#birth after caesarean

[birthingbetter1]

Vaginal birth after caesarean

Vaginal birth after caesarean, commonly referred to as VBAC, is a term used to describe the delivery of a baby vaginally by a woman who has had at least one previous caesarean section (C-section). Vaginal birth after caesarean is becoming increasingly popular as more women seek to avoid the potential risks associated with a repeat C-section. VBAC can be a safe and viable option for many women who have previously had a C-section.

[soup-breqd]

Lina @linagaza0 is a Palestinian mother of two children, living in Gaza and doing her best to care for her family despite the cruel occupation that has displaced them from their home and keeps them in constant danger.

She and her family have made the difficult decision to leave their homeland so they can live on in safety, and are fundraising so they can cover their travel expenses. Additionally, with high costs in Gaza, their family needs donations so they can afford basics like food and clothes.

Here's the life Lina is living now, in her own words:

"Hello, I hope you and your loved ones are well. I am not well. I live under war in difficult conditions after losing part of my family and my home as well. I gave birth to my baby girl in these conditions by caesarean section without any care. My children need your support and donations. I hope you can do that. My baby girl recently suffered from a serious illness and rash due to pollution, contaminated food and contaminated water. Health is deteriorating. Today they told us that we have to evacuate and that our area is a danger zone. Where will we go? We do not know. We are directly targeted. There are no necessities. Everything is obtained with difficulty. Water, medicine, food. Here they kill us. 🙏🏻❤️😢😢"

Please consider donating to Lina's campaign. No matter how small the donation, even €5, it will go far in contributing to their cause and giving them hope in their circumstances. If you have friends or family who would donate, consider sending them the link as well.

Lina's account has been vetted here. So far they have raised €44,238/60,000.

Link here:

tagging others for reach:

@ana-bananya @lesbianmaxevans @dlxxv-vetted-donations @a-shade-of-blue @gazavetters @northgazaupdates2

[coochiequeens]

Doctors and nurses who are not willing to listen to their patients should be replaced

BY VICTORIA SMITH

The third time I went into labour, I was determined to avoid getting told off. With both of my previous births, I had somehow managed to get things wrong. My errors the first time: going to hospital too early, then, when I returned three hours later, “leaving it so late”. The second time: ignoring assurances that I didn’t need to come in yet, then giving birth in the car park — an event I later discovered was being used in antenatal classes as an example of women “not planning ahead”.

“My previous births have been fast,” I said, when I went into labour with my third, “so I’d like to come in now.” I was speaking to the woman at the midwife-led unit that is the only option where I live. (If you need a caesarean section, you have to be transferred to next town.) “Third babies are notoriously difficult,” was her response.

What an odd thing to say to a woman already in labour. The “notoriously” suggested it wasn’t based on any actual evidence, but rather a kind of folk wisdom. It felt as though I was being warned not to tempt fate, not to assume that this baby would just pop out. I saw myself being categorised as one of those arrogant women who presumes to know her own body, only to be taught a harsh yet much-deserved lesson. “Third babies are notoriously difficult” sounded not unlike “third-time mothers shouldn’t get above themselves”.

In fact, I have never been particularly cocky about childbirth. When I was pregnant with my first child, back in the days when the Right-wing press were still obsessed with famous women being “too posh to push”, I wondered if I might be able to get an elective caesarean myself. I did not particularly care about childbirth being a wonderful experience, or about “doing it well”. I didn’t care if the Daily Mail thought I was a joke.

What I cared about was not having a child who would face the same difficulties as my brother, who was starved of oxygen at birth. This has had serious consequences for him, and for the rest of my family. Just how serious is hard to gauge. He was born traumatised; there has never been a before to compare the after with. What there has been instead is the hazy outline of an alternative life, one that runs parallel to the one he has now. It’s a life that began with the problem being identified sooner, with him being delivered quickly, perhaps by emergency caesarean. The difference between this and his actual life comes down to something small: mere moments, mere breaths.

I was born three years after my brother, in a larger hospital, where my mother was induced and monitored carefully. There is something very strange about being the sibling who had the safe birth. It feels as though I stole it. There is a constant sense of guilt, as if my life — my independence, my choices — constitutes a form of gloating. “This is what you could have had.” Everything I do feels like something owed to my brother (do it, because he can’t) but also something taken from him (you shouldn’t have done that, because he should have done it first).

Still, my family were fortunate, insofar as my brother didn’t die. Current reports on the Nottingham maternity scandal reference 1,700 cases, with an estimated 201 mothers and babies who might have survived had they received better care. What strikes me, reading them, is the enormous gulf between the cost of a disastrous birth and the trivial, opportunistic way in which childbirth is so often politicised — with mothers themselves viewed as morally, if not practically, to blame if anything goes wrong.

As a feminist who concerns herself with how the female body is demonised, my interest in debates about birthing choices is more than personal. I have read books railing against the over-medicalisation of childbirth, aligning it with a patriarchal need to appropriate female reproductive power. I have also read books protesting the fetishisation of “natural” birth, suggesting that it infantilises women, that it implies women deserve pain. To be honest, I find both arguments persuasive and dismaying. Both are right about the way in which misogyny and professional arrogance can shift the focus away from meeting the needs of women and babies. I feel a kind of rage that we are told to pick a side.

Representations of the labouring woman are so often negative: the naïve idealist, the “birthzilla“, the birth-plan obsessive, the woman who is “too posh to push”. This latter stereotype has gone hand-in-hand with a veneration of vaginal births, and stigmatisation of caesareans, that has had sometimes disastrous consequences. Midwives at the centre of the Furness General Hospital scandal were reported to have “pursued natural birth ‘at any cost’”, referring to one another as “the musketeers”; at least 11 babies and one mother died. But their approach was sanctioned by their employer: the 2006 NHS document “Pathways to Success: a self-improvement toolkit” explicitly suggested that “maternity units applying best practice to the management of pregnancy, labour and birth will achieve a [caesarean section] rate consistently below 20% and will have aspirations to reduce that rate to 15%”. Proposed benefits to this included “a sense of pride in units”.

Responses to maternity scandals now express horror that such an anti-intervention culture ever arose — responses in the same press that denigrated women such as Victoria Beckham and Kate Winslet for not giving birth vaginally. Instead, newspapers now stoke outrage over “natural” treatments during NHS births, such as burning herbs. Women have been shamed for having caesareans, but they have also been shamed for wanting births with minimum intervention — as though they are selfish and spoilt for seeking control over such an extreme situation.

In his memoir This Is Going To Hurt, former doctor Adam Kay writes disparagingly of women who arrive at the delivery suite with birth plans:

“‘Having a birth plan’ always strikes me as akin to having a ‘what I want the weather to be’ plan or a ‘winning the lottery’ plan. Two centuries of obstetricians have found no way of predicting the course of a labour, but a certain denomination of floaty-dressed mother seems to think she can manage it easily.”

Wanting to have some control over your experience of labour — which will hurt you and could kill you or your baby — is not akin to some messianic aspiration to control the weather. And in his mockery of the woman who wants whale song and aromatherapy oils, ironically, Kay deploys the same silencing techniques that might intimidate a woman out of seeking the very interventions he so prizes. What he and others do not seem to grasp is that their arrogance is a problem, regardless of which course of action they champion. It makes women feel they can’t speak, for fear of inviting hostility at their most vulnerable moments. It’s true that none of us knows our body well enough to know how we will give birth. But, looking back, I find it utterly insane, not least given my own family history, that one of my biggest worries during labour was “please don’t let anyone get cross with me”. Then again, I don’t think that fear is unrelated to the desire to remain safe.

