Ronnie gasped, the breath pummelled from her lungs as she doubled over in pain, another contraction gripping her body in a vice like hold. "Okay, Ronnie, breathe like we showed you," the midwife instructed as a male doctor placed the bottom folds of the hospital blanket on Ronnie's knees.
"I'm trying to breathe," Ronnie retorted, even as the breath stuck in her throat.
"Just like I showed you, Ronnie," the midwife repeated, demonstrating the short shallow breaths there were supposedly meant to help with the labour.
Ronnie looked to her husband, her eyes shooting daggers. "If she tells me to breathe one more time-"
"It's okay darling, it's okay," Jack soothed, pushing the damp locks of hair back from her face. "Just think that in a few hours, we'll be able to meet our baby."
Ronnie grimaced as she felt a latex covered hand push down on her skin. "I'm afraid, it might very well be longer than a few hours."
"What?" She exclaimed, trying to summon the energy to be angry but simply lying back on her pillows once again.
"You're only three centimetres dilated, I'm afraid," the doctor informed them, standing up from the stool at the foot of Ronnie's bed and taking off his gloves before throwing them in the bin. "It'll be a while yet."
Ronnie groaned. "Three centimetres, it's been six hours," Jack stated, an edge of worry lacing his voice. She's already so tired. He thought to himself, wishing that there was a way to leach the pain from Ronnie's body and take it in his own.
The doctor simply nodded his head. "Every labour is different, you just have to wait."
"That's easy for you to say," Ronnie snapped tiredly, trying to ease the knot of frustration she could feel in her chest.
"We'll see about sorting out an epidural, that will make you more comfortable."
"Yeah, okay," Ronnie replied, dismissively. This wasn't the first time she had given birth, she knew she could survive the agony, after all there, she had survived the worst pain of all. She watched as the doctor gave them a brief smile before telling the midwife something and then leaving the room.
Lifting her head, Ronnie looked at the worried expression on Jack's face. Reaching out a hand, she gently placed it on his cheek, the side of her thumb stroking the smooth skin that would no doubt be stubbled by the time they left with their newborn baby the next day.
"Ron," he murmured her name.
She smiled at him, through the exhaustion and the discomfort, she smiled. "I'm fine," she said, her voice light and free of the acute pain that was already beginning in her lower stomach. "Except your child refuses to hurry up and come out so we can meet them."
Jack let out a small chuckle, squeezing the hand Ronnie had laid across his face. "That's how I know we're having a girl – she's gonna be a nightmare as a teenager, isn't she?"
Ronnie giggled, imagining a brunette version of herself as a young adult. "Oh god – don't let Roxy talk her into dyeing her hair, okay?" She told him, remembering how for one weekend of her life she was ginger after Roxy had promised that she would be a 'gorgeous, chestnut brunette'.
Jack scoffed. "She's your sister – only you can control her." He felt Ronnie's fingers hold onto his tightly. "Ron?"
"I'm fine," she said softly, closing her eyes as she concentrated on conjuring up the image of their baby's face; that being the only thing that could distract her from the anguish she was feeling.
Dipping his head, Jack kissed Ronnie's clammy forehead before drawing back and holding onto both of her hands. "We should probably think about getting a bigger place," he told her, whispering the words so that it was only the two of them in a world of their own. "Not now, in the Spring, once it's not so cold. With a few extra bedrooms to fill with brothers and sisters for this little one. And a garden. It should have a garden."
"With swings," Ronnie added, her body leaning slightly to the left, towards Jack, craving his touch and needing to feel his skin against hers.
"Yes, with swings," Jack agreed, his heart swollen with admiration and anticipation, but most of all, with an overwhelming sense of love that he knew nothing could ever diminish.