The weeks went by slowly in Anne's confinement chamber. She read poetry and excerpts from the Bible with the few ladies she had selected to attend her. The Lady Mary made the latter uncomfortable for some of the ladies however, with her blatant disapproval of their use of an English Bible. Sometimes Anne sung with her ladies or played cards. Her sister-in-law Jane frequented her confinement chamber to deliver the court gossip. She reported ironically that after his morning visits to the confinement chamber, the King was always with his gentlemen. He had dined publicly every day, and after his evening visits, he supped publicly as well. Anne knew that to mean that her husband had not taken a lover while she was away. That made her feel heartened. She would not have to contend with a rival while she was indisposed. If she had a son, she might not have to deal with a rival for a long time, if ever. If she conceived within a year of this birth and was delivered of another son, she would probably never have a true rival ever again.
In the early afternoon on November 30th, Anne's pains had begun. The confinement room was in uproar, with maids fetching rags, and midwives shouting orders, and ladies readying the birthing ale. Anne was delirious with the familiar and yet entirely shocking pain. One of her ladies- Anne could not tell which, as her eyes were hazy- shoved a crucifix into her hand. Another laid a cool, lavender scented rag on her forehead. "It's alright, Your Grace". That was Nan Parr's voice. "Did anyone go to alert the King?", Anne heard her mother's distant voice ask. "No, I'll go and tell him that the Queen is in labor now", said Catherine Brandon's voice. Anne heard her rise and felt the air from her skirts swishing as she hurried out. She smelled her sister's perfume come closer and then felt Mary grab her hand. "Okay now Anne. You can do this". Anne nodded, disoriented. It was hard to think of anything but the griping pain in her groin.
Hours passed, and the baby still had not come. Anne remembered feeling as if days were passing rather than hours when she had been in childbed with Elizabeth. It was the same now. The pains had begun to come faster and sharper and Anne cried out. "Is there anything I can do for you?", Meg Wyatt asked her. "If you could do this for me, I'd be quite obliged!", Anne replied, straining. Meg laughed. "Oh, Your Grace!". She turned to Mary. "Imagine bringing wit with you to childbed!". Mary laughed too. "Only Anne would!". "I am so pleased to be a source of humor for you ladies!", Anne cried as a contraction hit her. She moaned in pain. "Remind me to have you both committed to the Tower when this is all over!". All of Anne's ladies were laughing now. "Alright, alright", said the head midwife. "You're all disturbing Her Majesty, and she needs to focus". The ladies settled down and set about performing other tasks for the midwives.
Close to midnight, Anne gave a loud cry and shuddered with pain. "Ohhhh! Dieu aide moi! The baby! The baby is coming now!". The midwives were on their feet. One of them thrust the crucifix back in to Anne's hand while another held a thick silk rope in front of Anne's face for her to bite down on. The head midwife was down by Anne's ankles, lifting her shift to expose her bare legs and cunny. Even through her pain, Anne was irritated with the indecency of it all. That her privates should be on display for all to see like some bawdy house slut! If it were not to bring a child in to the world, Anne thought she would never suffer such an ignoble process as childbed, especially not with all the dangers it brought. The head midwife smiled as Anne shrieked when another contraction hit, and Anne had an overwhelming urge to jump up and slap her! Not that she was physically capable of it just then. "Alright, Your Grace", said the midwife soothingly. "Time to push". Anne howled in pain as she pushed, every now and then adding some colorful French vocabulary. "Not long now, Your Grace", said the midwife. "C'mon, push!". Anne, using all of her strength, delivered a final, powerful push, in a rush of blood and inconceivable pain.
The room was filled with the sound of a loud wail and Anne slumped over in the bed, exhausted. The midwives caught the babe up in immaculate white sheets. Anne looked up at them blankly. This was the moment of truth. Bouncing the baby gently, the head midwife tweaked the blanket down a little to examine the privates. She turned to Anne and smiled. "A boy, Your Majesty. A healthy, lusty son". Anne felt tears flowing out of her eyes. A boy! Mon Dieu! I am safe! All of her ladies congratulated her as the midwives washed the new little Prince in the golden basin that had been provided. Not far from Anne's bed was the royal cradle of England, already made up with satin sheets trimmed with ermine and gold thread. The swaddling clothes that her sister Mary had been knitting were set to the side, ready to wrap the baby up once he was cleaned. "Congratulations, Your Grace", the Lady Mary mumbled. It was clear that she was being quite insincere, since Anne's son put paid any aspirations Mary had of the throne. Anne turned wearily and looked at her as if she were seeing her for the first time.
This was nothing but a motherless girl whose future was no less than uncertain. Everything she had known had been turned upside down. Now that Anne had borne a son, any hopes Lady Mary held of the throne were shattered. But, Anne could still turn that to her advantage. Now that she was all but untouchable, she would reach out and make friends and alliances. She had everything to play for just now. Every royal house in Europe would seek to marry their daughters to her son. Anne could win over Lady Mary's supporters by befriending her now that she was at her strongest. It would be so much more powerful a statement now that she had a Prince. Surely, she would endear herself to them for acting in kindness now that she had the upper hand. "Well my dear, shall I go to the King to tell him he has a son?", asked the Countess of Wiltshire, Elizabeth Boleyn. Anne waved her hand to indicate that her answer was no. Anne's mother was stunned. "I think that it should be the Lady Mary", said Anne, turning to her stepdaughter. Lady Mary looked just as stunned as Anne's mother had. Undoubtedly, Anne's giving birth to a son was not her idea of good news. However, it was a tradition that someone would have the honor of informing the King; usually a close family member or a court favorite. Taken aback, Lady Mary performed a small curtsey. "I shall go to His Majesty at once".
Minutes later the King burst into the room, as loud and boisterous as ever. The midwives begged him to be quieter, but he could barely contain his joy. He rushed over to Anne who was now laying propped up in the bed, holding their son. She had had her ladies brush out her hair and clean her face so that she looked as if childbed had been nothing but a minor discomfort. Her ladies curtsied and fluttered away to give the royal couple some privacy. Henry kissed Anne full on the lips. "My love! Oh my love! The best news!". Anne held the tiny sniffling bundle up for him to see. Henry took the babe in his arms and peered at his face. "We'll call him Henry", he said lovingly staring down at his infant son. Anne shook her head. "And have him pressured for all his life to live up to your name, 'Great Harry'?", Anne laughed, citing the loving nickname his people had given him. "He will be a King for peace; let us name him Edward instead, for St. Edward the Confessor". Henry laughed. "Edward then. Prince Edward".