#because I have a really huge anxiety about pregnancy and childbirth

[letsoulswander]

It's so weird to go from s3 to s4 of Call The Midwife in my rewatch. In s1-3 the things the nurses tell their laboring mothers make sense, and as I currently read Jennifer Worth's memoirs more things are revealed.

For example, the admonition of "don't push, just little pushes" isn't random in the first three seasons, it's always just as the baby is crowning. The book clarifies that this is to prevent the baby's head from being born too quickly and hurting the mother so that she needs stitches. But in season four, I'm now having the dubious pleasure of watching Patsy demand "little pushes" when the head is already fully born. Did they fire their consultant? Or did the actress for Jenny just do a bunch of research and read the memoirs before doing her thing?

[pfirsichspritzer]

Answer the Questions and Tag 5 Fanfic Authors

tagged by @menina89, thank you. Doing this required more introspection than I initially thought, but it was a lot of fun 💕

1 . How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I had my first encounter with fanfiction when I was around 12 or 13 and discovered the (no-longer online) site myfanfiction.de. Back then I was really into twilight and so I created an account and started writing (in German). My first story was like 200 - 400 words per chapter and I think I gave up after 5 - 6 chapters. I posted a few more one-shots but honestly, the site was terrible and overly moderated. Two of my stories got banned for apparently being wrongly rated G and that was pretty frustrating. I wrote a few more stories for myself, but during most of high school and university years I only wrote assignments and papers. I stopped reading fanfiction altogether too for a while and only came back to it when discovering fanfiction.net and then ao3. There were so many stories and so much more engagement on those English sites, which was amazing. I did think about writing a few times but I was intimidated by the thought of doing so in English, which is not my mother tongue, so for years I was simply lurking in the shadows.

Then came 2022, which was a very rough year for me and induced a lot of anxiety, so in autumn after a spontaneous idea for a fic, I just started writing again to cope with some of those feelings. I posted the first chapter for the hell of it, but the Rogue One fandom was so nice and encouraging, that I just kept writing. 

The idea for my first story in the Lockwood & Co. fandom was born because I was looking for a specific story I. When I could not find it, I simply wrote it myself. 

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

Four fandoms I published something in. Probably one or two more, writing just for myself. 

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

The first fic on my ao3 account was posted October 2022. 

In my teenage years maybe another 4 years ?

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

Definitely read. 

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

Writing multi-chapters. I used to lose interest in them pretty quickly. But I’ve actually finished 2 in the last one-and-a-half years, which I am actually kind of proud of. 

Other than that, I like to think that my English has gotten better (I hope) and I am less critical of myself, actually enjoying reading my own stories once in a while. 

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I once went down a rabbit hole researching the Jacobite uprising and the Glencoe massacre, including watching a 1,5 h documentary (for a 1000 word case fic). That was probably the most niche topic. 

Other than that, I often research medical conditions, to not get them completely wrong. I did a lot of research on pregnancy and childbirth, including making a detailed calendar on gestational age and events that should take place. I generally like to make timetables for longer fics, to get the seasons and months right and to not give a month too many days. 😉

7. What’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

I love each and every comment. I maybe tend to reread comments more often of people pointing out things they liked, their favourite part, or swooning over characters. Also, when someone catches a hidden meaning or reference to another chapter, that is really amazing. But honestly, every comment makes my day and puts a huge smile on my face. 🥰

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

Probably struggles with fertility. Other than that I think I’m pretty mainstream.

Though, I wrote a Christmas market one-shot set in the city I live in once, which could be considered niche because of the non anglo-american or British setting. 

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

It takes me a long time to write descriptions. Often there is a scene in my head that I want to bring to paper (or computer screen). But then I realize that I lack the vocabulary to formulate the sentences as flowery and beautifully as I’d like. So, I end up googling words for hours. 

10. What is the easiest type?

Fluff. I love writing tender scenes between characters. 

But also Angst, I think. Probably because I am a very anxious person. 

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

On my computer. I write in MS word. Then I copy the whole text into google docs, and do the editing there. 

Most ideas come to me while commuting, going for a walk, or showering. So, I either take quick notes on my phone or actually sit down and type it into my laptop, if I have time. Mostly, I end up writing in the evening, but I am actually more productive in the morning (again if there is time) 

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

Smut. 

13. What made you choose your username?

I chose it, because I am a microbiologist at heart. It could be argued that Saccharomyces cerevisiae, also known as bakers’ yeast, is one of humanity's oldest production animals. It is also one of the first microorganisms I was able to observe under a microscope and I think the cells look adorable. Apparently, someone else thought so too, because the username was already taken. That’s why I chose Saccharomyces_97

Tagging: @alphacrone @woahpip @oceanspray5 @cate-deriana and @the-biscuit-agreement (I'm terribly late and don't know who has done this before. So sorry, in case of double tag 😉 )

[multifandomsofficial]

Can you please do the chosen headcanons about how they'd react to you dying in childbirth?

Ngl this one was pretty hard. Btw, I'm not doing an disciples that already have a romantic relationship (married, y'know). Fun fact: fathers were first allowed to be in the room during the birth in the 1970s, so we're going by that standard. I have no idea really about being pregnant/pregnancy, so idk how accurate this will be.

...

Warnings: mentions of blood, anxiety, depression

⚠️HUGE WARNING:CHARACTER DEATH AHEAD⚠️

Type: headcanon

...

Judas:

Honestly already kinda figured because you were already weakened through the last month before the pregnancy actually happened. But gets wrecked by it. Totally demolished. Maybe or may not be a reason for betraying Jesus..... 👀

...

Matthew:

At first, probably doesn't know how to react or respond. It barely even hits him until the person repeats that you're gone and the next thing he knows he can't stop crying.

...

Little James:

This poor little baby. I feel so bad for even writing this. But I can see him ask Jesus, just like he asked Jesus why he hadn't been healed yet in Season Three. And Jesus would give him the same response. And my poor baby would almost hyperventilate from crying so much.

...

Nathaniel:

There isn't even a sarcastic comment, or any comment for that matter, in his system. He can't even have a clear thought. His mind just goes blank. He's unresponsive, until someone touches him, and then boom. Crying like a little baby.

...

Simon Z:

He's totally torn. He thought he could protect you. He felt so guilty for not dying instead. Praying and questioning why God had to make you die instead of him, just wanting to let you live.

...

Andrew:

His head is spinning. He's trying to push past his brother so he can reach you, hold you. But he can't. Just can't. His legs would definitely stop working, so he'd be on his knees, panting like he just ran a mile, crying so much.

...

Big James:

Everything inside the room stops. No sounds, nothing. He's just waiting for crying. A baby crying. For someone to say something. But nothing happens. Definitely be banging on the door, demanding to come in, demanding to know what happened, demanding to see you, as warm tears bite at his cold face.

...

Philip:

Mr. Joy man over here is probably the newest, most depressed person. Like, not a small bit if hope or kindness runs in his system. Nope. Just grief. Pure sadness. This man is gonna need a hug from someone.

...

Thaddeus:

Was pacing in front of the door, soon sitting directly across from it, just staring as he silently prayed. But he knew it was too late. He could hear the women inside trying to wake you up. Silent sobs choked his throat as he crossed his arms and looked to the heavens.

...

John:

Doesn't care how improper it is if he enters that door once something is wrong. He's doing it anyway. He will do it anyway. No matter how many women are trying to shoo him out, because he will be there.

But, he enters just as your body goes limp, blood covered rags thrown about the foot of the bed near your feet. Would definitely just stand there for a second, all the women staring, before moving out of his way as he pushed through to get to you. Moving hair neatly on one side of your head, he begs for you to wake up as he sobbed until he couldn't anymore. Totally would refuse to leave your side, and someone would have to pull him away.

...

[eleanor-bradstreet]

After Willow Bark, what would Benedict and Sophie's first visit to Romney Hall after his illness be like?

Would Eloise have children quickly in her marriage?

How would the twins warm to their closest Aunt and Uncle? Having Aunts and Uncles are probably a new concept for them.

Hello there,

What a lovely question! I imagine after the wedding the broader Bridgerton family head back to London and Benedict and Sophie visit just before Phillip and Eloise depart on their honeymoon. So many little moments come to mind.

They tour the gardens, with Bridgerton siblings and spouses splitting off into pairs. Despite everything, Benedict remembers the bedside conversation he had with Eloise and her uncertainty before the wedding. He is now fully emotionally available to her and asks a lot of questions to make sure she is happy as a wife. She rolls her eyes at him and convinces him she is and he admits he never thought he'd see the day. Then he starts to make jokes at her expense.

Sophie adores her new bestie Phillip and asks him to teach her everything he knows about medicinal herbs. Since she watched him save Benedict's life, she wants to learn herbalism and use it to help her growing family and others. I HC Sophie as a respected healer/midwife in her part of the countryside. She refuses to sit still as an aristocratic wife and wants to help others, always thinking back to her mother who was pregnant, helpless and died young.

The twins are shy at first. You're right, they are probably a bit undersocialized and not at all used to having extended family. They warm to Benedict when he starts picking on Eloise in front of them - messing up her hair and bothering her. He scampers off with them and Phillip catches the three of them planning pranks, which he has to chastise.

Benedict has a heart-to-heart with Phillip. He thanks him again and says he does not doubt his character and will never forget his actions. BUT, as Eloise's closest brother he must demand that Phillip cherish and protect her and keep her happy. Phillip promises he'll do so, as long as Benedict stops teaching pranks to the twins. They laugh and Benedict starts to share his tips for deescalating Eloise when she gets riled about things.

The twins are still wary of Sophie until she volunteers to tell them a bedtime story. Cinderella (of course). The twins chatter about how they are orphans just like Cinderella and Sophie explains to them how she is too. They bond over this and she tells them how lucky they are to have a kind aunt and uncle in Phillip and Eloise to take care of them, and that she and Benedict will take care of them too, and will give them cousins to be friends with. She explains how none of them are really orphans anymore because they have a huge family with the Bridgertons.

As for Phillip and Eloise's own children, if this were my HC/adaptation, I wouldn't see them have any. Both to honor show!Eloise's anxiety/trauma around pregnancy and childbirth, and to honor their family as a sort of found family of misfits. Phillip was crushed under the structure of a traditional family his whole life, and Eloise despises the tradition in the first place. I find it important to portray found/chosen family and childfree individuals as equally valid to biological families and parents. Between Eloise's reading and fearless detective skills, plus Phillip's herbal knowledge, I imagine they would take precautions to prevent pregnancy. (Barrier methods were a thing in regency times.) BUT I know canonically they have three children in the books. If they were to do so, I envision they would start ~2 years into their marriage after they both did a lot of soul searching to overcome Eloise's anxieties and Phillip's fear of becoming his father.

I don't know if you were expecting an essay, but here it is 😅 Thank you for this lovely, thought provoking question! My favorite 'happily ever after' to envision in the Bridgerton universe is precisely this one. Benophie and Philoise as neighbors in the countryside, visiting each other weekly where Ben and Eloise get up to shenanigans while Phillip and Sophie roll their eyes and sip their gin, sharing a deep friendship. Phillip grows herbs to supply Sophie's midwifery practice. They look after each other's children, Sophie nurturing them while Eloise radicalizes them lol. Benedict paints the whole array of flowers Phillip grows. It's idyllic 💙💚

[qqueenofhades]

Women and “medieval cruelty and ignorance”

Okay. So. We could probably have guessed that this tweet was like waving a red flag in front of a bull, but here we are anyway.

(Tagging @artielu​ because I know she enjoys my history smackdowns and this is right in her wheelhouse of interest.)

First: nobody denies that the Alabama bill and similar efforts are absolutely heinous, are designed to be test cases to get Roe v. Wade overturned, and are deliberately gratuitous in their constitutional overreach and general horrible Handmaid’s Tale nature. But for well-meaning liberals, such as above, calling them representative of “medieval cruelty and ignorance” is a) not accurate and b) counterproductive. If we insist on using “the medieval” as a conceptual category inferior to “the modern,” these recent bills bear a complicated, at best, resemblance to medieval canon law and social practice. And there was never, I promise you, any law that prescribed a 99-year jail term for abortionists. So if we want to point out how the modern Republican party is actually much worse than their medieval counterparts, we can do that, but also: trust me, this is thoroughly modern cruelty and ignorance, and we should insist on that distinction.

First, obviously, women’s bodies have always been subject to a social discourse of power, control, gendered anxiety, and attendant responses. This was certainly the case in the medieval era, but our modern interpretations of that discourse can be... iffy, at best. In discussing the feminization of witchcraft in the late 15th century, M.D. Bailey critiques how scholars have tended to take the Malleus Maleficarum, the famous witch-hunting handbook, as representative of a self-evident and endemic medieval and clerical misogyny. In fact, the Malleus was the equivalent of the extreme right wing today, was relatively quickly condemned even by the church itself, and was largely reworked from earlier ecclesiastical anti-sodomy polemics, because the idea of “disordered gender” was certainly one that occupied medieval moralists and theorists. I have discussed the Malleus in other posts, but while it certainly is virulently and systematically misogynist, it also was a work of rhetoric rather than a reflection of historical reality. Medieval misogyny absolutely and obviously existed, and it impacted women’s lives, but we also really need to get rid of The Medieval Era Was Bad For Women, (tm), Therefore Everything Was Worse Back Then.

The possibility of magic being used to cause impotence/loss of fertility was another concern, and one of the main anxieties about the practice of witchcraft was that it would bring “sterility” and irregular sexual activity (usually with the devil). However, an extensive corpus of contraceptive and abortifacient knowledge has existed since antiquity, and in tracing the representation of unborn children in medieval theological thought, Danuta Shanzer notes:

My findings suggest that it is overstatement to claim that from the start Christianity considered the fetus a living being from conception. Augustine is a major agonized and agnostic counter-example.

Hence, contrary to right-wing claims that the church has “always” thought that life began at conception (spoiler alert: the church has never once “always” thought the same thing on anything), it was almost never the case in medieval legal or theoretical practice. Thomas Aquinas and other medieval theologians argued that “ensoulment” or the separation of the fetus into a living being happened at quickening, when the baby could move on its own (which medieval medical treatises had various standards for measuring, but it would be the equivalent of about 20 weeks of pregnancy). Monica Green, a leading medieval medical and gender historian, has examined a vast corpus of obstetric and gynecological Middle English texts, and in “Making Motherhood,” argues:

Texts on women’s medicine might also be concerned to “unmake” or prevent motherhood, either by preventing conception in the first place or expelling a dead foetus that would not emerge spontaneously. Abortion per se was almost never mentioned.

