AN: All right, no more excuses—here's the arrival of the Cobert baby! I don't have kids (nor am I paralyzed!), so I've tried to do as much research as I can on what the delivery might have been like for Cora. A huge thank you to latifraise (who is also not paralyzed, but who does have several kids) for chatting with me about labor and for reading this chapter over!
I didn't want to do footnotes with this chapter, because it's so intense and I didn't want to "interrupt" people as they were reading, so here are a couple of notes upfront:
My original thinking when I started this story was that Cora could probably have a painless, or near-painless, labor because of her paralysis, one of the few pluses about her injury. However, as soon as I started researching it, I learned that was not the case. Because of where the uterine nerves connect to the spinal cord, you have to have a much higher injury (near your shoulder blades) to not feel your contractions, so Cora would be able to feel all of them, even those low in her stomach beneath where she usually has feeling. Her injury would also mean she'd feel a lot of her labor in her back.
I decided to give Cora both a midwife and a doctor (Clarkson), which would be very unusual. Midwives were generally used by the lower classes because they were cheaper, while the rich used doctors. (This is one of the reasons you were more likely to have a successful delivery if you were poorer—midwives generally just let the labor progress, because they didn't have the training to do anything fancy, whereas doctors, who were trying to justify their high fees and demonstrate their learning, were much more likely to intervene where it wasn't necessary, and a lot of those interventions were very dangerous.) However, I didn't think it would be unlikely here that Clarkson would bring a midwife with him, since she would have delivered a lot more babies than he, and he knows he has a difficult case here and would probably be hungry for as many perspectives as he could get. I also thought this would have the side effect of giving Cora an easier labor—early 20th century doctors wanted you flat on your back (which is the most uncomfortable position for most women), whereas a midwife would have been more open to other positions and would have been much more experienced with comfort measures. She also would have been able to look and see how far dilated Cora was, as well as look and see the baby when the time came. Most male doctors did not look at their patients and did everything by feel.
She'd realized she was in labor as she'd eaten her breakfast that morning, feeling her stomach tighten and telling Baxter to send for the doctor. Robert had suggested time and time again that he bring all sorts of childbirth experts to Downton when the time drew near, but Cora had adamantly refused—they didn't need a childbirth expert, she argued, when the problem had nothing to do with childbirth. Rather, they needed a paralysis expert—of which there were none, after Dr. Wagner's death several years earlier—or simply an expert on her. Dr. Clarkson, she had told Robert repeatedly, was absolutely an expert on her, and he had more experience with paralysis than any other doctor in England after years with her as his patient. And—although she did not mention this to Robert, knowing he would be swayed by a logical argument, not an emotional one—she was comfortable with Clarkson. She knew him, and she trusted him. Both were immensely important to her now, for, though she did not like to admit it, Cora was frightened of labor.
And thus it was Clarkson who arrived at Downton on that cold December morning, bringing with him a local woman he regarded as a skilled midwife.
The early hours had been easy ones, and Cora had been able to relax, resting against her pillows as a mild cramping in her stomach marked each contraction, her belly tightening under her hands. If this was labor, she wasn't sure what all the fuss had been about—this wasn't so terrible, certainly in comparison to all the pain she'd endured thus far in her life. She was surprised to discover how far down in her stomach she had feeling, but it was not very painful, and she had long breaks in between.
Clarkson had not remained in her room always, spending much of his time talking with Robert in the library, giving her space and only returning periodically to check her progress. The midwife, an older woman in her sixties, had stayed, but she mostly sat in the winged chair, observing quietly and answering Cora's questions.
It was far too early, Cora had been told, for any pushing—even an able-bodied woman would have hours yet before she was told to do so. All there was to do now was to sit and wait for her labor to progress. Robert himself had flitted in and out, talking with her, stroking her hair, and letting her squeeze his hand if she needed to. But she did not feel any great need for him, and thus she encouraged him to go on about his day or to sit with Clarkson while she distracted herself with a bit of embroidery. She was fine. All of this was fine.
And then, sometime after luncheon, she felt it—a new pressure in her lower back, her injured nerves catching fire, so much worse than what she'd been feeling for weeks, a harsh pain that made her wonder if her vertebra were snapping in two. She was vaguely conscious that the midwife had stood and come to her side, but she could think only of how badly she wanted Robert now.
"Please!" she cried out. "Please get my husband! Please, I need Robert!"
"Yes, milady. I'll fetch both his lordship and the doctor."
Cora tried to breathe as the other woman darted out the door, tried to force herself to take deep breaths, tried to think of Robert, think of the girls, think of something beyond the pain. Why did it hurt like this? She could feel no contraction in her stomach. Surely it wasn't supposed to be this way?
