Daine lay supine on her bed, staring at the ceiling above. In the past nine years, she had traced the lines in the plasterwork many times, but usually at night. Now it was morning and the fresh light made new designs to discover. It also took her mind off of the fact that all her organs were currently being smashed within her, and that it was very hard to take a deep lungful of breath.
"Let your knees drop," a female voice commanded from the end of the bed. She did, and let out a hiss as a new pain stabbed her center.
"Why does that have to hurt so much?" she muttered. The midwife ignored her, but thankfully removed her hand and washed up with soap in a bowl an assistant held.
"No progress yet, Daine. It could be a few more weeks before the babe comes."
Daine tried to sit up quickly and realized she couldn't. She settled for levering herself on her elbows to look at the midwife. "I few…weeks? There is no possible way! I am due in only a few days! I can survive that but not…weeks!"
The midwife shrugged, jotting something down in a notebook while her assistant packed up supplies. "Babies come when they are ready. You know this. A due date is just an estimation. You were lucky last time that your labor was eariler." She grimaced. "Lucky in more than that way, as I am sure you know."
Daine groaned and lay back against the pillows. She remembered, distantly, her mother telling other hugely pregnant women the same thing, on the occasions where Daine would have to tag along while Sarra handled her midwifery business. Hearing her own midwife say it now, she felt like she was being scolded by her mother and scowled, wondering if Sarra was spying on them from the Divine Realms at this very moment.
"Rest up. Drink your teas. He will be here before you know it." The midwife closed her notebook. "If you start having close contractions, or your water breaks, or if the babe is still for more than a few hours, call on me. Other than that, just be patient."
Daine grumbled as she - very awkwardly - rolled herself onto her side and sat up, swollen and sore feet hitting the floor. The midwife gave her a weekly ration of teas and other herbs to strengthen the baby and her womb, promised to check on her in a few days, then departed with her assistant. Daine pushed herself from the bed with a grunt and took a deep breath as the baby dropped lower into her pelvis, instantly taxing her bladder. "Weeks," she muttered darkly, and started towards the bedchamber door.
On the other side lay the main room of their apartments, a cozy room with a couch and a mismatched set of chairs. Books lined the selves of the walls, and a fire burned warmly in the hearth. Numair sat on the floor, leaning against the couch, their daughter halfway out of his lap as she lunged for a toy wooden carving of a giraffe on the floor. He looked up at her apprehensively, taking in her dark look.
"They said it could be a few more…weeks."
He winced. "I'm sorry, dear."
She sighed and came to the couch, sitting down by his head and, with great effort and a bit of shooting pain, pulled her legs up. "I can't do this," she whispered.
"Yes, you can." He reached over to rub her knee while also grabbing at Sarralyn, before the toddler could pour a cup of hot tea on herself.
Daine scowled, remembering a similar conversation that had taken place with him months ago. It was when she had first learned of her second pregnancy. Sarralyn was a few months shy of turning one, and another baby hadn't been on her mind at all. Sarra's delivery had been traumatic, nearly killing the both of them. After that had come six miserable weeks with a baby who didn't know what shape it wanted to be from one moment to the next, wearing all of them out. On top of that, Daine had to try to nurse a baby who couldn't choose a shape - and who, from time to time, picked shapes with very sharp teeth. The healers were patching up her breasts at least once a day those few weeks, and Sarra wasn't getting near the milk she needed. None of them had slept, and Daine had felt very much like she was losing her mind again.
Once Daine's mother had forced her granddaughter to choose a shape, they had all slowly began to recover. Sarra nursed well in human form and started to gain weight. Within a few months she was sleeping most of the night, and Daine was finally starting to feel normal again. She was able to wear Sarra in a sling and tend to most of her work, or trade off with Numair when needed. Sarra was growing, and as wild as she could be, was sweet and giggly and had both her parents wrapped around her chubby little fingers.
With Daine feeling more normal, and Sarra sleeping in the other room at night, she and Numair found each other again. It felt different than before, but not in a bad way. While in the past they had canoodled often and with a carefree nature, now they found those quiet moments in the dark when they could come together and just be with each other; talking, kissing, knowing each other on a different level from being lovers. Parenthood had changed the both of them, but Daine was fairly sure that they now loved each other more deeply, if that was possible.
Her monthly had not returned, and she had not purchased a new pregnancy charm after losing the last one. Numair, who in the past had always helped her remember to put it back on after shifting, said nothing of it missing this time. Perhaps he thought she knew what she was doing, or perhaps he was just too tired to notice. He did notice, though, when she started feeling terribly sick.
"I think it is just a stomach flu," she had assured him the second day, as she nursed a cup of tea he had brewed and tried very hard to not throw it up.
"If it were a stomach flu, we would all have it by now," he had told her drily, feeling her forehead. "And you have no fever, which is a good thing, but it also worries me."
She had rolled her eyes. "You worry too much. I will be fine."
By the fourth day of her throwing up everything she put into her mouth, her husband had relegated her to the bed and called a healer. The healer had put one hand on her and laughed.
"You're pregnant, Daine."
Her mouth had fallen open. "That's…that's impossible!"