In other words: abortion was not paid attention to in nearly the same way we do today, and while canon law, in theory, prescribed penalties for contraception and abortion, historians have consistently (surprise!) discovered a disconnect between this and secular law and everyday practice. And while some twelfth-century (male) jurists did attempt to equate miscarriage with homicide, and to install it in canon law, these laws were almost never practically used or prosecuted. In Divisions of Labor: Gender, Power, and Later Medieval Childbirth, c. 1200-1500, Rebecca Wynne Jones surveys the extant literature and notes:

In his 2012 book The Criminalization of Abortion in the West, Wolfgang Müller documents how 12th‐century jurists' increasing tendency to equate violence resulting in miscarriage with homicide was institutionalized in canon law. Though this development led to the widespread criminalization of abortion in ecclesiastical jurisdictions, Müller has little to say about gender relations on the ground. Rather, by highlighting local communities' reluctance to prosecute, he presents laws that might once have been seen as proof of a medieval “war on women” as legislative enactments whose practical power remained limited.

Once again: medieval ecclesiastical proscriptions against abortion were, at best, sporadically enforced, communities were reluctant to actually prosecute women or to criminalize early-term pregnancy loss, and church law was not identical with secular law, which was the standard ordinary people used and were subject to. This concords with what Fiona Harris-Stoertz has found in her survey of pregnancy and childbirth in twelfth and thirteenth-century French and English law:

It is striking that in these thirteenth-century English texts, no penalty was assigned for the loss of less developed fetuses. This absence flew in the face of high medieval church legislation, which, in theory at least, took all contraception and abortion seriously. John Riddle finds that the idea that early-term abortion is less serious than late-term abortion occurred in the work of Aristotle and appeared occasionally throughout the early Middle Ages, particularly in church penitentials, although it also appeared in the early medieval Visigothic code.

While late-term abortion of potentially viable fetuses was still a crime, secular law still essentially held to quickening as the moment at which a pregnancy could not be terminated. Before that, however -- anywhere in the first 4-5 months of pregnancy -- it could often be dealt with, if desired, without any penalty. Anne L. McClanan has investigated the material culture of abortion and contraception in the early Byzantine period. And Ireland, which as recently as last year remained one of the last European countries to outlaw abortion, had a medieval hagiography that actively canonized abortionist saints:

Medieval hagiographers told of Irish Catholics par excellence, the saints themselves, performing abortions as well as of “bastards” becoming bishops and saints. In hagiography and the penitentials, virginal status depended more on a woman’s relationship with the church than with a man. To my knowledge, no other country in Christendom, medieval or modern, produced abortionist saints or restored virgins, apart from the nun of Watton. Why Ireland is among the few European countries to maintain severely restrictive policies on reproduction remains an unanswered question, but it clearly cannot be attributed to its medieval Catholicism.

Last part bolded because important. Modern bans on abortion don’t relate to how these notions were conceptualized or used in the past, and they are not holdovers from The Medieval Era (tm). They don’t represent medieval concerns or medieval ideas of gender, or at least certainly not in a direct genealogy. Even as late as the seventeenth century, when ideas of childbirth, marriage, and reproduction were more strictly controlled, the period prior to quickening, or the movement of the baby, was still generally not penalized or subject to legal control or coercion. So in sum: while religious moralists and canonical lawyers absolutely did object to abortion (aka right-wing men, the same ones who object to it today, funnily enough), in secular law and daily practice, a pregnancy that was terminated prior to quickening was not subject to practical prosecution or legal punishment, and medieval women had access to a vast corpus of gynecological texts, medical practices, herbal recipes, rituals, and charms intended to accomplish a wide range of fertility goals: conception, contraception, abortion, a healthy pregnancy and delivery, and so forth. I also answered an ask a while ago that discussed all this in detail.

Also: abortion was explicitly mobilized as a wedge issue in the 1970s and 1980s with the rise of the religious right in American politics, and that happened not because of abortion, but in resistance to the IRS penalizing them for refusing to racially integrate evangelical schools and colleges. Randall Balmer has written about the history of the “abortion myth”; do yourself a favor and read it. The Southern Baptist Convention campaigned in 1971 for the liberalization of American abortion laws, and hailed the 1973 Roe decision as a win for the rights of the mother. (Oh how the mighty have fallen?) The right wing came together as a political force to resist racial integration, exemplified by their loss in the 1983 Supreme Court case Bob Jones University v. United States. But since it was not a winning political strategy (yet, at least) to fly the flag of “let us be racist in peace,” they, as Balmer discusses, created the “abortion myth” to make themselves look better and to present a narrative of holy/moral concern for the lives of the unborn. The reason abortion is as huge as it is in the present American political landscape owes to modern religious conservatism and extremism, resistance to racial equality, ideological control over women, and other bigotry, and (again) not to medievalism or medieval practices.

So, yes. Let us call the Alabama bill and other heinousness exactly what it is: a modern effort by a lot of terrible modern people to do terrible things to modern women. We don’t need to qualify it by fallacious equivalences to so-called “medieval cruelty” -- especially, again, when medieval practice and perspective on these issues was nowhere near the stereotype, and certainly nowhere near this “99 years in prison for performing an abortion” dystopian nightmare. If we want to shame the GOP, by all means, do so. But we should not resort to distorting and simplifying history to do it, and using the imagined “bad medieval” as a straw man to club them with. There’s plenty on its own. The modern world needs to take responsibility for its own misogyny, and stop trying to frame it as a historical issue that only existed in the past, and that any manifestations of it must be medieval in nature. Because it’s not.

[prueackerman]

Where: Ackerman Estate/Sean’s home Who: Prue Ackerman, @felicityackerman Notes: Prue hears back from her doctor about what’s going on with her.

Prue It’d been a week since her blood had been sent to the labs for testing. A week of anxiety and worry that she’d really only shared with Julian and Felicity, not wanting the rest of the people in her life to worry. Thankfully overall Prue felt a bit...better. She was still tired but not as much, and she wasn’t throwing up as often, but other things were happening too. Her favorite perfume made her nauseous, to the point that by the third try she threw the whole bottle out. She didn’t even want to look at food-food. And on a rare day that she decided to put on pants and they felt a bit snugger than usual, she frowned, something tickling in the back of her mind. No. She couldn’t be..... Right? As if on cue, her phone rang, the name of the doctor popping up, and when she answered the call and spoke to the man, Prue kind of felt her world tilting on its axis a bit. ”Lady Ackerman, you’re pregnant.” the words tumbled in her head over and over, a million thoughts racing in her head as she had one of the servants drive her to Sean’s home and she swallowed as she rushed up to the door, praying Felicity was home. She needed her sister.

Felicity Felicity was usually the one catching people by surprise and her sister was the orderly and scheduled one, so it was strange seeing the situations reversed. She hadn’t been expecting her and was actually about to head out when her sister got there just in time. She opened the door with a grin but it fell as soon as she met her sister’s eyes. Prue looked almost wild as she stood there, making Felicity worried that something major had happened. “What’s wrong, Prue?” she immediately asked, concern coating her words. A million thoughts were going through her head at once but none coherent enough to randomly shout out and guess.

Prue Julian and Felicity had practically tag-teamed her all week with worrying and ensuring she was resting, hardly allowing her to lift a finger until Prue assured all of them that she was okay. And she was...physically. They'd all ruled out poisoning when days had gone by and she didn't have any of the other effects Fliss and the other infected had, so they really did deduce it down to food poisoning. ..And boy were they wrong. When Felicity opened the door Prue let out a breath, meeting her sister's eyes and shaking her head, "What? I--no. Nothing. Nothing's wrong. Just um.." she was fumbling over her words- something Prue never did. Her thoughts were running a mile a minute and it was hard to pin one down. She paused long enough to see Fliss was clearly heading out though and she bit her lip, glancing away for just a second, "I just....I wanted to talk to you. But you've got..plans?" She motioned to the purse hanging off her shoulder. "Sorry. I should've called first."

Felicity Fliss tried to understand what Prue was trying to say but the lack of... eloquence and clarity made Felicity worry even more. Her sister was never so flustered with her. In front of other people, Prue was fairly easily flustered, but her sister was comfortable around her. They were incredibly close sisters and Felicity enjoyed that Prue was at least confident being her older sister. “I was just going to go out and take a walk, it’s nothing important,” she reassured. Before Prue could insist otherwise, she took her sister’s hand and pulled her into the house. It definitely wasn’t nearly as big as the house they grew up in, but it was comfortable and a lot more homely. Sean wasn’t the type to host guests or throw parties so they were allowed to make it much more intimate and almost dorky for Felicity’s sake. There were stuffed unicorns in every room. She guided her sister to her room and closed the door behind them. Her room was more mature than the pink clouded fluffy utopia that was her room in the Ackerman estate, but not by much. Felicity refused to grow up. She pulled Prue onto the bed and sat next to her, her hands over her sister’s. “What’s going on, sis?”

Prue Prue forever didn't want to bother or worry anyone, never wanted to be a burden to anyone, especially those she loved. So when Felicity immediately changed her plans and grabbed her arm, Prue let out a breath, frowning, but she let herself be pulled inside anyways. She didn't come over too often, still not 100% comfortable with Sean, but she still knew her way around well enough to realize they were headed. Once in her room, Prue again let herself be tugged over to the bed and pulled down. She licked over her lips, looking down at their hands as she thought about what to say. "You know how the doctor took my blood sample last week? I got the results today.."

Felicity When Prue mentioned the test, Felicity’s breathing stopped. If it wasn’t anything important than Prue wouldn’t be here. She would text and dismiss all concerns about her well-being, not wanting to disturb Felicity’s not-at-all busy day. Prue showing up in person to break any news was huge. “Well?” Felicity said, clearly impatient. Sometimes she wished she could take her impulsivity and loud voice and inject it into her sister because moments like these were rather excruciating. “What were the results? You’re not dying are you?!”

Prue Prue could hear her sister's breath catching in her throat, see the look on her face--impatient, desperate to know what she was about to say. The thing was though, Prue also knew that she and Sean had been trying to get pregnant for months now, knew her sister was more than a little disappointed that nothing had come from it all. And yet now...  Despite her nerves, she huffed out a little breath, a small smile tugging onto her lips as she shook her head, "No, Fliss. I'm...I'm not dying. I'm not sick." She flipped her hand in her sister's, lacing their fingers together and giving a soft squeeze. "Felicity...I'm pregnant."

Felicity Felicity didn’t even get to feel the relief before those words left Prue’s mouth. I’m pregnant. For once, Felicity was quite glad that Sean was away because the squeal that came from her a second later would have probably given anyone within a ten mile radius a heart attack. “Oh my god!” She immediately leapt forward and pulled her sister into a bone-crushing hug. “Oh my god!” she repeated, incapable of any coherent thought. “I can’t—“ she pulled away, her face as wild as Prue’s was when she had opened the door. “You’re pregnant? Holy fuck, that’s amazing, Prue!” Sure, her sister hadn’t been trying, but any pregnancy among noble vampires was celebrated and Prue was simply destined to be a mother. She dreamed of it the same way Felicity did so it really was a dream come true. “Holy shit... Prue... this is... you’re pregnant,” she repeated, waiting for the words to really sink in.

Prue One second she was holding her hand, and the next Felicity was practically shrieking and catapulting at her. Prue yelped a bit before breaking out into laughter, the relief she felt flooding through her making her near delirious. "Apparently so." She agreed as she hugged her back, swaying them a bit. She gripped Felicity tight, closing her eyes for a moment as all her emotions washed over her again. "I'm pregnant." She said it again softer, in disbelief. She gripped Felicity for a moment more before pulling back and as she did, she felt pressure building behind her eyes, glossing over her gaze as she looked up to meet Felicity's. "I...I can't believe it. I still can't really wrap my head around it." She explained, not fully pulling away just yet. "--You're not mad, right? I know how much you and Sean have been wanting this.."

Felicity Felicity rapidly shook her head. “Of course I’m not mad! How could I be mad, sis? This is amazing news!” Sure, she and Sean had been trying and Felicity really did want a kid of her own but her sister having one is really the next best thing. “I get a little niece or nephew or whatever to play with!” She pulled her sister in for another hug, just needing to express how excited she was for her without breaking both their eardrums in the process. “It’s Julian’s right?” Felicity asked, as if it could be anyone else’s. “Fuck, Prue, everyone is going to be so excited and happy for both of you. This is so incredible.” She was happy that her sister was getting everything she dreamed of. Out of all people, Prue deserved it the most. She had her charming pre-Duke and now they were going to have tiny blonde hair, blue eyed children running around.

Prue Prue just leaned in and hugged her again, gripping tightly to her sister and swaying them a bit before she laughed softly at the idea of a niece or nephew. She scoffed at the question though, reaching up to lightly tug at her sister’s hair. “Of course it’s Julian’s...” Felicity of all people knew that Prue’s sexual history could be counted on one hand with fingers left over. “Even still I have little doubts his mother will want a paternity test...” she grumbled the last bit, pursing her lips as she pulled back. “I...I don’t want to tell people yet. I haven’t even told Julian yet. ...I found out and I just needed to see you first.” She slid her arms away from around Felicity so she could instead take her sister’s hand. “I’m...a bit scared, fliss.” She bit her lip, looking up. “With mom..” their mother didn’t survive childbirth. And even in general, all vampire pregnancies were risky.

Felicity Felicity didn’t doubt that the Duchess would demand a paternity test from what she had heard of her. She didn’t understand why the woman was upset about the arrangement when both their families were wealthy nobles. No one would lose face in this arrangement. “It’s whatever. The test would be an inconvenience but it doesn’t matter. It’s Julian’s and that’s that.” When Prue mentioned the risks, Felicity frowned. Not only was the thought of losing her sister a bit too much for Felicity to ever want to imagine, but they shouldn’t be marring the celebration with such negative thoughts. “I’m confident you will be fine. Mother managed to pop out two of you before I killed her,” Felicity nonchalantly added, knowing the word choice would make Prue switch to sister mode and stop stewing over unnecessary worries.

Prue Prue knew she had a point; Juliet most likely would want a paternity test, and she probably wasn't going to be too pleased that Prue was the one mothering the next line of Stefanos but....well..screw it. Prue (hoped) believed that when it came to something like this that Julian would fully take her side and not let his mother have any say in anything. "Maybe I should beat her to it and get one." When Felicity spoke Prue immediately frowned, huffing out a breath, "Don't talk like that.." she murmured, squeezing her sister's hand before she nodded, "But okay...you're right." with her free hand she moved it to her still-flat stomach, just staring down at herself for a moment. "The doctor said I'm only about four or five weeks along." A month she'd been pregnant already for a month and she had no idea... "When do you think I should tell him? ...How?"

Felicity “You should probably tell him as soon as possible.” Felicity couldn’t imagine hiding news like this from anyone, especially from the baby’s father. “I’m sure he’ll be just as excited as we are so you don’t have anything to fear.” As annoyingly uncool as Julian was, he was amazing to her sister and that was all Felicity could wish for. “Just talk to him, Prue.”

Prue Prue rolled her lips into her mouth, thinking about it before she nodded, "No I know. I am- I will. There's the queen's party this weekend..probably before that? Otherwise he'll worry the whole time..probably not even want to go so he can keep me in bed." She said it with a little smile, looking up at her again as she nodded and let out a breath. "I can't believe I'm pregnant.." as she said it she felt her eyes filling up with tears, her smile growing as she looked over at her sister. Her entire life Prue had been reading her fairytales. Wanting to find her prince, live happily ever after. Such a wile dream. And yet now it was all in her grasp. "I hope you're ready to be a godmother?" She asked, giving Fliss a (watery) grin.