Birth is not a joke. It is not a place for professional dick-swinging or political one-upmanship. I cannot describe — and, as I am not my mother, cannot fully understand — the shame of feeling that you “let down” your child before they drew their first breath, that they will forever suffer because of it. You watch an entire life unfolding and that feeling is there, every single day. This is the fear of the women in labour who are characterised as either idiots mesmerised by fantasy homebirths or cold-hearted posh ladies who can’t take the pain. If things go wrong, they are the ones who will bear the consequences, reflecting every day on what might have been, if they’d only done more.

When people discuss their siblings, my mind does wander to the one I don’t have, the one who was born safely. Perhaps he would have a job he loved, or one he hated, but in any case a job. Perhaps he would have a partner. Perhaps he would have children, and I would be their aunt. Perhaps we wouldn’t get on, wouldn’t even speak, but he’d have a life of his own. I know he thinks about this too. I wonder if the professionals who presided over his birth have thought about him since.

My third labour was not, by the way, “notoriously difficult”. My third son arrived into the world safe and well. No one can say why him or me, and not my brother. Mothers may long for control over birth, for which we are mocked; but we do not have it, for which we are blamed. Politics still takes precedence over our needs, and the needs of our babies.

[mushroomnoodles]

I really love Vampires and Tarots as an aesthetic and Simon and Betty as the lover fit that so well. I have a few questions about this AU.

How did the lovers find out about Morri? Did they fear Simon was intolerant of blood or something else?

Did the Vampire King find out about Simon and his powerful wife? (I'd imagine the Vampire King would be interested the possibility of a Vampire reproducing natural instead of a bite. And the side bonus of a power Vampire like Betty must sound appealing. )

Since Simon and Betty didn't separate and Simon didn't find the crown, did they meet Marceline or is this a the Star situation?

Finally how did Simon have the baby, is this a golbaby situation or something else?

Thanks! Your posts are just the best!

ok, buckle the fuckle up because this is a long ass post! i'm slapping a cut on it so you don't have to scroll forever but the general cws still apply- cw/tw for sfw, non kink mpreg and once again, two entire drops of blood.

i'd like to start out with saying THE HANGED MAN/vamp simon definitely had the roughest pregnancy of my au simons.. even compared to "vanilla" simon carrying golbetty's child.

nothing super serious, of course, but.. it didn't help that vamp simon is also physically weaker than other vampires. simon's undead body was not exactly equipped to GROW a life. at first, he couldn't stomach anything- everything he drank came right back up, which weakened him severely. his nausea was BAAAD.

for the first few months of pregnancy the only thing he could keep down was grade A human blood. this is how they found out simon was pregnant in the first place- the lack of blood was making him ill, and simon couldn't even do his regular duties, he spent so much time sick. vampires don't get sick. betty was seeing a repeat of something that happened a long time before.. and took him in to see someone with the power of intuition to tell them what ailed him- TEMPERANCE.

simon had finally been able to keep some blood down, so he wasn't so exhausted when they did visit her.

...they were very confused, but betty was overjoyed! simon was too, but ever the thinker, he wanted to know HOW. the same question the vampire king and the rest of the inner circle had, too. they kept simon's pregnancy a secret from most- with the day a weakness for them, the threat of vampire hunters, and the possibility of a new way to reproduce, the vampire king wanted to keep this exciting news secret until they could figure out the details.

simon, not wanting to be poked and prodded like an exhibit, graciously offered to research the phenomenon himself.

yeah. he has no idea.

the whole inner circle waited to see what kind of child simon would give birth to, given his and betty's powers. would their child inherit those abilities from them, or have something new? what did a living vampire entail?

simon was honestly glad he wasn't being paraded around for public eye, because pretty much every pregnancy symptom hit simon like a truck, even mood swings and cravings. and he was THIRSTY. so thirsty. little miracle needed a lot of nourishment and simon even began to crave actual food- which betty went out of her way to procure for him. (morrigan was alive after all!)

seeing simon so sensitive to his environment and working so hard to find an answer to something she felt he didn't have to worry about sort of set her wife/mother instincts into overdrive.. betty was suuper fucking protective of simon and was not afraid to snap at people or refuse circle visitors for him.

plus, morrigan was very strong and very big, and theyd leave little bruises on simon's belly sometimes. and, naturally, vampire morrigan took longer than nine months to be ready- simon carried them for more like 18 months. but they arrived safely, soundly, and surprisingly quietly, despite simon's undead body struggling for two days to bring them into the world. THE CHARIOT was actually eventually born via caesarean, because they were just.. taking way too long. they weren't ill, just sleepy.

granted, everyone was pretty fucking sleepy at that point.

and to answer the marceline question, yes, simon and betty found marceline as a child! marceline took to being nocturnal like a champ.

they had her for only a few months before they were approached by the vampire king, who had been watching them for a long time- before they even picked up marcy.

he'd seen them use their powers and their wits to stay alive in the apocalyptic wasteland- and later raise a child. he wanted them to join his group of vampires, and offered them marceline's safety in return.

simon and betty said yes, knowing they wouldn't be able to face off against a whole legion of vampires- and certainly not the king, if he decided a no was to be his enemy. and the rest is history.

ahh, i think i got everything?

[shinaaposts]

To celebrate the ides of march, I'll be posting random Julius Caesar facts starting today.

Contrary to popular belief, the ‘caesarean section’ birthing procedure was not named after Julius.

[hsslilly-blog]

claire swanson lore dump. i tried to be concise, so i linked to posts i've made before for context (and archival purposes). still very long. i'm open for asks! here’s her immediate family tree. here’s her masterlist, with a chronological overview. everything is under the cut.

background/lore

Claribel Marie Swanson (she/her) was born in Santa Barbara, California, on February 14th, 1990. She’s the single daughter of Christina Murray, a failed-actress-turned-nurse-turned-housewife, and Werner Swanson Jr., a psychiatrist and (at the time of her birth) university professor. Her paternal grandfather made a fortune selling engagement rings in the late 40s and since then the Swansons have lived very comfortably.

She was named after the character from The Tempest, as both her parents are fond of Shakespeare. Marie because her family is Catholic, but Mary didn’t fit her French-sounding first name.

Her parents met while working in a hospital, then got married in 1988. Claire was a planned pregnancy, by which I mean she is an IVF baby. No fertility issues involved. She arrived 9:47 AM, caesarean. From the moment she was born, her parents knew exactly what they wanted her to be, although their expectations weren’t in agreement; Christina saw in Claire a second chance of her dreams coming true, while Werner envisioned a more traditional career path to his daughter, akin to his own. If only they had talked at some point. But alas.

From age three, Claire had acting, dancing and singing lessons. Her mother made it her mission that Claire had the best training, attended every single audition for every role available and had as little free time as possible. By age seven, Claire had perfected her smile. By age nine, she called herself a ballerina. By age eleven, she wanted to be a full-time actress; she starred in an indie film called ‘Marigold’ around this time, in a very small part.

