her no; it was easier and safer with induction.
Edythe hadn't replied; neither had Beau. The doctors left the room, murmuring about giving them a moment to absorb and decide. Edythe looked over at Beau, who sat besides the hospital bed, holding her hand between both of his. They just looked at each other, neither saying anything, not knowing what to say. A hollowness had settled in her chest, from the moment she heard the words.
I'm sorry for your loss.
She'd said that many times working at the animal hospital. Many times, she'd have to face the teary-eyed owners, to be their shoulder of support, to listen to their stories, to take the body away when they finally left. She'd often been on that side of that phrase. Now, being on the other side hit with a pang she was not sure how to deal with it.
She shifted slightly where she was on her side, curling into a small ball. The nurses had placed absorbent pads underneath her to try to soak up the bleeding, to not much effect. She had refused morphine when she had been admitted, but the constant pain, both in her body, but also building somewhere less physical, made her wish she hadn't.
Edythe fixed her gaze on a random point in the wall across the room, and kept it there.
An immeasurable amount of time passed; neither Edythe or Beau knew how long. Nurses came in and out to change the pads underneath Edythe, but that didn't help the disgusting way she felt. The doctors had returned to inquire again, saying they could prepare the induction to be done today and then discharge her tomorrow. Neither had replied; the doctors spoke, but they knew neither of them were really listening, though their eyes were on them. They left again; the Cullen couple did not know when they would return. No answer had been given; neither of them could get themselves to give it.
They were alone; they had never felt so alone before. And, within that, Edythe felt even more isolated. She felt damaged, unworthy, incompetent. as her body rejected the life that had been created from their lovemaking, though they were not aware of it.
Questions filled her brain, and there were no answers she could find. And, beyond that confusion and frustration from lack of understanding, a hollow, gut-wrenching pain—nonphysical this time—seemed to consume them. In response, she curled further into a fetal position, though her hands stayed within Beau's grasp.
Unbeknownst to either of them, their grounding force had just strode through the hospital's doors.
It did not take long for Carine to find Edythe's room number, moving quickly toward the elevators and pushing the button for the sixth floor. She had to hold herself in check from attracting too much attention as she exited and moved toward the large nurse's desk in the center of the ward.
"I'd like to speak to the doctor overseeing Edythe Cullen, please," she requested politely.
The nurse stared at her, seeing the inhumanly beautiful vampire before her; it took her a moment before she shook herself free of her stupor.
"Of-of course," she muttered, forcing her eyes away to look at the man that stood off to the side of the desk, discussing with a nurse in pink scrubs quietly.
"Dr. Nelson, this woman is asking about Edythe Cullen," she called, and the man turned toward the summons, his eyes immediately catching Carine's appearance. The matriarch ignored the slightly slack-jawed expression, too impatient for it. She stepped forward, offering her hand. The doctor took it almost eagerly; Carine permitted a brief shake before dropping it.
"I am Dr. Carine Cullen, Edythe's mother," she informed him. She did not miss the relief in his eyes.
"Oh, thank heavens you're here," he said with a sigh of relief. He beckoned her to step away from the desk, moving to a quieter hallway. As he paused, he handed her the clipboard he had been holding. Carine took it, beginning to read it over as Dr. Nelson spoke.
"She presented three hours ago for severe vaginal hemorrhaging and abdominal pain; it seemed to have come on suddenly. She denied being on blood thinners or having suffered any recent trauma, and she said she was sure she couldn't be pregnant. Given that, we tried to keep her comfortable while we ran a minimum database. She allowed fluids but refused pain medications. The blood test came back positive for pregnancy, which made me suspect a miscarriage. I had a gynecologist confirm via ultrasound. She is—or was—fourteen weeks." Carine took in the information carefully, methodically categorizing everything the doctor said, finally getting the details Archie had been unable to provide. Though she was relieved Edythe was stable, her concern automatically reached extreme proportions as she knew of the protocol that had to take place now. Carine sighed, giving the clipboard back with a melancholy expression.
