Birth oneshots

Royal birth

"Your Majesty you must push!"

I push on the midwife's command, crying out as my abdomen contracts in on itself. All around me I see the looks of the midwives, only a few unable to betray the distress pulsating throughout the room. It is understandable why, not all healthy babies survive childbirth, let alone ones that are a month early. 

I had only begun my lie in a few days ago, and have not even taken my bath in camomile to help prepare my body for labour. But it cannot be denied that my child is about to enter this world, I pray for our safety. 

The contraction eases and I groan. The women hustle around the room, fetching hot water and holy icons. They have already wrapped the birthing girdle around me, blessed by the Virgin mother to bless my delivery, but any item that might ensure God's favour for a safe birth is required in the birthing chamber. 

"Push again your majesty!"

Breathing in once again I try to move my child further down within me, my hands grip the birthing chair so tight they begin to feel numb. I feel movement from deep within my core, much different form the kicks I have felt for the past few moths. I feel stretched, its too tight. I try to widen my legs more over the chair to give my hips more room as the baby descends, it does little to relieve the pain. 

The head midwife looks to her team beside the bed.

"Fetch her majesty more hyssop."

A goblet is brought to my lips, the hot hyssop water does not feel refreshing but makes my already sweaty body feel even hotter. But I drink it, the properties of hyssop have been widely acclaimed to help women during birth. 

More movement inside me, I cry out as a my back tightens along with my stomach. The ladies in waiting all stand around me. I start panting. Hot. This room is too hot. All the windows have been closed and covered with tapestries, the only light is from the fireplaces and candles around the room. Physicians say any light could harm an expectant mother's eyes, but why must the tapestries be there to block out the light? It is the wee hours of the morning, barely past midnight. 

"It...it's so hot. Please."

I whisper to the lady in waiting next to me as she wipes the sweat from my forehead. 

"It is for the child my queen. For the heir."

The child. My child. Mine and Henry's. The heir to the throne of England. Yes, I am doing this for him. It is my duty as queen to provide an heir, my duty as a mother to deliver them now. Even the heat and darkness is for my baby, to help their transition out of me as easy as possible by mimicking the conditions of my womb. Yes, I must do this. 

"Crucifix...my crucifix."

One of the other ladies brings it to my outstretched hand, I grip it tight, my palm digging into the wood. Henry had it blessed and engraved for me, the words "God bless my wife and child" written in Latin along the side. I wish Henry were here with me, holding my hand. I wish I was giving birth at our home and not in Saint Swithun's Priory where Henry declared I was to deliver. 

Another pain crashes over me, taking all other thoughts out of my mind as I push. I breath in and push again as the pain continues. Suddenly what was only movement before becomes overwhelming pressure as I feel my child's head pressed up against my opening. I shriek in pain and surprise at the sudden advancement of the child. 

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The head midwife between my legs calls to the other ladies.

"Get blankets, the child is arriving!"