couples_therapy | 45.4. Emergency
45.4. Emergency (from Week 39)
Co-written with drcampbell | Set Christmas night
[Follows THIS and THIS]
If Tara had the current ability to follow through on every single one of her threats to her husband’s person, Lachlan Campbell would be nothing but a squashed, bloody mess on the floor of the birthing suite. His genitals would have been the first to go, and that would not have been a scene for the fainthearted. The whole Maternity ward now knew Lachlan’s penis should have been broken and that he was never, ever, ever having sex again. He also would have a bagpipe-shaped bruise across his forehead and be now walking with his head up his own arse. And all that was before Tara reached half-way through the labour.
It was now veering closer and closer to midnight, looking more and more like they were going to have a Boxing Day baby. Lachlan knew he was just running on sheer adrenaline now and it was a miracle the bones in his hand weren’t crushed, let alone that his nether regions were still mostly in tact (it was touch and go when he ran into the edge of the bed trying to get out of a nurse’s way and into Tara’s grabbing distance when she was screaming at him during one of the contractions).
“Fuck it!” Tara growled and turned her head against the sweaty pillow. “I don’t want to do this anymore! Why the fuck aren’t husbands the ones with the uteruses?!” The last word rolled into a heavy moan as that squeezing pain twisted deep down inside her again. She had no time to rest anymore; the contractions were coming hard and fast, rest feeling like it was nothing but a distant dream. Her mouth was dry and her throat aching from yelling at her husband. She had even stopped caring that she was lying in the middle of a sterile room with her legs up in the air with half the PPTH Maternity staff milling around to wait for the touchdown.
Lachlan was clutching Tara’s hand for dear life while he tried to lean over to see what was going on beyond the sheet over Tara’s lap. Tara’s OB/GYN was a female, Dr Carla Cooper, and had been with them from literally the moment Tara discovered she was pregnant. She helped them through the miscarriage of one of the twins and had arrived at the hospital less than twenty minutes after the news broke that Tara was in labour. “Because men couldn’t go through birth even if they wanted to. They’re big wimps,” Dr Cooper told her patient with a smile over the sheet. “Tara, we’re nearly there, girl. All it’s going to take is another couple of good pushes and we’ll have the head. Can you hang on for me, now? Your wee one is almost here, sweetheart. You’ve done amazingly. Look at your other half, there. He can’t quite believe your doing this for him.”
Tara promptly burst into tears as soon as she met Lachlan’s eyes. “I can’t do it!” she wailed and then started to pant heavily again. “Oh god… not again… not again!”
Lachlan wrapped his hands around hers. He stood pressed up against the side of the bed, even if his feet were burning from being on them for so many hours. He leaned over and kissed her drenched forehead. He had done the encouraging words and enthusiastic cheerleader-type speeches, but a lot of it just made Tara growl even more and become verbally abusive to all his most prized body parts. He could understand that. If he was in her position, he would probably want to knee anyone in the groin who fed him a diatribe of bubbly phrases. She was exhausted and the exertion had been making her sick. Now the tears had started, they wouldn’t stop. Ten hours wasn’t a particularly long birth on average, but who gave a fuck. It was the most painful thing a woman had to go through and this time it wasn’t just any woman, it was his Tara and he wanted to take it all away or at least soothe it, even just slightly.
She was gripping his hand back furiously through the contraction and he eased into the heavy breathing with her. He got over the initial tweak of feeling stupid doing that in the early hours. It had helped when she told him he would do everything with her but birth the baby or he would never see her nether regions again. She even made him test out the delivery bed complete with his legs up in the stirrups before she got up there herself. Needless to say, he would never ever forget a single moment of this day as long as he lived, and he knew now that had been her intentions all along.
But he was running out of options. It was almost all said and done. In just minutes, before midnight at the end of Christmas Day, Tara would give birth to their baby, no matter what. She just needed to make it through, and he had to do whatever it took to remind her she wasn’t alone. Dr Cooper was forcefully encouraging Tara to keep pushing with everything she had, but Lachlan remained silent and speechless as it felt like enormity of it all suddenly came crashing down around him and stars started to form in his peripheral vision. Oh no. No way. He couldn’t pass out. If he passed out, he would wake up divorced with a bruise the shape of Tara’s foot across his face.
So, he did the only thing he could really think to do. He sucked in a sharp breath and started to sing to her. “I’ve got sunshine, on a cloudy day! When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May!” Carla seemed to be the only one in the room that didn’t pause just for a moment and look at him like he had gone crazy, but he ignored them and focused on Tara. “Well, I guess, you’ll say, what can make me feel this way? My girl. Talkin’ ‘bout my girl…”
“There’s the head!” Carla declared and flashed Lachlan a smile of encouragement. “A quick rest, Tara. Breathe. And then you’re going to push, okay? With everything you have in you. Think of it all. The good times, the bad, and push using every single fibre of energy you have left.”
Tara still had a grip on Lachlan’s hand and she pushed it down into the mattress. “Proclaimers,” she hissed through gritted teeth, eyes squeezed shut.