Her father wasn’t very pleased with his wife’s efforts at grooming Claire into an acting career, since it obviously hindered his plans of grooming Claire into an academic career. So, when Claribel turned 12, he told his wife that Claire was already old enough to make her own decisions and that, actually, she preferred biology anyway, so maybe Christine should back off. Animosity brews. This man isn’t even at home half of the time. What does he know about Claire?

Not sure. What Claire knew, however, was that her father was finally here and he was paying attention to her. So, yeah, she loved biology! And she did: from an early age, Claire was interested in genetics and she’s had a fondness for insects for as long as she can remember. Getting a break from constant auditions and being able to choose when she pursued her acting ambitions was a welcome change as well. Claire focused on academics for a while, but still acted: she joined Santa Barbara's Lit Moon Theatre Company at 14. She got diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder at 15. She was in drama club, cheer team, and was valedictorian of her graduating class. Claire is proficient in Spanish and took French in high school.

Claire met her best friend Donna Ryder in elementary school. They’ve been inseparable since. In high school, Claire constantly begged Donna for more pages in the yearbook. They loved driving around Santa Barbara in Claire's car after curfew hours. Then, she met Sebastian Ballion, her other half (platonically) in middle school. He was her first everything. By which I mean OBVIOUSLY that he was her first director. They had big dreams together; she starred in lots of his short films throughout high school, and he was the one to come up with Platinum Blonde Claire when she was 17. A visionary.

On October 13th, 2005, Claire and Sebastian headed to the Swansons’ beach residence in Malibu for the weekend. There, she found her father in a compromising situation with his secretary. He bribed her into silence and she got a nice trip to Jersey with Donna and some new clothes. This, though, only delayed the inevitable: her parents separated by late 2007 and finalised their messy divorce in November, 2008. Claire doesn’t know how her mom found out, and as guilty as she was for hiding it from her, she’s glad she wasn’t the one to tell.

This all happens around the time Claire is preparing to go to university (2008). With her father drifting away (literally, as he moved out), plus financial “incentive” (he'd pay for her tuition as long as she pursued something other than performing arts), Claire decided to major in biology. She got into SJSU and moved to the Bay Area. Being out in the world without the tutelage of either her parents was very liberating; you can bet Claribel wreaked havoc during that time. She’s always been very Claire, but it’s around this time she grew into Claire. She got more confident, more tactless, more charming and more reckless. She got a job as a drive-in waitress while living there. She had an abortion at some point. She loved going out dancing. And she loved being surrounded by queer people, as it was around this time she felt comfortable calling herself bisexual. I think Claire was happy here.

After graduating from SJSU, Claire had plans of going to med school at UCSF, but in May, 2012 she received an acceptance letter to Hollywood University, which she did not remember applying to. She packed her bags, moved to L.A. and decided to major in performing arts, finally. Soon after, her father found out about it and cut her out/disinherited her. Bummer. Anyway, she had a Mysterious Benefactor now.

As for Hollywood U: most posts I make take place in an around her third year at HWU, in 2014/2015. You may notice my relationship with HWU is very "playing with dolls". I move a lot of plot elements around: for example, Bianca's ploy to get Claire expelled happens in her third year, around Oct/2014. Clash at Sunset comes out in Jan/2015. And I ignore what I consider stupid (which means you will NOT see the studio plotline on my profile). Claire is very close to Addison and Ethan, and sees Lisa as a younger sister. She starts dating her stupid professor by Dec/2014-Early 2015. This is good and appropriate and Claire is not an archetypal femme fatale (this man will lose his job).

claire's little head

Claire has a complicated relationship with her parents. Her mother never felt like a mother to her, filling more of a role of an older sister. She was her mother’s perfect little doll, a medium to live vicariously through. Meanwhile, her father was emotionally and (due to work) physically distant. She was her father’s strange creation, a successor desperate to be recognised as more than that. She grew up in a weird environment. Very privileged (which she is glad for), but very cold. She had her entire life planned out for her by her parents. Different paths. She escaped one and followed the other, tried escaping it too… only to fall back into the first. Her entire life has been directed, in a way, by other people. She is not aware of this (yet). Is Claire a role she plays?

These dynamics made her develop a profound need of approval from others; if she’s good- if she’s really, really good, then maybe they will love her. She needs to impress people. Attention = love. She needs the spotlight. When her mother clapped at her opening nights, she knew she loved her. When her father nodded after seeing her report cards, she knew he loved her. Most of her relationships (platonically or otherwise) are defined by this.

So, Claire has no body image issues, but she does have self-esteem issues; being overly confident often correlates with compensation. She feels innately unlovable. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her (because there must be something wrong with her). She works really hard to make people like her, love her maybe. She masks, then masks again. Romantically, she craves attention from her partners, but she has to work for that attention; if it’s too easy, she’s not interested. If it’s too easy, something is wrong (it’s never been easy?!). She uses her sexuality in her favour, but that's not a healthy behaviour.

Nowadays (as in, 2014), Claire is in good terms with her mother, but she doesn’t feel close to her. Christine invites her for brunch and margaritas and gives her TMI about her love life. As for her father, they don’t talk.

Claire has had many romantic relationships throughout her life, and this is important to her character. In no chronological order, and non-exhaustively, I'll list some of the men she has dated: Sebastian (inconclusive)(17), her first agent (33), guy running for U.S. Senate (45), her therapist (37), her parents' divorce lawyer (52), Chris Winters (31), her married tennis instructor (47), Italian F1 driver (32). Claire likes putting men in situations, but she is not an archetypal femme fatale. She dated her SJSU roommate Sabrina for a while. She had a situationship with Madeline, lead singer of a goth band and fellow HWU student. All of these were whirlwind relationships and very short lived.

She feels very lonely! She's always surrounded by people, but she desperately craves connection. She feels misunderstood. This is due to a combination of what I've written here + people's (especially men's) perception of her + her ASD diagnosis. I'll link these two other posts about her personality + relationships. Sorry! At the end of the day Claire is, like, just a normal person with lots of flaws and failings, and lots of good things as well. But she'll never get what she wants as long as she keeps pursuing people who put her in a pedestal. They go to bed with Gilda, but wake up with me. She's setting herself for failure. She's not being sincere with them, and, mostly, with her.

that's it for now. i could write about her forever. but i'll end here! this was mostly to centralise all the information in one place, as her lore was very scattered around my profile.

[pseudowho]

as a midwife, i am assuming you have seen many 🐱 over the years and i was wondering… is there truly any benefit to keeping it shaved/letting it grow out or is it purely preference?

Purely preference.

Unless you're absolutely having a caesarean section, we recommend not shaving for about a week before, as micro abrasions caused by the razor blades marginally increase the chances of wound infections after giving birth.

There are lots of cultures which still implement routine shaving of women when we turn up to give birth, and frankly, they're acting as a relic of the past, or as continued anti-women activity in Obstetric care.

Other than that, treat your kitty how you normally would!

Mwah,

Love,

-- Midwife Haitch xxx

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 17

It's your first Christmas without your family, but Santiago makes it up to you.

Warnings: Mega heavy on Christmas talk. Mentions of pregnancy complications from the previous chapter. Mentions of shitty in-laws. Gabrielle isn't actually in it, but she's being a bit distant but you know. It's fine. Lot's of dialogue, again. Not proofread whatsoever. Santi and Frankie have an argument we're not privvy to. Word count: 4,724 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Apologies this is late, but here is Christmas with Santi! I did mention it in a post, but I'll mention it again here: please be aware that part 18 won't be posted until 11/01 (11th January) due to a busy Christmas period. I need to catch up with myself, and I start a new job in the New Year, so I won't be to write as much as I was able to before.