"She has to be induced," she said, stating not asking.
Dr. Nelson nodded. There was a moment of silence.
"You seemed relieved I am here," Carine said, her eyes watching the doctor with slight suspicion.
"She named you as her emergency contact, as well as her HCPA," Dr. Nelson told her and, seeing the look on Carine's face, added, "She won't give us an answer. Neither her or her husband have said a word since we gave the news." Carine's eyebrows raised, and her face turned even more troubled. After a moment though, she sighed again.
"I need to see her," she requested. Dr. Nelson nodded immediately, escorting her down the hallway and around the corner, to a sequestered room at the end on the left. He gestured with his hand and Carine nodded in thanks before moving to slip through the small gap in the door.
There was no sound as Carine stepped into the room; it was moderate in size, with the hospital bed facing perpendicular to the door, the foot facing the wall to her left. She saw Beau first, who sat in a chair on the side of the bed furthest from her, his hands holding onto Edythe's tightly, his thumb soothing across the skin of the back of her hand. He looked up in surprise at her appearance, but it quickly turned back to helplessness she saw before, as he glanced back down.
Edythe faced away from her, curled up in a ball under the blanket, her head on the pillow. She was wearing a hospital gown, and Carine could smell the fresh and coagulated blood, pooled as she bled. Her concern rose impossibly higher at the amount, knowing it had been going on for so long. There were no monitors and just a single fluid bag, the catheter attached to Edythe's hand.
Carine stepped forward quietly and Beau watched as she made to sit on the edge of the bed across from where he sat. Edythe didn't react to the shifting of the mattress; only when she felt the familiar chill of Carine's hand across her cheek did she turn her head, her eyes opening in shock. Carine met the blood-shot green eyes, and felt her heart breaking for her daughter. There was a small pause as Edythe processed what she was seeing, and Carine shifted, turning toward her fully. Her hands automatically moved to run along Edythe's skin, one along the arm that lay over her abdomen, and the other running through Edythe's hair.
"Edythe," she murmured, "I'm here, sweetheart. I'm here."
Edythe seemed to register her words, because she removed one of her hands from Beau's. Edythe reached for her, clamping her hand tightly on Carine's fingers. Her mother squeezed them back gently.
"Mom," she said; the word was sad, broken.
"Yes, Edythe, it's me," she assured her, continuing the soothing motions. Edythe did not stop staring at her, as if not wanting to believe her own eyes. Carine kept her gaze evenly, waiting for Edythe to react. But, surprisingly, she didn't; the only thing that changed was her eyes, the emerald seeming to burn hotter.
"Darling," she murmured sadly, "I'm so sorry." A small breath—almost a sob—issued between Edythe's lips, so quiet Beau barely heard it. Carine's heart felt like it would fissure hearing it.
"Edythe…oh, sweetheart," Carine crooned, knowing there was nothing she could say. Carine shifted closer, moving to press her lips to Edythe's forehead, leaving her nose there to breathe in her daughter's scent. She knew Edythe was doing the same, as she curled into Carine's embrace, her face pressed tightly into her shoulder.
Her heart metaphorically breaking, the matriarch let her daughter cling to her, Edythe burying her face as the pain and grief seemed to bubble over finally. She didn't sob; there were no tears, which just scared Carine more. But there was nothing that could be done to make this better, no way to stop or reverse what had been taken from her youngest daughter and newest son.
So Carine just held Edythe, her eyes flickering to Beau's; he had his hand intertwined with Edythe's, providing her with what little comfort he could, even while he was too suffering.
"Did either of you know?" Carine whispered quietly, with Edythe's head tucked under her chin. Beau shook his head; his blue eyes were paler than usual, less lively as he watched his wife cry in her mother's arms. The vampire reached out and placed her hand against his face, and she could easily make out the pain there as well. He said nothing, his voice gone, but he did reach forward as Edythe readjusted, reaching for his hand. He squeezed it back comfortingly as Edythe burrowed herself closer to Carine.