"Darling?" There were Robert and Clarkson, and she was aware of her husband reaching out to smooth her hair, but then she felt her belly contract again, and her spine exploded.
"Robert!" she cried, reaching blindly for him. "Robert!"
Her eyes were shut tightly, but she felt him take both of her hands, and she squeezed as hard as she could, as though she could force the pain out of her body.
"Darling, what's wrong?" she heard him say, as though from a great distance, but she could not answer him, could manage nothing other than a low groan as she tightened her grip on his hands.
"How long has she been thus?" she heard Robert ask the midwife, and she recognized the fear in his voice, yet she knew she could not soothe it, because she was suddenly very, very afraid herself.
"She was fine, milord, until just before I came downstairs—"
"She's not fine now. What's wrong with her? One of you, do something—"
"It's my back," Cora managed as the contraction faded and her belly relaxed. "It's…I've never felt anything like this." And she hadn't, she truly hadn't. She couldn't remember ever hurting this much.
"Where at, love?" Robert asked gently.
"My lower back. Where I was hurt—I feel like someone's hitting me with a sledgehammer, right where my back's broken, and I can't get it to stop." Her voice rose in pitch at her last few words, and she struggled against a dry sob.
"Shh," she heard him murmur as she felt his hands slip behind her. He kissed her temple as she felt him begin to rub her back. "Let me help you."
"Give her firm pressure, Lord Grantham," Clarkson said, prodding her belly carefully. "It's the baby descending toward the birth canal." Descending toward the birth canal. Oh, thank God, that meant she was close. She could feel Robert's hands pressing hard into her muscles, and it helped, but she still hurt. Oh, she still hurt!
"That can put a great deal of pressure on the spine," Clarkson went on, "and of course Lady Grantham's back is already sensitive."
"But it's almost over?" she asked, almost begging him to say yes. "If the baby's descending…I'm almost done?"
Clarkson shook his head. "No, milady. You've got some time yet."
"How…how much longer?"
Clarkson and the midwife exchanged a look that Cora did not like at all, and then the midwife lifted the hem of her gown to examine her progress. "It's hard to say, milady," she said softly. "But some hours yet."
Hours?
"You'll get a break in a moment, darling," she heard Robert murmur. "There are breaks in a woman's labor pains, aren't there, doctor?"
"From the contractions in her womb, yes, but this isn't that sort of pain, milord," Clarkson said softly. "She's not contracted at the moment." Oh God, was this to be constant? Constant for hours?
He's wrong, Cora tried to tell herself. He's simply wrong, because this must pass. But it did not, and eventually, she felt the cramping in her belly again, and her back seemed to rip in two. She heard herself scream and could feel no shame for it as she leaned forward—she was loathe to pull away from the comfort of Robert's hands, but she had to lean forward. She had to.
The world spun for a long moment until at last she felt herself ease. "Darling—" she heard Robert begin, fear in his voice, but she shook her head.
"I've got to get off my back," she said. "I–I can't lie on my back like this." She could not think clearly enough to know how she wanted to lie, but it was not on her back. Anything but on her back!
The midwife called for her to be turned on her left side, and Cora closed her eyes, unsuccessfully trying to hold back her moans as various pairs of hands moved her slowly into the new position, Robert slipping the pillows between her legs and beneath her belly that she'd grown accustomed to.
"Is that better, darling?" he asked anxiously, his hands pressing firm circles into her back again. "Does it feel better to be on your side?"
"A–a bit," she said, and it did, but…oh, nothing seemed to help enough! It was as though some invisible hand had ahold of the end of her spine and was twisting it. She tried to concentrate on Robert's hands instead, tried to find a few minutes of peace, but she soon felt her womb tighten again. The hand twisting her spine seemed to yank sharply, sending spasms up her back, and she cried out again. Surely this was not right!
"Oh, God, can you do nothing for her?" she heard Robert beg either the doctor or the midwife or perhaps both.
"I can't," Cora said, feeling her strength crumbling as tears began to leak from her eyes, "I can't."
"Is she in danger, Clarkson?" she heard Robert ask tensely. "Will she need the operation?"
She felt no fear or dread of the response and realized it was because she did not care if she was in danger. She hoped she was in danger. The only thing she feared now was hours more of this pain. It was perfectly all right with her if Clarkson performed a caesarean, passed a healthy baby into her husband's arms, and then let her slip away. Anything to stop this pain.
"She's not in danger, milord," she heard the doctor say, and her heart sank. "There's nothing to suggest she can't deliver on her own."
