The Morning of May 15th

  CW: Grief & loss depiction, Pregnancy, childbirth,      

 

    On the day of Elizabeth’s birth, Blair was in good spirits. Rory helped her pick up a few more things for her cottage, decorated the nursery, and they had a nice picnic. They went back to her cottage and fell asleep in each other’s arms, as they did every night since his return many months ago. Suddenly in the middle of the night, Blair was woken up by a sharp pain in her stomach. What was this? The midwife said she wasn’t due for another few weeks. She started taking deep breathes as she clutched her belly with one hand, and shook Rory with the other.“ The baby..” she groaned. “It’s coming, now!” 

 

Rory snapped awake and immediately got to work. He settled Blair in a birthing position, gathered buckets and towels, and held Blair’s hand when she needed him to. Her water broke onto the wooden floor as she began to push. Rory sat in front, trying his best to cheer her on through this extremely difficult process. “C’mon love, keep pushin’. Ye’ can do it,  just a bit more..” he said gently. Her screams were earth shattering. Hours of pushing and resting, pushing and resting. Then, it was done. The baby was finally here. A little cry turned into the wail as she made herself  known.“Ah! The wee one’s here…oh my and it’s a lass, just like you were hopin’ for!” Rory beamed. He cradled the teeny infant in his large arms, looking up to check on Blair. Her eyes were closed, her head lolled to the side. His smile dropped. “Love?” He held the baby closely in his arms as he tried to wake Blair. He gently shook her, then got a bit rougher. He yelled, screamed in her face. He even slapped her, which he was ashamed of after the shock wore off.  No response. She was gone. 

 

Rory took a deep breath, his eyes darting from the squirming baby in his arms to the corpse of the only woman he ever loved. He steadied his breathing as he stood, taking a knife from inside his boot and cutting the umbilical cord. He fed the baby cow’s milk, cleaned her, swaddled her, and put her in the wooden bassinet he carved for her. After rocking her to sleep, Rory turned his focus onto Blair. He gently stroked her face, cupping his cheek in her hand. He could see the light sprinkling of freckles across her nose from their time in the sun that previous afternoon. Her black hair curled and spilled over her shoulder. She looked like she was asleep. Rory rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and gripping her lifeless hand in his. He could feel tears building up inside him, begging to be let out. But instead, he let out a guttural scream. To a passerby, it would sound like a wounded or dying animal. He screamed until his throat was raw. It wasn’t until he caught his breath that he realized his cheeks were streaked with tears. He also heard faint wails coming from the nursery. Rory stood in the doorway, staring at the bassinet. He slowly walked to it, finally taking in the babe. She had pale skin and rosy, freckled cheeks. There were small tufts of black curly hair atop her head. He felt something he couldn’t describe, something like an inky void filling his chest. He instantly wasn’t a fan of this feeling, this weak crippling feeling. He picked up the baby and gently rocked her, walking back and forth around the nursery as he did. The sun rose, slowly illuminating the room as he watched her fall back asleep. He gently placed her back in her bassinet and closed the door to the nursery. 

 

Rory took a deep breath and silently got to work. He picked up Blair and took her to the bathroom, where he gently cleaned her in the tub. After drying her, dressed her in a deep blue silk gown,a special token he was going to gift to her once she healed from the birth. He carried her out the bedroom, through the living room, and out the door. He stepped away from the cottage to a little forest. This forest was usually where they had their nightly chats, in front of a small fire. He cleared some sticks and rocks away with a sweep of his foot. He gently placed Blair down on some grass and got to work digging. He dug with his bare hands, a 6ft hole. “I dunno if I’ll live here forever..” he heard her voice echo in his head as he dug. “But no matter what, I’m gettin’ buried here. This was me mum’s land, me nan’s land..I was born here..I grew up here..” she would say wistfully. He choked back more tears as he climbed out the hole, looking down at Blair one more time. Her lips were starting to get pale. He picked her up and placed her in the hole, covering her with the pile of dirt. He stood in front of the new grave. “Ah, headstone..” he mumbled. He picked up a small boulder and took a knife, carving into it. “Blair Rose Eddington. Taken too soon.”