Day 30 - Emergency Room
A/N: Sequel to Day 12 Dehydration. After a long pregnancy, it turns out their child is eager to meet them…a few weeks too eager, that is. Set 10-15 years after Part III.

Jennifer kicked the blankets away, staring in frustration at the ceiling of their bedroom. A loud snort prompted her to look over at her very-unconscious husband, twisted in a position one could only describe as 'wannna-be pretzel' as he slept.

Instead of the sight making her smile as it normally did, she glared at his sleeping form silently. Glad you're getting a good sleep, Marty.

The fact that she still had six weeks to go didn't help on nights like this. At her last appointment, she'd begged the midwife for a solution to stop the false contractions, only to be met with no answers. "Only way they'll stop is your baby bein' born," The midwife had confirmed sadly.

"But they're keeping me up all night!" Jennifer had cried. God, I'm so sick of being this emotional too.

"All part of bein' pregnant, I'm afraid," The midwife sympathised. "No point coming in to hospital unless they start forming a pattern, and that shouldn't be starting until about thirty-seven weeks."

The fact that she had counted five contractions within the last hour was not filling her with confidence. If anything, she reckoned they were getting worse.

She waited for the next one to pass before looking at the clock. Okay. So between four and five, I've had six contractions.

But they can't be real ones, can they?

Geez, I'm so sick of second-guessing this!

Frustrated by her overthinking brain, she decided some a glass of water was in order. Getting herself up from a supine position was difficult these days, but after some brainstorming with Marty, they'd come up with a system of pillows and a strategically-placed dressing gown tie to assist if he wasn't able to.

She was grateful for it on nights like this, for he slept so soundly that other people would probably think he was dead.

Jennifer waddled to the bathroom, barely acknowledging the kicks of protest that the baby gave. I don't care if you were comfortable, 'cause I'm not.

She was halfway through her first sip of water when a sharp pain burst rippled through her pelvis. "Shit!"

The glass fell from her hand, shattering in a spectacular fashion as it collided with the bathroom floor. She cringed as a few pieces bounced off the tiles and slammed into the bottom of the toilet, the sound seeming like a sonic boom at this hour of the night.

Jennifer glanced back into the bedroom, expecting to find Marty bounding out of the sheets by the noise. Instead, he remained firmly in the grips of unconsciousness, making her shake her head in disbelief. A hurricane wouldn't wake this man-

She gasped in surprise as her belly tightened. All of the previous contractions had felt like mild period cramps, but this one was different.

It was worse.

It's not going away!…

"Marty," Her voice was barely above a whisper. She forced herself to turn her gaze away from her protruding belly, her volume increasing into a squeal as the contraction built quickly. "MARTY MCFLY, WAKE YOUR ASS UP!"

"Huh? Wuzzat?!" Still half-unconscious, Marty shot up from the pillow, fighting his way out of the twisted sheets before rubbing his eyes furiously. "Jenny?…"

"Marty, I think…I think it's starting."

For a few moments, Marty resembled a goldfish; mouth opening and closing with no intelligible noises emerging. She waited patiently as his brain processed the news, only to roll her eyes as he released a very nervous laugh. "But…but you can't…It can't be happening, Jennifer! Y-You're only thirty-four weeks!"

I love him, but God, he's not built to cope with this sort of thing. "Marty," Jennifer allowed a sharp edge to creep into her voice as the contraction began to ebb away. "It's. Starting."

As if her unborn child was intending to make the situation look even more dramatic, she felt something trickle down her leg. Hesitant to look, she leaned forward until she could see past her stomach, paling even further at the drops of blood now resting amongst a small collection of water beneath her on their bathroom floor.

If anything, she was more surprised than frightened. There's not supposed to be blood as well, isn't there?

She crouched down and placed a fingertip in the liquid, the ominous red stains swirling in the puddle of amniotic fluid as she moved her hand around, confirming what she was dreading.

Well shit.

I guess…

I guess…

…This is happening today, I guess.

Placing a hand on the basin to support herself, Jennifer hauled herself upright, only to sigh angrily as she caught sight of an unconscious Marty, who had once again collapsed back into a pretzel position on the mattress. "Oh my God, MARTY!"

Her husband remained oblivious to her distress. If it had been any other time, she would've snapped a polaroid of the moment to use as potential blackmail material.

