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When The Night Has Come
Fingers on his. Someone patting him gently, calling his name.
Xander opened his eyes. “Willow,” he said softly, reverently. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand on his, her other hand protectively cradling her swollen belly. As always, he was relieved to realise that she was part of his life and not just a dream. He stretched, revelling in the delicious lethargy which came from sleep. The clock clicked over to 4:00 am. He realized she was illuminated by light from the bathroom, not sunlight. He blinked. “Is everything all right?”
Her glorious red hair was mussed, and she was smiling. “Xander, I think we’re good to go.”
“Good to go,” he repeated slowly. As his brain processed her meaning, his eyes lit up. “Good to go! The baby’s coming! The baby’s coming!”
Xander jumped out of bed, threw on a pair of pants, grabbed his briefcase, and ran to the front door, leaving Willow on the bed and her overnight bag by the door. She picked up her jacket, grinned, and waited patiently.
He came back into the room sheepishly. “I’m not wearing any shoes,” he said.
“No, honey.”
“I took the wrong bag.”
“Yes, honey.”
“I don’t need my briefcase at the hospital.”
“No, honey.”
“I should probably help you out to the car, too.”
“Yes, ow!” She flinched, air whooshing out of her as she doubled over. He was at her side instantly, dark eyes intent on hers, feeling helpless. She straightened after a moment, and swallowed. “They’re getting worse,” she confessed.
“Okay, we should probably go, then,” Xander said. He sat on the bed and eased his feet into his shoes. “Do you need anything apart from your bag?”
Willow rubbed her back painfully, and thought. “Let’s see… I called the hospital. I’m dressed, I’ve got my keys, and I took a shower when the contractions woke me up, while you were still snoring.” She winked. “No, I think I’m okay.”
She took his arm, and they walked slowly through the hallway. Willow opened the front door, and he carried her bag out to the car. “Do you think the baby will come soon?” he asked, coming up behind her, crossing his arms around her belly and laying a kiss on the nape of her neck. “I’m kind of excited,” he admitted.
“I guessed that,” she chuckled, gently extricating herself. He tapped a hand impatiently against his thigh, unable to keep still. She locked the front door, then opened the car door, moving deliberately and slowly, trying to control her growing trepidation – and joy. “I don’t think it’s close, yet, but the contractions are five minutes apart, and I want to go to the hospital.”
Xander pumped a fist in the air, energized, then dove into the car. “I’m on it!” he said excitedly, backing the car out of the driveway and racing off.
The car reversed with a screech, halfway down the street, and came tearing back up. Xander fell out, babbling apologies, and helped Willow into the passenger seat.
“Thanks, honey,” she smiled. He jumped in and they set off, the tiny Woodstock figure bobbling manically from the rear-view mirror as Xander took corners at high speed.
Her hands clenched into fists as another contraction rippled across her abdomen. He looked over at her, worried. “Are they bad?”
“Eyes on the road, man!” she yelped, yanking the steering wheel back towards the centre. They narrowly avoided an oncoming truck. When she could breathe again, she nodded. “They’re about as much fun as the barrel of monkeys… without the monkeys… and without the barrel. I can still talk through them, though. The nurse said that meant early labour.”
“We’ll get through this together, love muffin,” he said comfortingly, patting her knee.
She took his hand and squeezed. “I know, snugglebunny.”
They made it to the hospital in record time. Xander jumped out while the car was still running, and fetched an orderly with a wheelchair. Willow took the key out of the ignition and clambered into the wheelchair.
She shivered. Xander bit his lower lip, concerned. “I should get you a blanket – some slippers – or a hot chocolate?” he thought aloud.
Willow suggested, “How about you help me put my jacket on?” He nodded gratefully and settled it around her shoulders. “My bag, honey,” she reminded. He lifted it out of the trunk and locked the car.
The orderly wheeled her inside to Maternity. Xander followed, mentally running through Lamaze exercises.