The trio sat like that for an immeasurable amount of time—to the humans, anyway. But Carine knew, and she pushed it as far as she dared without compromising Edythe's health any further.
"Edythe?" she finally murmured, breaking the silence. Edythe didn't respond, and Carine moved back slightly, easing her daughter back onto the pillows to look into her face. Her expression, beyond the pain and grief, was cautious, and reluctant. She knew what Carine was going to say.
"Sweetheart, we need to take care of you," she said quietly, feeling as Edythe's grip on her tightened.
"The only way we can do that is to induce you," she continued, feeling the pain almost as Edythe did, knowing what she was asking her to do. Edythe didn't respond, but her eyes said it all.
"Edythe, we can't save the child now," she said ever so gently, "But we can do what we need to in order to make sure you're healthy." Edythe didn't respond at first, but Carine saw her flinch at her words.
"I want to know why," she said quietly, "I want to know why the baby didn't survive."
"We can send out the placenta and endometrium for testing," Carine assured her, "But it could be as simple as stress; you just finished your exams. That alone could have been the trigger."
"But I didn't even know," Edythe insisted, wanting Carine to give the explanation she so desperately wanted; not just wanted, needed. Her mother sighed quietly.
"Every pregnancy is different," Carine told her, "And you may have been so preoccupied with school the signs didn't align with you, or even they were subdued. We will probably never know for sure." Edythe didn't push, knowing Carine was right, but at the same time being unsatisfied. After a long pause, Carine spoke again.
"Darling, please, we need to start the procedure," she encouraged gently.
Edythe looked at her, before, after a long moment, she nodded slightly.
"What are they going to do?"
Earnest's question was intertwined with inconceivable worry; Carine knew how much it pained him to be so far from Edythe when she was in this state. But, as usual, Archie was right. Carine, and Carine alone, had to be here; she knew Edythe wouldn't be able to handle anyone more than her during this ordeal. Even now, Carine stood directly in the open doorway, one ear listening to the nurse as she worked to set up a sterile site to give Edythe an epidural; she could feel her daughter's eyes boring into her and she turned, locking eyes with Edythe to assure her.
But, even if Edythe didn't want her here, no one would have been able to pry Carine away.
"She was too far along in the pregnancy. The only option is to induce her," Carine said, the regret obvious in her tone.
"She has to give birth to the child?" Earnest asked, stunned, and Carine could hear similar murmuring in the background, and she knew the rest of her coven was no more thrilled with the idea than she was.
"Yes. It is physically less traumatic than doing open surgery," she told them.
"But definitely more emotionally traumatic," Eleanor said in the background. Carine sighed.
"They're setting her up on morphine, as well as an epidural. They're doing everything they can to ensure she feels almost nothing."
"Oh my God," someone murmured; Jessamine, the coven leader assumed.
"I'm going to stay for a few days; I don't feel comfortable leaving her like this. Call the hospital for me, please, to let them know." Carine requested, which, of course, Archie had already predicted and done already. Not long after, she said her goodbyes, hanging up the phone and returning to Edythe. She lay on her side, Beau besides her, as the doctor made to insert the epidural catheter. The nurse had already moved forward to empty her bladder and set her up on a tube since she wouldn't be able to feel anything below her hips.
Carine moved to sit in the other chair Beau did not occupy, her fingers automatically going to Edythe's face. Her daughter closed her eyes, resting her cheek in her mother's hand and Carine nodded silently to the doctor to begin.
The procedure only took a few minutes, and Edythe found herself being gently turned onto her back, the surgical suite being deconstructed around her. One nurse was adding a large syringe of medication to her fluid bag, while another older nurse attached a blood pressure monitor to her arm, and handed her a small remote control.
