"A baby is God's opinion that life should go on." - Carl Sandburg (For <lj site="livejournal.com" us

[thepainted_lady]

Lydia was normally a very patient, serene sort of person. She didn't get frazzled easily, she dealt well with the foibles of her family and could soothe ruffled feathers and the more...volatile personalities that surrounded her with soft touches and gentle smiles. They depended on her for it, without knowing they did, she sometimes thought, and she played her role of steadier influence to the somewhat frenetic energy of the carnival as Joseph had before her without a murmur. It suited her, and let her bury any of her own turmoil away in soothing routines and find strength in familiarity to bolster an innate fragility she let very few see.

But for the moment, she was done, and for the last couple of weeks had been riding an edge she couldn't quite seem to balance upon. Everything hurt. She was as liable to burst into tears as smile. The first couple of months of her third trimester had been filled with a sense of well-being, for the most part, but while she could capture moments of that here and there, it seemed to have disappeared in a wave of impatience. Also, the frequent Braxton Hicks contractions and cramping had her sending for Sarah, the midwife, enough the past couple of weeks that the poor woman finally just had her trailer moved next to Lydia and Samuel's for the duration.

Of course, after that, Lydia managed to figure out what the fake ones felt like. What? She hadn't been pregnant in 16 years! Your mind made this part foggy, she was sure. Otherwise no one would go through it again and the human race would die out.

With a sigh, she sat back in the chair under the canopy and watched the family going about the day's work. She couldn't help. Couldn't really do anything. Couldn't do her act. Couldn't do chores--because she mostly did the gardening, and she couldn't get down on the ground and back up. She had been helping with dinner, still, but the last week Mrs. Comey had even shooed her away from that. Everyone was fussing, making a big deal, and while that was lovely in small doses, Lydia wasn't used to being, well, useless. But they all kept telling her to rest, so, even though she couldn't even sit comfortably, she was resting.

She'd been having vague cramping since she woke up, but since it had been coming and going for two weeks now, she just shifted and tried to ignore it. It didn't go away, though. In fact...they hadn't stopped all morning. Not too bad, not too close, but consistent. Reaching for her tea, she had to pause as one hit that made her catch her breath. None of them had done that again. It passed, and she started counting. At five minutes, another one hit, just as strong. She counted again. Five minutes, another.

There was a part of her that was almost afraid to move, to call out to any of the myriad family members passing by, either because she'd jinx it, or it would be another false alarm. When her water broke a half hour later, though, she couldn't stop the soft squeak of surprise. She needed to get up, needed to find someone, needed to call out and ask someone to get someone--Samuel, Sarah, someone.

Still looking down at her soaked skirts, she struggled to push out of the chair, then looked up in stunned surprise when a warm hand closed around her elbow to help her. Sylar was there with a wry smile on his lips, and she tried to hide the surprise that grew at the source of help.

"I heard you..." He trailed off, as if he didn't really want to accuse her of squeaking, or wasn't quite sure what to describe that sound as, but she nodded. "Is the baby coming?"

She nodded. "Would you get Samuel for me? And Sarah?"

"Yeah. Let's get you inside first."

She was glad of the help, not sure she could manage even the couple of steps back up into the trailer, especially as another contraction hit, and she bit her lip not to whimper. He waited patiently, then handed her up the steps and in the door.

"Thanks..."

His lips curved into something that was almost a smile, and he nodded, then moved off across the way. She made her way back to the bedroom, stripping it to put down the older sheets and blankets she'd set aside back on instead. That done, she moved back into the main room, determined to stay on her feet as long as she could. Moving helped a bit, plus she was too nervous to sit down, yet. She'd done this in a hospital with Amanda, drugged, and she couldn't help but remember Samuel's warnings about what his mother went through with his birth.

Nerves were only to be expected.

Comments

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Lydia leaned against him a little, letting his emotion run through her as she reached out to trace a careful finger down their daughter's cheek. She couldn't stand the loss of contact, apparently, but the simple touch helped. The easing of his worry--something that had been a constant in her awareness for a while now--made her heart lift a little, too.