All it was doing now was enraging her. She waddled over to Marty and lifted his head up, squeezing his cheeks with enough strength to dig her nails into his skin. "For God's sake, Marty, you're not the one who's got shit coming out your vagina! Wake UP!"

I'll apologise later, but I'm scared, Marty.

I need you.

Marty's eyes flew open with a mumbled squeak of surprise, struggling to pull away from Jennifer's grip. As soon as she released him, he scrambled around and toppled off the mattress, collapsing in a heap at his wife's feet. He looked at Jennifer sheepishly, face so pale that he could've blended in with the white sheets on the bed. "H-Hang on Jennifer, I-I'll get the bags…"

Jennifer could only hold her belly and sigh. She looked down at their unborn child, allowing a small smile of bemusement as she noticed the baby moving underneath her skin. "Don't rush, alright?"

I think I jinxed myself.

Jennifer howled, curl forward into a ball around her stomach. In the ten minutes it took Marty to throw on a shirt, grab the bags and escort her to the truck, things seemed to have ramped up incredibly fast. The contractions seemed to be almost one on top of the other, barely giving her anytime in between to catch her breath. Don't tell me I've gotta go through this for another however many hours!…

But it's too early! Maybe they'll stop it for me?

The car swerved erratically as Marty expertly manoeuvred around the ungodly number of roundabouts between their house and the hospital. It did nothing to help her nausea, and she'd already made him pull over once so she could vomit on the side of the road, which the two of silently agreed to never speak of again. Turns out labour isn't very dignified…

Another gush of warm fluid ran down her legs, the pressure in her pelvis suddenly increasing. She heaved for air as she sobbed uncontrollably. "MARTYYY!"

"I'm here, Jen!" Her husband called shakily. "W-We're about two minutes away!"

"CAN'T YOU DRIVE FASTER DAMMIT!" Jennifer screamed hysterically, pounding the dashboard with her fist. "I THINK I'M GONNA SHIT OUT A WATERMELON!"

She was too engulfed by pain to process Marty's response, though she assumed it was meant to be one of reassurance. Two more contractions passed before she felt the car come to a stop, followed by Marty launching himself out of the driver's seat to call for help. I'm glad he can still run…

Jennifer forced herself to sit upright, sighing as she recognised the familiar entrance of the emergency department., the first rays of sunshine still being drowned out by the overpowering neon red signs. She caught a glimpse of her sweaty, exhausted, vomit-covered reflection in the passenger-side mirror, and couldn't help but laugh. "Man, I'm so sexy right now…"

The passenger door was flung open by a flustered Marty, who hoisted her out of the car with what she assumed was pure adrenaline. "They're bringing a wheelchair, Jen, just hang on…"

As soon as she stood up, everything seemed to escalate. She barely registered her own high-pitched wail; the pressure had become overwhelming. "OH GOD! MARTY! I THINK IT'S COMING!"

"W-We knew it was coming already, Jen," Marty tried to joke, his nervous laugh betraying his true feelings. He held her tightly in his arms, supporting her fatigued, shaking body.

"NO I MEAN IT'S COMI-"

Jennifer found herself cut off by an urge the likes of which she had never felt before. The closest thing she could compare it to was being extremely constipated, though this was easily the worst sensation she'd ever experienced. She found herself grunting, pulling on Marty's shirt so tightly that she popped one of the buttons off. Gotta push gotta push gotta push-

She barely registered the midwives speaking to her as they came with the wheelchair, whisking her into the emergency department with such speed that it could've been considered teleportation. In that moment, nothing else around her mattered; the staff, Marty, the other patients in the waiting room. All she could feel was her baby and the need to push.

Wait, was that someone telling me not to push?

"Jennifer!" Marty's voice was suddenly clear amongst the turmoil. "Jen, you need to listen-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP, MCFLY!" She barely recognised her own voice, which resembled more of a growl than human speech. A bed had suddenly materialised in front of her, and she heaved herself out of the wheelchair to grab onto the handrails. "I. CAN'T. HELP. IT!"

Whatever Marty said in response was drowned out by her screams as another contraction wracked her body. She gripped the bedrails as she felt her body giving in to this need to push, before bursting into a fresh set of tears as the contraction died off. Oh my God…!

"Jen, it's okay honey," Marty purred in her ear. "It's okay, they've said it's okay. You're doing so good."

The urge to push reappeared and she decided to stop fighting it.

What she hadn't expected in response was the burning. "OH MY GODDDDD!"