Oh, but there was! Surely there was too much pain for her to deliver on her own!
"Please," she sobbed, "please. I can't. Robert, I can't!"
"Shh." She felt him kiss her shoulder. "You can do this, darling. I know how strong you are. Be strong for me, Cora. Be strong for the baby."
"You can manage, Lady Grantham," she heard Clarkson say calmly. "Your body will know what to do when the time comes."
Oh, but her body knew what to do now—and it was to move. The urge to walk was sudden and almost overpowering.
"I need to get up," she said suddenly. "I need to get up and walk. It would help if I could just walk!"
"Darling…" she heard Robert's voice say, sharp with what she recognized as tears held back.
"I need to walk!" she repeated, as though she could will her body to be capable if she said it enough times. "I know it would help to walk!" She did not know how she knew, but she was suddenly very, very sure that the pain in her back would be better if she were on her feet.
"Oh, my sweet Cora." She felt Robert press a wet kiss to her neck. "I am so, so sorry. For all of this."
"You're all right lying down, Lady Grantham," Clarkson said. "You're meant to be lying down for childbirth."
"Movement would help her," the midwife argued quietly. "Can she not walk at all? Even with support?"
She heard Clarkson and Robert both answer in the negative. "Will it–will it hurt my baby if I don't get up?" she asked, frightened at the thought that disobeying her body in this regard was terribly wrong. "Do I need to stand up to get her to come out?"
"No, milady." The midwife again. "It's only for your own comfort." She paused. "Would you like to try some heat on your back? I've seen many women find it helpful to alternate massage and heat."
"Yes, please," she murmured. The longer this went on and the more used to the pressure of his hands she became, the less Robert's massage seemed to ease her.
A few minutes later, she felt the soothing warmth of a hot water bottle against her back, and she sighed. "I'll hold it there," she heard Robert say quietly. His other hand began to stroke her hair. "You're being very brave, darling," he whispered.
Brave? She didn't feel brave at all. "I just wish my legs worked," she said softly, and he kissed her neck again.
Slowly, the heat began to feel less and less significant, and when she began to whimper again, the midwife suggested moving her a second time, propping her up so that she could lean forward with her belly downward. "That's better for most women, your ladyship, and I didn't suggest it because I didn't think you could, but I've given it some thought and—"
"I'm not sure that's—"
Cora cut off what she sensed was an objection from Clarkson, for she knew in her body that this was the position she craved. "Oh, please let's try that. Please!"
This was a harder bit of maneuvering, for the midwife wanted Cora's legs folded beneath her so that she could sit back on them and then stretch her body forward, her belly dropping down and her head and chest supported on a pile of pillows. She could feel Robert struggling to push her legs into place, but at last he had her right, and she could lean forward, sighing as she felt some of the pressure ease off her spine.
"Does that help you, darling?" She could hear the relief in Robert's voice and knew that he could see it on her face.
She nodded. "Yes. It still hurts, but this does help."
Clarkson and the midwife were arguing in the distance—he seemed troubled that her womb could not push from this position, and she was saying that was still hours away—but it was fading into background noise for Cora. Robert had begun massaging her back again, and in this position that was heavenly.
"Here, Lord Grantham," she heard the midwife say distantly. "Let me show you something she may like even better, now that we've got her belly pointing down. Move your hands over, above her hips—" she felt his hands guided into another position "—and then press in and up."
"Ohh," she breathed, feeling a deep relief at the stretch in her muscles. "Please keep doing that. That…helps."
She had closed her eyes, resting in the momentary peace, but she felt him kiss her temple. "I'm glad, darling," he said, his voice hoarse with feeling. "I'm glad we've found something that works."
Then her muscles contracted again, and it still hurt her back, but…not as badly here. Nothing hurt as badly here. It had never been the contractions themselves that had been so terribly painful, but the way her spine responded to them, and that was so very much better now.
She knew her screams and her tears and her groans were hurting Robert deeply, and thus she tried to stay silent, now that she was in less pain, yet she still could not hold back her whimpers as her back seized.
"I'm sorry," she whispered when it was done. "I know I'm upsetting you."
She heard him chuckle softly. "Don't apologize to me, sweetheart." He kissed her hair. "Make all the noise you need to. I'm just glad we've eased you enough that you're not screaming anymore."
"Will my baby still come out?" she asked the midwife, worrying now about the argument she had heard a few minutes ago.
"Yes, milady…when the time comes, yes. But I think you've got hours. I had a look when you were lying on your side, remember?"
She didn't remember that, but she didn't doubt it, either. Everything was blurring together. She nodded, hoping it was true that her baby would eventually come, hoping it would find its own way out, hoping her body could find a way to use the muscles she couldn't control and push when necessary.