The dark-haired, neat nurse on duty looked up from her computer. “Take her to room five, please, Rob,” she directed the orderly, then smiled kindly at Willow. “You’re the only one here just now, so you’ve got the whole place to yourself.”
The bed was wide, with the back raised at an angle, and three visitor seats. They eased her out of the wheelchair and onto the mattress. Rob wished them well, and left.
Willow tensed as another contraction began. The nurse rubbed her back soothingly. “Nearly over – that’s it, you’re doing great.”
Willow laid back on the bed, panting. “I don’t feel great,” she muttered.
“Are you the Harrises?”
“Yes, yes, that’s us. We’re the Harrises. She used to be Rosenberg, but now she’s Harris. She took my name when we got – I’m talking too much, aren’t I.”
The nurse laughed. “That’s fine, Mr Harris. We’re used to nervous people. I’m Mary, by the way. I just need to ask you some questions. Have your waters broken? Have you had a show?”
Willow said, “Yes to both. The contractions started around two, then my waters broke around two-thirty. They’ve been regular, about five minutes apart. Does that mean I’m definitely in labour?”
“Oh, no,” Xander frowned. “Oh, please tell us she’s in real labour. I don’t think I could take going through this again.”
“You poor thing,” Willow said acerbically. He winced, then patted her hand apologetically.
“I think it’s real labour,” Mary agreed. “But I’ll need to do an internal examination, and get you hooked up to a monitor so we can keep an eye on the baby’s heartbeat.”
Mary took a big strap from the shelves above the bed, secured it around Willow’s stomach, then adjusted a control. A faint thudding resonated through the room. They both looked anxiously at Mary. “It’s fine,” she said reassuringly, then started the internal examination.
“You’re about two inches dilated, Mrs Harris,” she announced. “Early labour, but it’s progressing nicely.”
“Okay,” Xander said nervously, “so what happens now?”
“Now, we wait. I’ll leave the monitor on for half an hour or so, just to make sure. But after that, you can get up and walk around, if you like, Mrs Harris. Sometimes it can help encourage the baby to vacate the premises, and it can certainly make you feel better. Let me know if you’d like to have a hot shower, which can help with the pain. The doctor and I will check in on you periodically, and if something feels strange, or if the contractions are too painful to bear, come and tell me or Stacey. She’s the other nurse on duty. You probably won’t get to full dilation for a few hours, at least.”
“A few hours?!” Xander bit back an exclamation when he caught Willow’s impatient glare.
Mary added, “I don’t think you need anything for pain right now, but perhaps soon. Do you know about the pain relief options?”
Willow nodded. “I think I’ll have some Demerol, then probably an epidural towards the end.”
“All right. Remember you can change your mind. If you’d like a little something to eat or drink, now is a good time, Mrs Harris. It can help keep your energy levels up. They’ll serve breakfast at seven, but you might not feel like anything then, and when you get into advanced labour, you can’t eat.” Willow looked queasy. Mary suggested, “Perhaps just some juice or crackers?”
Willow considered. “Yes, all right. Xander?”
“Nothing for me, thank y- oh. Yes, I’ll go get it, honey. I’ll be right back!”
Mary pointed him in the direction of the vending machines.
“Now, Mrs Harris,” she said gently, “do you have anything to read? We have some magazines, if you’d like.”
“No, that’s okay, thanks,” Willow replied. “I’ve got a book in my bag.”
“I probably won’t be on duty when you have your baby, but the people on the next shift are very good. I’ll introduce you to them. You’ll probably have Stephen or Anne.”
She bustled around for a moment longer, then left Willow alone. “Press this button if you need me,” she directed, then closed the door.
Willow stood carefully, mindful of the monitor. The cords just stretched to the easy chair by the bed. She sat down, rubbing her back.
Xander returned a moment later, with two different brands of juice, four types of crackers, and two cups of ice chips. “Just in case,” he explained, embarrassed.
She smiled gratefully. “Could you get the baby quilt, please?”