"Jennifer," Marty spoke firmly. "It's okay-"

"IT IS NOT OKAY MARTY MCFLY! OH MY GOD, IT BURNS!"

She thought she heard someone saying that was the baby. But it can't be? The whole point is that pushing the baby out makes it better! Why is everything on fire?

The urge came again, and she obeyed its wish, pushing so hard that she felt herself launching into a deep squat. Get it out get it out get it out-

"Jen, Jen, stop," Marty pleaded. "Stop, they need to-"

Jennifer could only roar in response, desperate to make the burning go away. "GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

She felt her body relax.

The flames had been extinguished.

The pressure was gone.

Her legs suddenly felt incredibly weak, and she realised Marty's arms were wrapped around her torso, stopping her from tumbling to the floor. She took a moment to process her surroundings. Oh my God, I'm in the delivery room-

Something cried.

A wail that wasn't hers.

She looked down to see a midwife smiling at her, pulling something slimy out from between her legs. "What…?"

"Congratulations, honey!" The midwife was grinning, wiping down the baby with a towel-

Baby.

My baby.

That's our baby.

Our baby!

The tiny child in the midwife's arms suddenly screamed, flailing its arms around as the fluid on its skin was dried off. Although they'd told her at each appointment that the baby was measuring larger than expected, to her it was the smallest thing she had ever seen. Is that the umbilical cord? Man, that thing looks gross-

"It's a girl, Mrs McFly!" The midwife announced.

Jennifer suddenly felt light-headed. She was glad she didn't have to voice it, for she felt someone guiding her into the bed, her exhausted body collapsing into the mattress. "…A girl?"

"A girl, Jenny!" Marty was kissing her forehead, his cheeks wet with joyful tears. "We had a girl, Jenny! A girl!"

A girl?

Something hot was gushing down her legs.

Everything seemed so…far…away….

Hurts…

The wheelchair squeaked loudly as Marty pushed it into the elevator, squeezing to the side to allow room for the doors to close. It provided an ample opportunity to lean down and place a gentle kiss on Jennifer's forehead, who tiredly leaned into the embrace. "Marty…"

"Do you know how proud of you I am, Jenny?" Marty nuzzled into her hair, dotting her with kisses. "So, so, so proud-"

"I know you are 'cause you haven't stopped gushing for two days straight!" Jennifer laughed, tilting her head to return her husband's kisses. She decided now was the best time as any to admit something. "…Marty, I-I know I said some things and-"

"Don't you dare worry about those, Jennifer McFly," Marty cocked an eyebrow. "After all, your vagina was occupied with shitting out a watermelon; it was perfectly acceptable behaviour."

Jennifer couldn't help but giggle nervously. "Did I really say that?"

"Mmm-hmm. And boy did you proclaim it, too."

The elevator doors opened, prompting Marty to shimmy back to his position as designated driver and manoeuvre the wheelchair into the lobby of the NICU. He'd already made the trip up here on his own a few times, but was particularly excited now that Jennifer was strong enough to visit the baby-

Their baby.

It still didn't feel real.

Ringing his parents and telling them what had happened was the longest phone call of his life; explaining how fast the labour went, how it turned out the placenta had started to separate too early, how they'd rushed Jennifer to theatre when the bleeding wasn't stopping. He'd made a joke about it sounding like it came out of a movie, but he'd been one step away from bursting into frightened tears the entire call.

It wasn't every day that one watches their wife deliver a premature baby and then proceed to have a massive haemorrhage immediately afterwards.

They hadn't let him hold the baby at first. Even though she came out screaming and pink as a strawberry, as soon as the midwives had cut the umbilical cord, a team of doctors from various specialties had arrived to take over and rushed their little girl to the intensive care.

Not that he would've admitted it to anyone except Doc, but he was terrified.

He remembered how he'd curled up on an uncomfortable plastic chair outside the operating suite reception, sobbing as the lives of his wife and child seemed to hang in the balance. How much he wished Doc or Jennifer's mom or someone with more confidence in a crisis had been there.

Marty had spent a good amount of time beating himself up while waiting for news. What kind of a support person were you? Sleeping while your wife was in labour, for God's sake! No wonder she was so pissed at you. Passing out at the sight of a tiny bit of blood, what a wimpy thing to do.

"Who does she look like, Marty?" Jennifer asked innocently.

