First good experience- part 2
Jessa asked for a oneshot of a sequel to Ch2744 "First good experience" where…read and see.
The nine months had just gone by so fast. Emma felt like she blinked and then, suddenly, she was full term. Now here she was, her waters had broken and Mary Margaret was nowhere to be seen. She had gone out that morning acting all suspicious. She had been pretty cryptic when Emma asked her where she was going. Just said she had a couple of errands to run. Now that the pains of labour were hitting Emma, she had a funny feeling those errands involved going back on her word. Now that Emma's baby was on their way, she felt like Mary Margaret had finally realised the amount of work having a teen mom with a newborn under her roof was going to be. Emma knew this would happen, but there was no time to dwell on that. She had to focus on the matter at hand, her baby. They were ready to come, whether Emma was or not. She had to pull herself together and get herself to the hospital.
"Don't worry." She grunted, a hand over her belly. "Whether Mary Margaret sticks around or not, mommy's here for you. I promise." Emma told her baby. She meant it too, they wouldn't grow up like she did.
Emma didn't realise labour was going to be so long. Her waters had burst five hours ago, and she was nowhere near ready to deliver, or so the midwife told her. Emma was in agony. Every inch of her body felt like it was against her. Emma screamed out, but nobody was there to help. She cursed herself for trusting Mary Margaret to be there. That only made the pain feel worse. So when Emma heard footsteps sprinting to her room, she assumed they would go right on by. She thought it was a doctor or nurse, heading to a medical emergency. She was wrong.
"Emma, I am so sorry." Panted Mary Margaret. Emma unscrewed her eyes and looked out. The image was blurry through the tears, but it was definitely her. It was Mary Margaret.
"What are you doing here?" Emma grunted. "I thought you'd finally given up." Mary Margaret frowned. She knew Emma would always have the fear of abandonment, but it still hurt when her foster daughter assumed the worst of her.
"No, I would never. Like I told you, I had errands to run. I came home to several missed calls from the hospital. I came straight here and they told me where to find you." Mary Margaret took a tissue from her purse and dabbed Emma's forehead. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to begin with, but I'm here now. You can do this, Em. You're already doing so well." Emma just nodded, taking her foster mother's hand. The pain seemed to ease slightly, just knowing she wasn't alone.
It still took another four hours, but in that whole time Mary Margaret didn't leave Emma's side. She was there when Emma's baby boy took his first breath. She was there as he was placed on his mother's chest. She couldn't be prouder of her foster daughter. She kissed the side of Emma's head once the baby had been cleaned up and was wrapped snugly in a blanket in Emma's arms. She took an envelope out of her purse and gave it to Emma.
"This is what I was doing." She said, clearly excited about something. "I didn't know you'd go into labour, otherwise I would have waited because it takes an age. Never the less, here it is. Open it." Mary Margaret asked. Curious, Emma opened the envelope. She gasped, looking wide eyed at Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret nodded, teary herself.
"You're still legally a minor, so that made it easier. Officially now, Emma Swan, you are my daughter. From now until forever." Mary Margaret explained. Emma couldn't believe it. She had been adopted? Mary Margaret handed her another little gift. "I didn't think this would be needed quite so soon." She laughed. Emma looked at it. It was a tiny little onesie that read "Grandma's little boy." Emma smiled. Mary Margaret had always thought it was a boy. She had been right. "So…what do you think?" She asked. She was worried Emma's silence meant she wasn't happy. Emma couldn't help it as the tears began to flow. She held out her baby.
"Meet your grandma, little man." She said, voice filled with emotion. Mary Margaret began to cry properly herself as she took the little boy, her baby grandson. She held him close, and she couldn't be prouder of Emma. Her Emma. Mary Margaret knew she would never tire of saying that.