Lachlan blinked, mouth hanging open a little. Did his wife just make a song request in the midst of labour with the head of their baby crowning? No time to analyse it, though. He missed barely two beats before he started singing again. “When I wake up, yeah, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next to you. When I go out, yeah, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you!”
It wasn’t the song; it was the accent and his voice. If Tara could just focus on that, she would make it. If she broke his hand in the process, so be it. They would get him a nice tartan cast or something. With jingle bells if he wanted it. Somewhere in her pain-soaked consciousness, she heard Carla tell her to start to push again and right as Lachlan burst into the chorus of the famous song, she pushed… and she pushed like there was no fucking tomorrow.
“But I would walk five hundred miles! And I would walk five hundred more! Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles, to fall down at-” Lachlan was cut off when a high-pitched infant scream sounded and he froze in shock, almost too scared to move in case it stopped.
And then there it was. A very tiny newborn baby, albeit rather messy looking, in Dr Coopers arms and she was rising, grinning at them. “Congratulations! It’s a boy! You have a son!”
Tara almost didn’t catch the words at first as she dragged her eyes open again. There was a ringing in her ears and her heart was pounding in her chest. She couldn’t connect the baby cry to what had just come out of her. It was her husband’s sob that cut through her own shock and tears spilled down her cheeks. “Lachie, a son…” she said tearfully as Carla rounded the bed and handed Lachlan a bundle of blue blankets.
Lachlan nodded in shock but accepted the baby reflexively, his arms closing around the bundle and he looked down to finally see the baby’s face. It was the most beautiful baby he had ever seen in his life. He seemed to have turned on an avalanche of tears now. Shock, relief, sheer happiness, awe, and fear were rushing through him and battling with each other for what should exhibit first. “Oh… god…” he choked out and looked up to meet his wife’s eyes. “This is ours… our son…” He placed the baby in Tara’s arms, but his hand remained securely against the blankets while he kissed his wife, typically experiencing yet again that marriage meant swapping bodily fluids to the extreme.
“He has your hair!” Tara sobbed out when she finally saw their son for the first time. The tiny head was covered in a light brush of strawberry blond, reddy coloured hair. She looked up and met her husband’s wet eyes. “You did it, Lachie. Look what you did…”
That’s when the penny dropped after ten hours of running on panicked adrenaline. “That’s my son,” Lachlan gasped, right before he pulled the biggest father faux pas in a labour ward… passed out cold in a shocked faint.
Muse | Dr Tara Brennan-Campbell
Partner | Dr Lachlan Campbell [drcampbell]
Fandom | House, M.D. (Original Characters)
Word Count | 1,636
Co-written with drcampbell | Set Christmas night
[Follows THIS and THIS]
If Tara had the current ability to follow through on every single one of her threats to her husband’s person, Lachlan Campbell would be nothing but a squashed, bloody mess on the floor of the birthing suite. His genitals would have been the first to go, and that would not have been a scene for the fainthearted. The whole Maternity ward now knew Lachlan’s penis should have been broken and that he was never, ever, ever having sex again. He also would have a bagpipe-shaped bruise across his forehead and be now walking with his head up his own arse. And all that was before Tara reached half-way through the labour.
It was now veering closer and closer to midnight, looking more and more like they were going to have a Boxing Day baby. Lachlan knew he was just running on sheer adrenaline now and it was a miracle the bones in his hand weren’t crushed, let alone that his nether regions were still mostly in tact (it was touch and go when he ran into the edge of the bed trying to get out of a nurse’s way and into Tara’s grabbing distance when she was screaming at him during one of the contractions).
“Fuck it!” Tara growled and turned her head against the sweaty pillow. “I don’t want to do this anymore! Why the fuck aren’t husbands the ones with the uteruses?!” The last word rolled into a heavy moan as that squeezing pain twisted deep down inside her again. She had no time to rest anymore; the contractions were coming hard and fast, rest feeling like it was nothing but a distant dream. Her mouth was dry and her throat aching from yelling at her husband. She had even stopped caring that she was lying in the middle of a sterile room with her legs up in the air with half the PPTH Maternity staff milling around to wait for the touchdown.
Lachlan was clutching Tara’s hand for dear life while he tried to lean over to see what was going on beyond the sheet over Tara’s lap. Tara’s OB/GYN was a female, Dr Carla Cooper, and had been with them from literally the moment Tara discovered she was pregnant. She helped them through the miscarriage of one of the twins and had arrived at the hospital less than twenty minutes after the news broke that Tara was in labour. “Because men couldn’t go through birth even if they wanted to. They’re big wimps,” Dr Cooper told her patient with a smile over the sheet. “Tara, we’re nearly there, girl. All it’s going to take is another couple of good pushes and we’ll have the head. Can you hang on for me, now? Your wee one is almost here, sweetheart. You’ve done amazingly. Look at your other half, there. He can’t quite believe your doing this for him.”
Tara promptly burst into tears as soon as she met Lachlan’s eyes. “I can’t do it!” she wailed and then started to pant heavily again. “Oh god… not again… not again!”
