Plot: Amanda remembering the birth of her son, Spock. A one-shot alternative birth of Spock story.
Note: The idea popped into my head ironically as I was teaching a lesson about sandstorms. Haha. I know that this story probably makes no sense in the actual Star Trek universe but, that's the glory of FanFiction. I hope you enjoy anyway! 😊Keep in mind that this story is told in Amanda's perspective, so she does go into detail about childbirth. As always, I take constructive criticism but be nice. Live Long and Prosper! 😊
The beauty that comes from Vulcan sandstorms
When labour started in the early hours of the morning, I had nine months to mentally prepare for the long, painful experience ahead and I was as prepared as I would ever be. I had read books; and I had asked my mother all the questions I could think of, so when it came to childbirth, I was prepared.
I was not prepared to be ushered through my house in my nightgown to the storm cellar when I was mere moments away from giving birth. The midwives told me that we would make it to the storm cellar in time, but I had the feeling that would not be the case.
My son never did things in half measures, whether it be deciding to join Starfleet against my husband's approval or deciding not to take his childhood bond mate as a wife, I assure you his birth was no exception.
Below is my recollection of my son's birth. It was the day that I realized what unconditional love was, it was the day I realized that I would gladly lay down my life for my son's and it was the day that I was reminded the beauty that comes from sandstorms on Vulcan.
Sandstorms were common in the outskirts of Shi'Kahr. We got them almost every month and they were usually nothing to worry about. Just some sand and some harsh wind, and usually we were just instructed to stay inside.
However, there was word that the one we would receive tonight would be bad, so bad there hadn't been one reported as bad as this for a hundred years.
However, it was expected to hit at night at around 22:00. So, as I was labouring throughout the morning there was no panic, only calm. However, to our surprise, at 15:00 the storm hit, and it hit hard.
One moment I was laying on the bed breathing through the pain as the two midwives were draping a white sheet over my legs and the next, I wrapped my arm around my husband's waist as he ushered me and the midwives out of my room and into the corridor.
Amanda, Sarek's calm voice echoed through my mind. I urge you to be calm.
I felt the rush of wind as we made our way down the corridor. I was too engulfed in pain to open my eyes or do anything but breathe, but my immediate guess was that the force of the wind must have broken some windows. My theory was confirmed when I opened my eyes momentarily to see the dusty view of sand throughout the corridor.
The bedroom was in the middle of the house and the cellar was in the back, 10 steps under the house. On Earth, we would call it a basement. After about ten steps down the corridor, I felt the child moving lower and lower in my belly.
I tensed in an attempt to stop the progression and immediately tried to mentally calm myself as my heartrate suddenly elevated in panic and fear. It's not far. It's not far. We can make it. Just a few more minutes.
Just then, I felt pressure in my lower belly. I remembered my mother telling me that pressure meant the end was near, but we weren't even halfway down the corridor when I found myself screaming internally to Sarek through our bond. By this time, it felt like he was practically dragging me through the corridor.
Sarek. Sarek, he's coming. He's coming. I feel him. Through the loud wind, I could hear him tell something to the midwife in Vulcan who was holding my right arm. While I was practically fluent in Vulcan, his words were meaningless through the intense pain.
It was only confirmed that I was, indeed, being dragged down the corridor when I felt the cold concrete floor under my feet. For the first time, I was able to get a clear view of what was happening around us. The wind had indeed forced several of the windows open, with sand and pieces of rock beginning to fly throughout the house.
I was ushered into the passageway where we had finally reached the stairs which lead into the cellar. The pressure began to worsen, and I felt the baby move lower with each step down the stairs.
Sarek, it's happening. Right now.
"Lady Amanda, you must continue to breathe." The midwife commanded.
We were halfway down the stairs when I reached my hand under my gown. I immediately pulled my hand away in panic as I felt the beginning of his head against my fingers. My body was well past the breathing stage and I was beginning to lose the power to control it. I wasn't pushing, but my body was starting to.
The tensing was no longer working and no matter how hard I breathed and panted, I felt him continue to come. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, I pulled myself away from Sarek's grasp, using his robes for support. I fell to my knees on the hard- concrete floor in front of the brick wall.
My heart raced a million times a minute from both pain and panic, but as I levelled my breathing and forced myself into a normal rhythm it was then that I stopped trying to fight my body. Instead, I relented and submitted to it taking comfort that it must know what it was doing. It had to. After all, women have been doing this since the beginning of time.
"He's coming." I groaned.
I felt Sarek's arm around my waist. My hand was now beginning to support the child's head as it continued to descend.
"Amanda, you must get up!" He commanded, panic radiated through his voice. "Amanda, come you must get up!"
I felt wrists wrap under my armpits and the midwife's stoic, almost crude voice command,
"Come Lady Amanda, we must get you onto the bed."
The intense pressure had practically rendered me speechless and on top of that, I couldn't stop my body pushing with each and every painful contraction. The pain shot through my back, legs, and even my arms. With Sarek crouched down beside me trying to guide me to my feet, I grabbed his hand that was supporting my waist.