The healer had looked smug. "You haven't lain with your husband since Sarra was born, then?" Daine had blushed, and the healer had nodded. "Not impossible, then."
"But…but I am still nursing Sarra! And my monthly hasn't returned!"
The healer had shook her head. "You can still get pregnant while you are nursing. If you monthly had not come back, there is a high chance it was about to and you got pregnant before it happened." Cocking her head, the healer had asked, "Wasn't your mother a midwife? Surely she told you nursing isn't the best contraceptive."
Her mother had not told her. She had wondered if it had been some trick so that one day she could have more grandchildren.
The healer had left, and Daine and stumbled almost blindly into Numair's study. Sarra was napping, and he was sitting at his desk pouring over a scattering of papers on the tabletop. He had slowly raised his head, taken a look at her stricken face, and jumped to his feet. "What is it?"
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she had crossed the room and buried her face in his shirt. She took a deep breath of his familiar scent to steady herself. "I'm pregnant. Again."
She felt him relax a fraction. "Oh," he said. Then, "Oh, magelet."
She had erupted into a fit of tears, and he held her, lips on her hair. When she could finally talk, she had whispered, "I can't do this."
"Yes, you can," he had said over her head. "You absolutely can. It will be different this time. You know not to shape shift, so it will not be like Sarralyn."
"I don't understand," she had said miserably. "I wasn't sick at all last time."
"Every baby is different, I think."
She hiccuped, and her stomach threatened to heave. She took a breath and forced it down.
"I will be here every step of the way, dearest," he had whispered to her. She had pulled away to look into his face. He was still so handsome, as handsome as the first time she had seen him. Now, silver threaded his dark hair and laughing lines etched his dark eyes and mouth, but he was still tall and strong and wonderfully hers, even after all these years. Her body felt changed by Sarralyn - and now, another baby. Softer, rounder, new scars drawn down her middle - not to mention her breasts. How she mourned her small, perky breasts. Some days she felt no more than a milk cow.
He had kissed her forehead. She sighed, and suddenly the bile she had pushed back down forced its way up. She pushed him away and reached for the waste bin before it was too late.
...
Now, laying on the couch, completely full of baby, she thought back to those first few days of knowing. Yes, you can, he had told her, and he was right. By that evening, she was slowing coming around to the idea of another baby. After the midwife had given her some herbs to help the nausea, she was able to keep food down. Not being able to shift was a burden, but other than that she was still able to go about her job. Sarra started to spend a few days in the nursery at the palace, leaving her able to get more things accomplished. Her milk dried up as she grew rounder, and Sarra easily weaned, meaning Daine had even more freedom. The days ran together in a haze of animals, meetings, diaper changes, baby giggles, and happiness. Before she had realized it, she was feeling kicks and rolls from the growing baby and becoming so large she was miserable. She had arranged for Kitten to stay with her dragon grandparents at her husband's suggestion, and had sent her off a few weeks ago. They had a new crib made and had pulled out Sarralyn's baby clothes.
Numair tilted his head back to look at her, bringing her back to the present. "Why don't you go rest. I will get Sarra down for her nap."
"I'm tired of resting," she snapped. She was tired of people telling her to rest, too.
He nodded his understanding, either at her statement or at her ever-present pregnancy moodiness, she wasn't sure. She was so thankful he was able to calmly navigate the mood swings having a baby tended to give her. At least one of them could. "Then go to the stables for a while, or perhaps a walk. I have Sarra."
She softened, kissing his forehead. "You're fair wonderful, you know."
"Not as wonderful as you, sweet," he told her. A crash came from the other side of the room and they both swung their heads around. Sarra had somehow managed to overturn a pile of books onto herself. She sat down and cried, "Papaaaaa!" Numair sighed and pushed himself up to get her. "Go," he commanded his wife. She happily obeyed.
Daine emptied her bladder before she left their rooms, but by the time she had tottered down to the Rider's stable she urgently had to again. After taking care of that need, she went and visited with Cloud, who was in her stall.
You look miserable, the pony commented.
"I am," Daine said, pulling a stool into the stall and sitting heavily on it. Cloud bumped her head on the woman's, and Daine scratched the pony's chin gently. "I just want this baby to come. The midwife said it could still be weeks."
Cloud blew on her face. Maybe it will teach you a lesson about mating with the stork-man again so quickly.
Daine rolled her eyes at that. "You're not helpful."
I am a pony, not -
"- a god, yes, I remember," Daine finished for her, and pulled the apple she had brought out of her dress pocket. "My own Ma is a goddess of having babies, and so far even she hasn't helped me out at all with this one."
She heard a low whistle from behind and turned to see Onua walking up. "Goddess bless, Daine. I didn't think you could get any bigger from the last time I saw you."
Daine sighed inwardly. Yet another comment she was getting tired of hearing. "Numair has giant children, apparently."
Onua laughed. "Well, just look at him. It makes sense. Shouldn't you be resting?"
"I am tired of resting. I am tired of being in my rooms. I am tired of everything, really."
Onua took the hint and changed the subject.
...
That evening Numair volunteered to bathe Sarra, which was for the best, since Daine couldn't lean over the tub. He wrestled their child out of her clothes as Daine sat watching from a low stool nearby.
