Febuwhump Day 24: Too Weak To Move
Word Count: 653
Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl
Rating: T
Characters: Mama Armstrong, Philip Gargantos Armstrong, Catherine Elle Armstrong
Warning: N/A
Summary: No one was expecting Catherine to come along. But given Genevieve Armstrong's age, complications shouldn't have been surprising.
Notes: I headcanon that, given the age difference between Catherine and the rest of her siblings, she was both a surprise and a late baby, which caused complications for Genevieve Armstrong (Mama Armstrong)
Too Weak To Move
There was activity. All around her there was activity. Genevieve knew it was happening. She could see it, hear it, feel it, but she couldn't participate in it. It was around her. It was around where her baby had been whisked off to. It was around the room. But none of it told her anything she wanted to know.
"My baby," she said. "My baby…" Her voice was weak, much weaker than she was expecting it to be, even for this level of exhaustion.
"Shh, Mrs. Armstrong, just hang in there. They doctors are checking her over. Just hang on."
If there was one thing that Genevieve Marie Tallmound Armstrong didn't want to do, it was hang on. This had been a surprise pregnancy, and a risky one from the start. She had honestly thought that she was through having children after Alex. Certainly, she and Philip had tried, but nothing had ever come about.
And then, suddenly, with her other children either grown, or mostly grown, she discovered herself to be pregnant. It was a surprise to them all and, at her age, a risk. The doctors had been concerned. She had been highly watched and monitored. She had not been allowed to do much of anything and had mostly convalesced in the mansion for the past nine months.
And when her water had finally broken, a couple of weeks overdue, she had been taken to the medical wing of the mansion, and the labor had begun.
She had known from the beginning that this was not like the other labors she had been through. It had echoes of Olivier's labor, with the concerns of a low birth weight and a stubborn refusal to leave, but there was still something different about this labor. It was… sharper. On edge. It felt like something wasn't quite right from the start. The pushing had felt wrong, the way things were happening had felt wrong, and nothing had felt quite right.
Still, what choice did she have, but to continue? None, and they all knew it.
It was hours later when she had felt the baby finally slip free of her, saw it whisked away, and awaited her afterbirth. She worried, though. It was such a high-risk pregnancy, and the baby had been tracking as so small. Was it alright? Were there birth defects? Were there problems? Would it need surgery? Was it healthy or not? The worries didn't leave her mind as she delivered the afterbirth, and when her child wasn't back with her after that, her worry only increased.
It was only assuaged when Philip approached her, a tiny bundle in his arms. "Genevieve, my dear," he said. "Meet our daughter."
"Is… is she…?" She was still out of breath, still exhausted, but Philip seemed to understand.
"She's very small, but as far as the doctors can tell, she's healthy."
Genevieve smiled, and she tried to push up to see, but found that she couldn't. Her arms wouldn't get under her, she couldn't raise them up to try to hold her daughter. It was like there was no energy left in her body.
Philip's expression changed. "My love?" he said
She wanted to respond, but suddenly that seemed like a great challenge. Her ears were ringing, and her sight seemed to narrow. She heard Philip yelling something, although she wasn't sure why, and suddenly she felt hands on her, moving her, checking over her. She kept her eyes on her baby, though. Even if she was too weak to move, she kept her eye on her daughter.
"Catherine…"
Her energy was flagging, she wasn't sure what was going to happen next, and she was too weak to even reach up and touch her daughter. But at least she was safe. That was all that Genevieve needed. She just needed to know that her daughter was safe, because nothing else mattered.
Nothing at all.