Shelagh being 42 in the past series does seem fairly early to be starting menopause, and with her history of almost losing Teddy, I thought it could be interesting to explore if a miraculous pregnancy did not work out. Also Teddy needs more love, and I want more scenes with his parents giving him some one on one time.
Disclaimer: I do know own any of these characters and they belong to the lovely Heidi Thomas and those at Neal Street Productions and the BBC.
"I am glad you were able to make it to Teddy's performance." Shelagh quietly hushed her thoughts into the darkened room. She laid on her side, gazing at her youngest son's sleeping profile. Unlike Timothy's completely Turner looks, she could see clear evidence of Mannion genes plastered across his small face. The only real evidence of Patrick's fatherhood was around Teddy's eyes, floppy mop of hair, his incredibly stubborn attitude, which even Shelagh conceded could have been from either or both sides of his parentage, and his mischievous, playful spirit that was so clearly his father's private personality.
In the days following her departure from the convent, Shelagh had been surprised to discover his true personality and quickly fell in love with it. She also figured out that Timothy had inherited his mother's dry and cheeky humor which often explained many things about his relationship with his father. By the time their younger son's characteristics became known, Shelagh, and Patrick more secretly, rejoiced in their son's mirrored personality. But other than that, Teddy was completely hers and something she valued and held dearly close to her heart.
Similar to his older brother, Teddy longed and fought for the attention and approval of his father. Timothy understood with age that his father's commitment to his patients and oath trumped many things, but when it came down to it, Dr. Turner would always choose being a husband and father over everything else. Teddy remained too young to grasp this and felt the same jealousy and anger at the demands of his father's vocation that Timothy had felt at a young age. They all knew he would understand in time, but until then, Teddy knew his father's love but understood that it came with a price for both of them.
Patrick had promised Teddy that he would do everything he could to be there for his middle term choir performance. Both parents knew he could not promise his attendance but could guarantee that Patrick would fight hell or high water for his son to his face in the crowd.
Although he was no longer actively religious, Patrick recited every prayer of thanks and gratitude he could remember as he ran from a forceps and stitches delivery into the institute just before program began.
"Mm yes," Shelagh could hear the smile on his face as he whispered, "Did you see his smile while he was in the line when I walked in? It reminded me so of Tim at his nativity play the Christmas after Marianne died."
Settling Teddy down following his school performance turned out to be easier with an extra pair of hands. Even then, it had taken nearly thirty minutes, three extra bedtime stories, and both his parents on either side cuddling him in his small bed as he drifted into a deep slumber. His parents had not dared, nor wanted, to move as their youngest slept between them.
Her gaze fixed on father and son simultaneously as Patrick stroked his son's hand that he had grasped during his pleas for one more story. "Oh yes. He is such a little dear—at times—and he loves you so dearly."
"And I him." His voice thick, "I can hardly believe that he's nearly six!" He finally looked up from his son to his wife and continued to speak, "I can remember times in my life so clearly when I felt so incredibly lonely and without hope."
"After the war?" She softly asked.
"Yes, that was one." He released his son's hand to push himself into a propped position to wrap his arms around his wife and son. "Another was when Marianne miscarried when Tim was six months. I had no way of helping her through that. I tried, but she pushed me away." He gently chuckled, "She was always like that." His face fell at the next statement, "The next was when she got sick." Shelagh looked up at him and stroked his forearm. "I wanted to help her so badly, but I knew there was no way she could be healed. The cancer was just too aggressive and had already begun metastasizing. I lost her so slowly," he exhaled, "and in pieces. I could see her fade away each day until she was gone."
She could feel him tense underneath her. "What is it, Patrick?"
He looked down at her with an expression of fear and bits of shame. "Can I tell you something I've never said out loud or even really thought?"
"Oh darling, of course you can." She shifted a bit so she could rest her head on his chest and look up at him as he spoke.
He hung his head and tightly rubbed his lips together before confessing, "In the last week that Marianne was alive, I had moments when I had to watch her be in so much pain and discomfort."
She noticed that the arm not wrapped around her now rested on Teddy's back. Shelagh had noticed he did this with all of his babies when he was anxious and figured it had something to do with him being able to feel their lungs breathing and heart beating. "I remember Sister Evangelina and Sister Monica Joan telling us how uncomfortable she was."
"Yes," he inhaled through his nose, "I can't even describe how awful it makes me feel to say this, but there were times during that week when I just wanted her to die so badly so that she wouldn't have to suffer. But then I just kick myself over the head because what kind of husband longs for his wife to be dead?"
