Chapter Fifty-Two

It was less than a year ago, but Ruth did not remember it being like this the last time. A lot of it was like déjà vu, Harry sitting beside her on the bed and holding her hand. He pushed her hair off her sweaty face and tried to be encouraging. Ruth wanted to kill him. Then and now. She panted, barely being able to catch a breath. Breathing had not been so difficult last time, she was sure of that. But there was something this baby was doing, kicking her diaphragm or something. No matter how much Ruth tried to inhale, she couldn't seem to get any air. She was getting lightheaded, and the pain was so awful, she just wanted to scream. She didn't have enough air to scream. Was she crying? She felt like she might have been crying. There was no reprieve, no relief between pushes, no strength to push at all.

"Nearly there, just a bit more," Doctor Parkins said, urging Ruth to keep on going.

"Almost, Ruth," Harry added.

She could feel his arm around her, bracing her. If she'd been able to, she would have shoved him off. As it was, Ruth was quite sure she was about to pass out. The corners of her vision were going black. God, why couldn't she breathe? Was this baby going to kill her?

Then, when it felt as though she could not go on, relief washed over her. The pressure and the pain were gone. She felt her lungs clear, and she took an enormous gasp of air.

A squalling cry ripped through the air. And as the baby started to cry, Ruth knew then that she was crying, too.

"You have another perfect baby girl," Doctor Parkins announced. "We're going to clean her off and then she's all yours."

"It's all done, Ruth. You've done it, darling," Harry said, kissing her cheek and hugging her as best he could in their position.

Ruth just kept crying. Her body now just ached. Everything ached, and she was so tired. And she couldn't seem to stop sobbing.

Harry was starting to grow concerned. Ruth could hear his voice, but it sounded very far away. He was asking her what was wrong, asking what she needed, what he could do. Ruth couldn't seem to find the words. She couldn't seem to sort through her mind and find any sort of coherent thought. She started hyperventilating. "Doctor?" she heard Harry call out.

Then Doctor Parkins was there in front of her. A nurse was tending to the baby. "Can you hear me?"

Ruth nodded, at least being able to control herself enough for that.

The doctor put her hands on Ruth's cheeks, forcing her to be still and focus. "Close your mouth. Deep breath through your nose," she instructed. Ruth did what she was told. "Yes, just like that. Hold it for one…two…and out through your mouth. Good. Once more."

And after that second breath, Ruth was able to breathe normally. She slumped over against Harry.

"Better?"

"That was the worst bloody thing I've ever done," she said. The words were barely more than a whisper.

Harry chuckled and kissed her hair. "But you did it. It's all over."

"Never again. You swear to me right now, Harry Pearce. Never, ever again," she said. It was a strange time to discuss family planning, but Ruth wanted this out now before she got distracted by yet another newborn.

"I promise, Ruth. No more children. I'll have to…well, we'll figure out how to prevent it."

Doctor Parkins had been eavesdropping while checking Ruth's vitals and inserted, "I can book you for a vasectomy, Sir Harry."

"A what?"

"Technical term for male sterilization. I don't do the procedure myself, but I have a colleague at the hospital who is a national specialist. It's quick and mostly painless. You go in for the appointment and then right home after you're finished without any hospitalization, and you'll be completely healed in two weeks and unable to conceive after about twenty full emissions," she explained in her efficient physician sort of way. Ruth always liked that about her.

Harry was obviously taken aback. "We'll discuss it and I'll let you know," he said in a vague sort of way.

Ruth could feel how tense he was. And though her mind was still recovering from that slight breakdown, she thought the procedure sounded perfect. They'd talk about it later. Hopefully she'd remember. She never could be sure of herself anymore, what with the way the intense fluctuations of hormones had affected her ever since she'd conceived Emilia.

"Here we are!"

She sat up as the nurse approached with a pink bundle. The baby was handed to Ruth, who was barely strong enough to hold her. But hold her she did. She looked down at her baby and felt the same spark she had with Emmy. The spark of recognition. She'd held this little being in her body for all these months, and now they could finally meet properly. "Hello," Ruth whispered.

