A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing. This one is about Connie/Sam (Grace's father). Connie is clinical lead and pregnant with Grace and Sam is still around. I think I was too young to really remember Holby/Casualty when they were originally together and Grace was born, and I have no idea if Sam's character is right or not but I hope you like it! :3
~Mini Peacelet~
Wintry Advent
13. Bells
The delicate silky fabric clutched her swollen stomach - emphasising her substantial baby bump - and flowed down to the floor into an elegant train, lace sleeves concealing her arms. Tiny hints of detail adorned the train of the attire in a dark purple colour. Her swollen feet were squeezed into a pair of white satin heels despite comprehending that by the end of this long day her feet and ankles would be in agony.
Her galaxy of thick, chestnut-brown locks had been curled into luscious loose ringlets, tumbling down her back like an ocean of belgium chocolate, not a strand out of place. Her dainty eyelashes had been coated with two generous layers of her finest jet black mascara, cheekbones highlighted with a subtle dusting of bronzer and blusher. The female's lips shimmered in a shade of glossy, pastel pink.
It was Connie Beauchamp's wedding day.
She was marrying her baby's father; Sam Strachan. The wedding had been a rush, the clinical lead hadn't had the opportunity she wanted nor would have liked and appreciated to properly plan her wedding day. This day was supposed to be the best day of her life. Her baby was due in a matter of weeks. But the instant Sam's mother, Audrey, had been informed about the news that she was going to be a grandmother, she had abruptly insisted that they were married before the baby arrived. A traditionalist.
An infectious grin graced her features, the pre-wed nerves fluttered from her frame promptly as she entered the church and observed the clatter of feet as they rose to their feet upon her arrival. And there was Sam, her husband to be, standing at the front of the alter, peering sneakily behind him to capture a glimpse of his fiancée.
Sam's smile was as equally contagious as his wife's to be, "You look stunning." He murmured into her ear as she halted at the front beside him.
Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink at the compliment, "Shut up." She muttered, loathing the unpreventable changed to her body that accompanied pregnancy.
They exchanged their vows, sliding the white gold edged with golden gold rings onto one another's designated finger and then kissed passionately when declared husband and wife. Holding hands, they ambled up the alter whilst their family and friends scattered petals of confetti over the newly wed couple as the bells chimed to mark the marriage.
Connie froze to the spot, her arm flowing with Sam's as he continued to walk before pausing as he felt the tension between their interlaced hands and swivelled to face is new wife. "Con, are you okay?" He frowned with concern as he witnessed her grimace, rubbing her bump tentatively and refuse to move.
"Do I look okay?" The former heart surgeon muttered, "The baby's coming!"
"What? She can't be! It's too early."
"Well it's your fault she's early." She hissed with a hint of spite as she inhaled deep breaths to help calm her erratic breathing; a technique she was knowledgable of from her career in medical treatment.
"Why's it my fault that you've gone into premature labour?!"
"Because it's your mother that has been stressing me out for the last god knows how many months! Wanting us to be married before the baby arrives. Complaining about my dress and why I couldn't wear something a little more loose; I prefer to look pregnant than allow people to assume that I'm just fat! Especially on my wedding day! She complained about my choice of hairstyle. Isn't it any wonder that I've gone into labour?!" The brunette growled petulantly, teeth clenched together at the frequent, sharp contractions.
"Okay, you two can save this discussion of who's fault it is later. But right now we should be trying to keep Connie as calm as possible." Tess intervened between the married couple after quietly asking everyone else to leave the church, "Connie, deep breaths, okay? Breath in through your nose and out through your mouth." The nurse slowed her own breathing for the clinical lead to follow. "An ambulance is on it's way."
Connie grimaced again, "I don't think she's going to wait that long." She confessed bitterly as she focused on controlling her breathing and techniques to help cope with the agonising pain repeatedly flooding her body. Before now, she had never really sympathised with any of the women she had been midwife to in emergencies, maintaining her cutting manner. But it was true what she had heard; child birth was torture. She would definitely offer more compassion in future.
"Come on, Connie. Just sit down and concentration on your breathing, and let me check you." Tess was calm, words laced with a hint of authority as the leading consultant reluctantly did as she was asked - probably for the first time in her entire career.
The brunette glared at Sam who was pacing frantically up and down the isle, "If you are not going to be of any use than you can go outside." She was irritable, more exasperated than anyone could have anticipated. It was becoming increasingly evident that she didn't deal with pain well.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do!" He was more jittery than his wife, unprepared for the whole event of labour. And the detail that the baby was premature wasn't helping matters, "What if something's wrong? Con's not due yet."
"Kneel down next to her and hold her hand and just encourage her." Tess stated, "And relax, the baby's not that premature so he or she should be absolutely fine, the baby should be fully developed by now." She reassured and diverted her attention back to the female, "You're doing really well, Connie. Now on your next contraction, I want you to push."
The church bells rung for the second time that day as the wails from a pair of tiny lungs reverberated the atmosphere; cries so loud that it was hard to believe that the baby's lungs were so small.
Tess wrapped the baby - a little girl - in a fluffy blanket and placed her on Connie's chest, the mother instantly stroking her daughter's delicate cheek tenderly, "Grace...she's perfect." She whispered as teardrops pooled in her eyes, forming a glassy film over her pupils. Her and Sam had already decided on the name Grace when they had found at they were having a baby girl.