Edited because Gabs isn't married to Andy, she's married to Matthew 😂 it's Courtney who is married to Andy! Now I'm going to have to double check all of my chapters to see if everyone is married to the correct person 😂

Part 16 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 18

You’d been taking it easy since your stay at the hospital a few weeks ago.

You took less responsibilities at work (your friends wanted you to cut down on your hours, but you just couldn’t do that), and you begrudgingly accepted the help of others to help you pack for your move next month. Speaking of your friends, they’d been checking in on you multiple times a week, and every time, you tell them you’re fine. Really.

The twins were fine. You were fine. Everyone was fine.

“You have a case of placenta previa.”

You look at Dr Montgomery, confused, from your place on the ultrasound table. “What’s that?”

“Your placenta is low, and covering the cervix,” she replied, looking at the screen as she pressed a few keys on the keyboard, then moving the wand over your bump. “Usually, it’s detected at your 20-week ultrasound, but it must have been missed, especially since you’re having twins.”

“Is it...is everyone okay, is it dangerous?”

“It can be risky, but we’ll keep an eye on you,” Dr Montgomery said. “The bleeding was caused by this, and stress. You’ll need to come back for another ultrasound at 32 to 33 weeks. It may have moved on its own by then, but otherwise, we may have to look at a caesarean birth at 37 weeks.”

“What? No! I wanted to go as natural as possible,” you say, your eyes widening. You had a plan! “I can’t be out of commission for 6 weeks with twins!”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not what you wanted, but I strongly advise you look into it,” she replies, giving you a sympathetic look before turning off the machine. “I also recommend you take it easy if you can. I’m not saying strict bed rest, but just...relax a bit more.”

So that’s what you’ve done...you’ve relaxed. You’ve downloaded a kick counting app, something you should have done a while ago, so you could count the kicks from the babies, just in case. So far, they’d been back to normal – and by ‘normal’, you mean they were using your bladder as a soccer ball, with a shot to the kidneys every now and then.

Santi had arrived in the hospital just as Dr Montgomery had given you the okay to go home. Beth had left just after the results of your ultrasound (at your insistence), so you were packing your bag as Santi ran into your room, breathless and eyes wide. You’d looked at him with equally as wide eyes, before you hurriedly caught him up, telling him everything was okay, that you just needed to take it easy.

You introduced him to Dr Montgomery, who explained the situation a little better. It calmed Santi down a little, but you still noticed him tapping his foot as he nodded along, his hands resting on his hips as he listened intently. He kept glancing at you, as if you would collapse or suddenly disappear.

He gave you a lift home (in his truck) and insisted he stay for dinner. He cooked some food for the both of you, and you both ate on your couch, Santi wanting to know every detail to what happened. He apologised again and again for not being there, but you told him it was Thanksgiving weekend, you don’t blame him for not being there. No-one could predict what would have happened.

Dr Montgomery had booked you in for another scan a few days before Christmas. Santi insisted on going with you, which you were grateful for, of course. Unfortunately, your placenta hadn’t moved much, and you were booked in for a c-section for the end of January.

You sulked as you walked out of the hospital, pouting.

Santi gave you a small nudge, walking beside you. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”

“I wanted to give birth naturally,” you mumble, as you both approach the truck.

Santi grabs your arm gently, stopping you as you stop at the bed of the truck. “I know it’s not what you wanted, and that does suck for you. I’m sorry. But Dr Montgomery said it was the safest option for you and them.”

You sighed. “I feel like it’s...it’s like I’m not...like I’ve already failed as a mother, by bringing them into the world that way.”

Santi looks at you, his eyes filled with empathy. He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Listen to me," he says, his voice soft but firm. "Having a c-section doesn't make you any less of a mother. What matters is that you and the babies are safe. That's the priority."

You lean against the truck, staring at the ground as a mix of emotions wash over you. "I just wanted everything to be perfect, you know? A beautiful, natural birth story to tell them when they're older."

Santi gently lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Life never goes according to plan, especially when it comes to something as unpredictable as having kids. We should know.” he grins at you, wiggling his eyebrows a little.

You give a small laugh at his quip.

He continues. “But that doesn't lessen the love you have for them or the strength it takes to do what's best for their well-being." He pauses, before giving you a reassuring smile. "You're not failing as a mom. If anything, you're making the tough decisions now because you love them so much."

You take a deep breath, absorbing his words, before nodding. “Okay.”

Santi studies you for a moment. “C’mere.” He pulls you into a comforting hug, and you melt into him, allowing the warmth of his embrace to provide a momentary escape from the overwhelming emotions of your appointment with Dr Montgomery. "We'll get through this together.”

You nod against him, just holding him a little longer than necessary before pulling away. “Thank you.”

He gives another laugh. “Don’t thank me for speaking the truth, querida.”

You wipe away at the few stray tears in your eyes before turning to him. “Come on, I gotta get home. Help me get in this junk heap.”

“Hey, don’t insult my truck,” Santi says in mock offence, before he smirks and opens the door for you, and helps you climb in.

He drives you in silence as you talk to him about work, how you’ve taken a step back and you hate it but you’re willing to do it for less stress. Harriet was a little apprehensive when you told her, that she needed you on board for this newest client, that the product was about to launch but you didn’t back down. You told her that you weren’t backing away, but just taking on less of the load. Emily and Kelsie were happy to take some of the tasks; Hell, Kelsie was practically frothing at the mouth for the opportunity to add on some more responsibility than she already had. She told you herself she wanted most of the glory since this was her first big client.

“Bit of a shitty thing for Harriet to do, guilt trip you like that.”

You shrug. “That’s just Harriet. I’ve grown used to it,” you say. “Been there long enough.”

“Since graduation, right?”

You nod. “Yup.”

“Ever thought about leaving?”

Your eyes widened as you turn to look at him. “Why would I do that? I’ve built myself up, I have a relationship and reputation with clients.”

Santi shrugged nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. “I dunno. Seems like you’re underappreciated and overworked, from what you’ve told me. Is there no other marketing firm in Florida?”

“There is - “

“Shop around,” Santi said, as if he wasn’t asking you to consider leaving the only current stability you had in your life right now. “See if anyone is hiring, for a better position or just to be treated a little better.”

“I think it’ll be the same everywhere,” you say, laughing a little.

Santi shrugged. “Just putting it out there.”

You nod. “I mean...I’ll think about it. Maybe after Christmas. Or after I’m back from maternity leave.”

It goes quiet again for a few minutes before Santi asks, “What are you doing for Christmas?”

You shrug. “I have no plans. Beth offered to have me over again, but I feel like I can’t keep intruding on their time.”

“If they’ve asked you to join them, I don’t think you’ll be intruding.”

Your family had still not contacted you. You had messaged the group chat again, accepting that there would probably be no reply still (and there wasn’t). You had another episode, alone this time, sitting on your couch late at night, stereotypically sobbing into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream as you watched Home Alone. It had been your favourite as a child, and something you had watched together with your family, after you’d put the decorations up. This year, you had no tree, no decorations, and you watched it alone.

It had been a sad night.

“You could always...” Santi said a little awkwardly, before clearing his throat. “You could always spend it with me. If you wanted. You don’t have to.”