Startled out of his memories, Marty took a minute to ponder his answer. "…I mean, she's got the tube in her nose at the moment, so it might change once that's out. Uh…she's, uh, she's got my hair 'cause the nurses keep having to comb it back. O-Otherwise, I think I'll let you decide."

Jennifer smiled as they rounded the corner, passing large, open rooms with collections of screaming infants. She noticed this ward wasn't as sterile as the one she'd been recuperating in, and decided she should suggest to her nurses that painting butterflies and baby animals on the walls would be beneficial for patient recovery.

She hadn't been ready for the sudden influx of emotions as the wheelchair came to a gentle stop in front of one isolette. A pink and white card sat in a holder on the front, her eyes immediately drawn to the familiar handwriting of the first line: MY NAME IS: _ McFly

Jennifer gave her husband a knowing look. "I'd recognise that handwriting anywhere, mister. Why didn't you finish filling it in?"

Marty planted a kiss on her forehead. "I wanted you to be the first one to write our little girl's name."

"And they say chivalry is dead," Jennifer laughed. "It's an honour, Mister McFly-"

"You're also the first one to hold her, Jenny."

She couldn't stop the expression of utter shock from crossing her face. "M-Marty?! You…You haven't held her? Why?! I-Is she too sick-"

Her faithful lover shook his head as he came to the front of the wheelchair, extending his hands for her to take. "…I told the nurses I wouldn't do it until you had," Marty gently guided his wife to an armchair directly facing the side of the isolette, brushing a strand of unwashed hair from her face. "I, uh…I thought it wasn't fair that you didn't get to hold her first, w-when you should have."

A thousand possible responses raced through her mind, all ranging across the spectrum of emotions.

But they immediately vanished as she finally laid eyes on the swaddled bundle of green and pink blankets that Marty and a nurse began lifting from the isolette. A collection of cables and monitors disappeared into the folds of the fabric, connected to machines behind the isolette that beeped and chimed as it was moved.

A tiny cry came from beneath the blankets, summoning tears to her eyes.

That's my baby?…

She was lost for words as the nurse gently passed the baby to her, her arms wrapping around into position automatically. An identical set of baby-blue eyes blinked sleepily at her, a pair of tiny pink hands peaking out from the clutches of the blankets. Jennifer ran her thumb over one hand, astonished to find how soft her baby's skin was. What sort of moisturiser do they have in there to get this sort of skin!?

"H-How's she doing?" Jennifer stammered, unable to tear her gaze away. "I-I mean, is she healthy? She was-"

"A bit eager to come, yes, but she's a beautiful girl, ma'am," The nurse commented over her shoulder, currently occupied with changing the sheets of the isolette. "The doctors came around this morning and are very happy. She's taking all her feeds through the tube right now, but she's already showing interest in the pacifier, which is great news."

"…S-She looks too small to be doing so well," Jennifer admitted quietly. Her attention was drawn to the knitted cap adorning the baby's head, which was loose enough to allow some strands of mousy-brown hair to stick out. She couldn't help but laugh as her fingers caused the hat to slide around. "Her head isn't big enough for this hat."

"I promise she's perfect in every way Mrs McFly, including her head size," The nurse smiled. She closed the isolette doors and gave her patient a gentle smile, patting the baby's hat gently. "She's been a very cooperative patient and is doing well for her age-"

"Her age?" Marty asked in confusion. "I-Is she meant to be crawling yet? Sitting up?"

The nurse chuckled politely as she checked the oxygen and suction tubes. "No no, not yet. If they did we'd all be in trouble. No, all she needs to do is grow and put on weight, which she's already exceeded at."

Jennifer's eyes were drawn to thinnest plastic tube she had ever seen taped along the baby's left cheek. "Will she need this forever?"

"For a few weeks she will," The nurse explained, "but once she's big enough and taking your breast or the bottle well, then we'll remove it."

Once the nurse had finished with her bedside checks, she gave them a sincere smile as she left the new parents to themselves, their focus still glued to the tiny creature in Jennifer's arms.

"She has your eyes, Marty," Jennifer whispered. She giggled as the infant stretched her head back in a massive yawn before gazing up at her mother with what could be described as an indignant expression. "I think she's got your sass, too."

Marty realised he was crying too. He wrapped himself around Jennifer's neck, kissing it lovingly as he stared longingly at their baby girl.

I made a good future, Doc. I hope you're proud.

A/N: And that concludes June of Doom 2024! Thank you to everyone who's been following along despite the irregular postings. I've also enjoyed reading the comments people have left!