"Patrick, you didn't want her to be in pain. That's not awful." He gave a half smile,
"You wanted mercy for her."
"All I know is that I couldn't help her. All that was left for her was suffering. She spent the last two days completely unconscious and unresponsive. And then I spent the next nearly two years feeling so worn down and lonely."
"I remember that part well."
"I know for a fact that if it hadn't been for Timothy, I probably would not have pulled through those first couple months." His voice was heavy with emotion as he spoke.
"I remember that as well."
He finally looked down at her, "It was one day in clinic when you forced me to sit down with a cuppa and lit a cigarette for me after I had snapped at a mother for not keeping an appointment for testing that made me look past your habit. You had a way of caring for me that showed how sorry you were but didn't make me feel pitied."
"I realized my thoughts of leaving the order began when I saw how much you missed Marianne after her passing. It was one of the first times I fully reckoned with the fact that I would not have the chance to experience love like that if I remained in the order." She clung tighter to his chest, "Little did I know that I would become a beneficiary of that love."
The arm wrapped around her began stroking her back as he softly chuckled, "I certainly would not have guessed it during our first meeting." He paused momentarily, "I've had moments where I've felt helpless: Tim's polio, your infertility diagnosis, when you found out about my neurosis, even when we almost lost this one," he gently patted Teddy's back, "each time we've hit a roadblock with May, but I've never felt lonely like I did during those times." Another moment passed as he searched his mind, "The last time I felt that lonely was when I shared your Tuberculosis diagnosis with you, and you had to go away. I don't know what I would have done if you had not responded in kind to my letters."
"I think we should go to bed, my love," he felt her giggle slightly against his chest as she spoke, "maybe I'll even show you how I'd respond to those letters today."
Patrick released her from his grasp, and she slid out from the bed and made sure to not jostle Teddy too much. He did the same, and each took their turn to push his floppy hair back and kiss his forehead.
After Shelagh readjusted his pillows, blankets, and one more kiss, they snuck out of his room and traveled the hall to their own room. As they had walked together, each had begun removing their individual accessories. Watches, cufflinks that had been placed in pockets, earrings, and bracelets were the first to go. Shelagh made her way to the vanity in the corner of the room to begin removing her hair pins. Patrick sat on the edge of the bed to remove his socks and watch her in the mirror out the corner of his eye.
As he sat, feelings of nostalgia fell over him as he spoke, "It seems like just yesterday you told me you were pregnant."
Her movements slowed as she removed hair pins from her twist. "Yes," a soft clack of one of her pins against the vanity, "it really does. I can hardly believe that I was nearly his age when I lost my mother. And Timothy not far his."
He immediately noted an odd tone to her voice. It was almost as if she was waiting for the right moment to tell him something.
"Shelagh…" She could hear the trepidation and fear laced in his tone and could vividly imagine how his hands must have frozen and body tensed before speaking.
"I'm fine, Patrick." She turned to look at him. "I'm absolutely fine." He remained unconvinced. "It's probably just from us talking. Although I can't help but wonder what my mother—and Marianne—must have felt. I can't even begin to imagine reconciling that I wouldn't see Teddy grow up or have him be raised by another woman."
He slumped his shoulders in exasperation and discomfort at the thought. "Shelagh, are you sure everything's alright?"
"Yes, Patrick. I'm fine!" She continued pulling her hair down. She tried to lighten the mood. "You don't fancy finding another wife?"
"Darling! I'd hardly say I went out and searched for you!" He insisted.
This time she turned and walked towards him. "I'm only teasing, my love." She gently eased into his lap on the edge of the bed. This time, with no child in the way, his hands wrapped around her hips as her arms encircled his shoulders, and they focused solely on each other. "Although you did search for me—literally—in the middle of that road."
"I suppose I did. Didn't I?" One hand gently caressed his cheek to pull him closer to her for a soft and lingering kiss.
"I sometimes wonder what might have happened if I had not gotten diagnosed with TB."
He reached up and softly moved some hair from her face. "What do you mean?"
Her hand remained grasping onto neck just below his ear and thumb stroking his cheek. "I suppose I am wondering if we would have found another way together."
Patrick moved his hands to find a firmer grip on her hips while confessing, "Darling, I was about a hair's breadth away from committing a mortal sin of the flesh if you had not been ill."
She giggled, "A mortal sin of the flesh?" Her accent thickened as she spoke, and her eyebrows shot up as she questioned him. "Who's to say I hadn't already just by the thought of you back then?"