You look at him with wide eyes, but Santi keeps his gaze on the road, an air of nervousness surrounding him. “You...want to spend Christmas with me?”

“I would have asked you to Thanksgiving but I didn’t...my sisters...”

“I wasn’t expecting you to invite me,” you said, sensing his anxiousness. “Please don’t think over on that.”

“I should have invited you - “

“Santiago,” you say, firmly, causing him to give a quick glance at you before looking back at the road, turning to your apartment’s street. “I am okay. We are okay. You were visiting your family for the first time in years. I didn’t need to be there.”

He goes silent, his jaw tensing like he wants to say something else, but he just sighs through his nose and gives a tight nod.

You reach over to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I would love to spend Christmas with you.”

“Have you spoken to Gabs recently?”

You look at Courtney with a confused look on your face as you reach for your water. “I mean, I spoke to her last week about the kids’ Christmas presents. Why?”

You and Courtney had met up for some last-minute Christmas shopping, and you stopped for some dinner before heading home. You had to admit, Gabrielle had been a little off when you spoke to her last week and you had asked if everything was okay, but she had just told you it was Christmas stress. It wasn’t so farfetched, Gabrielle hosted every year for her and Matthew’s families, so of course there was no reason to not believe her.

“Hm,” said Courtney, her brow furrowing. “She’s been a little…weird.”

You shrug. “I mean…she seemed off when I spoke to her, and I asked her about it but she said it was Christmas stress.”

Courtney shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just…bugging me.”

“We could talk to her about it,” you say. “But you know Gabs, she’ll come to us eventually when she’s ready to let us know what’s going on.”

Courtney shook her head for a moment before giving you a look. “You’re right. You’re right! I’m just worried about her.”

“She’ll be fine,” you say. “You know what she gets like at Christmas, she’s hosting for everyone. And you know Matthew’s family.” You give Courtney a pointed look.

Courtney pulled a face. “Yeah. They’re assholes to her. But she keeps hosting!”

“Look, we tell her this every year and you know what she says – “

“’It’s only once a year’,” you both say in unison.

“Exactly,” you say. “So she’ll probably be back to normal after Christmas.”

“Fine. Fine,” said Courtney. “Let’s talk about something else. Like how you’re spending Christmas with Santiago!”

“I am,” you say, feeling your cheeks warming slightly.

“I think that’s nice,” Courtney says. “You’re like...starting your family. Getting the traditions in.”

You nod. “Yeah, I think so too. If this is something we do every year, then best start now, right?”

“You going to his place?” Courtney asked, before thanking the waitress for bringing your food over.

You nod, also thanking the waitress. “It’ll be easier since most of my stuff is packed up now. Thanks again for that, by the way.”

“No problem,” Courtney said, digging into her food. She gives you a grin. “It’s exciting, but also a little sad. It’s the end of an era, but the start of a new one.”

“In a month’s time, I’m going to be a mom,” you say, your eyes wide as if you don’t quite believe it yourself. “How weird is that?”

“Stop it,” said Courtney. “Who knew you would be the next one to have a kid?”

You snort, tucking into your own food. “I don’t think anyone thought I would have a kid, full stop.”

“No,” said Courtney, shaking her head. “I think you would have. Just in ten years.”

“Well, life didn’t work out how I’d planned,” you said, laughing. “But it’s good. Life is good.”

“And you’re happy?” Courtney asked.

Were you? Happy? You go quiet as you think. Obviously, you hadn’t planned to get pregnant, and with twins for that matter, in your tiny one-bedroom apartment, or not be speaking to your parents, or be questioning your job. But here you were, about to finish the year with a new house, amazing friends, new babies, and Santi.

Oh, Santi.

You never thought you would have met someone like Santi, even though you both weren’t together-together. You were lucky to have him; most men after one-night-stands would have left by now, but not Santi. He was sticking around, and in it for the long run. And honestly, you know he wouldn’t feel the same way about you than you felt about him, but he loved you as a friend and the mother of his kids, and you adored that he wanted to help you raise these babies together.

You slowly smile and look at Courtney. “Yeah…yeah, I’m happy.”

You pull up outside Santi’s apartment, taking a deep breath before climbing out of the car. You'd been simultaneously looking forward to Christmas with Santi, and dreading Christmas with Santi. He told you that it was his first year spending it in Florida since returning from Colombia and warned you that his Christmas dinner would probably be something he could quickly rustle up and wasn’t too much hassle - ‘very non-traditional’ was what he said. You didn’t mind; the year had been incredibly ‘non-traditional’ for you anyway.

You make your way up to his apartment, a large bag of presents in your hand. You knock, biting your lip nervously as you waited for Santi to open the door. You look up as the door opens, and you give a laugh at Santi. He was wearing an obnoxiously bright red jumper with a Santa knitted into it, and a Santa hat, and was wearing his usual jeans. He had a bottle of beer in his hand.

He holds his arms out wide as he grins at you. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” you say as you step inside, still laughing at his outfit.

Santi closes the door behind you before he brings you into a quick hug. “I don’t have much of an itinerary today, but Frankie and Sarah might stop by later with Sofía.”

You nod, pulling back from him. “That works out, actually, because I got something for Sofía,” you say, motioning to your bag.

Santi gives you a small, closed-lipped smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know I didn’t,” you say. “I wanted to. They’re a big part of your life, therefore, they’ll be a big part of our kids’ lives.”

Santiago doesn’t say anything as you make your way into his living room, where he had a small Christmas tree in the corner, overly decorated. You hear Santi make his way into the kitchen as you took the presents out of bag and placed them underneath, smiling as the pile grew. You look up as Santi makes his way into the living room. “Some of these from your sisters?”

He nodded, handing you a can of Diet Coke. “Yeah. I saw them last week, dropped off gifts then. I just got off the phone with them, since my nieces had just opened their Barbie dolls, with their cars, and pets, and accessories...”

You giggled, opening the can. “There’s an awful lot of girls in your family.”

He nodded, grinning. “I have a few cousins who are guys, who had a few boys. I'm not totally overruled.”

You give a small laugh as you sip at your drink. “So, do you want to do presents now? Or later? We could eat first, if you wanted.”

“The empanadas are resting in the fridge, and I have mac and cheese in the slow cooker,” said Santi, taking a gulp at his almost forgotten beer. “Got all sorts of vegetables and potatoes roasting in my oven too.”

“Sounds like a feast,” you say. You could feel your mouth watering. “Maybe we could eat soon?” you give Santi a big smile.

He chuckles at you before nodding. “I’ll put the empanadas in.”

You nod as Santi disappeared back through the kitchen. You look at the presents, and the small tree, and the fact that his living room was bare of any other decorations. Your mind wandered to the fact that this was his first Christmas since settling down, that he was in an actual home and not in a shack or seedy motel somewhere in South America. You really appreciated that he offered you his place for the day, that he’d gone out of his way – and his comfort zone – to bring you into his space again.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

You look up at him, blinking in confusion before you realise you were crying. You give a small laugh of slight embarrassment. “I didn’t realise I was crying, I'm sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, cariño,” he said, taking a seat next to you on the floor, giving you a concerned look as he rested his hand in the middle of your back. “Is there anything I can do for you? I knew today would be difficult, I don’t want you to be here if you don’t want to be - “

“No, Santi, really, I'm fine,” you say, cutting him off. “I’m just hormonal. I cry at everything.”