"You're doing well, milady," the older woman went on. "Try to relax now while you can, and don't fight the pains. It will be easier if you don't tense your body. Sleep for a bit, if you can—you'll need your strength for later."
"I'm not sure I can sleep," Cora whispered, her eyes still closed and her voice so quiet she was not sure anyone but Robert heard her. "My pains…"
"You've got a good twenty minutes between them, darling," he murmured, and it surprised her, for they'd felt far more frequent. "I think you can doze off in between, if you relax. You're more comfortable now, aren't you?"
She nodded.
"Good." She felt a light kiss to her forehead. "Just let yourself rest."
"The baby…"
"Will still come," he assured her. "Don't think about your labor. Just concentrate on my hands."
That she could do, she thought. The sensation of Robert's hands rubbing her back was a familiar and comforting one, and she had fallen asleep this way countless times in the last twenty years. She took a deep breath of his scent, letting it soothe her as it always did, and tried to pretend they were curled up in bed together, tonight no different from any other night.
Cora was nearly asleep when she felt her body tighten again, and she whimpered at the sudden pain.
"Easy," he murmured. "Don't tense. You know it doesn't help you when you tense."
She did know that. She knew very well from her injury that tensing her muscles only made matters worse. She took a deep breath and tried to give herself over to the pain, sighing as it faded away, and she slowly slid into sleep, dreaming vividly of herself and Robert holding a baby.
Cora awoke what must have been several hours later—night had now fallen outside her window—feeling a new intensity in the pains in her midsection, and she gasped at the unpleasant sensation. A very familiar hand clasped hers, and she squeezed until the pain had eased.
"Robert?" she asked softly, almost disbelieving in his presence. He was the last person she had expected to find there, thinking he would surely have slipped out while she slept, or perhaps even been ordered away so that there would be no risk of him seeing the birth itself. But oh, how glad she was to feel his hand in hers!
And how she dreaded the departure she knew would have to come.
"I'm right here, darling," he said, the hand she wasn't holding beginning to rub her back again. She opened her eyes to see him smiling down at her, his own eyes crinkled with worry. "I'm right here," he repeated. "I haven't gone anywhere."
"I slept?" she asked, not quite comprehending how it had been possible to rest for so long.
He kissed her forehead. "For a good while. You stirred at your first few pains, but after that you didn't seem to feel them at all. You've missed quite a few."
"They've gotten worse now," she said, realizing what had awakened her. Was Clarkson still here? "That one was much worse."
"That's a good sign," she heard the doctor say. "You should be further along now."
"Can we turn her?" the midwife's voice asked. "I'd like to have another look."
Cora nodded, sensing that she was stiffening after hours huddled in this position. "Please, on my side, please."
She was further, she learned soon, but not nearly far enough, and the minutes turned into hours of panting through contractions and squeezing Robert's hand until she thought she'd break his fingers and moaning and sobbing at the pain in her back that he no longer seemed to be able to ease.
She was not sure what time it was, but she sensed it was quite late when the midwife checked her again and then addressed Robert. "Lord Grantham, I think you'll need to be going. Her ladyship's getting quite close."
Of course she'd known this would happen—had been stunned that it hadn't already—but…no, he couldn't leave! She couldn't be left alone!
"No, please!" she heard herself cry out, grabbing hold of his hand again. "Please, Robert!"
She'd thought he would pull away, for surely he was horrified at the idea of witnessing birth, but he held on quite steadily. "Be still, darling. I'm not going anywhere."
Clarkson took hold of his other arm in an attempt to usher him out the door. "Milord, you can't be present for—"
"Dammit, man!" Robert shook him off, almost violently. "I will not leave her ladyship!"
"Please let him stay," Cora whispered, the tears that had started and stopped and started again for hours returning. "Please, I need him!" And she did, for what was coming next was what had frightened her most. Suppose her body didn't push?
She heard no further objections from either the doctor or the midwife, but most importantly, she felt Robert press a firm kiss to her fingers, a kiss that promised he'd need the entire army to drive him from her bedroom.
"We'll need you to sit up or lie back again, Lady Grantham," Clarkson said. "This will be easier that way."
Easier for whom? Cora groaned as she was maneuvered onto her back, knowing instantly that it hurt more this way, and her pains were almost on top of each other now. She rested her head back against the pillows, closing her eyes and catching her breath once she'd been settled, and then felt a cool washcloth pressed against her forehead.
"You're almost there, darling," she heard Robert's voice say. "You're almost there."