"I do have a fairly large spell I will need to test, before the baby comes," he was telling her, pulling Sarra's diaper off and wrapping it up to add to the wash pile. Sarra took the opportunity and ran, bare naked, into the other room. Her father signed deeply and went to retrieve her. He came back, wiggling and screeching child in his arms, and put her into the tub. "Wa-der!" she exclaimed, and was soon focused on splashing.
"Meaning I will have to wrangle Sarra for three days while you lock yourself in your study."
He started washing Sarra's mass of black curls. "Not three days." He paused. "Possibly two. I'm sorry."
Daine nodded. She had known he was trying to get a heavy load of work done before the baby came, so that he could tend to her and the children while she was on childbed. She would rather have his help then, even if it meant more work for her now.
"I can take her to the nursery some days, and perhaps enlist Lindhall the others," Daine assured him. "We will manage." She reached to pick up Sarra's discarded clothes and diaper and paused. A shooting cramp came to her middle, then faded. Hoping it would return as a contraction, she went about her business.
Going into the bedroom, she gathered up more dirty clothes and threw them all into a large basket they carried down to the laundry once a week. She went to Sarra's small room, now with an extra crib in it awaiting the new baby, and found her daughter a clean nightshirt and diaper. Walking back through the main room, she kicked toys to the side of the rug (really, the best she could do for tidying at this point) and came back to their room, where Numair had Sarra wrapped in a towel on the bed and was trying to comb out her curls. Sarra squirmed in his lap like a fish, and the moment he loosened his grip, she was out of her towel and toddling to a toy across the room, her round body bouncing.
"Just like her mother that way," Numair commented, putting the brush down in defeat. "Loves to run around unclothed."
Daine laughed at that. "Much to your enjoyment."
He smiled at her, a twinkle in his eye. "Oh, yes."
...
After Sarralyn was asleep, Numair insisted on drawing her a bath. He helped her undress (which she didn't need help doing, but let him anyway) and braced her as she carefully stepped into the tub and lowered into the wonderfully hot water. Sighing, she slipped down until most of her was covered, though the crest of her huge belly rose above the water like an absurd island.
"Do you need anything else?" her husband asked, grinning down at her belly sticking out of the water as well.
"Yes." She lifted a foot up. "Wash my feet? I can't reach."
He nodded, stilling grinning, and moved the stool over to the end of the tub. Grabbing the soap and a cloth, he gently rubbed her swollen and sore feet. She sighed in contentment.
"I don't mean to be so cross about it all, I swear," she told him, resting her head on the lip of the tub behind her. "This time around has been much easier than Sarra. And I know so many women want to be mothers and can't, or lose their babies. I know I should be thankful."
"I think you can be miserable and grateful, magelet. The two feelings can be mutually exclusive."
She considered that for a moment as he lifted her other foot.
"Are you nervous for the delivery?"
She shook her head. "After Sarra, I feel like I could deliver just about anything."
He laughed. "You did deliver just about anything." His smiled dropped. "You scared me to death, too, magelet."
"I know," she whispered, thinking back on that day. The long, agonizing labor. Trying to shift constantly while working through contractions. By the time it came to push, she was exhausted and defeated. The child had threatened to rupture her womb, and she had started hemorrhaging. She could still see the bowls of blood they had carried away - her blood, pouring out of her. They had brought Numair in, at the end, right before the baby came. She realized later it was because the midwife was afraid she and her child were going to die. He had held her hand, looking dazed and sick, whispering that he loved her and telling her how strong she was. Thankfully, and probably with a supernatural touch from her mother, the midwife had deftly delivered the shape shifting baby and had been able to stop the bleeding before it was too late. She shook the bad memories from her head. If she could survive that, she could survive a normal baby just fine.
"You're beautiful," he said, and she caught his eyes roving over her swollen belly and breasts. They came to meet her eyes and she scowled.
"I'm tired of hearing that," she told him dryly, which was very true. People hemmed and hawed over how beautiful she was pregnant, how she seemed to glow, how she managed it so well. They didn't see the new red marks running down her belly like angry red exclamation points, didn't know how her hips had gotten rounder and she hadn't been able to wear breeches in three months, couldn't comprehend how her heavy and aching breasts resembled swollen melons.
"I know you are," he said. "You need to hear it still." He raised an eyebrow. "I guess there isn't room for me in the tub, currently." Usually there was. Numair had always had a big tub in his - now their - privy. Usually, both of them could fit comfortably.
"Even if there was, I wouldn't let you in," she said with a mischievous grin. He ran his fingers down the arch of her foot, tickling her. She had been denying him that for weeks now, because it had reached a point where it was not satisfying for either of them. He didn't mind abstaining for her. She knew because he had told her so. Yet another part of this pregnancy that was better than her last - with Sarra, they hadn't been able to canoodle for months, and she had known it had worn on him more than her.
He lowered her foot back into the water. "If you don't mind, I need to go prepare some things for my tests tomorrow."
"Go," she told him with a smile and a wave of her fingers. He stood, leaning over the tub, and kissed her gently before leaving her to soak her aching and heavy body.