He hesitated for a moment before asking, “I don’t want you to feel obligated to be here, just because I asked - “

“I want to be here, Santi,” you say, reaching over and squeezing his hand that was still wrapped around a beer. “Really, I’m fine. I just...I like that I'm here, you know? I like that you want me here.”

Santi paused for a moment, looking at you before he gives a grin. “Of course, I want you here.”

You give another weak laugh. “Okay then.”

You help him in the kitchen with the food, and of course as soon as you sit down to eat, Frankie and Sarah make their way through with Sofía, profusely apologising for interrupting for not texting beforehand. Santi told them it was fine, and after a few hugs and a quick catch up between you and the Morales’, you all sit to have something to eat.

You get to know the Morales’ a little more intimately than you did on Halloween; you were in a smaller setting with fewer people, and Sarah wasn’t so distracted by the other guests. She was fun, and loud, and someone you could see getting along with for a long time. Frankie was the opposite; quiet, and observant, but you could see how much he opened up to Santi. He wasn’t rude to you at all, including you in the conversation when he could, and you could see why Santi loved him so much.

And then there was Sofía, who giggled at everything you said, and kept trying to steal the mac and cheese on your plate, even though Sarah kept adding more to her plate. You didn’t mind, but Sarah insisted she stop doing it (“It’s becoming a whole thing, we’re trying to nip it in the bud now, while we can!”). When you all finished dinner, you offered to do the dishes, but you were rebuffed when you were lead into the living room, Santi quickly clearing up the plates, saying he’d ‘deal with them later’.

Sarah plonks you down in the armchair by the tree before she hands you an envelope. “This is more for when the babies are here than right now, but it’s valid for three years.”

You look at her in confusion before you open the envelope, mouth falling open as you take a look at the expensive gift voucher. “Sarah, I can’t accept this!”

“Oh sure you can,” she says, waving you off.

You thank her profusely, before you lean down and grab a few boxes from under the tree. “I got some things for Sofía – “

“You didn’t have to do that!” cried Sarah.

“Don’t be silly, here,” you say, handing the toddler the boxes, who took more interest in the wrapping paper than the actual present.

As you and Sarah sit, you look up for Santi and Frankie, who were strangely quiet. You’re taken aback to find them stood close together, quietly arguing with one another. Frankie was pointing at Santi’s chest and saying something too quiet for you to hear, but it was filled with anger, nonetheless. Santi merely argued back.

You look away, putting a mental note in it. You’ll ask Santi about it later.

As Sofía played with the wooden doctor’s set, and the baby doll that you’d gotten along with it, you chatted to Sarah before Frankie finally made his way over. “I think we oughta go.”

Sarah nodded. “Shoot, you’re right, we promised we’d see your mom like, an hour ago.”

As they gather their things and say their goodbyes (Santi and Frankie were still tense), you and Santi were left alone. You look around and sigh, before looking back at him. “What was that about?”

“What?” Santi asked, going around the living room and collecting wrapping paper, avoiding eye contact.

“You and Frankie, what were you arguing about?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Santi, shaking his head. “Something stupid with Benny, you know how it is.”

You don’t feel like he’s telling you the truth, but you know if you pry, Santi is more likely to close up. You slowly nod at him. “Okay. Sure, yeah.”

He finally looks at you and gives you a tight smile. “Everything is okay, hermosa.”

You hesitate before nodding then glancing at the presents under the tree. “I think we should do our gifts now.”

“Okay,” Santi said, before patting you on the back as he passed you to go back into the kitchen, tossing the papers away.

You settle on the floor by the tree, and lean over and grab a few gifts, placing them by Santi as he joined you moments later. “I didn’t go overboard - “

“I don’t believe that,” Santi said from his own place under the tree before he pulled out a small box, wrapped somewhat neatly, and placing it in front of you. “Now, this doesn’t look like a lot but - “

“Stop, Santi, it’s fine,” you say. “It’s about the sentiment.”

Santi nodded, before going quiet, glancing at you at the present. You grin and nod to him. “You go first.”

He gives a small laugh before nodding at the boxes in front of him. “Any particular order?”

“Nope,” you reply.

Like a child, Santi didn’t have to be told twice. He immediately tore into the gifts, smiling widely at the new shirts you’d bought him, and a nice watch. He immediately put it on, before admiring it.

“This is nice,” he said, still admiring it.

“I know you like swimming, so it’s waterproof too,” you say. “And it tracks your exercise. Since you refuse to get an Apple Watch, I went for the next best thing.”

“Thank you, hermosa,” he says, before opening his last gift. He pauses as he looks down at the strap for a guitar.

“I know you’ve been trying to get back into it, and I know your current strap is falling apart,” you say, smiling. “I thought you could do with an upgrade. And look!” you pull the strap from the wrapping before finding the end and pointing. “I have it engraved with your initials.”

“This is…this is great, cariño. Thank you,” he said, before he stands quickly and leaves the room. He comes back a few moments later, guitar in hand as he settles back on the floor with you, practically ripping off the old strap. He puts on the new one, and why he was fiddling with it, he pushed the small box towards you. “Like I said, it’s not a lot…”

“Santi, please,” you say as you open the gift. You pause at the sight of the Tiffany box, glancing up at Santi who was now looking at your nervously.

You open the Tiffany box, to find a silver chain-link bracelet, with a charm of a Christmas tree hanging off it. You gingerly take it out the box, looking at it more closely.

“I have more charms, but I can’t give them to you yet,” he said. “I got the tree because it’s…it’s our first Christmas together.”

Oh my God, you might burst into tears.

No, actually, you’re already crying.

“Santiago,” you say, in a high-pitched cry, looking at the bracelet, at the delicate green charm of the Christmas tree.

“Oh, no,” he said, scootching over to you and bringing you into his arms, where you sobbed into shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. If you don’t like it – “

“Don’t like it!?” you cry, pushing away from him, looking between him and the bracelet. “I love it. Put it on me!” you shove it at him before presenting your wrist to him.

Santi chuckled as he shook his head in disbelief, carefully fastening the bracelet around your wrist before he gave a soft kiss to the warmth of your skin. Your heartbeat loudly in your ears as Santi gave your wrist a squeeze and he looked at you with a warm smile on his face. You look at the bracelet, the charm sitting pretty. You smiled widely at it, tears still falling down your cheeks.

“Please, stop crying,” laughed Santi, reaching up to wipe your years away.

“I can’t,” you say, laughing back as you look at him. “I’m pregnant, and hormonal, and you got me a really nice, sappy gift. I love it.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He goes quiet for a moment before he swallows nervously. “I…”

You look at him as he goes quiet. “Yeah?”

The two of you just staring at each other. Eyes locked onto his, you search for the words that seem to linger unspoken on his lips. There's a certain vulnerability in his silence, a hesitance that hangs in the air like the delicate balance before a confession.

"What is it?" you prompt again gently, your heart quickening in anticipation.

His eyes flicker nervously, and you can almost sense the internal struggle within him. It's as if he's wavering on the edge of an abyss, grappling with emotions that have finally found their way to the surface. Could he…could he be trying to say what you think he…

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling in tandem with the weight of his unspoken words. You can feel the gravity of the moment, the tension building between you two, as if the universe itself is holding its breath in anticipation of what he's about to say.

“The next charm you’ll get is in a few weeks, at the baby shower,” Santi finally said, after a long pause.