Felicity Felicity hugged her sister again, hoping the physical contact would help a bit with the tears. She imagined it had to be incredibly overwhelming. Everything Prue wanted was coming true and Felicity was beyond happy for her sister. Prue deserved it more than anyone else and while Felicity wasn’t sure she approved of Julian at first (his reputation preceded him), he made her sister happier than she’d ever seen her. At the mention of being godmother, Felicity’s eyes widened and she pulled away. “Of course! As if I would let my niece or nephew go to anyone else.” Felicity was determined to be the best aunt around and would probably love the kid almost as much as their parents would. She took her sister’s hand, a soft smile on her face. “Nothing is going to happen to you but you know that if something did, I’ll be here and we both know how much love we are capable of.” They didn’t have their mother but they turned out just amazing and Felicity couldn’t imagine changing a thing.

Prue Prue was still a bit teary but she grinned as Felicity agreed, nodding. “okay. Good.” She breathed. Not that she doubted it for a second, but it felt good, knowing that if anything, Felicity would be there for her...for her baby. Her sister was silly and childish- but Felicity was also loving and fiercely protective and Prue knew without a doubt in her mind that Felicity would do everything in her power for the baby. “Thank you, Fliss.” She squeezed her sister’s hand again before giving her a little nudge. “And I guess I won’t be too bad at this being a mom thing. I mean...I think I did a somewhat okay job with you after all.” She grinned.

Felicity “Only an okay one. I think some would think you spoiled me too much,” Felicity joked, though she knew it was true. “You will make an amazing mom, Prue. The best you can do is make sure your kid is happy and I grew up shitting rainbows so I know you’ll be great.” Felicity was one of the happiest people around and that was because she knew that, whatever happened, her sister would be by her side. Romance and love could fade away, friendships could break, but their sisterhood was forever and Felicity never felt alone because of it. Prue would be just as supportive to her own child.

Prue “I don’t see it as spoiling. I see it as....just making sure you were taken care of and never left wanting?” She offered, trying to spin it, a little grin on her face even though she knew (they all did) that Felicity was incredibly spoiled always- and Prue was the predominant one to blame. “I suppose I just never wanted you to feel like you were missing something since you never got to have a mother.” She explained, absently moving to tuck a strand of long blonde hair behind her sister’s ear, smiling at her. “Having you there is going to make a little less overwhelming.” She told her softly, moving to squeeze her hand again before she shifted. “You said you were going for a walk....Let’s go together. I You can help me figure out how to tell Julian he’s going to be a dad a lot sooner than any of us expected.” she told her as she tugged her sister’s hand to stand them both up and she hugged her again, glad that she’d have Felicity through all of this.

[revol-lover]

i was feeling kind of weird earlier. Not sure what it was. Just very weird vibes. Felt a little sick in my stomach not in a virus kind of way but just an unsettled feeling that’s usually related to my anxiety but I didn’t feel anxious just kind of off.

Anyway. I reached out to a friend because I’ve been meaning to check on her since she’s having a baby soon (due next week) but I’ve been so unsure of what to say because I remember at the end of my pregnancy I was so over it and so over people asking about it or saying oh they’ll come soon or whatever. So I have been meaning to text her for a week now but just been feeling so unsure of how to word it!! But whatever I finally wrote something and sent it off and turns out she needed to vent so we talked and she mentioned hoping to find raspberry leaf tea later when her husband got home but I actually needed to go to target anyway for something this afternoon so I just went and got it for her. And somehow the whole thing just made me feel so much better and happy again (I’ve been on a streak of feeling actually -ok- for like a week lmao it’s a big deal around here) like to be able to make someone else happy. So yeah idk point of this was to say that I will definitely do this again in the future. I think sometimes I put off reaching out , out of fear of how I could come across but honestly Other than being annoyed at the end of my pregnancy, any other time someone has reached out for any reason, I’ve always been receptive and appreciative of it so idk why I assume people won’t feel the same. And I think I need to socialize more than I have allowed myself to in the past and this year has proven it big time. Like damn I just miss connecting with people so much.

On a side note I’m like really anxious for her to have her baby though. She’s my first friend to have a baby and after what happened to me.. I just read into every little thing she says about her provider and worry. I’m careful to hold space for her and never mention any like correlation to myself or my worries but I have been trying to remind her to self advocate. That’s all I feel I can really do. But man it makes me nervous. Maternity care in this country sucks. I’m at the point of just feeling ready to complete our family and get my husband snipped so I never have to think about pregnancy and childbirth ever again. I feel ready to face it. I finally am at that place. I hope that the second time will hopefully go well and we can have our two kids and be done with the pregnancy/childbirth/infancy stuff forever. not to sound dramatic but I know that someone out there knows exactly what I mean. And to unnecessarily clarify, I am in no rush for my kids to grow up. It’s just been a huge weight to bare like having the make the decision of if we should have another, not being on the same page as a my husband for a long time on that, coming around to it, then finding a provider, knowing the next time is going to be way more anxiety inducing because now I know all that can go wrong, having to decide between a c section for a sense of control (while acknowledging risks) or another vaginal birth and the risk of triggering my ptsd, or having the same problem happen again. I mean I’ve already made my decision on that. But the point being!!! It’s been a lot to have to think about nearly every day for three years. I am ready to commit to a decision, see it through and move on with my life.

[frozenartscapes]

Elsa pregnancy headcanons? (And maybe Elsa husband headcanons)

So… This was a really old ask. It has been sitting in my drafts forever because I started it but wasn’t quite sure how to end it. (Sorry anon! I just wanted it to be perfect.) But now I have an AU where this is kinda relevant, so I thought I’d go back to it.

I’ve always headcanoned Elsa as asexual. So I don’t really see her getting pregnant at all but I guess that doesn’t completely rule out the possibility. And in the Elsa’s Daughter AU, I thought that Elsa married for political reasons - so not love - and while the guy was decent enough it wasn’t at all like Anna’s relationship with Kristoff. It’s not an easy experience for Elsa, especially the making of a baby part. But it’s called the Elsa’s Daughter AU for a reason, so here’s some pregnancy headcanons:

- It freaks her out. No question. The moment she finds out a million questions filled her mind. Will the baby be ok inside her with all that magic? Will the baby have magic? Will there be any complications? What is she going to do about running the kingdom once she starts to show? What if she won’t be a good mother? What if the baby isn’t born with magic and therefore is at risk from her magic? What if it’s more than one baby? What if her anxiety and depression get in the way of raising the baby? What if the child doesn’t like her? How the hell is she going to get through childbirth without starting a new ice age?

- Her magic knows before she does. For a few days before she finds out, her magic is off. It’s not behaving normally, sort of a cross between acting out as if she were excited by something yet also significantly more subdued, as if trying to be extra careful about something. The control was one thing but it wasn’t until she started feeling warm - like, from the inside when she normally didn’t - that she went to see Pabbie about what might be wrong. Turns out her magic subdues itself in the early stages to keep the baby safe, and the moment he mentions that every troll in a twenty-metre radius freaks the fuck out in celebration. Anna and Kristoff are also equally thrilled while Elsa just sort of ends up…standing there. In total shock, unable to tell if she’s happy or terrified.

- Elsa’s husband is the third Prince from a neighbouring kingdom. And while he’s not at all Hans levels of bad, he’s still not…great. He respects Elsa’s leadership and doesn’t try to step on her toes too much when it comes to policy-making. But he does have Opinions. And you cannot change his mind on those Opinions. One of the more worrying ones is that he is convinced it will be a son. “My family always has firstborn sons,” he would say time and time again. Whenever he spoke of the baby, it was a “he”. He already chose a male baby name, and when Elsa questioned about the possibility of a girl, he merely scoffed at the idea. And he is also certain that this will only be the first in a long line of “strapping boys” who could take up various nobility and military positions for the Crown.

- When her husband dies at sea, Elsa does not mourn. She obviously goes to the funeral, wears black for a few weeks, does all the social things required of a widow. But she does not mourn personally. And she feels awful about it. Because he was good enough of a man. He was stubborn and had his own way of viewing things but it wasn’t like he was outwardly abusive. But she didn’t love him, and only considered him part of her family because he had to be. His loss doesn’t mean much to her, but people keep approaching her with their sympathies as if she should be feeling something but she can’t make her heart do it.

- What’s worse is that she’s been left alone with this baby she never would have had in the first place had he not been adamant about it. She was a little over six months when he died. She was really starting to show. She could feel it moving around, kicking every now and then. It almost seemed to squirm when her powers were especially worked up, which only made them even more worked up, and so on. One night she confesses to Anna that she’s absolutely terrified about so many things. She never wanted this to begin with, and she’s afraid she won’t be able to love the baby like she wasn’t able to love her husband. She’s not sure if she can do this for another few days, let alone another few months. Her powers have been acting strangely for a while now, and she’s worried about what that means for the baby. And also what that means for when she gives birth. She’s so worried that she’s made a huge mistake, and now the kingdom, her family, and this unborn child are all going to suffer for it. Anna doesn’t really have answers for her, but she does promise that Elsa’s not in this alone.

- Anna uses her sister as a beta test for whether or not she wants to have kids herself, much to Elsa’s annoyance. Witnessing her sister going through morning sickness was the first tick on the “no” side, but then she found feeling the child kicking inside her sister’s abdomen was so amazing that she added a mark to the “yes” side. This continued all throughout the pregnancy. When the weird food cravings hit, and Anna came down to breakfast only to witness Elsa chowing down on chocolate-covered herring, the “no” side got another mark. Picking out furniture and colours and toys for the nursery? The “yes” side got a tick.

I may or may not write an actual story focusing on the birth part of pregnancy, so I won’t include many of those details here. Let me know what you guys think, and whether or not you’d like to read that story. @the-magic-one-is-you since you like this AU so much, I thought I’d tag you so you see this!

[runninveggie-blog]

Perinatal mood and anxiety disorder

I want to start by stating that I am not a blogger. AT. ALL. In fact, I hate to write. When I was in school, I’d much rather take a test or do a project for a grade then write a paper. I can’t spell, my grammar is not great, I don’t always know how to punctuate properly...But I think it is important for me to be as open as possible about what I’m going through right now in my life. So ( large sigh) here goes. Please don’t judge me.

For the second time in my life, I am suffering from postpartum depression (PPD). It is classified as a perinatal mood and anxiety disorder (PMADs). According to the Mayo Clinic, PMADs are the number one complication of pregnancy and childbirth. Every 1 in 9 moms will suffer from some sort of PMAD during pregnancy or after childbirth. That’s a HUGE number! But for some reason, it still isn’t talked about ENOUGH. Yes, we as culture, talk about it more than we did 10 years ago, but for some reason for women, we feel like we’re not allowed to be sad. THAT MAKES THINGS WORSE! There have been many times that I’ve thought “I’d better smile and act like I’m happy so people don’t think I’m crazy and try to take my kids away from me.” I mean, how irrational is that?!?! Very....very irrational. 

“I SHOULD BE HAPPY, I HAVE EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED”  JESSIE BRUSH, 2019

Right after I had my son, Jack, who is now 3, I suffered from PPD and PPA (postpartum anxiety). I bonded with him when I was pregnant so intensely that I didn’t want anyone to hold him, or look at him, or touch him. I needed to be the sole caregiver of this child. Additionally, my labor and delivery were terrible with him. 25 hours of labor with 3 hours of pushing.... I truly didn’t think I could do it.  I also had very high standards that he was going to be entirely breastfed (EFB). And for 3 weeks, he was....and for those three weeks, I was unsuccessful. And frankly, because I was such a failure, I wanted to die. It sounds harsh and extreme, but that is exactly how I felt. But death terrifies me, so I kept moving on. And I was miserable. Nothing brought me joy anymore. There are parts of his very young life that I don’t remember because it was too painful. I felt like I was failing and he didn’t need me since he could be fed with formula. I had hallucinations. I pictured myself driving off a VERY large bridge in my area, and one day I drove over to this bridge. Thank GOD I didn’t do anything because I would have missed out on so much joy and happiness. But at the time, I didn’t think I would ever be happy again. I finally talked to my doctor and she put me on some medications. I also went to a councilor (once... I couldn’t bring myself to talk about...well myself....). After a few months, I started to really get better and move past the sadness.

Fast forwards to pregnancy number 2. I suffered from depression almost my entire pregnancy, In my defense, I couldn’t eat. Like really....for a while there I was only able to drink water, and only if it had a REAL lemon in it, and strawberries 🍓 . Everything else made me throw up. I lost 20 pounds. I was mad about being so sick and I took it out on my unborn child. I didn’t feel like I loved them. And on top of that, we didn’t find out the gender, so I really didn’t feel like I could bond. Of course, I’m so happy now that we didn't’ find out the gender because hearing my husband tell me that we had a girl was one of the most amazing experiences I have ever had in my life. My labor and delivery with Juliet was awesome. 8 hours of labor and 30 minutes of pushing. It was WONDERFUL! And on top of that, I got her to latch and breastfeed right away. Everything seemed to be smooth sailing. I knew that with Juliet, I wasn’t going to go back to work full time so I didn’t feel the pressure of that on my shoulders. Our breastfeeding journey hasn’t been easy though. I’ve gotten mastitis 3 times. Mastitis is terrible. It’s a painful, infected, clogged milk duct. It makes you feel like you’ve got the flu if the flu was in crack. But anyways....She latched well, but she wasn’t getting enough food to make her gain weight. My milk had come in, but she couldn’t empty the breast for some reason and she was so fussy. We thought she had acid reflux, which Jack had so I didn’t question it, but even after we put her on medication for that, nothing changed. I started to look stuff up and came across tongue and lip tie information and symptoms of that. She had every single one. I asked my lactation consultant to check her for it and sure enough, she had both. They were both reversed and we got back on track. She’s still tiny, but MUCH better.....but here I am...and I’m not.

At about 4 months postpartum, I realized that I wasn’t happy. And not like just blue every now and then, but deeply unhappy. I thought about it and I also realized that I had cried every single day that week. I pushed it out of my head thinking that it had just been a hard week and everything was fine. Fast forward to about 2 weeks ago. I was driving my family to a wedding we were attending. Jacob was sleeping because he had worked the night before, Juliet was screaming (she was most likely hungry) and Jack was being Jack...I mean he’s 3 soooo he was being loud and not listening to me. A thought came to me, one that I don’t even want to repeat. But because I want to be fully honest with myself and others, I will “paraphrase” the thought. I thought about how my life would be so much easier with one child. And then I thought about how I would choose which child I’d keep. That’s really as far as I’m will to go with explaining that now, because right after and even right this very second, guilt washed over me. I thought “How can I call myself a mom if I’m having these horrific thoughts?” And at that moment, I wanted to die. Right then and there. I wanted my life to be over. I didn’t deserve these wonderful, amazing, beautiful children that I have been given to raise. I knew I couldn’t end my life right then because I wasn’t going to end my husband or children’s lives, but I knew I didn’t want to live anymore. So...heavy stuff...I may or may not be crying right now....ok so I am crying right now. Anyways, I had to pull myself together to attending this wedding and visit with family. I made it through that day without harming myself or my kids so I knew I could make it thought the rest of the weekend, which we were spending with my mom, dad, sister, and my sister’s girlfriend. 

