Thanks to Amy and Barb for the beta work. . . great suggestions ladies! Here it is, the chappie you've all been waiting for,
-Leesainthesky
Ch 93 Life
The next two hours passed in a haze of contractions. The baby was on his way and all I wanted was to be finished.
What a wussy you are, Gabrielle. Victorian women give birth as regularly as you used to take vacations, I scolded myself.
But then, those women didn't expect ultrasounds, epidurals, nursing coaches and specialized neonatal care.
I looked over at the bedside clock—it read 6:15pm.
At least I had my husband,who was as brilliant and intuitive as any doctor was. Providing there were no extreme complications, delivery should be a fairly uneventful.
I turned my attention back to Erik, who lay beside me on our bed, and caught him staring at me.
Strips of sunlight streamed in between the gauzy window panels sparking a kaleidoscope of earthy jewel tones in his eyes.
"I love you," I said.
"And I, love you," he replied, meeting my lips with his and kissing me gently. I drank deeply of his affection, thankful for the pleasant diversion.
"Um, you certainly are yummy."
"Hold onto that sentiment for later," he answered, tracing my lips with his forefinger.
"Incidentally—how long must we abstain, darling?"
"I wondered when I would hear that question," I said, laughing. He frowned.
"Well, I did not want to appear beastly by broaching the subject too soon."
"Six weeks. Can you stand it, big guy?"
"If you can, my little vixen," Erik said with a wry smirk.
"Me? You're the man with the perpetual wood," I teased.
"But I'm sure we'll manage, and I'll bet you and I will be up to our ear lobes in 'baby this' and 'baby that' for a while. We'll have to grab a tryst whenever we can."
"We've years to make love; that is, if you still desire to do so after what my ardor has wrought upon you."
"The pleasure is more than worth the pain," I reassured my passionate, yet naive husband.
"Mamma Mia!" I jumped, squeezed my eyes against the pain of another contraction and panted like a St. Bernard, chanting "it hurts it hurts it hurts . . ."
"My poor darling, what can I do for you?" Erik asked, his eyes skittered over my body and a momentary wave of helplessness engulfed him."
"On second thought, never again touch me in that way," I moaned.
"I beg your pardon? But you—"
My moan turned to laughter when I saw his dispirited expression. "Only kidding, dear."
I lay my hand on his mask. "Erik, you promised you'd remove this for the delivery.
"I did, and I shall. Due to Mademoiselle Caruso's skittish nature, I choose to wear it whenever she is about," he said, carefully prying the bit of leather from his face to reveal his deformity to the tepid air.
Erik would never be comfortable exposing his naked flesh to the world, but he shouldn't have to hide within his own home. I'd determined that those who chose to visit DuPuis Manor would have to deal with Erik's deformity or leave.
"There's my husband. I want you to greet our child as yourself, not the Phantom," I cooed, stroking his cheek. He closed his eyes, smiled and pressed his face into my hand, relishing the affection.
"—Merde!" I yelped. No sooner had I withdrawn my hand from his cheek than another contraction clenched at my insides.
"Breathe, Gabrielle, that's my girl, breathe through the pain exactly as we practiced," Erik encouraged, remembering the birthing techniques I'd shown him, learned from coaching my single friend back in Chicago. When I'd told Erik the Lamaze method had been, (or would be) discovered by a Frenchman, he shrugged and gave me a cocky "But of course."
"Erik—oh, god, the pressure—it feels like the baby is coming now!" Moans punctuated my short, breathing. Erik resumed his position between my outstretched legs and reached for the hand sanitizer.
"I ought to use that, too," I gasped, indicating the bottle.
"An excellent idea—before we forget," he replied, stretching over my body to squirt a dollop of the gel into my hands, repeating the action for himself, placing the bottle back on the makeshift supply table and rubbing the sanitizer over his graceful hands.
When Erik focused his attention back on the event between my legs, his features became animated. "The baby is indeed in your birth canal, Gabrielle," he announced.
"Oh no! He's coming now—? Well, not 'oh no', I meant to say 'oh good'!"
Not the time for a panic party, panic Gab, I reprimanded myself mentally
"You are doing fine, my sweet. Keep up the quick breathing and push," Erik instructed.
"It's all I want to do!" I cried, bearing down. Even though the pain was off the charts, the importance of my duty urged me forward.
"Again, Gabrielle."
I clutched the sheet in my fists and bore down.
"Push harder!" Erik commanded.
"I am!" I whimpered irritably.
Through the buzzing in my head, I heard the bedroom door open.
"Bakhshid!" exclaimed Nadir in startled Farsi.
"Allow me to deliver this steaming water, then I shall take my leave—" he began.
"No, you will not, Nadir. Gabrielle is in parturition and I require your assistance. Put the stock pot down and prepare more hot compresses. When you have finished, bring them here, please," Erik said sharply, he had no times for decorous formalities.