Oh. That wasn’t what you expected at all. You were –

Wait.

You pause, your brow furrowing as you look at him, tears finally stilling. “The what?”

Santi freezes, his face falling as he looks at you. “Oh, shit.”

Tagged - @khonsulockley, @bluenredndeath, @superficialfeelings, @othersideoftheparadise, @beezusvreeland, @itsmytimetoodream

[hyperblue]

She doesn't take painkillers. She is too afraid that someone will attack and she will not be able to defend herself. She's hoping for her pain threshold. She still cries and thinks a little - her mother gave birth by caesarean section under general anesthesia, Vita Luther gave birth to Kon in one of her laboratories surrounded by medical staff who courted her like a queen.

She is alone, far, far from her home and without anyone to squeeze her hand, and the father of her child and the love of her life is dead. It's just her and her daughter here. She is alone, far, far from her home, and there is no one to hold her hand, and the father of her child and the love of her life is dead. It's just her and her daughter here.

Her daughter is a tiny defenseless creature, Cora needs to shove self-pity away and be strong for her. The pain throbs with renewed vigor, the bottom of her body burns like poured gasoline. A sharp relief rolls over like a wave, her legs become like jelly, she lies down with the back of her head on the side of the bathroom and smiles.

Her hands gently stretch out and she hugs her to herself, tiny wet warm infinitely tender. She puts her tiny body on top of herself and helps the baby girl find her breasts. The girl starts eating with a quiet sob. She kisses her daughter on the top of her head and inhales his scent with pleasure, she smells good - it's amazing, is this a trait of all Kryptonians? Kon always smelled good - it's a mixture of something milky and dull floral.

The name. Cora thought about it a lot, she had many options, but one was the most special and precious. Something that Kon could approve of.

"Hi, Robin Kent," she laughs, the salty tracks on her cheeks ache, the girl coos softly in response, Cora identifies this as an endorsement of "Robin… Poppy Kent."

Robin Poppy Kent. Poppy means "poppy flower". Poppy flower symbolizes fallen soldiers, Kon can be regarded as a fallen soldier. The poppy is a bright blood-red flower blooming on the battlefields, it symbolizes sacrifice.

Deep meaning, it sounds stupid, but Cora thinks she has the right to do it. After all, she is a seventeen-year-old teenage mom. She can be forgiven for being ridiculous with her child's name...

She kisses her child on the cheek and desperately wants Kon to come to their Robin Poppy and to her in spite of everything.

im gonna be honest with you the second i read "she doesn't take painkillers" i immediately went NO GIRL LET'S NOT DO THAT YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO PUNISH YOURSELF THAT WAY, well I'm glad that wasn't the case. but still... poor cora

that moment of first touch and connection is one of my favorites in this au, im like YES give me all the feels. thank you so much for sharing this scene

also ROBIN POPPY AS SUCH A CUTE NAME

[pandanggo-sa-ilaw]

Hello friends!

I am Lina from Gaza🇵🇸🍉

I have two children, one of them was born in the genocide. Please, I need a donation of 20 or 25 euros. I know that my request for help is unusual for me, but I really need you. The donation link is in my bio. Every small donation makes a difference. Help my children and my family. We lost everything and we need this money urgently

https://gofund.me/4f077ab2

ATTENTION! I need everyone to DONATE AND BOOST THIS POST since right now this gofundme has €34,894/€45,000 which is SO CLOSE TO THEIR GOAL! PLEASE DONATE AND BOOST TO SAVE THE LIVES OF AYAH'S FAMILY WHO IS STUCK IN GAZA!

This is their story under the gofundme:

Hello

everyone my name is ayah , I am living in Belgium and I will help my cousin who’s stock in Gaza .

he is 26 years old. Hes wife's name is Lina, she is 25 years old. I have been married for 4 years. I have a boy named Saif, who is two years old, and a girl who was born in the October War, and her name is Sidra, who is 3 months old. My wife gave birth by caesarean section. Help me and my children evacuate Gaza

I need your help to evacuate my family from Gaza

Hopefully this finds you and your loved ones safe and well. I come to you with a very urgent and time-sensitive appeal. We face a constant and imminent threat of death, injury and disease, even during the so-called “truce”. My house was bombed and destroyed beyond repair. My family home. We have been under occupation all our lives, and none of us have ever experienced anything like what is happening now.

There is an opportunity now to take the entire family out of Gaza to Egypt via the Rafah crossing. It is uncertain how long we will have this opportunity, making it essential to raise the necessary funds as quickly as possible. The longer it takes, the more vulnerable they are. No one knows how long the bombing of Gaza will continue. It will continue and at what ongoing cost to human life. For the future of my family, your help is necessary. I am deeply concerned about my children,

The funds you contribute will accomplish the following:

Cover the expensive costs of safe passage into Egypt. The vast majority of funds will be utilized for this.

Set up the family with a temporary place to stay in Egypt, while it is determined what the best path forward for them is.

Cover some of their initial living costs while in Egypt. We hope to provide enough for at least a couple of months. They need time and space to breathe after being in Gaza during this genocide.

After all of the above is accomplished, additional funds will be utilized to help me through my current situation so that I can be of more support to my family. I have taken on the responsibility of their care during this very precarious and uncertain time and into the future.

[ferrstappen]

same anon here with the birth of the twins ask i sent earlier lmao i meant born first. which twin was born first, not early. sorry im sleep deprived and english is not englishing at the moment 😭

hello honey! I totally understand you and THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS QUESTION honestly I love mila and Luca. and also to the anon who requested pregnancy bits I'm on it, I just want to do it justice and not rush it :(

Honestly I hadn't put many thought on that, but I've really been thinking about it bc yes, when I saw the question I said Mila 100% is the oldest twin and Luca the youngest, but...

the day the twins were born l MV1

when I picture the labour, everything going smoothly, caesarean being planned months ahead for Max to be 100% available and no one could bother him or put something on the calendar.

Max would beholding your hand and whispering sweet nothings, how brave you were even when you assured him you weren't feeling anything, but he'd be keeping his eye not only on your health but making his presence known; the least he could do was make sure the best nurses, midwives, doctors and medical personnel in general were the best to take care of you and bring the very awaited Verstappen babies to the world. he'd side eye whenever the nurses and midwives made a comment about their lunch or something banal, because the only thing they were allowed to think and speak was his wife laying on the table and being prepared for the babies to be in perfect conditions.

and the only thing they'd said was yes Mr. Verstappen, yes Mrs. Verstappen.

as the time of the procedure approached he'd sit next to you, his head resting next to yours and his both his hands holding your belly, taking deep breaths, trying to communicate the twins they'd be together soon, and taking in the image of your swollen belly for the last time.

of course you'd giggle when he entered the operation room with sterile clothing, but finding comfort in his blue eyes being visible, long and defined lower lashes caressing his skin, his thumb running through your cheeks and forehead, and the strong grip of his hand were the only thing you tried to focus on as you could feel your body being manipulated.

the first scream was loud, but not as loud as you'd imagine, it was received as if the baby was annoyed of being disrupted and having to use his own lungs to breathe.