We got home and I called my doctor that day. And you can ask my husband, I’ll go like 3 weeks of being deathly sick without calling my doctor. I didn’t call her last time I was suffering from PPD, I just talked to her at my 6 weeks follow up appointment....anyways, I digress. Once I got home, I started to think about everything, I was trying to remember the last time I truly felt happy and I couldn’t think of it. I thought about at the outburst and RAGE I had, the constant crying (because it wasn’t just that week before the wedding, it was all the time), the anxiety, the fear. I knew then that it was a lot worse than I had thought. I texted my “ladies” chat, which consists of my mom, grandmother, and sister, to let them know what was going on. I didn’t go into much detail about it because I didn’t want to scare them, but my mom knew. She called me and asked me what was going on. I’m grateful for that. It got me talking. It got me really thinking and it got me set in the right direction to help it. I also talked to my husband. I told him that thought I had about our kids, and you know what...he didn’t leave. He didn’t take out kids and run. No, he laid beside me in our bed and let me cry. He never once made me feel like an unfit mother. I’m also grateful for that. 

I’m trying HARD to find AT LEAST one positive thing to think about every day. It’s not easy when your brain is constantly telling you that you’re horrible and making you feel like total trash. And it's even more difficult on days like today when both kids are sick and you’re sleeping on the couch because your daughter can only sleep in the swing because she can’t lay flat....and let's be honest, I’m not sleeping....also a sign of PPD. But I still want to try and find the good in each day. I know there is some. 

If you’re still reading now, thank you. I know it’s probably boring, but I do appreciate you stopping by. I hope to bring awarenesses to my issue, I hope that I can help someone who is also going through this. I hope to share some resources that I find to help those that need it too. I mean, I contacted the suicide lifeline the other night to get help. I wasn’t suicidal that night, but I knew I needed help and I didn’t know where to go. It was a great resource. 

To end, I’ll leave you with this, actress Bryce Dallas Howard said “It is strange for me to recall what I was like at the time. I seemed to be suffering from emotional amnesia. I couldn’t genuinely cry or laugh, or be moved by anything. For the sake of those around me, including my son, I began showering again. In the second week, I let loose in the privacy of my bathroom, water flowing over me as I heaved uncontrollable sobs.” This is 100% how I feel. For me, it didn’t hit until a few weeks ago, but I can relate to this on a different level. Life for me is difficult right now. It's hard to get out of bed, but I’m hoping that if I’m open about it and I seek out the help I need, I’ll be able to live my life “normal” again. Also, please know that if you reach out to me and I don’t reply or I just say thank you, I’m not trying to be rude. I’m trying to heal. And one day I might text you to talk and that’s when I’m going to need you the most. I’ve come to realize that it’s ok to need help.

[babycmakes3-blog]

The Yellow Brick Road

I was going to write about my baby shower since it’s been almost a year since that perfect day, but I decided instead to write about the big, fat elephant in the room...PPD/PPA, also known as Postpartum Depression and Postpartum Anxiety. It affects 1 in 5 mothers and can develop up to 12 months after giving birth. This is a hard one for me. Not just because of its stigma, but also because I’m still going through it.

Anyone who knows me well knows how much I wanted my son. As you can tell from previous posts, we went through a lot to have him. My pregnancy was pretty much text book perfect and so was his delivery. What else could I have asked for?

I should of noticed the red flags early on in my pregnancy. My OCD was in overdrive. If he didn’t move I would freak. If he moved too much I would freak. If I felt even a little bit “off,” I would freak. Given my history of Anxiety and Panic Disorder paired with being a first time mom, those close to me thought I was just anxious about how my life was changing, and honestly so did I. My doctor,(mainly my OB),didn’t seem too concerned when I mentioned what I had been feeling. He suggested seeing my therapist and trying not to focus on the negative. That sounded easy enough. I just tried to keep myself busy with my job and enjoy my pregnancy as best I could.

I often compare Postpartum mental illness to the yellow brick road that Dorothy travels on in the Wizard of Oz. There are parts that are beautifully bright and clear, but there are also dark and scary parts. Everyone’s experience is different and everyone’s experience is relevant. There is no right or wrong, there is no black or white. But there is a whole lot of gray.

The day I gave birth was both the best and worst day of my life. I actually said the words “this is the worst day of my life!” Based on the pain I was experiencing at that moment of course, not on the big picture. Labor is no walk in the park! It was traumatic and scary and not something I ever see myself doing again, to be honest...and my story is boring...nothing went wrong! But I’ll save that for another day.

Seeing Cairo for the first time was magical. He was absolutely perfect, and he was mine...100% MINE. I remember the first few moments after he was born I was so in shock about what had just taken place. Pregnancy and childbirth really are a miracle! I was actually holding my tiny miracle, what I had waited my entire life for. Yet right in that moment, I felt a slight disconnect. I didn’t cry, I wasn’t overjoyed. I just felt numb. Honestly, I was absolutely terrified.

The next few weeks are a blur. I remember crying...A LOT...most of the time for no reason at all. At first I shrugged it off as just the baby blues, every woman gets them. My hormones were going crazy and I was exhausted...all normal. Most didn’t understand my tears, and I was even told that “I was a mom now so I just had to get over whatever my issue was because I was being selfish.” I now had everything I ever wanted, what could I possibly be so sad about? But then as time went on and the days passed, things just got worse.

I was afraid to be alone with my son. The one thing I had wanted more than anything in this world. I would cry every night and every morning before my husband left for work, afraid to be alone with him. Not because I feared I would harm him, or myself, but because I feared I couldn’t care for him properly. I was breastfeeding and was never sure if he was getting enough. He was colicky so he cried a lot, which also contributed to my inadequacies as a mom. I didn’t like going anywhere alone, and didn’t, because he cried all the time. This all meant more time spent inside where I slipped more and more into a depression. I felt very isolated and alone. I loved my son, but I started to regret having him. I started to miss our life before him. I started to realize that I wasn’t okay.

I needed help. I had to increase my medicine. The truth is, I was on the lowest dose of Zoloft throughout my entire pregnancy. Some will judge me for this and I’m okay with that. I’m at peace with my decision because I know what my individual illness is capable of, and I was NOT going to go back there while I was pregnant. Maybe that was a selfish decision, but that was something I do not regret. Obviously at this point what I was taking just wasn’t good enough. It was here at the six week mark that I had to stop breastfeeding. A heart wrenching decision for me and a topic I will also save for another day.

One thing I will mention here, and will no doubt mention again, is the little support I received from the female doctors in the OB/GYN practice. There was no empathy whatsoever. This was shocking to me! How could another woman/mother, who has experienced the same process, have so little empathy for another mother? As you could imagine, I’m in the process of doing a huge overhaul of all involved...doctors, therapists, etc.

Fast forward to now, at 10 months postpartum, it’s still a daily struggle. I still have to force myself to get out and do, even though each day is a little easier. I have moments where I just want to sit and cry. I panic when Cairo falls or is sick. But it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. I’m not as hard on myself, and I allow myself to actually feel what I’m feeling instead of keeping it all in. Going through this process, I wouldn’t have said I was Postpartum. However, now that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, I KNOW I was. It took nine months to enjoy my son. To really see him and even love him in a way. It’s been a long and winding “yellow brick road” to where I am today. Cairo is thriving! He’s an amazing child full of personality, spirit and energy. He’s the best thing about me, and now I feel like I can say that I fully enjoy all of the moments.

Postpartum mental illness is so real! There are so many resources out there for us, but most don’t know where to start. Please don’t be ashamed and suffer silently. Start a conversation, ask for help! If my words can help even just one mother get help, so can yours. Being proactive and having that knowledge can make all the difference.

If there’s one thing you take from this, just know Mamas that you are amazing. You are beautiful. You are worth it. You are enough.

[buttsonthebeach]

prompt: solas (and ellana, if you don't want to set this in the sad au) holding his first grandchild

AT LAST. Sorry this one took so long. From the Awakened/sad AU.

Pairing: Past Solavellan, Ashara Lavellan x Laurence Marchand, Saeris Lavellan x Vianne

Rating: General, I think? Does include mentions of childbirth but they are literally just mentions. Nothing specific. Very brief allusions to miscarriages but all is well.

***

Solas knew it was inevitable, of course, but it didn’t stop the little skip in his heart when Ashara told him that she was pregnant.

“At least two months, I think. I can’t believe it happened so fast. We’d barely started trying. I wouldn’t be able to believe it if I wasn’t throwing up once every hour. Mamae was like that, wasn’t she?”

Like that, the years melted away, and he was standing in the Fade across from Ellana, her gray eyes wide with nervousness. I’m not sick. I’m not poisoned. I’m with child. And now that child stood before him in the Fade, with the same nervous look and the same news.

“Yes, she was. She thought she was dying.”

“And she almost caused a war between Orlais and Ferelden.” Ashara recited the words with ease and a smile. “And when she was pregnant with Saeris, I kept crying because she couldn’t play with me when she was so sick.”

“Indeed. I am sorry you have been so sick, too.” It occurred to him suddenly that he was talking to her like she was an acquaintance and not his daughter. Pregnant. Ashara was pregnant. She’d been married for a year - she was nearing thirty-five - it was by all rights a joyous thing, and yet he could not wrap his mind around it. He would be a grandfather.

“I am very happy for you, da’vhenan,” he said finally. “I am sure Laurence is thrilled too.”

“He is. He already calls the baby mon petit choux. My little bun.”

Ashara’s Orlesian was improving. She’d lived in Orlais for years now, of course. Been with Laurence for years. He liked Laurence. He was happy for Ashara, for her happiness after so much sadness. But several things were hitting him at once now - that his grandchild would grow up in Orlais, far from the country he and Ellana worked so hard to forge - his grandchild would be human - and Ellana would never hold them.

“Papae? Are you alright?”

He steeled himself. What nonsense, to feel only these things. He was happy.

“I am more than alright. It’s simply - difficult to imagine. You becoming a mother.”

“Better get used to it,” she teased. “And better get used to being called Babaela.”

It was just the way Ellana teased him a lifetime ago, her stomach round and churning with new life. Better get used to being called Papae.

Ashara made it through those dodgy first three months and the reality began to settle in, even though she was far away in Val Royeaux. Saeris read up on human-elf pregnancies and while she blithely quoted several statistics about miscarriages and difficult labors that made both he and Vianne put down their forks in alarm at their weekly dinner, she was quite confident that Ashara would be fine.

“She’s healthy and strong and living in good conditions. Not like a woman in an alienage who was impregnated and abandoned. And I’ll be there when she delivers, naturally. I’ll make sure they’re both safe.”

Saeris had grown into an incredibly capable spirit healer. Solas didn’t doubt that she could bring her sister’s life back from the brink of death. The thought of her having to do so still knotted his stomach up.

The three of them traveled to southern Orlais for First Day to spend the holiday with the Marchands, though Solas was only really going to see Ashara (and Laurence, he supposed, who had grown on him, one easygoing smile at a time). And for all that he’d spent five months fully aware that she was pregnant, it still stunned him when they entered the Marchand house and saw her standing in the doorway, her hands folded around the swell of her stomach.

Saeris and Vianne got in their hugs first, their hands immediately diving to replace Ashara’s and feel the roundness of her belly. Ashara had to swat Saeris’s hands away when she started to bring up the glow of her magic, determined to begin examining both mother and child.

Ashara is going to be a mother.

“Let me at least say hello to Papae first,” Ashara said, moving from her sister and towards him, her arms outstretched. He was close enough to see now that she looked exhausted, but happy.

“Aneth ara, Papae,” she said, squeezing him tight.

“Aneth ara, Ashara.”

Laurence was grinning ear to ear, of course, his hand resting on the rise of Ashara’s stomach every chance he got. He spoke at length about his plans to make a whole host of cakes when the baby was born, with intricate pink decorations if it was a girl, and blue ones if it was a boy. He would give them away to anyone who wanted them, and then he would close the patisserie for at least a week, so he could spend as much time as possible with his wife and newborn child.

There was much discussion of names at the dinner table. It made Solas feel tense in his neck and shoulders. Of course every suggestion was Orlesian, of course he and Saeris and Vianne and Ashara were outnumbered, and there was nothing he could say or do about it.

“If it’s a girl, my favorite name is Helaine,” Ashara said at last. She caught his eye. “It’s the closest Orlesian has to Ellana.”

He relaxed. He pictured the sight of her smile. The sound of her laugh. He remembered the way she would lean against him at the end of a long dinner party, a silent reminder that they were connected, no matter what else was going on around them.

“She would have hated that,” Solas said, softly. “She would have told you that her grandchild deserved their own name, not a legacy.”

Across the table, Saeris smiled. Vianne took her hand. The Marchands were suddenly quiet.

“She never wanted honor for all the things she did. But I want to honor her.”

A wonderful sentiment, the table agreed. The mood was more somber now. Ashara put on her brightest smile and suggested a game of bridge. Solas watched the way she gathered them and coordinated their efforts - clearing the table, preparing the cards, choosing partners. It was what Ellana was so good at. Seeing the way people fit together. Seeing what they needed. Making them happy. When there was a quiet moment, he spoke to her.

“You bring her honor with the life you have built, Ashara. I hope you never doubt that.”

Ashara squeezed his arm.

“I don’t anymore.”

*

He didn’t see her again until she was nearly due, when he and Saeris and Vianne made the trip all the way to Val Royeaux. She was huge now. She kept bracing her lower back and taking deep breaths when she had a chance as they got settled.

“Are you sure you aren’t in labor?” Saeris asked at once. “Some women feel it more in their backs.”

“No. Yes? I don’t know. You’re the healer. You tell me.”

Saeris’s hands glowed. “Ah. No.”

“Excellent. I’m just very, very uncomfortable, as usual. Wonderful.”

For the first time, Solas saw Laurence looking worried and withdrawn. He didn’t say much as they settled into the guest room, then made his excuses and said he needed to go check on something downstairs in the patisserie. When Solas ventured down, Laurence was kneading dough with steady, even hands and a wrinkled brow.

“Everything fine upstairs?” he asked without looking up.

“Yes.” He hesitated, then chose to dive in. The man was his son-in-law. Soon to be the father of his grandchild. “Is everything fine down here?”

Laurence snorted. “With the pastries or with me?”

“Either, though I will admit I was more concerned about you.”

“Ah. It is - merde. How do you say it? I am just worried for Ashara, is all. She is very anxious. I have not seen her like this in years.”

“It can be a very difficult time for mother and father alike, these last few days.” He remembered vividly his own racing heart, his own interrupted sleep, when they were expecting Ashara. The rash decisions he’d made. “It is natural for her to be anxious. And for you, as well.”