Although a proper Persian male, Nadir had also been a police chief in a country not yet ruled by violent misogynistic religious extremists. Certainly, the man must have responded to a birth emergency or two without fearing the loss of his eyes for looking at the private parts of a woman who was not his wife.
Following Erik's directive, he prepared another thick warm compress and carried it to the bed.
"Exchange it for the one cooling on her abdomen."
Without hesitation, or a look at my feminine parts, Nadir obliged.
The warmth provided me with a little relief.
"Thank you, Nadir," I whispered, eking out a smile.
"I am your servant, Madame," he bowed, gathered up the cold used sheets and retreated to the laundry hamper at the other side of the room. Erik resumed coaching me with gentle firmness, his eyes trained on my crotch.
"Mon dieu!" Erik exclaimed. "The child's head is visible, Gabrielle."
"Ooh, let me feel!" I said, sliding my hand to my crotch where I felt the sticky, warm, scalp of the being my body struggled to purge.
"Wow, that's really our baby?"
"Indeed," Erik replied breathlessly, sharing my reaction to this miracle of life.
"Do press on, dear. The babe does not appear to be advancing."
I panted and pushed, grunted and, puffed until I sweat so much it stung my eyes.
"You simply must push harder, Gabrielle!" My husband's unyielding jussive conveyed to me the urgency of my compliance.
I stared at the upper most point of the bed canopy where the silk gathered into a lapis blue rosette, and continued to strain and grunt until I thought I might pull an "Elvis" and blow an artery.
"Give me your all, Gabrielle, stay strong, my love, you are nearly done."
Erik's resolve stirred me to press on. With all the fortitude I could muster, I exerted vigorous downward pressure.
He stole a glance at me, quickly looking back. In spite of his impassive demeanor, I saw worry cloud his jade eyes.
My pulse quickened—not a favorable reaction should my blood pressure rise. "What's wrong?"
Erik hesitated before replying. "The baby's head has crowned, but I fear he's is reluctant to come forth. You simply must bear down harder, Gabrielle."
A nasty little panic bug crawled down my spine.
"No, Erik, no—hell no! I do not want a c-section," I shouted.
"Hush now, darling—the time for drastic measures has yet to come. Breathe along with me as you push," he said, calming me with his voice, inhaling and puffing out air in an attempt to relax and encourage me.
"Uhnn," I grunted.
"Do not stop!"
Erik had elevated my bottom with a few old pillows covered with sterile linens. I pushed up with my arms, raising off of the bed with a grunt, taxing my body beyond its personal parameters and issued one last Herculean push, accompanied by a cry worthy of a doshu.
I'd be damned if I'd have a caesarian birth.
Completely engrossed in his duty, Erik's face bore a mixture of anticipation and fierce concentration as he worked methodically between my legs. Suddenly, his eyes widened in astonished wonder and relief conquered his serious demeanor.
"Cease pushing, darling, the child's head is free and—sacrebleu! The little one's nearly shot through my hands." Erik grinned from ear to ear.
"Why, he is a boy, yes, yes, just as you predicted, Gabrielle. And he is unblemished, perfect—look!" Erik held up the squishy, vernix-covered newborn for me to view.
"Oh, look at him will you? He's gorgeous; hi little guy!" I said, my voice sweetened with newfound motherhood.
"Nuage d'Or, now I am certain God exists," Erik whispered with awe, cradling the messy wiggling infant in his arms with no regard for his white linen shirt.
"Praise Allah, a new life, a son," I heard Nadir's softly accented voice.
He moved a few steps nearer to the bed, his eyes glued to our babe.
"Nadir, on the table there are two small lengths of silken cord. Hand one to me, will you?" Erik instructed.
Ever vigilant about the infiltration of germs, I snapped to attention. "Erik—his hands!"
"Yes, of course! First you must use a drop of that gel on your hands—the bottle there on the table." Erik indicated the sanitizer with his chin. Nadir picked up the odd shaped container and fumbled with the pump before extracting a good blob of it into his hands.
"Rub it about and it will rid your hands of germs," said Erik.
The Persian obliged, slathering his hands with the alcohol and gel solution. He located the piece of dark red silk and plucked it up. Erik took the silk from Nadir, holding it in one hand, lifting the infant's umbilical cord with his other.
"Now," he said, "take the other piece and tie it snugly about the umbilical."
"I fear I am not suited—" Nadir blanched.
Erik sighed, "Monsieur Khan, I have only two hands—if you please."
I watched, amused as the Persian nervously looped the silk around the baby's cord twice, pulled it tight and tied two good knots in it.
"Now, secure the other silk, if you please, closer to the boy's body."
Nadir complied, standing back after he finished his important task and watched us.
"Would you care to sever it, my dear?" Erik asked.