Lachlan wrapped his hands around hers. He stood pressed up against the side of the bed, even if his feet were burning from being on them for so many hours. He leaned over and kissed her drenched forehead. He had done the encouraging words and enthusiastic cheerleader-type speeches, but a lot of it just made Tara growl even more and become verbally abusive to all his most prized body parts. He could understand that. If he was in her position, he would probably want to knee anyone in the groin who fed him a diatribe of bubbly phrases. She was exhausted and the exertion had been making her sick. Now the tears had started, they wouldn’t stop. Ten hours wasn’t a particularly long birth on average, but who gave a fuck. It was the most painful thing a woman had to go through and this time it wasn’t just any woman, it was his Tara and he wanted to take it all away or at least soothe it, even just slightly.
She was gripping his hand back furiously through the contraction and he eased into the heavy breathing with her. He got over the initial tweak of feeling stupid doing that in the early hours. It had helped when she told him he would do everything with her but birth the baby or he would never see her nether regions again. She even made him test out the delivery bed complete with his legs up in the stirrups before she got up there herself. Needless to say, he would never ever forget a single moment of this day as long as he lived, and he knew now that had been her intentions all along.
But he was running out of options. It was almost all said and done. In just minutes, before midnight at the end of Christmas Day, Tara would give birth to their baby, no matter what. She just needed to make it through, and he had to do whatever it took to remind her she wasn’t alone. Dr Cooper was forcefully encouraging Tara to keep pushing with everything she had, but Lachlan remained silent and speechless as it felt like enormity of it all suddenly came crashing down around him and stars started to form in his peripheral vision. Oh no. No way. He couldn’t pass out. If he passed out, he would wake up divorced with a bruise the shape of Tara’s foot across his face.
So, he did the only thing he could really think to do. He sucked in a sharp breath and started to sing to her. “I’ve got sunshine, on a cloudy day! When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May!” Carla seemed to be the only one in the room that didn’t pause just for a moment and look at him like he had gone crazy, but he ignored them and focused on Tara. “Well, I guess, you’ll say, what can make me feel this way? My girl. Talkin’ ‘bout my girl…”
“There’s the head!” Carla declared and flashed Lachlan a smile of encouragement. “A quick rest, Tara. Breathe. And then you’re going to push, okay? With everything you have in you. Think of it all. The good times, the bad, and push using every single fibre of energy you have left.”
Tara still had a grip on Lachlan’s hand and she pushed it down into the mattress. “Proclaimers,” she hissed through gritted teeth, eyes squeezed shut.
Lachlan blinked, mouth hanging open a little. Did his wife just make a song request in the midst of labour with the head of their baby crowning? No time to analyse it, though. He missed barely two beats before he started singing again. “When I wake up, yeah, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next to you. When I go out, yeah, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you!”
It wasn’t the song; it was the accent and his voice. If Tara could just focus on that, she would make it. If she broke his hand in the process, so be it. They would get him a nice tartan cast or something. With jingle bells if he wanted it. Somewhere in her pain-soaked consciousness, she heard Carla tell her to start to push again and right as Lachlan burst into the chorus of the famous song, she pushed… and she pushed like there was no fucking tomorrow.
“But I would walk five hundred miles! And I would walk five hundred more! Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles, to fall down at-” Lachlan was cut off when a high-pitched infant scream sounded and he froze in shock, almost too scared to move in case it stopped.
And then there it was. A very tiny newborn baby, albeit rather messy looking, in Dr Coopers arms and she was rising, grinning at them. “Congratulations! It’s a boy! You have a son!”
Tara almost didn’t catch the words at first as she dragged her eyes open again. There was a ringing in her ears and her heart was pounding in her chest. She couldn’t connect the baby cry to what had just come out of her. It was her husband’s sob that cut through her own shock and tears spilled down her cheeks. “Lachie, a son…” she said tearfully as Carla rounded the bed and handed Lachlan a bundle of blue blankets.
Lachlan nodded in shock but accepted the baby reflexively, his arms closing around the bundle and he looked down to finally see the baby’s face. It was the most beautiful baby he had ever seen in his life. He seemed to have turned on an avalanche of tears now. Shock, relief, sheer happiness, awe, and fear were rushing through him and battling with each other for what should exhibit first. “Oh… god…” he choked out and looked up to meet his wife’s eyes. “This is ours… our son…” He placed the baby in Tara’s arms, but his hand remained securely against the blankets while he kissed his wife, typically experiencing yet again that marriage meant swapping bodily fluids to the extreme.
“He has your hair!” Tara sobbed out when she finally saw their son for the first time. The tiny head was covered in a light brush of strawberry blond, reddy coloured hair. She looked up and met her husband’s wet eyes. “You did it, Lachie. Look what you did…”
That’s when the penny dropped after ten hours of running on panicked adrenaline. “That’s my son,” Lachlan gasped, right before he pulled the biggest father faux pas in a labour ward… passed out cold in a shocked faint.
Muse | Dr Tara Brennan-Campbell
Partner | Dr Lachlan Campbell [drcampbell]
Fandom | House, M.D. (Original Characters)
Word Count | 1,636