"Press this whenever you feel pain, honey," she assured her. "We're starting you on Pitocin to get your contractions started. You shouldn't feel anything now."
Edythe nodded silently. Then she saw as the first nurse moved to the foot of her bed. Ignoring her mother and husband in the room, she permitted the woman to insert the suppository, which she was assured would quicken the opening of her cervix.
"We'll be back in a couple of hours, but call us if you need anything," they told her.
Then the three were alone. Edythe didn't speak, and neither did Carine and Beau.
There was nothing to say; all there was to do was wait.
Carine sat dutifully at the foot the hospital bed, her eyes on Edythe as her daughter kept her eyes shut, too focused on the discomfort she was feeling. Beau sat behind her, his arms around her waist while Carine held Edythe's hands in each of hers. Contraction after contraction rippled through Edythe; it hadn't taken very long for them to realize the epidural was not effective. The doctors had checked the placement three times, finding nothing out of place. They chalked it up to just some percentage of women being immune to its effect. That did nothing to comfort Edythe though, nor her company.
Edythe let out a pained breath again, her hands squeezing into her vampire mother's fingers, and Carine felt another wave of despair; Edythe had despised hospitals since she had been freed from Forks Hospital following her accident. She could only fathom how much more damage had been inflicted from this experience.
Shaking herself free of the thoughts and determined to remain composed for her daughter's sake, Carine leaned closer, tucking a piece of loose hair back into the twist at the back of Edythe's neck.
"Good girl, Edythe, good," she assured her. Edythe didn't verbally respond; she didn't have the strength to. The contractions were intense, more intense than she expected. The measures the doctors had put in place to help her proved useless, and so she was left to deal with it. But she found, as the hours came and went, the physical pain in her body was dwarfing to the emotional pain she felt in her chest.
She'd been pregnant; she was going to have a baby, her and Beau's child.
It was something she had wanted since she had met Beau, even before she had become human. But it was something she had wanted to wait on, wanted to return home to her family before they made that choice.
But it had happened; and, just as quickly, it had been taken away from her.
She'd been pregnant, and she'd miscarried. And now she was forced to give birth to the child she hadn't known existed until hours ago, the child that would have been her daughter or son, the child that she'd failed to protect.
Carine had never been able to read Edythe's mind, but she could only fathom what the loss of the child was doing to her youngest daughter. The blankness in her eyes unnerved her more than the grief and pain would have. And she knew the emotional turmoil was there, especially after she felt the sharp, almost painful—for Edythe, not for her—clutching of her daughter's grip on her when she heard the cries of newborns from the rooms around her.
Carine had to admit that even she herself found it especially upsetting that miscarried women had to go through labor amongst those who were having or already had healthy living babies. It was an added slash to the hell of such an existence.
"Mom," Edythe whispered, the pain evident in her voice, and Carine immediately switched back to the present.
"I'm here, Edythe," she answered, trying to assure her, when it was the only thing she could do.
"I want it over," she lamented quietly, her green eyes opening to find her mother's, pleading.
"I know, darling," Carine said sadly, "It's almost over, I promise. Let's have the nurse check you again." As she spoke, she reached for the remote, pressing the call button. A nurse was there within a minute and proceeded to check Edythe's progress, a recurrent procedure Edythe was both used to and sick of.
"You're ready, honey," the nurse said simply. "Let me get the doctor."
Carine sighed quietly in relief, thankful the end was almost here. The gynecologist—she had identified herself as Dr. Evans—arrived in the room only a few minutes later.
"Okay, Edythe," she said gently as she pulled on a pair of sterile gloves. "The medication we gave you is going to make your muscles contract. Within the next minute or two, you're going to feel the urge to push; can you push for me when you feel that?"