She knew he meant to sound encouraging, and he did, on the surface, but beneath his words she could hear a creeping terror in his voice, and she knew he was just as scared as she was. Because what if this didn't work? What if she couldn't push?
And soon, she felt it…an overpowering urge to push, a sense that she must push or the world would end, a feeling that pushing now was more important than anything she'd ever done in her life. She felt herself strain, trying to push down with her shoulders and her chest and the upper part of her abdomen…but, no, that wasn't what she needed. She needed the muscles in her hips, the muscles in her lower body, the muscles her brain couldn't communicate with anymore. That was what needed to move.
"I can't; I can't!" she shrieked, panicking. "I can't push!"
"Why can't she?" she heard Robert demand. "You said her womb would push! Why doesn't it? Why doesn't it?"
"We don't know that it isn't, milord," Clarkson said, his fingers examining her tightened belly. "It's too early to tell yet. I think it may be."
"I'm not, I'm not!" she cried, for all she could feel was the pain. There was no pushing that she could sense. "I'm not pushing! I can't!"
"Darling, let's wait and be calm," Robert told her, but she could feel that he was anything but calm himself.
The contraction eased, and Cora loosened her grip on his hand. "I'm not sure this is working," she said quietly, calmer now that she had a break. "I'm just—I don't think…ohh." There was the pain again, and that all-consuming urge to push. "Oh God, I can't…I want to, but I can't! I don't think…I don't think the baby's coming, Robert!" Had she endured hell all day, for nothing?
"Clarkson!" he shouted, but the doctor was intent upon her stomach and did not answer.
"There's movement," he said at last. "She's pushing even if she can't feel it. There's movement in her womb. Not enough yet—"
"When will it be enough?" she cried. When would any of this be enough? Hadn't she had enough pain for a lifetime?
"I don't know, milady," Clarkson said. "I think it may be some time yet, since you can't speed the process."
She began to sob at his words. "Please, please," she begged, although she was not sure what she was asking for. Please make the baby come? Please just cut me open and take it? Oh, please, please make the pain stop!
Robert moved to sit behind her, shifting her body so that she could lean back on his chest, and she sagged against him, weeping as he held her. "I can't, I can't," she sobbed. "I can't do this any longer."
"Almost there," he whispered, his own voice tight. "You're almost there."
But she shook her head. No, she wasn't. She didn't believe it would ever finish.
"I just…I need to push!" she exclaimed again, for she could think of nothing but the pain and that overwhelming urge. "Oh God, I'm scared." Not of dying, for she welcomed anything that would end this. Not even of the baby dying…in truth, she did not know what she was afraid of; it was only that she felt that terrible things would happen if she did not push.
Robert kissed her but said nothing, and she knew that he was scared, too.
"My back…my back…" She was being hit with the hammer again, only this time it was white-hot, and her nerves were erupting.
She felt him shift so that he could massage her again, but she shook her head. She was past that, now. "No, that doesn't help anymore. Just…just hold me." He tightened his grip, and she tried, and failed, to focus only on his arms. Then there was a sudden, sharp burning where she was used to the pleasurable sensation of Robert entering her, and she groaned.
"You're nearly there, Lady Grantham," she heard the midwife say. "The head—the head is presenting."
The head? Was she really that close? Was it really almost over?
"Darling," Robert said hesitantly, "may I…may I go and look?"
"Oh yes, yes!" She was suddenly so eager to know what could be seen that she nearly forgot the pain.
Robert rested her back against the pillows and scrambled to the foot of the bed, pushing his way around a shocked midwife. Cora watched him for a moment as he stared down at her, almost disbelieving…and then she saw tears fill his eyes and begin to stream down his cheeks.
Silently, he reached out one finger and touched something, and then reached up for her hand. "Give me your hand," he said breathlessly. "I want you to feel."
She let him pull her hand down between her legs, settling her fingers against something firm. She was so used to touching the lower half of her body and feeling nothing that it took her a moment to realize it was not her own body that she was touching.
"It's the baby, isn't it?" she whispered, and he nodded.
Robert came back to hold her again, but it was as though the pain didn't matter now. Not now that she had felt the baby. Not now that she knew it was almost here.
And then, at last, she felt the knives in her body fade away as an infant's cry filled the room.
"I–I've had a baby," Cora gasped, suddenly stunned at what had happened as she watched Clarkson begin wiping the child off. "I've…given birth." She started to sob again, her head against Robert's shoulder, and he kissed her.
AN: Yes, I know, I know, you still don't know what the baby is. :-) I've decided to do a short epilogue, which I'll be posting in a couple days, where I'll reveal the gender…as well as the gender of Eleanor's baby.