"a nice cry for this baby boy," the doctor would announce, handing him to the pediatrician to check him before wraping him in a warm towel and placing him on Max's arm, a nurse encouraging him to place the baby next to your face due to the arms being restricted.

you'd cry at the sight of him, heart immediately growing a million times bigger and it wasn't an exaggeration; the way his eyes were squeezed together, hands closed tightly, quiet sounds leaving his lips, everything stopped for you for those seconds.

and Max felt the same, his heart beating a thousand beats per minute when his arms felt the weight of his son, seeing his features, his small nose. but he wasn't relaxed or relieved in any way, knowing your body still had to endure being delivered the baby girl. he was told it was safe to leave the baby next to your face, which he did and went back to keeping an eye on what was going on on the other side of the medical sheet covering from your neck down.

he knew there was a reason why he couldn't feel relief and it wasn't just because he always worried and needed things to be right, and his gut was proven right when baby number two was delivered, but there wasn't a loud scream or annoyed cries, it was silent. a nurse immediately grabbed the baby boy (he still didn't have a name, you had a top 3 list where you'd choose after they were born) from your side, putting him on a crib, at the same time the pediatrics team grabbed the baby girl and placed her on a crib that looked a bit more complicated, more tubes and stuff surrounding it.

"max, what's happening?" you asked your husband, knowing you should've heard your baby girl by now.

"I don't know, but don't worry, schat. they're working on her,"

it was the first time he felt the desperation of being a father: worried, helpless, desperate, so many feelings and none of them were good as he approached where his daughter was being moved around, nurses carefully massaging her feet, multiple warm towels under her, a weird thing being placed on her nostrils.

those were the worst fifty seconds of his life. until he heard the loudest scream he'd ever heard, not even comparable to the one that marked the birth of his brother. it was loud, fierce, almost desperate.

it was his daughter and he instantly knew no one would even think of hurting her, and he also knew his son was a born protector, the first born, he'd able to overcome anything.

martin? levi? lucas? max stared at his son staring at him from his left arm, not so sure.

zoe? sofie? camila? max looked down at his sleeping daughter on his right arm.

maybe he'd have to wait until you woke up from all the medication, you'd probably know.

---------------------

I got carried away im sorry, I hope it still answers your question though :(

[birthingbetter1]

Vaginal birth after caesarean

Vaginal birth after caesarean, commonly referred to as VBAC, is a term used to describe the delivery of a baby vaginally by a woman who has had at least one previous caesarean section (C-section). Vaginal birth after caesarean is becoming increasingly popular as more women seek to avoid the potential risks associated with a repeat C-section. VBAC can be a safe and viable option for many women who have previously had a C-section.

[celticcrossanon]

Hi CC, I hope you are faring well in the heat these days. It must be challenging.

I have questions about MM' pregnancies. If the children weren't birthed by MM, is it possible that she will champion the rights of women who have fertility issues - saying IVF, surrogacy, and even donated sperm/eggs (which I don't believe they used), is the norm. I read years back that Sophie was considering IVF for her second pregnancy.

Another possibility is that Archie was conceived before the wedding. Again she may argue that having children with a partner who isn't a spouse is common these days.

I'm also curious why they got engaged when they did. Was there a rush that was real or pretend? (Eg pregnancy that was faked or really did not go to term.) There has been speculation.

Even though both children look like their parents, something seems off. There's smoke and somewhere there is a fire that has legal ramifications for the BRF. Ultimately she presented as pregnant both times. So if she wasn't, the duplicity would be next level!

Thanks

Hi Nonny,

It was and is challenging, but we have some cooler weather for Xmas, which is nice (it heats up again after the 26th, I think).

Meghan may try to do something with fertility issues to get herself out of the hole she is in, but that will do nothing for the main issue. If the children were not born of her body then they have no place in the Line of Succession, as they were not pushed into the world by the legal spouse of Prince Harry. It is harsh but the law is clear - if the legal wife of a royal does not carry you and push you out into the world (or have a caesarean), then you are not born 'of their body' and therefore you have no place in the line of succession. Making a fuss about fertility issues some 4? 5? years after the event will not make your deception any less of a deception, and it will not do away with the legal consequences of your actions.

The wedding was on 19 May 2018, Archie was supposedly born 6 May 2019. That is about a year between the wedding and the birth. If Meghan was pregnant when she married Harry, Archie would have been born at the most 8-9 months after the wedding, so say Feb 2019. There is no reason why the couple could not have announced a 'honeymoon baby' and then announce the actual birth if that was the case. In February Meghan was still going everywhere clutching her huge bump, so no early birth for her.

I have read on the reason for the rushed wedding. From memory, there were indications in the cards that Meghan faked a pregnancy to get the knot tied quickly. I can read on that again. The other theory that I incline towards is that they were already married in some sort of ceremony somewhere, although in that case I am not sure why they were given the highly inappropriate big white wedding.

I believe that Meghan wasn't pregnant both times. Her physical changes did not match the natural changes of pregnancy, and we actually had some obstetricians and their relatives writing in at the time saying the pregnancy was a badly done fake (I know, take all tea with a truckful of salt etc). What convinced me was the unnatural changes in her baby bump, like the ones below. No one inflates/deflates like that over an hour, or even a day. I also believe she has no morals or conscience that would prevent her from faking a pregnancy and then pretending to give borth. Other people may think differently, of course.

[twinklecupcake]

I hope you and your loved ones are well. I am not well. I am living through war in difficult conditions after losing part of my family and my home as well. I gave birth to my baby girl in these conditions by caesarean section without any care. My children need your support and donations. I hope you can do that. Recently, my baby girl suffered from a serious illness and skin rash due to pollution, contaminated food and contaminated water. Health is deteriorating. Today they told us that we have to evacuate and that our area is a danger zone. Where will we go? We do not know. We are directly targeted. There are no necessities. Everything is obtained with difficulty. Water, medicine, food. Here they are killing us.🙏🏻❤️😢😢

https://gofund.me/4f077ab2

https://gofund.me/4f077ab2

[athena5898]

24-year-old prisoner Afnan Abu Hussein was released on a financial bail of 5,000 shekels on October 14 after being arrested the day prior from her home in the town of Bani Naim, #AlKhalil. Afnan, who is in her ninth month of pregnancy (with a scheduled caesarean section on 16/10) and is a mother to a two-year-old child was beaten by the IOF in her home before they detained her. They abducted her before she was able to wear her hijab. She described the terrible conditions she experienced during her detention: "They provoked me in the worst ways; it was psychological torture for me. They filmed me on TikTok while I was tied with shackles to the bed, and they danced around me. I would ask for a cup of water, after two days of no eating or drinking, and they would throw it in front of me; as a result, I became dehydrated and the water dried up for the baby. They didn't give me any medical treatment." During her detention, the IOF also forced her to sign a paper which says she is responsible in the case of the death of her baby because she refused to give birth in an occupation hospital

[remushrts]

Hello, I hope you and your loved ones are well. I am not well. I live under war in difficult conditions after losing part of my family and my home as well. I gave birth to my baby girl in these conditions by caesarean section without any care. My children need your support and donations. I hope you can do that. My baby girl recently suffered from a serious illness and rash due to pollution, contaminated food and contaminated water. Health is deteriorating. Today they told us that we have to evacuate and that our area is a danger zone. Where will we go? We do not know. We are directly targeted. There are no necessities. Everything is obtained with difficulty. Water, medicine, food. Here they kill us. 🙏🏻❤️😢😢

https://www.gofundme.com/help-ayahs-family-escape-gaza-crisis

hi pls help!!!

(i don't really know how to tag it to help, sorry)