“I am. Anxious. I thought there would be more - excitement but I hate how uncomfortable she is, and I hate the thought of seeing her in so much pain when the child does come…” Laurence shook his head. He’d just finished shaping the loaf of bread and now, at last, he looked up. “How did you manage it?”

Not always well was his first response. He pushed that one down. He thought back to the two different bloody, frightening, beautiful days when Ellana gave him a child.

“I held her hand. I reminded her how much I loved and believed in her. I reminded myself to breathe. Truly though - I do not think of those moments much. I think of when I got to see her hold our daughters for the first time. Of when I held them. That part will make you forget everything else. Both you and her.”

Laurence had cut four slashes in the top of the loaf while Solas spoke, and now he dusted it with flour. He had a half smile on his face.

“I hope so. I pray so, each day. The Maker and his Bride will watch over them both.”

Solas inclined his head, searching for a charitable answer. “If you believe so.”

Laurence covered the loaf once more and then, looked up, cocking his head.

“Did Ellana ever hit you when she was in labor? My sister Odile gave her husband a bruise when she was in labor with her second, she hit him so hard.”

A barking laugh escaped Solas at the thought. “Ah - no. She did not. She swore a good deal. Only once at me.”

“Bien. I will hope that Ashara is the same. Thank you, Solas. For coming to see how I was doing.”

“De rien.”

“Hah! We’ll make an Orlesian of you yet.”

Ashara was in a better mood by dinner, but he could still see the nerves simmering under the surface. He hoped, as Laurence did, that everything went well. That her anxieties were for nothing.

The longer they were in Orlais the more the excitement built, at least for the rest of them. A week had gone by. Laurence’s mother and father and sister had arrived (his younger brother and his brother and sister-in-law stayed behind to mind their own broods). It was surely any day now. Ashara was increasingly uncomfortable, increasingly irritated with the squirming person inside her, increasingly nervous. Saeris assured her sister that things were moving along as well as they could. Laurence’s mother Babette and sister Odile insisted on several (increasingly explicit) Orlesian folk remedies to speed the process along.

Solas remembered Ellana in those final days carrying Ashara. It happened so suddenly with Saeris, poor thing - but with their eldest they’d had this watchful, worried, excited time. He cursed himself all over again for the ways he’d spoiled it with his own fear, with the orb, with his lies. Then he imagined her sitting there at the table with them, laughing at Babette and Odile’s bawdy suggestions and adding her own. He imagined her fussing over the nursery with Ashara. He missed her terribly. He was angry, suddenly, at the unfairness of the world. That she brought these two beautiful girls into the world and did not live to see them happy and grown and sitting at the table with the families they’d made - Saeris and Vianne, Ashara and Laurence. He watched his grandchild move in Ashara and wondered if it would be a girl, if they would call her Helaine, if she would have Ellana’s gray eyes or red hair or the shape of her nose or her jaw. If the world would be more fair to her.

Ashara’s water broke the day after that, and then that even longer, stranger waiting period began. She paced and groaned and they took their turns distracting her as best they could, until finally the midwives sequestered her in the room upstairs and shooed everyone but Laurence and Saeris away.

“I suppose we will be grandfathers when they return, eh? A little brandy, for you?” Laurence’s father Maurice offered.

“No, thank you.” Solas’s senses were still straining, catching the occasional cry of agony that threatened to tear his heart in half. He could just feel the soothing flow of Saeris’s magic now and then. He wanted to be alert. He wanted to be ready for that moment when - when -

It took hours and hours and hours of course, and the midwife’s assistant came and went twice for fresh water, and Maurice was fast asleep by then, but eventually the pained sounds stopped, and eventually there was a high, thin wailing that pierced all of their ears. Vianne was the one who grabbed his arm and grinned.

“I believe I’m an aunt,” she said with a hopeful smile.

“I believe I’m a grandfather,” he said, though his voice didn’t sound like his own.

They waited a while, breathless at that point, giving the midwives and the new parents the time they needed. Then Saeris came down, tired and smiling.

“Come on,” she said. “Two at a time, I think, so we don’t crowd. There’s someone Ashara and Laurence would like you all to meet.”

Solas let Vianne and Odile and Babette and Maurice all go before him. Then, when they’d returned, he made his way up the stairs.

Ashara’s smile was tentative and proud and she looked pale and tired when he approached her. Both she and Laurence had the tracks of tears on their faces.

“Papae,” she said. “You have a grandson. Adrien Varnehn Marchand.”

It was never wise to put too much stock in the appearance of newborn babies, but his first impression when he sat at her side and looked down at the scrunched, new face was that there was nothing of Ellana in him. He had a dusky skin tone, somewhere close to Ashara’s own, and dark eyes, and a few wisps of blondish hair like his father. He regarded Solas with a frank, unamused countenance, and Solas felt his heart fill up and overflow as he reached out to trace one chubby cheek, one perfect, curled, round ear.

“Andaran atishan, da’vhenan,” he said, just as Ellana had more than three decades before to a little girl who held his entire heart in both her perfect hands. “He is lovely. And you are well?” he didn’t hide the rasp in his voice.

Ashara nodded quickly. There were fresh tears in her eyes. Laurence squeezed her shoulder, but his eyes were on his son.

“I wish Mamae was here,” Ashara managed at last. She held the baby closer, bent down and rubbed her nose on his cheek. “I wish -”

“She is,” Solas said. “She is. Can I -?”

He held out his hands and cradled Adrien close. His grandson. Another piece of the family he never thought he would had. Everything else was secondary.

They sat together, enraptured by new life, by a world that Ellana had left her mark on forever, a world as real and perfect as the tiny person he held.

[littlespacestars]

Shallura Fic Rec (#2)

Shallura Rec List (#2)

I previously made a list of my favorite Shallura fics, and decided to pull together a new one for you guys!! Hopefully you find something you haven’t read yet. There’s a bit of a lag in Shallura fics lately (and content in general), but there’s absolutely still some good ones! Again, these are categorized to the best of my ability, since some of them can apply to more than one group!

Shallura Rec List (#1) is here

Fluff

Like an Eagle - Revasnaslan

“It turned out that explaining trust falls to an alien was a little bit more difficult than Shiro thought it was going to be.

Written for Shallura Week Day 3 (Trust / Growth)”

Sharing Earth culture, trusting, Allura scares TF out of Shiro

Wingman - thir13enth

“Coran is never subtle. Shallura.”

Supportive Coran, protective space uncle, wingman Coran

 She’s Like the Sun - sdd_writes_things

“In which neither Shiro nor Allura can actually sleep at night and they're super thirsty for each other, turning tentative hand holding into nearly making love on the floor which then somehow turns into seventy miles of blankets and then sleeping in front of a window.”

Almost smutty content, shy handholding to violent necking, insomnia, pining, not explicit

Nighttime - butimnotinthefandom

“Shiro sees to his crew and spends some time alone with Allura.”

Shiro’s POV, space family, minor Klance/Klangst, flirting, domestic, stargazing, pining, sharing stress,  “Innocent Shallura massage”

Where Sleep Will Be Peaceful ; Unharried by Terror - gallantrejoinder

“Four times Allura and Shiro slept side by side and it didn't mean anything - plus the one time that it did.”

Insomnia, four times plus one, sharing a bed, nightmares, sleep, gentle and soft things, misunderstandings, pining, happy ending, slight mature content

 At 2200 Hours - braincoins

 “It's the end of a long day aboard the Castle ship. Time to relax and unwind.”

Shallura Sundays, prompt, domestic, fluff, background Klance, space parents, playful flirting and teasing, tired Shiro

 Sock Sliding at 2am - mantharay

“Allura and Shiro are distraught and stressed after the events of Crystal Venom (S1x09). Through the power of sliding down dark castle halls like children, they learn that to be a leader, you can't be serious all the time.

Oh, and there's some Emotions™.”

Fluff and angst, comfort, PTSD, panic/anxiety attacks, comfort, platonic relationship, sort of, possible pining

 Moments of You - Seliphra

“When Allura gets injured saving the day, Shiro can't help but try to take care of her.”

First kiss, love confessions, canon-typical injury and violence, minor injuries, BAMF Allura, nervous Shiro, hurt/comfort, Shiro is in awe and Allura is amazing,

 Come Down to the Water Where the Sky is Blue and Yellow - armouredescort (Part 1 of A Long Road to Courtship)

“Allura convinces Shiro to go to the beach.”

Day at the beach, beach episode, tooth-rotting fluff, space family, water fight, slow burn

 Working to Relax - IHaveNothingToDo

“Allura's tense and her hair is a mess. Shiro helps.“

Soft, Shiro plays with Allura’s hair, it’s the mice’s fault, short fic

 3 AM - jaztice

“Shiro and Allura are hanging out in Allura's room around 3am.”

Shiro is ticklish, kissing, tickling, hickeys, short fic

 Ancient - juniperallura

 “For prompt "Shallura, ancient. The universe can be very heavy and make you feel very small.”

Fluff, angst, comfort, playful banter, short fic

A Matter of Time - teslatricity (nayanroo)

“The war's over, and the universe is starting to rebuild. As Allura leads the charge in forming new alliances, looking to the future, Shiro considers the kind of future he wants for them. But being a paladin means that your plans tend to go awry and your timing is never the greatest...“

Engagement, Shiro is a bit of a disaster, but he loves her so much ya’ll, background relationships, but only if you’re looking for it, proposal-blocked, supportive Keith, gorgeous scenery, nervous Shiro, Shiro’s parents, new home

 Angst

As You Wish - SippingThatTea

“Every time Allura asked something from Shiro, he merely responded 'As you wish'. Allura does wonder if there was more to that.”

Fluff and humor, angst with a happy ending, short fic

Betrayal (2/2) - YoGrossDude

“Shiro is turned against Team Voltron. Allura must stop him. A life and death struggle, and what comes after.”

Dark Shiro, characters fighting, major character injury, angst, possession, aftermath of possession, aftermath of violence, mind control aftermath & recovery, panic attacks, PTSD, suicidal thoughts

Crown Another - carrotycake

“‘And for every king that died

Oh, they would crown another...’

Allura struggles with accepting the mantle of Black Paladin.”

Angst, black paladin Allura, cool lions doing mystical things, Allura is sad, grief/mourning, Keith is a good friend

Multichapter

Watch Me Lovely (7/?) - realityisiron

“‘What exactly did you think you were agreeing to?’

- - - - -

Shiro could pretend to be Allura’s concubine for a week. After all, concubines were for behind closed doors. There’d be no reason for them to have to do anything crazy.

Except Shiro may have made a huge translation error, one that will come back to bite him in rather… unexpected ways. And places.”

Explicit, eventual NSFW, porn with plot, mutual pining, romance, fake/pretend relationship, comedy, hurt/comfort, Shiro angst, alien culture, alien biology, alien sex, exhibitionism, femdom, world building  

Like Real People Do (5/5) - andtheblueberrymuffins (Part 1 of Like Real People Do)

“Shiro knows this is wrong. Everything is wrong. But they need him. Keith said so, and Shiro knows, he knows, that if they need him he has to help them. It’s what he would do. It’s what he does. (Everything is fine.)

Or: The one where something is very wrong with Shiro after his second escape from the Galra.”

Tragedy, Post-Season/Series 03, Speculation about Shiro post season 3, ‘Shiro’, Implied/Referenced mind control, mind control aftermath & recovery, clone Shiro, prepare your tissues and cry deeply

 The Princess and the Pilot (2/?) - ashesandhoney

“In an alternate timeline, Shiro gets picked up by the Galra before the war starts and eventually ends up being given to the Princess of the Alteans as a joke or an attempt to start a war or as a mistake. Whatever their motive was for sending him, Allura is now left trying to figure out what to do with him.”

AU, prisoner Shiro, slow burn, misunderstanding, strangers to lovers

 Jealousy (3/3) - juniperallura

“As the team forges a new alliance, Shiro must confront a figure from Allura's past, a new challenge, and his own feelings.”

Jealously, pining, mutual pining, light angst, fluff, confessions, Shiro is moody and hopelessly in love 

 Shallura Babies/Children

We’re All Just Stars With People Names - babyfairy (babyfairybaekhyun)

“The space parents become legitimate space parents.”

Post-war, star babies, inspired by art, pregnancy, FLUFF, twins, birthing scene, space family, Coran is going to spoil them

Three Merging Currents - pixie_rings (materassassino)

“One quintessence, two quintessences… and then three. Allura and Shiro have made something unique, but Altean pregnancy is its own special thing.”

Space family, alien biology, dropping the pregnancy annoucement bomb, new parents, Allura is strong AF and has cravings

Creating Constellations - stratagem (stardustandrobotlions)

“Allura and Shiro weren't expecting parenthood to start off with such a bang, but they have to improvise when Allura goes into labor during a space battle.”

Childbirth, space battle, space pirates, shallura baby, space family

Like Bringing Color to Children - distinctive_pineapples

“'Lance,' Shiro started, his 'dad face' already at a maximum (because holy crow, he actually was a dad now, and Lance was about to be very, very dead). 'Is there a reason why you just called my daughter an animated lion?'”

Lance ends up nicknaming Shiro and Allura's newborn daughter after an animated lion. It's met with mixed reactions, but at one point or another, everyone caves.’

Future Fic, Shallura baby

 Who Tells Your Story? - after_midnightmunchies

“‘Do you think history will remember us?’

Allura has some doubts and Shiro quickly dismisses them.”

Brief mention/view of children, Shallura Week 2017, Prompt: Legacy, Future Fic, married life, canon compliant, established relationship, minor Uncle Klance, one-shot

 A Wonderful Night...? - ebonynightwriter (Part 5 of Shallura Week 2017)

“Returning to the ship after a night out, Shiro and Allura find two very important things are missing.”

Fluff, fun/humor, star babies, space family, love, Shallura!kids, one-shot, future fic, established relationship, Shallura Week 2017

Two Front Teeth - stratagem (stardustandrobotlions)

“Remember that time that Shiro forgot to tell Allura that human children lose their baby teeth, and that might happen with an Altean-Human child, too? Yeah, good times.”

Little humans lose their teeth and that’s disturbing to Alteans, tooth fairy, adventures in child-rearing, Altean-human kids are SO confusing, Allura and Coran are horrified, space family

 Shallura AU

Lead me Home - distinctive_pineapples

“The universes may change, but there's always a familiar face to help Shiro move forward. [Takes place post-season 2 or outside of canon continuity]

My contribution to Shallurazine's "Stars Aligned" issue 2.”

AU, but not really, canon universe, post-season 2

 Hold Onto Me (1/?) - killashilla (shalluravoltron)

“The prestigious Garrison Academy welcomes two royal exchange students from Altea. Whirlwind romances and harsh realities unfold as Allura, Lance, Shiro, Keith, Hunk, and Pidge navigate love, life, and high school.

The first day that Princess Allura and her cousin Lance arrive in a different galaxy, thousands of light years from Altea. They'll have to finish their educations here, on an unfamiliar planet with unfamiliar people. Luckily, these royals are quick to find allies...very close, very dreamy allies.”