While I knew I was about to scar my husband for life, I could think of no other way to get my point across in the moment. I guided his hand under my gown where my other hand was supporting the child's head and replaced my hand with his.
Years of logic could not have prepared him for this moment, and the look on his face when I finally glanced over at him was one of pure shock. While I had expected his words to be panicked, I was surprised at how calm he was speaking Vulcan to the Midwives. Something I processed in the moment as Towel, now.
I was relieved when I saw a white cloth being placed under me and the presence of a midwife to my right. With my hand now on top of Sarek's I pressed gently as the head moved down and let out a loud scream as the child's head came though. Before I could even register it, the body followed.
Sarek caught him. Straight into his arms. His reflexes were better than mine. As he pulled the child up from my gown, the small but perfect little baby began to cry. Two pointy ears, ten fingers and toes, a loud set of lungs, and yes, a BOY. I knew it, I always had.
"He's beautiful." I said amidst a sigh of relief.
The midwives immediately cut the cord and took the crying child from Sarek. Feeling a wave of heat and relief, I leaned against my husband, feeling my body relax after the ordeal.
He supported me as I adjusted myself onto my left hip and watched the midwife begin to clean and perform checks on the wailing child.
He was healthy and unharmed by his fast introduction to the world. After a couple of hours, the worst of the storm had passed, and we were allowed out of the cellar. As I settled into bed, the midwife placed the sleeping baby in my arms who was wrapped in a soft white blanket.
"Thank you." I said, my voice shaking with tears of happiness.
As I examined his face, his beautiful face, the tears began to run down my cheeks. I could not get over his beauty, his perfection and was relieved to hear the midwife's confirmation that after all the checks he was completely healthy.
I ran my finger gently against his soft cheek, he responded by squirming gently within the blanket. It was then I realized that despite everything, all the months of worry, morning sickness, aches and pains that I would do it all again in a heartbeat for this moment and all the moments afterwards. I felt the love surge through my body as I cradled the little bundle, and as the minutes passed, I thought for sure my heart would explode with all the love I felt for this tiny being.
The squeaking door broke me from my thoughts. The midwives left the room and Sarek close the door beside him. He stood at the door for a moment and crossed his arms around his back.
"Well done, wife." he said.
I took in a deep breath. Why was he standing over there? Was he scared? Was he nervous? I held my arm out to him and commanded softly through our bond. Come here, my love. He won't bite.
He walked over slowly and sat gently on the edge of the bed. I wiped the tears from my cheeks before resting my hand on his leg and caressed it gently. "I think I am the one who should be saying 'well done' it was you who delivered him."
He leaned forward and looked in the bundle of white blankets. I leaned forward slightly and pulled the blanket back from the child's face.
"So human." he said.
Feeling a slight twinge of anger run through me, I scowled. "You do know that I am human, right?" I blurted, before looking back at the child.
Out of the soft holographic lights, I saw a twinge in the corner of his mouth and a small formation of a smile appeared. It was small, believe me very small, but it was there. I reached up and caressed his cheek gently, it was a sight that I wish would have lasted longer. No sooner than the smile appeared, it vanished.
"Given the circumstances," he started, "and if you are agreeable, I thought that we might give the child a name that means 'uniter' in the Vulcan language. His existence unites both your species as mine as one."
"Oh?" I whispered, he was not one for unique or personal things, so I was, indeed, surprised and confused at first.
"The name is Spock."
Spock. Hmm. What a peculiar sounding name, was my immediate thought. I looked at the child, repeating the name over and over in my head. The more I thought about the name, the more he looked like a Spock and the more I grew to like the name.
"Your silence does not seem to suggest enormous enthusiasm."
"No…Spock…Spock…" The child began to wiggle and coo in the blankets upon each time I whispered the name. "Do you like that name?" I asked.
With a smile, I looked at my husband and nodded, "I like Spock, and I think he does too."
After a quick glance at the door, he shuffled himself further up in the bed and gently moved the blanket away from Spock's face. After a moment of hesitation, he brushed his finger across the tips of his pointed ears and down to his cheek. I trailed my hand up the blanket and brushed my finger gently on top of his.
There were many things that was felt through our Ozh'esta. A few being relief, love, and happiness on his end, but slowly a feeling of calm overcame me. I leaned forward and kissed his soft lips gently.
"Thank you." I whispered. For more than he would never know, I thanked him. I thanked him for this moment. I thanked him for our son, I thanked him for his love. I thanked him for being strong when I'm not, and I would thank him for much more in the years to come.
I leaned back into the pillows just as Spock let out a soft squeal. We turned our attention to the bundle and folded back the blanket just as he opened his eyes for the first time. Dark brown. He has my eyes. I looked over at Sarek whose face had an expression that I could not identify.
It wasn't the usual stoic expression, or one of concern when he furrowed his brow in a certain way, or one of disappointment when his mouth would form into a small, but there, frown… this look was one of softness. I watched as he admired his son, our son, in my arms.
"Hmph… he has your eyes."
"Yes," I smiled, feeling more tears well in my eyes. "And your ears". I caressed the points of his ears gently making him squeal softly. "Hello, Spock."
~*The End*~