The baby was not crying, but she was making the strangest little noises and wiggling around. Very different from Emilia. But with the exception of her hair—this baby had a head of wispy dark hair nearly opposite from Emmy's blonde curls—the two looked nearly identical. Other than the hair, the baby looked just like her sister and just like Harry. And Ruth could not have been more delighted.

Harry hovered at Ruth's shoulder and reached over to stroke her little face with the back of his finger. "She's beautiful."

"She is," Ruth agreed. She would never, ever admit it aloud, but she was so relieved that her children were beautiful. Though she would have certainly found them beautiful as their mother, Ruth knew how difficult she'd found her life to be at times because she'd been so plain-looking all her life. She was a princess and it took a lot of effort and people to make her glamorous and beautiful. Maybe her little princesses would have an easier time of things. After all, isn't that what every parent wants? For things to be just a little better for their children? Or maybe Ruth was losing her mind again. It was still hard to hold on to any of her thoughts.

"She needs a name," Harry reminded her.

Ruth knew he was right, and in the few moments of labor when she'd been able to actually think, she'd been concerned that she didn't have a name for her new baby. Last time, she'd been able to think about how she was going through all of this to get to meet Emilia. This time, it was just 'the baby.'

Harry was looking down at the baby and thinking aloud, "I don't think she's an Elizabeth." Ruth agreed with that.

"Charlotte," she said suddenly.

"That wasn't one of the names on our list."

"I know. It was one of my mother's names. Elizabeth Charlotte Catherine. But look at her, Harry," Ruth insisted. "Her name is Charlotte."

"I think you're right," he murmured softly, full of awe at the realization.

"Of course I'm right. Haven't you learned that by now?" she teased.

Harry chuckled lightly at that. "Alright, Charlotte, what's the rest of your name, sweetheart?" he asked the little newborn. But of course, Charlotte chose that moment to start falling asleep.

After a few more minutes of quiet discussion, they decided on Charlotte Elizabeth Dianne Alexandra, giving their youngest daughter names from Ruth's mother and grandmother and from Harry's mother as well. It was quite a long name for such a little girl, but just like Emilia Fiona Mary Louisa, she'd grow into them.

Doctor Parkins and the nurses came in and out for a while. Ruth had gone into labor just after dinner and Charlotte was born at dawn. She'd arrived nearly a week early, so nothing was really prepared. Graham and Catherine would need to be called home from university. The king would need to be informed. And of course the notices would have to go out to the press.

Harry did not leave Ruth and Charlotte's side for the first two hours of the baby's life. But then he snuck out of the room while Ruth was getting another checkup with the doctor. When he returned, he was not alone.

Poor Emmy had been sleeping still when her father came to the nursery to wake her up. Her blonde curls were all a mess and she rubbed her bright blue eyes with her pudgy baby fist. Ruth held Charlotte in her arms and smiled to see her husband and elder daughter approach.

"Emmy, love, come meet your sister," Ruth said. There was no way of really knowing how much the baby understood just yet. She was nearly eleven months old and babbling up a storm. Not talking yet, but very close.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed with Emmy on his lap. "Emilia, this is Charlotte," he introduced.

Charlotte was settled for the moment, oblivious to the fact that she was meeting the first of her three siblings. Ruth figured that they'd have their whole lives to get to know each other, being so remarkably and almost embarrassingly close in age. They'd be in the same nursery after the first few months; Charlotte would stay in Ruth and Harry's room for a little while, just as Emilia had.

Emmy seemed to be very interested in her baby sister. She looked at her intently, trying to figure her out. Harry and Ruth both watched her, waiting for her assessment. Eventually, she looked up at her mother questioningly. Ruth pointed down at the baby and said, "Charlotte."

"Cha-lot," Emmy repeated.

Harry's face broke out into a huge grin. "Yes, sweetheart, that's Charlotte!"

Ruth was amazed. Stunned, really. Emilia had said her first word. Charlotte.