"Me? Yes! " I replied, excitedly.
He handed over a pair of sharp scissors and held the cord near so I would not have to bend far. One good snip and the babe was no longer connected to my body.
Silently, reverently Erik carried his son to the wash basin to tidy him up. The child must have sensed the person who held him was his father, because he began to coo softly.
I relaxed into the wall of pillows behind my back and watched the tender sight. Light cramping claimed me and I guessed it was the placenta preparing to exit my body.
How weird, I thought.
What had taken over nine months to bring forth was over in a matter of hours. Gone was my low-slung beachball of a belly; I was extremely sore and tired, but relieved that the relentless pain and pressure was over. I'd made it, the baby had made it, even Erik and Nadir had made it. Phew.
If history served my memory correctly, I would only have to endure labor one more time. Of course, one never knew about the tide of the future.
Erik extracted mucus from the infant's mouth and nose with the bulb, then placed him in a small basin of tepid, sterile water and gently wiped away the white vernix and blood from his tiny body. A wobbly cry grew into a full on wail—our little Erik did not approve of baths.
"He certainly has good lungs; an opera singer, perhaps?" I laughed to my husband.
"Heaven forfend," Erik replied, swaddling our son in a clean cotton baby blanket and placing him on a produce scale.
"Our little Erik weighs three point six hundred and thirty-four kilograms and is fifty-three point thirty-four centimeters long or eight pounds and one sixteenth ounces and twenty-one inches in illogical American measurements," announced Erik.
"All in all, a healthy lad." He beamed and carried the squirming bundle back to me.
"Madman DuPuis, would you care to hold your child?" Erik asked.
Beneath a swirl of black fuzz sat a tiny red face: slits for eyes, a heart shaped chin, and like his papa, a generous mouth, already chapped from the harshness of the air. I received him greedily. Here he was, the little guy who'd holed up in my body for nine months, in the flesh at last, breathing evenly and working his mouth vigorously.
"Hello, little Erik, welcome to the world. I am your mère, and this is your père and we love you very much," I said, as joyous tears trickled from the corners of my eyes. "Isn't he fabulous?" I whispered, switching my gaze from baby to father. Erik eased onto the bed and sat next to me.
"He is a miracle the likes of which I have never imagined in my most obscure fantasy. I am in awe of you both," he said, kissing my brow lovingly.
"Thank you, Gabrielle."
"You are welcome," I whispered back.
Nadir excused himself, making a swift exit to check on the meddling Madame Caruso.
"What's going on with Caruso?" I asked suddenly remembering the pre-birth drama.
"I put her under for a while. Soon the power of hypnosis will erase her recent memory. She'll believe she has been ill for the whole of this day when she emerges.Perhaps I will glean important information from her as well," Erik said confidently, watching the babe and brushing his fingers over the downy head as though he touched a porcelain figurine.
"It's fortunate for her I went into labor, or else she might be in as many pieces as my broken laptop," I proclaimed with a trifling laugh. At the moment, mourning my computer seemed irrelevant.
Remembering that newborns often wanted to nurse immediately and of the benefits to both mother and child, I slipped down the shoulder of my gown and placed his small lips close to my breast. After a good bit of rooting around, he finally latched onto me and began suckling—hard. I was amazed to learn how much pressure a newborn's tiny mouth could exert.
Erik watched, mesmerized by the procedure.
"Is he receiving anything yet?" he inquired.
"I think so. If he doesn't, I'm sure he'll tell us so," I said, wincing.
"Does it hurt, darling?"
"Not too badly. I suppose I'll grow accustomed to having a Hoover, that's an electric vacuum for cleaning rugs, hooked up to my second most delicate body part." I pulled gently at the babe's head. Indeed, the evidence showed he was receiving his first meal, which pleased me. I'd only been a parent for a few minutes and already there was too much to worry about.
The need for more pushing overcame me, and I dispensed with the final stage of labor, the placenta. Erik rose to assist me, should I need it. Standing bed the bed, he regardedhis wife and child. Tears shimmered in his eyes.
"Magnifique, mon aimé," he murmured sweetly, his words caressing me.
I smiled up at my husband and blew a kiss at him. Once thebirthing was complete, he carried away the soiled towels and sheets, returning with fresh padding, warm water and a cloth. With gentle regard, my husband cleansed me as I nursed our child.
From beyond the windows, there was a clap of thunder and a flash of lightning—the birth of a summer rain storm.
-()-
If I don't receive a review from each and every one of you readers and lurkers, I shall cry, or sic Monsieur DuPuis on you. Seriously, please drop me one. I worked on this chapter long and hard; how did I do?
Your obedient servant,
-Leesa
Bakhshid: Forgive me, Doshu: Grand master (martial arts), Nuage d'Or: Cloud of God (or golden cloud).