The sly smile on her face as she pressed her forehead into his caused his jaw to fall open. "Why you little minx… " His voice lowered as if someone was listening in to their conversation. "In the convent?"
As she leaned back, she feigned a look of innocence as she avoided his agape expression. "Although, you are my husband now, so was it really that bad in hindsight?"
His face painted a picture of shock, arousal, and pride as he looked at her before chuckling out, "And there I was about to stumble my way into the closest Catholic Church for confession just by working with you." His hands were now running up and down her body. "Meanwhile, you were locked away imagining my hands?"
"Among other things…" She grinned at his pupils darkening, hands stopping to grip her, and shifting underneath her. "But I mean what I said! Do you think we would have found each other without my Tuberculosis?"
The ministrations on her waist and thighs stopped. He looked down at her hand that he immediately grasped in his and placed in their laps before raising his gaze to find hers again. "I do," he paused for a moment, "You know that I'm not very religious anymore, but I wholeheartedly believe that there was a greater force pushing us together."
She softly smiled at his words and pressed their foreheads together. "And here we are, four children later." Shelagh realized in that moment how often she had taken for granted their intimacy and closeness. There was once a time, not terribly long ago in the grand scheme of things, when they were restricted from even speaking about their feelings and even being in a room together for too long alone could be scrutinized. Now she sat in his lap, on their bed, in their shared home with three of their four children underneath, shamelessly flirting with him. "Our home is so full of love," She pressed her forehead to his, "and no one is lonely."
He shook his head, "No. No, darling, they are not." He turned his head and leaned in to place a firm kiss on her lips which she immediately deepens. As he pulled away, he laughed out, "No wonder all our newcomers are shocked to find out you were a nun. I find myself surprised when I remember it occasionally."
She kisses him again, "Like just now?" He nods as he messily kisses her with a smile, "I'm not sure if I should be insulted if you just were reminded I used to be a nun while I was kissing you."
"You can rest easy," another kiss pressed to her lips, "I only remembered," one on her cheek, "out of shock," one to her jawline, "that your talents," one down her neck, "could have gone to waste," and one final kiss pressed into the base of her neck as he pushed her off his lap and moved towards the bathroom.
A sigh of exasperation makes him smile, "You're going to walk off like that even after using my talents on you?"
He stops and turns slightly to show his smirk that had formed as he walked towards the doorway. "It's merely all part of my act." He gave her a sly wink as he turned back and headed through the doorway to their bathroom to wash up before bed. She giggled to herself as she moved to do the same. There was something spiritual to her about the two of them moving in synchronicity through their evening routines. There had been a point in her life where the idea of her experiencing such a thing would have been impossible. Now it was her everyday life, that if she was honest, she took for granted regularly.
She purposely omitted her rollers from her routine much to her own chagrin, but Patrick reveled in the times when she would leave her hair down and run his hands through her hair and along her scalp. It was the first thing he noted as she walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. "Aha, and to what do I owe this special occasion?"
"It's your gift." She plopped down onto the bed next to him and began snuggling down into the covers.
"Darling, I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, but my birthday is months away." His tone was serious, but his face cracked as soon as she cracked a smile.
"Cheeky. I will put my rollers back in if you keep that up."
"No!" His dissent was immediate which made her giggle more than it should have. To silence her taunting, he raised his hand to thread through her hair to pull her into a kiss. She moaned into his lips as he pulled her further into his embrace. Over the years, Shelagh had come to love many things about their marriage, but their intimate life definitely found its way to the top of that list many times. She was surprised at how comfortable and routine their intimate life had become. Even if it was an incredibly busy week at the surgery or with the children, the two of them always found at least two nights a week to get in bed together and sometimes one thing led to another.
She was happy to say that tonight would put them well over their weekly quota in all departments.
There had only been several occasions where their intimacy had halted during their marriage. Ironically it had been early in their marriage, following her infertility diagnosis and well into the adoption process when they had been abstinent. The only other large gap occurred when she almost miscarried Teddy and into her postpartum months, they remained extremely cautious which practically led to them being cellibate for a long stretch of months. He had noted a small gap in the past several weeks following their pregnancy incident but knew better than to push her for the meaning.
As they laid encased in each other's arms, each warm and slightly damp from their activities, Patrick let a small chuckle out. "What is it, darling?" She extended her question with eyes closed and resting against his chest.
Patrick was always taken aback for a moment whenever she used an endearment for him, since she hardly said them. He always wondered if she was insistent on using his name considering that she had been unable to know and speak it for so long in their early relationship. Whereas, he relished being able to say use her name, there was something so incredibly intimate about it being perfectly appropriate to use an endearment to speak to her.