Don’t Be Scared - thi13tenth

“there's still time.

—shallura. au. (for shalluraweek 2017, day two: hands; names.)”

Beach, fluff, established relationship, flirting

 That’s How You Know - Bleusarcelle

“It takes a while but then the sun sets, the terrace get brighter and Shiro can only stare fondly as Allura keeps talking, eyes wide with excitement and arms flying around vividly at every word coming out of her mouth.

He’s entranced and he doesn't want to look away but his phone beeps besides him, letting him know it’s a quarter before midnight.

He voices his new discovery and he’s met with a confused arched eyebrow and a soft gasp.

‘What? Already?’

Those gotta be his new favorite words.”

Modern setting AU, getting together, established Klance, BG Klance, first meetings, awkward flirting, first dates, pining Shiro, smitten Shiro, mutual pining, marriage proposal, adoptive siblings Keith and Shiro, cousins Lance and Allura

 Wedding - juniperallura

“For prompt "Shallura + Wedding"

The young officers are excited for a gathering outside the Garrison”

 Garrison AU, fluff, dancing, BFF Matt and Shiro, mutual pining, short fic

 Mentor of the Month - RoknRollPumpkin

“Allura is ready but Shiro isn't. And that's ok.”

 Engineering/bodyshop AU, mentor Allura, fluff, soft sexual content, mature

 Drabble Collections

Shallura Week 2017 (7/7) - hatandgoggles

“My prompt fills for Shallura week 2017

Day 1: Dancing

Day 2: Gender/cisswap

Day 3: Roleswap

Day 4: Wedding

Day 5: Cooking

Day 6: Romantic date

Day 7: Free day (Roswell)”

Genderswap, cisswap, rule 63, roleswap, rolereversal, human Allura, Altean Shiro, 50s au, 40s au, wedding, proposal, single dad au, dancing

 Shallura Week (3/?) - juniperallura

“A collection of drabbles based off the 2017 Shallura Week prompts.”

Fluff, angst, Hands/Names, Trust, Lost/Found

Beyond Fading Stars - RukiaG

“Series of one-shots for Shallura week 2017. Some may be AU, some not.

Chapter 1: Time & Space. In a different reality, Shiro and Allura meet at a hospital.

Chapter 2: Hands & Names. Allura teaches Altean to the Paladins and Shiro tries to control his crush on her.

Chapter 3: Trust & Growth. Team Voltron does trust falls.

Chapter 4: Potential & Free. Fullmetal Alchemist AU in which Shiro is a veteran from the Ishval Civil War and Allura is an alchemist. (WARNING: may contain some references to the manga and Brotherhood’s ending).

Chapter 5: Lost & Found. The mice are lost. Shiro helps Allura find them.”

Shallura Week 2017, AU - modern setting, canon universe, language lessons, pining Shiro, trust falls, PTSD, team bonding, FMA universe, mice washing

Hurt/Comfort

She Stops My Bones From Wondering - pixie_rings (materassassino)

“Some nights, Shiro can't sleep. On those nights, Allura reminds him he isn't alone.”

PTSD, weird imagery, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it-sex, not enough for a M rating Shiro-centric, introspection, please let space dad rest, short fic

And We Hold On - ebonynightwriter (Part 3 of Shallura Week 2017)

‘“It’s not your fault.” // “How do you know?”’

Drama, Hurt/Comfort, injury, recovery, dark sides, one-shot, canon universe, post-season 2, Shallura Week 2017, this got way more “Avatar state” than originally intended, Allura’s quintessence, magic

Acceptance - rainingWolf

“Shiro couldn't be whole if she just fished his right arm out of the garbage compactor. The Castle had alerted her, as if sensing that she needed to know exactly what was going on within the confines of the pristine whiteness that had never been dark. Allura had reached in, expecting something else, anything else, maybe one of the Mice had been trapped- but then her hand touched something foreign, something familiar, and she pulled, pulled…

She never knew her heart could hurt this much, could twist this sharply at the sight of a material object.”

Shalluraweek, Lost/Found, angst, stressed Shiro, Galra arm, short fic

 Comfort - coralreefskim

“...The moment was so delicate, gentle, that she didn’t dare speak. Both of them didn’t. Their breathing was soft, shallow even, warm brown eyes meeting kaleidoscope ones, and they just stayed there. Stayed there, until they both fell asleep, unconsciously, comfortably, like how it hadn’t been from since the war had been declared.

The paladins found them the next morning, still sleeping, her hand still on his.”

Fluff and angst, mental instability, character study, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, could pass as platonic, mutual emotional support

 Something Like Anthrax - pixie_rings (materassassino)

“What started off as a diplomatic mission quickly turns into a 1950s B-movie sci-fi cliché. The Paladins and Allura end up on a planet of amazons for negotiations. Things don't go quite to plan.”

Emotional hurt/comfort, plot, science fiction cliches, unwanted sexual advances, nonbinary Pidge, flashbacks, PTSD, space family, mission, banquet, established Shallura, also Shiro gets the top bunk bed OKAY

 Little Talks - Revasnaslan

“Fascination with Shiro's hand leads to some conversations about names and anxieties about the past.

Written for Shallura Week Day 2 (Hands / Names)”

Hurt/comfort, sharing culture, insecurities, short fic

 Again and Again - TKipani

“Nighttime is for tears, memories, and comfort.”

Hurt/Comfort, Post-episode 9, Shiro comforting Allura, crying, Allura tries to stay strong and hide her emotions, some fluff

NSFW

Don’t Need Anything Else, Just Need You - babyfairybaekhyun (babyfairy)

“She turns to him and her eyes are glowing stars that call to him from behind her helmet. He wants her, he wants her badly, he wants her now.”

NSFW, slight plot, BAMF Allura and Shiro, turned on from the heat of battle, doin’ it in the Black Lion, dom!Shiro, oral sex, post-sex fluff, they are cuties, for littlespacestars

The Edge of Something - ashesandhoney

“In which Shiro has some kind of magical ability and Allura has some kind of Altean mating cycle and there are jokes about Hogwarts letters and bowling and a very slow building, cuddling and self indulgent sex scene.”

NSFW, Slow self-indulgent sex scenes, resolved sexual tension, sex magic, porn w/out porn, Shiro has magic, mating cycles/in heat

Build Your Castle Into Me - nayanroo (teslatricity)

“The night before Allura's coronation, she tells her husband how nervous she is, how worried she is that she won't be a good queen. And, being a good husband, Shiro helps her relax.”

NSFW, Oral sex, throne sex, marriage, established relationship, porn with plot, Allura really likes seeing him on his knees in front of her, but who can really blame her

Sound - Braincoins (Part 1 of the Senses series)

“Allura has an overabundance of quintessence. Who knew that could even happen?! Worse still, the best and quickest method for reducing it to normal levels requires... assistance. But it's ask Shiro for help or resign herself to not sleeping. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

NSFW, casual sex, sort of, convenience sex, contrived excuses, Allura’s trying to make this PWP, not sure if she succeeds, hint of voice kink, language, pining

Sometimes the Wild Gorlax Rides You - Nary

“"Look," he said, "I promise I'll take a break if you will. Deal?"

"Perhaps... It would be nice if we could take a break together," Allura suggested. Her hand ran lightly up his arm, settling on his shoulder almost playfully, in a way that made Shiro confused and more than a little bit warm. "After all," she continued, "with what's facing us, who knows when we might have another chance..."

Non-graphic sexual content, implied sexual encounter, first kiss, first time, before battle, stress relief, a little bit of shovel talk, nervousness, cuddling, Shiro finally gets some sleep, advice from Coran, Voltron Positivity Exchange

Distraction - madamebomb

“Shiro is Allura's biggest distraction.”

NSFW, trying to deny their feelings, pining, Shiro’s bed is way too small

 The Man and the Moon - cupofdaydream

 “A place where I’m intermittently going to dump my Shiro/Allura smut.”

 NSFW, Porn without plot, pillow talk, some fluff

 3:23 AM - RoknRollPumpkin

“They did the thing (AU)”

NSFW, Voltron AU, Shiro’s birthday, established relationship

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Please support these lovely writers and give ‘em some kudos and a comment! I still need to go back through and do that for some people, too!! Thank you for the wonderful content, guys. <33

[ellaintrigue]

Roll the dice! A saying, of course, known from gambling, but also superstition. Superstition can be fun, if used harmlessly. This winter, after my mom was diagnosed with late stage cancer, I took comfort in anything that I could, including a silly novelty, a lucky rock. I throw it down each day for shits and gigs, and also use it to meditate. If I roll it or balance it between two fingers it works as a distraction against my anxiety.

But while rolling the dice is meaningless, we can use that saying for what life does... it rolls the dice on us. Everyone is different, and there are so many random occurrences, the planet is an endless enigma. We live, breed, and die.

But not all of us breed. A childless man may go somewhat unnoticed, but a childless woman is stigmatized heavily, and at random. It is society's way: even in a largely liberal word, instinct takes over. "The norm." I've been targeted randomly by trolls: https://ellaintrigue.tumblr.com/…/so-many-trolls-on-meetme-… I've been shamed in the dating scene, I've been regarded as a freak by my fellow women. One guy told me I would never be happy unless I gave birth because that is what women are supposed to do.

But I never wanted to. I decided that at 16, and came out about it at 22, telling my parents I never wanted children. They were hurt, but I can't sacrifice myself for others. And people have said, "but your parents sacrificed themselves for you." Yes, my parents have given me everything. They wanted to. And I would give them everything. But I do not want to sacrifice my health, sanity, and life for an unwanted child.

I have simply never wanted children, and now as my health issues further descend upon me it is unquestionable that physically having one would be unideal. But I rarely bring that factor up because my disinterest and emotional choice to not have a child in the reigning point here.

I could PROBABLY hold a pregnancy. It would probably be an underweight kid, and no doubt inherit some of my health issues, including mental, just like with my dad and grandmother. It would probably cry a lot from having fetal alcohol syndrome but I could put it in another part of the house, right? I really never liked babies so maybe it could spend most of the time with its grandparents. I could probably get mad welfare using it and work less. The father could even move with me and feed it and stuff because I have very little patience and get annoyed having pets at this point. I have a compromised immune and fucking hate shit, scooping litter is my limit. So the baby daddy could wipe its butt and stuff, comfort it, feed it, deal with it. I also hate the way babies smell, they have that weird smell to them. And their skin feels disgusting.

Society wants me to do that. Society wants women to conform and breed, whether they are fit for it or not, because women are still not regarded as equals. Yet society shits when a mother kills her child. Of course that's a sick woman. But maybe, we should raise young girls to be aware of all of their options: careers, college, and anything that strikes their interest. Not that women shouldn't stay home and have babies, but because not all women are meant to be mothers. People tell me the world would go extinct if people thought like me... but there is no shortage of people. People will always breed, and I am okay with that. But I don't want to. I don't want to harvest an alcohol baby with bad genes because society and pro-lifers tell me too.

I clicked The View off yesterday when it came on TV because I hate talk shows, but before I did, the woman on the screen pointed out that pro-lifers protest abortion but when unwanted children are born, they want funding and welfare stopped. That is so true. Someone said to me a lot of babies up for adoption are African American or have drugs in their system, etc. So, why don't all of these white conservative pro-lifers adopt them? I said that to someone and they got angry with me and called me racist.

No. We are all equal in the eyes of God. Black, white, male, female, etc. How am I being racist in thinking that a good stable pair of white pro-life Christian conservatives should adopt a black baby and give him/her a good life with opportunities?

I have said this theory to several conservative men and they absolutely lost their shit on me, but couldn't argue back with any real logic. I suppose I am a huge bitch but it all started when they said they were family-oriented and pro-life and I said why abortions are needed, and that existing kids should be adopted. One dude told me to fry in hell.

I have to confess something: I used to always say I didn't want kids because I hated them. Because people demanded to know why I didn't want kids, from bosses when I worked years in retail, to dating prospects, to random fucking family friends, and even store customers. Strangers in public have asked if I had kids and then asked why not. One woman said to me "when you have kids" and when I said "I don't want kids" she became completely offended.

So, as a defense mech, I snarled at people that I hated kids to get them off my back. And that is wrong, I don't hate anyone. But I was being victimized by breeder bullies that could not accept that a woman could be more than a childbirth machine.

Mom posted a blog the other day venting about everyone bragging about their grandchildren, in part because my cousin had another baby this week. Mom wanted grandkids and is sad she won't get them but it was a harmless rant that did not shame me in any way. And her friends replied, saying she simply didn't understand the joy. These coldhearted, close-minded seniors never considered my mother couldn't have grandkids. One of them posted, "Have to tell you guys, you don’t get it until it happens to you. There is something deeply fulfilling in seeing your Children’s children. It’s almost a form of immortality, if you will. My Granddaughter fills me with love and pride and my Grandson who died of cancer at age 10 months will forever be a part of me. Raising children is hard. Having Grandkids almost seems like a reward!"

The point of mom's blog was that simply breeding was not reason for celebration because anyone can do it, even animals. But of course her point was deeply lost in the comments of white rural conservatives, whose only accomplishment in life was, well, having a shitton of kids and grandkids. Laughable.

And you know, there is no plight here on my part. I am comfortable with my choice, and there is no jealousy or urge for children. As I mentioned before, I am very comfortable with my liberal cousins because they would never question my choices and respect all women. I was excited to see my distant cousin's new baby and her other little girl is fucking precious, she should be a model. Those cheeks, omg. Then my first cousin, who I talk to regularly has two well-raised kids I have not met yet but would like to. They are clearly smart and creative and I want to know all of my relatives! There is no hate in my heart for children, and no jealousy over any of the other families of those I know.

If only we could all just co-exist as individuals instead of deeply judging the personal reproductive choices of others. I largely overlook huge religious families and the like, many of which who do not believe in birth control. But when people try to normalize reproduction to the point where anyone without children is judged then that is where I speak up.

...And to think of all the women/couples that want children and cannot have them, and the cold disregard for them in all of this hysteria... that really lets you know that we are all just animals... fucking, breeding, and mindless to anything but ourselves...

[stardustbabies-blog]

my birth stories

I have two beautiful, healthy daughters. They are so perfect that I don’t know how or why I am so lucky, so let me start with that.  But bringing them into this world was a trauma.  It doesn’t affect my love for them, but it affects my life and my mental health every day.  

I’ve realized I can’t really tell the story of my second delivery, the one that almost killed me, unless I tell the story of the first one.

In the last week of 2012, I was 36 weeks pregnant and spending my time reading books about natural childbirth, practicing pain management, talking constantly with my wife about how together we would deal with my pain and anxiety during labor.  We had been together for over seven years and she was well-versed in helping me through my mental health challenges, of which I had many. I completely trusted her to get me through it – I even looked forward to it as a bonding experience.  