Edythe nodded tightly, and felt as both Carine and Beau shifted, their grip on her tightening. It wasn't necessary though; the urge was easily recognizable and she followed her instincts, brought on by the synthetic medication rather than her own body. Carine's face was close to hers, speaking to her quietly, while she internally willed the process to move faster. But Edythe made no sounds, internalizing the discomfort with an impassive, nearly expressionless face. She had experienced far worse pain in her life, and even now it did not compare to the emotional anguish in her heart.
And then it was over; after hours of preparation, the delivery was completed in less than ten minutes.
The nurse asked if they wanted to see the child, to which Edythe simply shook her head, seeming to collapse against the pillows as Beau eased out from under her. The nurse did not push, and the doctor gently delivered the placenta. Another nurse helped to clean her up; the antiseptic liquid felt caustic and uncomfortable on Edythe's skin, as if she had been vigorously scrubbed clean of the experience.
The nurse finally smoothed the blanket over Edythe and told her the doctor would check in with her in a few hours to discharge her. Edythe didn't respond, curled up on her side close to Carine, who held one hand in hers and the other running along her skin. The epidural had been removed after it was found it didn't work, and so she was only attached to the IV. Edythe glanced over her shoulder as she felt the lift in the mattress, watching Beau slip through the door. She wondered about it, but didn't question it, her head falling back to the pillow in exhaustion, both physical and emotional.
Neither Cullen spoke for a while, and Beau did not return immediately. But finally, Edythe spoke, needing an answer to the question in front most part of her mind.
"They're going to send everything in?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," Carine assured her, "They will send everything; but, as I said before, it is most likely stress-related. You didn't know, and school has been a lot on you." Edythe wanted to believe her, but her long-lasting dread kept her from doing so.
"Or it's because there's something wrong with me, something residual from the transformation," she said, so quietly only a vampire would hear.
"Edythe, there is no indication of that," Carine told her firmly, "Do not think such things unless there's a real reason to do so. This does not mean anything for the future; this does not mean you won't be able to have healthy children in the future." Edythe didn't respond, and Carine could sense her skepticism.
"Remember that Archie has seen it," she reminded her, her voice gentler. "He has seen your and Beau's children. If it wasn't a possibility, it wouldn't be something he's been seeing since the beginning."
Edythe glanced at her, and she could see her daughter wanted to believe her, so she continued.
"When you two are ready, you can try again; and if you two are struggling, we can look into fertility testing. There are options, Edythe. This miscarriage does not dictate your fertility."
"And, when you become pregnant," Carine said, emphasizing the word, making Edythe look at her again, "You don't have to give birth in a hospital. You can use a birthing center, or even at home, if that's what would make you comfortable." Edythe saw the options Carine gave her, showing her there was not an end-all-be-all for this. Though she was still skeptical, almost certain that her previous vampiric sterility had a hand in this horrible experience, she was willing to allow her mother to comfort her, and maybe even hope for the truth of it. Carine gave Edythe a moment to process what she had said.
"Did…did you see what it was?" she finally asked quietly. Carine smiled ever so slightly; it was a gentle, but melancholy expression.
"It had been a girl," she informed her. Edythe nodded.
A/N: Well, the story is moving along; there are bits and pieces cut out, but I think I will create another story (after this is completed) that is just a compilation of one-shots and outtakes that I wanted to write (or did), but just couldn't make it into this version of the story (this is already long enough as it is).
As you have just read, this chapter was raw. It is upsetting, it is unexpected, but that is life. It is something that could very well happen in a normal human life, which is still what I am going for. I hope you were able to make it to the end, and for tolerating my long lapses in updates; I hope these longer chapters make up at least some of that.
Better things await us moving forward, as Edythe finished up her degree. What things will transpire, both unexpected and triggered by past events? You will probably need to wait until after the New Year to find out :) In which, I hope everyone has a happy holiday and a restful New Year; here's to 2022!
Postscript: my username was changed to retain my anonymity; I do these stories for myself and I don't want people from the outside world to know. It is my own facet of fantasy that is mine and mine alone.