"You still like Rebecca?"

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

"I do," Samuel answered, nodding. He brushed his fingers over their daughter's forehead again, then glanced back at her. "Having second thoughts? Or are you still just as set as I am?"

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She gave a brief thought to Becky and the -- justifiable -- anger the girl carried. It hadn't occurred to her at first, and she had a couple of moments of doubt here and there, but she still liked it a lot. "Not really," she said with a smile. "Just wondered how Becky might react." She reached to touch his hand, lightly. "I do think she should have your last name."

It tied her to the carnival and hers...hers was cursed, in her head.

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

"Tell the truth, I hadn't thought of that." Now that he did, though, he imagined Becky would be jealous. There were, of course, ways around that, though, and he wet his lips with his tongue before suggesting one. "If worse comes to worst, I can always tell her we named the baby after her."

Not that that would be true, but it'd at least keep Becky from doing anything ... explosive.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Lydia looked vaguely amused, though she was too tired to do more than give him a smile and then look back down at Rebecca.

"That's a definite option," she agreed. "She'd believe it--it might even make her more protective." Which wasn't a bad thing in these times. One more hand at their back was always a good thing.

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

"I was hoping the same thing," he agreed, flashing her a lopsided smile before looking away to their daughter again. Lydia would, of course, have to forgive him that he seemed more interested in their child than he was her, at the moment. He was fairly certain he couldn't be blamed.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Far from blame, Lydia's gaze flickered back to him with something even softer than the usual adoration she lavished in his direction. The sight of their daughter in his arms was not something she'd ever expected to see in all these years. Even the last nine months part of her had been waiting for something to go wrong. At the moment, it seemed nothing in the world could make this glow go away.

"Have you ever seen anything so perfect?"

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

"Only one thing," he answered, not looking at her but offering her a knowing smile all the same. "Only her mother. Which, speaking of, her mother should get some rest, shouldn't she, Rebecca?"

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Lydia blushed in pleasure and delight at the compliment. "I think I could sleep for a year. She probably needs to, too. Being born is hard work..." She could still feel the baby's emotions, flickering and confused as they were.

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

"I can only imagine."

Though as good an idea as putting Rebecca to bed probably was, he had no idea what to do with her. Did he give her back to Lydia and let the two of them sleep together? Did he take her to the crib they'd picked out for her? He should have read one of those pregnancy books Lydia had gotten her hands on, he decided -- not that he would have had time, but still -- and looked over at her, pulling his lower lip between his teeth to nibble at it thoughtfully.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Lydia deduced his dilemma quickly enough and held out her arms again for the baby. "She might get hungry soon....we can both sleep here.." She remembered doing that with Amanda, and that had been recommended in a few books. "She''s probably really disoriented with the whole...out in then world thing..." And Lydia's body was what she knew, its warmth hers for so long.

She bit her lower lip. "Will you keep a check on us, though? I don't want to accidentally roll on her..." Which apparently every mother worried about and no one actually did.

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

He handed their daughter back to her carefully, the moved to perch on the edge of the bed. He was tired, too -- not as exhausted as her, he was sure, but enough so from the worry and fear he'd been shouldering over the course of the last few days -- but he wouldn't sleep. She asked him to watch over her, so he would, and he let her know that without words, instead simply combing his fingers through her hair lightly.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Lydia wrapped her arms carefully round Rebecca, settling her down against her, in the covers, between the two of them. She tucked the blanket lightly around her, sensing a potential chill to the newborn, before she snuggled down in the bed herself. The hand not tucked around the baby reached for his other hand as she let her eyes close, exhaustion wiping over her.

"I love you..." It was meant for him, but the words encompassed them both.

[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

"I love you, too, Lydia," he murmured, reaching to meet her hand halfway to lace their fingers together. He squeezed her hand gently, reassuringly. "Get some sleep, mm?"