"I was just thinking about if I had to tell myself ten years ago that I would be here holding you in the afterglow with four children and some rabbits to our family name."
She snickered as well before quickly sobering, "It very well could have been five children."
He joined in the seriousness and a new feeling filled the space between them. "Yes, it could have." He tightened his hold around her and she snuggled further into his shoulder. A heavy silence fell between them before she spoke, "Did you want another baby?"
He waited a moment before answering, "Shelagh, I will always want a baby with you." He shifted so that she could sit up and look at him fully as he continued, "With that being said, neither of us anticipated that we could have another baby. And there is the fact about my age, more so than yours, so I did not necessarily want another baby, but I was, and am, wholeheartedly willing to have any baby with you. No matter how they enter our home."
She hummed in agreement as she avoided looking into his eyes. He noted her downturned face and somber mood. He was a little surprised to hear her speak up to him with a quiet, hesitant voice, "Patrick, can I ask you something?"
His mind flashed back to when they had been holding their son earlier and he asked a very similar question. The hesitancy and fear laced through her voice scared him much more though, "Darling, of course you can." He pushed some strands of hair behind her ear in an attempt to provide some amount of comfort and support. "Whatever is it?"
She took a few breaths in and stuttered out, "What were the test results?" He looked confused, "From a couple weeks ago," as she tried to give him additional contextual tools.
"You mean—the–darling do–do you mean the pregnancy test?" He seemed shocked. Surely she knew? She had to have looked herself?
"Yes, I do." Her voice was now more steady but fear covered her face.
"Did you–did you not look?" He tried to speak softly and be as gentle as possible.
"No, I didn't." She looked slightly ashamed. "I didn't want to know then. It was easier that way–to not know." She looked more hesitant again.
"But you want to know now?" His hand was fervently stroking her arm and did not know if it was meant for her comfort or his.
"Yes, I think I do want to know for certain." She seemed much more confident in her decision which did make him feel better about telling her.
He did hesitate for a moment, but after grabbing her hand, he spoke to her in a gentle and soft tone, "It was positive, my love."
A flash of pain went across her face which made his heart break all over again. For several moments she held his gaze before lowering it once more to hide the tears forming in her eyes. She slowly nodded her head before looking up at him once more. She quietly said, "So I did miscarry."
He fervently stroked her hand with his thumb, "I believe you did, yes."
"We were having a fifth baby." He cocked his head slightly as a question because she had been so sure in confusion about being pregnant. She read his reaction and expounded. "I think I never let myself believe that it was true even if I was certain of my body's symptoms." She paused for a moment, "But looking back, I think I was certain that I was miscarrying; I just did not want to believe that either."
"That's completely understandable, Shelagh." The silence weighed down on the room as he looked into her face concerned over her reaction. "Does it help—knowing, that is?"
"I don't know." Her voice was quiet. "I think it does."
The room fell silent again as they remained wrapped in each other's arms. Shelagh thought about all the times had been in this position or a similar one over the past several years they had lived in this room. She smiled as she remembered one of their first nights in the new bed when she was heavily pregnant with Teddy and could barely sleep as a result.
"Where are you going?" She looked up from the book she struggled to read as her eyes were drooping.
A wave of guilt washed over his face, "I–ah–," he pointed towards the door that led to the hallway, "I was just going to–ah–pop down on the couch to sleep."
"Patrick Turner!" She reacted in a playfully upset tone, and then a wave of guilt covered her face, "Have I begun snoring?"
He snickered and then sat down onto the bed next to her. "You already snored, my love." He reached for her hand to press a kiss into as she looked appallingly at him. "No, you just seem so uncomfortable these days, and I just wanted you to be able to stretch out and me not wake you in the morning."
"I have to be awake in the morning anyway to go to work." He broke their eye contact to gaze across the room to try and hide his disapproval.
"Darling, I wish you would set a final day." She began to try and speak in dissent, but he stopped her before she could begin, "I know. I know that you have never felt better, but you are nearly thirty six weeks pregnant. You have a limit, my love, and I'd rather not discover it."
"I'll think about it." He looked rightfully suspicious, "I promise, I will!" She tugged on his hand, "Now come on, and get in bed! None of this 'not waking you and letting you spread up' nonsense. And it sounds like you should be used to my snoring at this point."
He relented and crawled across her, taking special care to move over her belly, to plop on the other side of the bed. As he moved, she closed her book and snuggled down into the sheets beside him. Her head curled into his chest, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed a kiss into her temple. One of his hands slipped down to stroke her distended belly and grinned when he felt a kick.