Xander rummaged through the bag and came up with a tiny yellow quilt, embroidered with flowers and teddy bears. “You did such a good job on this, love muffin,” he said adoringly, handing it to her.
“Thanks, sweetie,” she put it to her face, inhaling the scent of the lavender she’d kept with it. “I packed your Gameboy, too, if you want it. Might help to keep you busy.”
The next contraction made her yell. Panicking, Xander hit the ground with his hands between her legs.
When it finished, she tapped him on the shoulder. “It’s all right, honey,” she laughed painfully. Shamefaced, he got to his feet.
Mary came running, obviously making an effort to keep calm. “Mrs Harris, you might want to consider some Demerol,” she said composedly, inspecting the readout from the monitor. “The baby’s doing fine, but I think he or she is coming a little faster than expected. I’ll call the doctor, then I’ll do another internal.”
Xander’s eyes were wide. “Everything’s all right, right?” he said, then repeated it.
“Yes, yes, Mr Harris,” Mary told him. She went outside for a moment, then came back in. The two of them helped Willow back onto the bed. She checked Willow’s blood pressure, then her dilation again. “Two and a half inches! That was fast! The doctor will be here soon, then we can talk about Demerol.”
******
[Two hours and thirty-five groans later…]
Willow grunted, digging her fingers into the sheets… and into Xander’s palm. He opened his mouth in silent agony, catching himself on the bed head just in time to avoid crumpling to the floor. “I want to go home now,” Willow managed when it passed.
Xander awkwardly disengaged his hand, rubbing it in a useless effort to restore sensation.
“Do you want something stronger?” Mary asked.
“Something for the pain, honey?” Xander stroked Willow’s hair lovingly. “I don’t like seeing you in pain.” He lifted her hand, kissed it, then cradled it in his own. “You should think about something for the pain.” He lifted her left hand as well, dragging it awkwardly across her bulging stomach, then kissed it.
“Not just yet,” Willow decided. “But soon.”
“Just let me know, Mrs Harris,” Mary poured some more water into the cup by Willow’s head. “If you’re going to have something, it has to be soon. Do you think you’ll want an epidural?”
Willow was taken aback. “Of course I want an epidural. I’m not insane!”
“That’s good, honey,” Xander murmured. “We don’t want our little baby to have an insane mother.”
The two women ignored him. Mary checked Willow’s dilation. “Three inches, Mrs Harris. I think you’re two or three hours from the final stage. I’ll tell you when you can start pushing.”
Willow nodded her thanks. “Call us ‘Willow’ and ‘Xander’,” she suggested.
“Final stage? Final stage?” Xander’s face lit up. He dropped Willow’s hands, taking a step backwards. “That means the baby’s close, right? Woo hoo, the baby’s close!” He leapt in to drop a kiss on her forehead, leapt back again, then babbled, “Nearly at the final stage! You’re doing great honey, I love you so much!”
Willow stared at him. Her forehead wrinkled, and she groaned. Mary looked around desperately, then clicked her fingers when inspiration struck. She took Xander gently by the arm. “Xander, do you know how to lay out blankets for the baby?” She pointed to the snowy white pile in the shelves next to the bed. “It would really help us out. You do know how to lay out the blankets, don’t you? How to fold them so we can wrap the baby up properly?”
He nodded happily. “Why yes, yes I do! I went to all the pre-natal classes with my darling wife, my Willow. That’s her over there,” he confided. “We learnt all sorts of things. How to fold diapers, how to heat bottles, how to pick up the baby, how to wrap the baby, how to comfort the baby, how to-”
Mary interrupted gently, “Could you do these for us, please? It would be a great help.” She steered him to the white plastic chair next to the bed.
Xander beamed. “Okay!” He picked up the first blanket, and set to work, frowning in concentration.
Another contraction hit. “Uuurgh,” Willow grunted. Xander patted her hand absently, then noticed the tears pouring down her cheeks.