That said, I am a big fan of modern medicine and never considered anything but a standard hospital birth.  I wanted to try to manage labor without intervention if I could, and my California hospital was friendly to that decision. Unfortunately for me, nobody checked my daughter’s presenting position until I was already full term, shortly after the turn of the new year.  At my 37-week appointment, my OB couldn’t find her head through the cervix.  An ultrasound confirmed that she was frank breech.  I tried everything on spinning babies, contorting my pregnant body into so many awkward positions that I gave myself migraines.  I found a chiropractor and tried the Webster technique; I found an acupuncturist and tried moxibustion.  A week later, I was headed for a C-section unless I wanted to try an external cephalic version (ECV).  

For a first pregnancy, the success rate of attempting to manually reposition the baby in the womb is about that of getting heads on a coin flip.  I read extensively about the risks, which seemed acceptable to me, and certainly not worse than those associated with a surgical birth.  My wife completely deferred to me on the decision; most other people uniformly disagreed with, or didn’t understand, my decision to try it.

I have terrible doctor anxiety, so the morning of the procedure, I was terrified.  They gave me a dose of terbutaline to relax my abdominal muscles, and it felt like an awesome caffeine jolt, a feeling I sorely missed after eight months of pregnancy.  But fun fact: ECVs hurt, a lot.  I was cursing and grunting and crushing my wife’s hand while two doctors pushed and twisted my huge pregnant belly.  Two tries were unsuccessful, and I was crying from pain.  They asked me if I wanted to try one more time.

“Baby’s okay?” I croaked.

“Ultrasound and monitor look great.”

“Go for it.”

I left disappointed, but glad that I tried everything I could.  They told me that I would schedule my C-section at my OB appointment the next day.  Wife and I grabbed lunch on the way home since I hadn’t been allowed to eat anything before the procedure.  On the drive home, I noticed a lot of discharge.  I worried that they had broken my water, but didn’t say anything out loud.  I could not acknowledge that thought.  

In the bathroom at home I learned that it wasn’t amniotic fluid leaking onto my underwear, but bright red blood.  On the drive back to the hospital I numbly thought, “Well, either they’ve damaged my internal organs or it’s a placental abruption.”

It was the latter, of course.  They occur in 0.1% of ECV attempts, and I knew that, and I’d accepted those odds.  After an agonizing wait for a doctor to examine me, I learned I’d be having a baby that day.  I told that doctor over and over again that no, I couldn’t today, I wasn’t ready, no no no.  But the baby was full term, and the placental abruption had the final say.  Seven hours later (because I’d just eaten a big meal and was considered non-emergent), my E.M. arrived by C-section, healthy and beautiful.

Pretty much immediately after her birth, I plunged into the depths of post-partum depression.  Looking back, I think that the birth experience was a huge contributor, and that I actually had undiagnosed symptoms of PTSD.  I cried every day all the way to and from work.  My panic attacks were on a hair trigger.  I couldn’t read news stories about anything involving violence without feeling it had just happened to me; the internal screaming was deafening.  And I knew – I just KNEW – that either my daughter or I was going to die.   I didn’t know how, and I wasn’t suicidal, but I would console myself by saying, at least you got to know her for three months.  

I had never planned to have more than once pregnancy.  We had planned that my wife would carry the second child and after that we would foster or adopt.  But by the time EM was four months old, despite my mental state or maybe because of it in some desperate cry for a do-over, I knew I wanted to carry another baby.  And I was already completely immersed in VBAC literature.  

In the spring of 2016, seven months pregnant with my second daughter, I told my VBAC class my birth story.  When the instructor asked what I wanted from my second birth I said, “I want the chance to try it vaginally, and naturally as much as possible.  But mostly, whatever happens, I want to feel connected to it.  I felt so out of control with my first birth; I was completely unprepared.  This time I understand that anything can happen… I just want to be emotionally present for it.”  

I understood that I could wind up with a second surgery, but I was okay with that if I got to hold her right away, got to feel excitement and positive anticipation about her arrival in my arms.  

Facts are facts:  1% of VBACs end in uterine rupture.  Of those, 6% of the babies die.  

If that were to happen to my baby, I knew I would never forgive myself.  But I trusted my hospital, my doctors.  It was absolutely crucial to my mental health, to my experience as a mother, that I give myself the chance to try.  

They had been concerned about my blood pressure the entire pregnancy.  At my first appointment at 8 weeks, my reading in their office was 180/95.  When I say I have doctor anxiety, I’m not kidding – my readings at home, well into the ninth month, were in the 120s/70s.  That did not matter when I clocked a 165/100 at my 39 week appointment.  I got sent to labor and delivery.

I had known that they were going to try to strip my membranes to trigger labor at that appointment, and so my older daughter was already tucked away at my parents’ house.  When I called my wife and told her to come to the hospital, neither of us was terribly surprised that the doctors felt it was time for new baby’s arrival.  My cervix was 1cm dilated, high, and not effaced.  I was given three options.  Go home and wait (not recommended, but ultimately my decision), have a C-section that afternoon, or be induced.  

Induced?  For a VBAC?  I was confused.

A “gentle” induction involves a Foley bulb to widen the cervix and a slow, low dose Pitocin drip.  I was told it could take days.  For all my desire for the chance for a vaginal birth, at that moment that did not sound like a marathon I was prepared to run.  But I didn’t want to go home; I wanted to have the baby that day. My daughter was taken care of.  My wife was there.  I was ready.  I wanted to meet my baby girl.  I was scared and the “devil I knew” was appealing and even, in that moment, comforting.  I told the resident I wanted the C-section.

One of my doctors, whom I had talked to extensively about my VBAC desire, heard about this decision and put a hold on the proceedings.  He sent in another doctor to talk to me further.  She was warm, empathetic, and extremely forthcoming about the procedures when I asked a million questions.  Ultimately, she confirmed what I truly wanted and talked me down from my anxiety-induced decision.  Despite everything that happened after, I am extremely grateful for that doctor.  I wish I had told her that when she visited me the next day in the ICU with tears in her eyes.  Now I don’t even remember her name.

With the decision made, they wheeled me into my delivery room.  It was around 3PM.  I hadn’t eaten since 8, so they let me order lunch, knowing delivery was a safe distance in the future.  I can’t remember what I ate.  I think there was pizza.  

The placement of the Foley bulb was the first procedure.  It hurt, much like bad period cramps.  She had to try it twice because she couldn’t get it to stay the first time.  When she told me I was all set, I smiled.  She said if I could smile after that, I was going to do great.

They hooked me up to the Pitocin, and the waiting began.  I watched the electronic trace of the contractions rise and fall on the monitor.  I couldn’t feel anything besides muscle tightening, and wondered when the pain would begin.  A few hours later, I went to the bathroom and the bulb fell out in the toilet.  There was bleeding, and my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.  But my nurse was thrilled – it meant my cervix was dilated.  The blood was normal.  

More uneventful waiting ensued.  The contractions got stronger; I could feel (and see) my abdomen tightening.  Sometimes it would be strong enough that I would get a little breathless, but I still didn’t have any pain.

Women who have VBACs are highly encouraged, though not required, to get an epidural.  I’d had to make peace with that months earlier, because in the event of an emergency, having an already placed epidural can be lifesaving when seconds count.   It can also provide the mother with the chance to be awake for the surgical birth of her baby instead of having to undergo general anesthesia.  By 9PM, I knew in my gut it was time.  I cried the whole way through the procedure.  I didn’t want it.  I was scared of the side effects, scared of the unknown.  But most of all, now I knew I was about to have my second baby, and would never get to feel a single labor pain.  The feeling of loss was immense.  It is not an overstatement to say that the feeling of disconnection from my body and the work it was doing was devastating.  

The epidural placement went smoothly.  The anesthesiologist was wonderful and tender with me through all of my emotions.  When it took effect, I was surprised to feel I could still move my legs a bit, that they just felt heavy and sluggish.  About an hour later, I felt like I had to pee.  The nurse seemed surprised, because usually the epidural takes away the feeling in your bladder, but she gave me a bed pan.  I couldn’t go.

The nurse said at this point, my job was to try to get some rest before things really got going.  Wife and I lay down, and put on the TV.  Ocean’s Eleven was on.  

As I lay there, sleepy but knowing full well the idea of actually sleeping was laughable, I felt a little nauseated, a little dizzy, and a little sweaty.  I knew labor could do that sometimes, and I knew I had drugs in my system.  It may have been normal.  It may have been a series of warning signs.  I’ll never know.

Around 11, I think, I felt my whole body jolt, like an electric shock had run through me.  That was followed shortly by a gush of fluid between my legs.  I threw off the blankets and looked at the sheet, and touched the fluid on my body.  It was clear – not blood, not greenish or brownish.  Relief.  I had to wake Wife up.  “Sweetie… my water broke.”  

I am so grateful for the classic labor milestones that I did get to experience.

But I was definitely not feeling well by this point.  Woozy, sweaty.  I have terrible anxiety and shit was getting real, so I chalked it up to that.  At one point a doctor came in and repositioned my fetal monitor, the belt of electrodes around my belly.  

“Is she okay?”

“She’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

I’m not sure exactly what time it happened.  It feels to me now that it was very soon after my water broke, but based on the timing of the birth it must have been at least an hour later.  

Out of the blue, like a truck hit me, I was enveloped by the worst pain of my life. (And keep in mind, I’d had an epidural already.)  It felt like someone had reached into my body and was pulling apart my abdominal muscles.  It felt like a vise gripped my bladder and twisted.  It coincided with contractions.  I became the classic “woman in labor screaming in the hospital bed.”  I curled up on my side in the fetal position to try to get away from the pain.  My nurse asked me questions, but I was in too much pain to answer her.  She told me I needed a bolus of my pain relief.  Wife put the controller in my hand, but I couldn’t hold onto it, and it dropped to the floor.  

I thought, “Well, I guess now I know what labor feels like.”  And that conclusion came with a bit of disappointment, because I knew I could never withstand that level of pain for hours, no way in hell.  

But… that wasn’t labor.  

The timing of the next events is hazy to me.  I know that I underwent a couple more of those excruciating contractions before the frenzy began.  I know that the doctor who had been occasionally checking me for dilation progress was called out of a meeting, and I know the room began to flood with people, some of them in scrubs, some of them with walkie-talkies.  I know now it was because my daughter’s heart rate was dropping.  

Suddenly the lights were bright.  The doctor sat down at the foot of my bed and reached inside me and I will never, ever forget the puzzled look on his face.  

“This baby is sky-high,” he said.

I’d read enough to know that the baby’s loss of station in the pelvis is diagnostically indicative of a uterine rupture.  

The doctor went to the monitors, scanning readouts, clicking on things.  “Doctor, should we get her to the OR, given her history?” a woman said.  

“Just get her out,” I said.  “I’m scared.”

Wife noted, and told me later, that at this point my heart rate was 155.  I was tachycardic and going into hypovolemic shock.  They had to wheel me to the OR without Wife, who had to get dressed and, I later learned, had to be held outside until the doctors were sure that our baby wasn’t dead.  As they wheeled me down the hall, I heard one of them say the word rupture.

“My uterus ruptured?” I asked.

“Your membranes ruptured,” she said.  She was protecting me, I know that now.  They saw me bleeding as they were wheeling me down the hall.  They knew.  Wife heard them call “Condition O” over the loudspeakers.  Obstetric emergency, all hands on deck.  

From the time the doctor was called to check on me to the time I was cut open, a total of nine minutes passed.  I was heavily drugged and woozy from blood loss, staring up at the ceiling, bright lights in my eyes.  Wife wasn’t there yet.  I noted that I did not feel the tugging sensation that I’d felt when they delivered E.M.  I didn’t hear the baby cry, either.  

I wanted to pass out.  My brain really, really wanted to go to sleep.  My eyes were closing and I had to fight it.  I kept thinking, “If you pass out, that is bad.  Don’t do it.  Stay awake.”

Every time I started to feel my head spin like I was going to faint, I would look up at this woman who was standing by my head.  I didn’t have to say anything; she would look at my face and know I was in trouble, and she would do something to my IV and it would fix it.  I still don’t know who she was or what she was doing.  Nobody has been able to answer me that.

Wife finally joined me, sat down next to my head.  She had tears in her eyes but I was a little too out of it to register at that time what she must have been through.  I cried and she held me, at least as much as she could while I was strapped to an operating table.  

The first time we saw our daughter C.J.’s face was in an iPhone picture taken by an OR nurse.  I remember gasping and sobbing twice with joy when I saw those pictures.  She was okay.  She was here.  She was real.  Her APGARs, miraculously, were 5 and 8.  

I was on that operating table for two hours, about three times as long as a standard C-section procedure.  I’d experienced a complete uterine rupture, which means that the contents of my uterus were open to my abdomen.  When they opened me up, the placenta spontaneously delivered, and C.J. was in my upper abdomen.  When I later asked how long she had been like that the answer was, “Well… it couldn’t have been very long.”

They estimated that I lost three liters of blood.  They did not give me a transfusion, but did give me two units of platelets to make sure I didn’t bleed more.  My rupture extended to the broad ligament on the left side, which is a long, flat, structure that connects the uterus to the abdominal wall.  When I get menstrual cramps now, I still have sharp pains in that ligament – a lovely monthly reminder.  

When they were confident they’d repaired the damage and the bleeding had subsided, I had some time in the ICU.  I know I got to hold the baby that night, but I don’t really remember doing so.  I was pretty drugged and actually slept a little; Wife sat in a chair next to me, crying.  The next day I got visits from some familiar faces, many of the doctors who had treated me throughout the process.  I don’t remember much about what they said to me. I tried to eat and drink but vomited everything back up.  I barely had the energy to hold the baby.  I felt numb.  

That night I got transferred to a standard recovery room.  On the surface that was great news, because it meant I was healthy enough for standard and not intensive care.  But it also meant I was treated like a standard C-section patient and not one who had undergone a life-threatening event.  It was one of the worst nights of my life.  My anxiety was nearly unbearable, I was shaking and in pain.  The oxycodone was the only thing that kept me from losing it.  

For all of that night, I was unable to urinate on my own.  I felt a terrible urge, but once I dragged my shredded body to the toilet, the muscles would not work to make it happen.  I don’t know if that’s because I had a catheter for 24 hours or because of the rupture.  Either way, it was nearly unbearable.  I would send for the nurse and then sit there on the bed in agony for nearly an hour before she would finally acquiesce and straight-cath me to empty my bladder.  Because the volume was too low to warrant such an extreme urge, she took me less and less seriously each time.  My wife, who is not confrontational by nature, had to demand that the nurse get me Ativan to rescue me from my torment.

It’s clear to me now I must have sustained some damage to my bladder or those muscles and that caused the feelings – it was the same thing I felt soon after getting the epidural.  In the morning, I was finally able to pass some urine on my own, although it would take minutes and minutes.  

I spent most of the recovery period alone in the hospital.  My family did visit for a few hours the next day, but for the remaining three days I sent Wife home to get rest and take care of our E.M. I needed her to be well rested so she could take care of us when we got home.  

In those bleary, painful, lonely days of recovery. . . when I held C.J. to my chest, skin to skin, it was pure bliss.  I was connected to her immediately, which was not the case with EM.  