"Any ideas for names?" Both of their eyes were closed as he methodically moved his hand across her abdomen.
"Goodness, no." Her tired voice was laced with a laugh.
"We named Tim after Marianne's brother who had been killed in the war." She hummed in acknowledgment. "And I suggested Angela's name. I think it's time that you choose one."
It fell silent for a moment before he felt her inhale and speak into the room in a quiet tone, "I had a brother who died."
"Shelagh, I didn't know that. I'm so sorry." His response was immediate.
"He was stillborn." He leaned his cheek into her hair and held her closer.
"My mother always called him Edward." Her voice was distant as she sighed into his chest. "She said that all babies deserve to be named. I've always remembered her saying that." She felt him nod his head slightly. "Looking back, I think it might have been him that inspired me to become a midwife. I remember the one who came to my mother that night and how she tucked me into bed and told me that my Mummy would be poorly for several weeks."
Patrick spoke softly into the room,"My grandfather's name was Edward. He was the one that I have such a strong memory of his death by Spanish flu and how badly I wanted him to be saved."
"The one who inspired you to become a doctor?" Her accent thick and hanging on each word.
"The very same."
His words hung in the air and their memories floated around the other's mind. Shelagh became aware of his hand that still stroked her abdomen that housed a baby who seemed to be overjoyed at their father's attention. She could not help but smile at the sight as she spoke, "I think we just named our second son; that is if he does turn out to be a boy."
"I think we did, my love."
Now they found themselves in the exact same spot and embrace, but this time grappling with the acknowledgement that they had lost a baby. There would be no miraculous outcome this time, and although neither had planned on having another child, they felt a hole in their family for the first time in a very long while. It was Patrick's voice that broke the silence.
"I have taken to calling him Henry."
"What?" She gasped out the question and looked up at him in a flash.
"The baby. I realized I had named them in my mind." His heart broke watching her lip begin to tremble. "I remembered how you said that your mother thought every baby should be named."
"Yes, she did." Her voice was shaky as tears streamed down her cheeks now as he lowered his forehead to rest against hers. She closed her eyes for a moment before opening them with a small chuckle as she spoke again, "So you have decided it was a boy?"
"I could not handle being any more outnumbered without Tim around!" He tried to make a joke, but even his own throat was choking up. The moment was quickly interrupted as they both startled at the knocking on their door, followed by a soft, tearful voice.
"Mummy! Daddy! Mummy!" Teddy's small voice grew more distressed as his parents looked at each other with concern.
"Oh dear, Patrick…" She began moving to open their door, but he put an arm down to prevent her from leaving and gave her a small shake of the head. He made quick strides across the room, and as he opened the door, sunk to the ground to be at his young son's tear filled eye level. "What is it, little soldier?"
Teddy flew into his father's arms as soon as the door had opened enough for him to make it through and let several small sobs into his neck. Patrick returned the hug immediately and wrapped him up in his arms as he carried him back towards their bed. He rubbed his son's back and hushed his cries as Shelagh looked on with continued to cling to Patrick's neck even as he adjusted them down on the bed, and Shelagh scooted over ato wrp her arm across his small frame and her husband's arm. She pressed several kisses into the back of his head and his cries began to soften at the comforts of his parents.
"Did you have a nightmare, son?" Patrick spoke softly to him.
Teddy pulled his head away from his father's shoulder for the first time since he flung into his arms at the door. His face was blotched with tears and some small hiccups escaped at he began to stutter, "I-I-I ha-a-ad a dream," he let out a cough to try and clear his throat from his crying to continue explaining, "tha-at y-y-you an-and mu-mummy didn't kn-know wh-who-o I wa-as an-and I-I-I di-didn't ha-ave a na-a-ame."
Shelagh and Patrick's faces were furrowed trying to understand what the sobbing little boy was saying. Once they did, Shelagh tried to hug him harder, and Patrick's heart hurt to know that his son felt the pain and anxiety caused by a nightmare. Although they had very different experiences in nightmares, Patrick sympathized with the terror of being unknown and unrecognized. He looked up briefly at his wife's concerned face and pulled his son further back to look in his face as he spoke a final time, "Do not worry yourself, Teddy, your mother and I make sure that we give and know all of our babies' names."
Teddy gave him a small nod along and a sniffle before turning back into his father's chest similar to how his mother had been earlier. Patrick and Shelagh burrowed themselves further under the covers and looked bittersweetly at each other as they held their next to youngest baby tightly in a shared embrace.