Which is not to say I was okay.  I broke down in tears upon being woken up from a precious nap to have my blood pressure taken, and the technician chastised me sharply.  “With your blood pressure history, we have to cover our butts.”

The morning I was due to be discharged, the doctor who had delivered C.J. came to check on me, and I was curled up crying.  She was the first person to mention PTSD to me.  I was interviewed by more than one social worker about my support network and how capable I felt to take care of my daughter.  

The recovery at home was brutal.  When your body has been pregnant and realizes it no longer is in that state, it works to reduce your blood volume.  This is a reasonable physiological response, but when you lose three liters of blood and need to build up your supply, it is a counterproductive one.  I was weak and devoid of energy.  I needed so much sleep that my wife was practically a single mother for the first few weeks.  The guilt was horrible, but I couldn’t fight my physiology.  I literally didn’t have enough blood in my body.  I ate cheeseburgers and spinach every day to combat the anemia.  

The nightmares where I am being shot in a hospital parking lot, or torn open by wild animals, or holding a shriveled dead baby have only recently begun to subside.  

My daughter is a year old today.  I have a toddler again.  She is absolutely perfect, with big blue eyes, little curly flips of hair on the back of her head, four tiny teeth, a round kissable tummy, and rolls of chub on her arms and legs.  She dances like a maniac and shrieks when she’s excited, or angry, or bored, or about everything, really.  Sometimes I still don’t understand how she is with us, except to realize that my doctors and nurses may not have been perfect, but I owe them her life and probably mine.  

I am not religious.  My spirituality derives from the science behind the mysteries of life and reality – from physics, from neurobiology.  I am a human animal, and my connection to life, to nature, to evolution, is something I recognize in my rational mind and also in my gut… or in my soul, if you will.  If I am to borrow the language of religion, there is nothing more “holy” in my heart than making a human life.  It is a horrible, brutal, messy, terrifying, indescribable, transformative experience, and one of the most unifying components of being alive on Earth.  It is one that should never be undertaken lightly and never chosen by or forced upon someone who doesn’t unequivocally want to experience it.  

And for me, it is going to be a years-long, if not life long, process to accept that my experiences with pregnancy and childbirth have left me feeling disconnected from nature, betrayed by my body, and inferior to the mothers of all the generations before me.  In that sense I am processing a trauma on two levels – the physical near-death experience for myself and my baby girl, and a profound sense of loss.  The latter has left me unsatisfied in a very deep and spiritual way.  I do NOT glamorize the pain of childbirth, but I deeply wanted to feel a baby being pushed from my body. I wanted to feel myself accomplish that.  I wanted to be held by my wife while I birthed our child, whether it was in a delivery room or an operating room.  I wanted a bloody, messy, wailing infant to be placed on my chest after we went through birth together.  

And yes, I wanted us both to live.  My gratitude that we did doesn’t erase what I feel as a loss.  Those who would say things like “a healthy baby is all that matters” or “just be grateful, because 100 years ago you would have been dead” are of no use to me.  Those statements tell me that you don’t see mothers as autonomous beings separate from their status as a vessel.  You are no better than the people who would force a woman to go through this experience against her will.  And in that vein, while my healing proceeds, one of my greatest hopes is that we as an animal species can cultivate a sense of the vitality of the dignity of mothers, in pregnancy, in labor, in birth, and in recovery.

[myaekingheart]

Had more bizarre dreams again. One last night which was perhaps the weirdest, and then four a few nights back that I jotted down but never actually got to documenting. I’ll start with last night’s, though, since it’s still fresh in my mind.

Night of 6/9: *Also: It is very, very important to note that this was 90s Hugh Grant we are talking about here. That’s crucially important. I had a dream about Hugh Grant which hasn’t happened in ages and is the bulk of why this was so goddamn fucking uncomfortable. In the dream, he owned this really fancy movie theater and he had this really luxurious apartment. I remember being in the apartment before anything. Everything was black and dark wood and glass, very sleek and sophisticated. I remember roaming around trying to figure out where the fuck I was meant to go. I think I was trying to find the bathroom, and I found one but he was inside of it so I walked around and found another door into a bathroom at the other end of the hallway, only to find that it was a second door into the same bathroom. I was about to walk inside but then I saw him standing there with his back turned to me (and a flash of his ass oh dear god) and quickly retracted my decision. I don’t remember every single specific thing but there was another scene in the bedroom. Nothing sexual, but he had a large bed with a dark wood bed frame, and it was overlooking this giant movie screen. I was about to climb into bed with him and who I swear had to be Jan from The Office when I realized I still had my contacts in and had forgotten to pack my eye care stuff. It wasn’t forgetting my glasses that was a problem so much as not having anything to put my contacts into was. I expressed this to them which then prompted Jan to tell me that she had a spare contact case and some contact solution I could borrow, so I thanked her and went back into the bathroom to remove my lenses. After that, the scene shifted and suddenly I was walking around the lobby of the movie theater downstairs with Hugh Grant. He was talking about it saying stuff I wasn’t really paying attention, because all I could think about was how deathly terrified I was as I have always taken issue with movie theaters and these were, quite frankly, something else. The hall leading into every theater was sloped with bright, obnoxious lights on the ceiling and big double doors and it overall looked like a classic Hollywood death trap, honestly. But I couldn’t fight it. He pulled me into one of the movie theaters and I was stunned. It was huge. The ceilings were ginormous, the screen was ginormous, the seats were weird. There were padded benches in the first two rows and then I guess regular seats in the back. A fat woman in the first row looked at me while the trailers were playing and said something like “The fuck are you scared for? It’s just a big room with a screen” in this rude, gravelly, mouth-full-of-popcorn voice. After this everything kind of started to fade out but I was left with the crawling, unnerving feeling of being in Hugh Grant’s realistic dream presence. I feel like to fully understand the scope of why this is so weird for me requires some backstory. Hugh Grant was, like, my first crush for absolutely no goddamn reason. I don’t even know how the fuck it happened but I was legit three or four years old and I guess I must’ve seen him in a movie or something? I remember going to the library and checking out his movies, like 9 Months (because I also had a fascination with pregnancy and childbirth as a kid—still lowkey do) and Notting Hill. I was embarrassed about it, like when my mom connected the dots she used to tease me by mimicking him saying “oopsie daisy” in Notting Hill and I would fucking freak the fuck out. I had this very distinct dream as a child, too, where I was in a white, brightly lit room like a dressing room and I met him and he towered over me and I was so unnerved and just everything about anything Hugh Grant just…I cannot function not so much because I still think he’s attractive but because that childhood panic and weirdness is still there. Because let’s face it, when you’re three or four and you get your first crush, or at least if you’re anything like me, it’s this weird sensation where you think you’re legitimately sick and every time you look at this person, you feel this bizarre and uncomfortable feeling where you think you’re simultaneously going to explode like a firework and vomit everywhere. So yeah, because of the childhood bullshit, everything and anything Hugh Grant just brings back all of that unpleasantness and it’s gotten to the point where if he’s ever in a movie that my mom happens to turn on at any point or whatever, that sensation immediately floods back and I have no choice but to leave the room and hide until it’s all over because I just cannot fucking handle it. So yeah, this dream was…I feel like I need a shower to wash off all this mucky, uncomfortable feeling but at the same time feel like I’m gonna feel watched if I get naked, if we’re gonna be blunt about it.

EDIT: Because I am a self sadistic prick and decided to look at trailers of Hugh Grant movies now, everything makes a little more sense because for some goddamn reason, yesterday or the day before I could not get this quote of “I’m just a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to love her” out of my head and I could not for the fucking life of me remember where it was from but now I know and I’m kicking myself because apparently my subconscius knew and decided this was probably the best way to remind me so there’s that. That’s real fucking fun. Thanks, brain. Appreciate you, too.

At least my dreams from the other night were far palatable, if not also a little strange.

Night of 6/6 Dream Number One: I was in the frozen food section of a generic grocery store, probably a Walmart. There was a kid having a temper tantrum on the floor about orange juice, I think? I don’t know, this is not the first time I have dreamt this exact same scene before so I’m pretty sure that’s what it was. I walked away with my cart, and on a display shelf where there should’ve been clothes (because it was the clothes section), instead there was a shitty taco making station with weak heat lamps, questionable ground beef, rubbery soft taco shells, and just plain shredded cheese. There was hardly anything there, as in people had eaten most of it, so it’s a mystery as to why they were drawn to something so disgusting. Like damn, if you want tacos that badly just go through the drive-through at Taco Bell.

Dream Number Two: This was the weirdest of the four dreams. I was in a large room with windows all along the one wall and a long row of yellow pleather recliners facing the aforementioned windows. They were those old recliners with uncomfortable metal frames and yellowing padding that’s poking through scars in the fabric from having been used for so many years. Like the kind of thing you see in the booths of old diners. My boyfriend was laying on one, and I was either sitting or standing next to him. There were dust particles floating in the air, and everything was tinted a moldy yellow. It’s presumed this was supposed to be part of some of dingy hospital because I distinctly remember my boyfriend was there for asthma, and they kept having to hook him up to breathalyzers like when he was in the hospital for real a few months back. On the recliner next to him was a small blonde kid, I think it was a boy in blue denim overalls, who was autistic. There were a handful of women standing nearby I guess trying to give him speech therapy, urging him to say the word “charm.” They were repeating it over and over again, slowly, putting emphasis on every sound in the word so it came off almost foreign. The kid, however, was not having it. He was squirming and kicking and screaming, he wanted nothing to do with any one of them or anything. I think at one point my boyfriend leaned over and said something to him and maybe he calmed down a bit? I don’t know. All I remember is that at one point during all this commotion, my boyfriend started freaking out, not in the “I’m so frustrated with this kid” way which would’ve been far better but the “My body is going into shock and I’m on the verge of death” way like he started spluttering and his body started seizing and I started panicking and screaming and doctor’s started running over and it was quite frankly a ginormous mess and I’m insanely shocked and horrified thinking back on it.

Dream Number Three: This one is simple and stupid. I dreamt that I was in my bathroom with my childhood best friend and we were standing in front of the mirror getting ready. I just remember standing there as we were talking, watching her straighten her hair and babble endlessly about God knows what and thinking to myself, “Damn, some people really don’t ever change.”

Dream Number Four: This last dream was perhaps the second weirdest of the night. I was on the same college campus as I’ve seen in previous dreams, especially in the dream I had the night before this one (where I was met with someone strongly resembling an old friend on a bench waiting for the bus). This time, however, I was in an auditorium style classroom and I was freaked. Because, as you can probably guess, auditoriums give me the same anxiety that movie theaters tend to. So basically, you can’t take me anywhere. But anyways, I grabbed a seat at the back of the room which was the highest up you could go but also the closest to some glass double doors and had an overhanging ceiling that was at average height, both of which helped to ease my discomfort a bit. I was there for a final exam, which didn’t help the nerves. There was a kid there sitting nearby, maybe one row in front of me, who I cannot stop associating with the word Kanye, like my brain as it was narrating all of this (as it sometimes tends to in my dreams) said he was a former classmate I had in real life who resembled/was like Kanye West. I have never had a classmate like Kanye West, unless my brain is vaguely referring to a kid from middle school whose only resemblance is probably skin color, diction, and weed, but still. Either way, there was a kid “Kanye” in the row in front of me and for some reason, he handed me this squishy eyeball replica. It reminded me of this one that I got as a kid at Disney World. I was outside the Haunted Mansion and I had walked into a pole and bonked my head really hard. A nearby street vendor noticed and gave me a free squishy eyeball toy as big as my fist to help me feel better because I was three years old wailing and screaming and in pain. The eyeball in my dream was basically exactly like that, except more like a real eyeball in manufacture but not size. I remember sitting there pulling it apart while I was waiting for the exam to start. I think it was the lens that I reached, or whatever that small, hard, marble-like thing in your eye is (or maybe this is different for humans considering the only experience I have with dissecting eyeballs is in the form of a squid) that I began pressing in my hand, into my palm and between my fingers, and in a way it almost helped me feel calmer. Which is really morbid now that I think about it. Like yeah, sure, this makes total sense: “I’m feeling anxious so I’m gonna start squeezing this piece of eyeball around in my hand so I can feel better!” Like no, Amanda, shut the fuck up, that’s disgusting. But that’s also where this dream ended so I guess I’m leaving this on a morbid note, then. Oh well?

[wellthatjusthappend]

Hi, i'm the omegaverse anon. Can your please write a part II of this pregnant Jason Todd annoyed wirh all the weight gain at the eight month. Because in my mind is a fact that preg Jason Todd would be a little be fat. And he thinks Dick is a lier because no one can like a 'fat ugly' like him. I love all your headcanons

Well, I’m not going to write a part II right now. Mostly because if I jump back in I’d make it a multi-chapter thing following them all the way. And because I wrote a lot yesterday because I had the day off and I didn’t feel like going out. Hardly my usual pace, as those of you who’ve been following me this past year know. 

But! Making headcanons is one of my favorite activities so I will indulge. 

Man, by the time Jason rolled around to the 8th month of pregnancy he would be seriously done with being pregnant. Like, everything is swollen and it’s impossible to get comfortable. Every time he drops something he has to stare at it and wonder if it’s worth the effort of figuring out how to get all the way down to pick it up. Rest assured though that Jason makes the most of the few perks of being that big. He definitely uses belly as a makeshift table for whatever he’s doing at the time. Dick thinks this is hilarious, Tim is a bit disturbed, and Roy offers excitedly to engineer Jason little gimmicks for his belly-table. Jason threatens to shoot Roy.

Jason doesn’t usually give much thought to how he looks. Growing up around Dick means that “attractive” reaches a whole other level and Jason doesn’t consider himself to be in that bracket. Even so, he doesn’t like it when people look to long at his pregnant body. He feels gross and huge, so he assumes he looks gross and huge too. By the 8th month he only really tolerates a few members of the pack around him. 

Surprisingly Bruce is one of them. The Alpha is very protective of Jason, but he doesn’t ask a bunch of invasive questions or stare a lot. He does hover a bit, but if he’s banished to the other side of the room he’s good about staying there.

Tim is actually not one of the people Jason likes having around closer to when the baby is do. Everything about pregnancy makes Tim a little queasy and he gets crazy second hand anxiety about literally everything. He starts spouting off information about research about how this food or that food affects the baby, statistics about childbirth, injury, and infant/parent death rates. Dick politely banned him towards the end because he tends to ramp up Jason’s anxiety too. 

Dick loves everything about Jason being pregnant. He get’s super excited about every new thing. He likes laying his head by the Jason’s belly and just chattering away at the baby. Jason complains that Dick makes the baby kick and turn around more. Dick thinks pregnant Jason is super sexy. He loves the way everything about Jason gets a little more rounder. Even his cheeks get a little rounder. His face a little flushed. Jason accuses Dick of having a pregnancy kink and being a fucking weirdo. But they also have some really great sex too because of it so Jason tolerates it most of the time.