“Willow!” he exclaimed, standing. He took her hand. “Please, please, please, get the epidural,” he begged Mary. Willow nodded as the contraction passed, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
Mary went outside. A few minutes later, the anesthesiologist wheeled in a cart of machines and monitors. “We’ll have this hooked up in no time,” he assured them.
Mary helped Willow to a seating position, on the side of the bed. She leant forward over Xander. “Help her stay still,” Mary instructed. “Tell us if a contraction is coming.”
The anesthesiologist warned Willow, then inserted the first needle into her back. She hissed in pain, then they waited while a contraction passed through her. He inserted the catheter and started feeding the anesthetic into her spine.
She felt the effects almost immediately. “Ohhhh, that’s better,” she murmured, as they helped her lay back down.
“The tube has to stay in, Mrs Harris,” the anesthesiologist advised, “so we can give you a top-up if you need it. But we have to turn it off when you start pushing. This should last one to two hours.”
One to two hours sounded heavenly. Willow thanked him, and he left.
“Try to rest now, Willow,” Mary suggested. “I have to go to do a few things as we’re short-staffed, but just use the buzzer if you need me. We’ll have this baby out before my shift ends,” she finished reassuringly.
Xander opened his mouth, blind panic on his face.
“And perhaps you should call your friends and family, Xander,” Mary said.
He closed his mouth, and nodded in relief.
The time passed quickly. Xander called their parents, Buffy, and Giles; very short conversations as he was anxious to return to Willow.
“Giles and Buffy will be here soon,” he said softly, stroking hair off Willow’s face. She was dozing; vaguely conscious of contractions, but only in a far-off, shadowy sort of way. Xander paced, sat, stood, played games, tried to read, tried not to bother her, and tried not to hum under his breath.
Then the pain began to return, as the contractions became longer and closer together. She tried to control the fear. “Xander,” she said quietly, “Xander, could you get the nurse back in, please?”
Xander looked up from his Gameboy, took in her face, and immediately went to the door. He came back in with Mary, and a red-haired, tired-looking doctor.
“Willow, this is Doctor Rogers,” Mary explained. “She’s going to take a look at you.”
“Jenny, please,” said the doctor.
They crouched by the end of the bed.
“I can see the head!” Mary said excitedly.
Jenny examined her, placed her stethoscope on Willow’s stomach, then smiled in satisfaction. “Willow, you’re ready to push. I’m going to place a trace on the baby’s head so we can keep an eye on him or her. If there’s any distress we’ll know immediately.”
“All right,” Willow said tremulously.
“I’m here, honey,” Xander told her quietly.
She squeezed his hand. “I know.”
******
PUSHING was her world, everything reduced to this one overwhelming urge to expel the child from her body.
She heaved a deep, sobbing breath, then it began again.
PUSH.
PUSH.
“One more should do it!” she heard vaguely.
PUSH… then there was a strange, slithery feeling, and blessed relief.
And the sound of a baby crying.
The world returned. She opened her eyes. Xander’s face was on top of hers, torn between laughing and crying, between staring at his wonderful wife or his wonderful child.
“It’s a girl!” Jenny cried.
“Here you go,” Mary smiled, wrapping the baby loosely in a sheet and placing her on Willow’s stomach. The nurse and doctor busied themselves with cleaning up, giving the new parents a little privacy. Tentatively, Willow laid a hand on her daughter’s back, marvelling at the tiny movements made with each breath.
“Just the afterbirth now, Willow,” Jenny said gently. Willow looked up, startled, then nodded in understanding. A couple of short pushes later, it was all over.
Xander gazed at mother and daughter adoringly, mesmerized.
The baby squinted at them, blinking, cries subsiding. A tiny thread of drool ran from the corner of her mouth. Willow wiped it tenderly with the edge of the sheet. “She’s got your drool, honey,” she said weakly, beaming. The baby had a shock of startlingly bright hair. Willow lifted one titian strand with a finger. She joked wearily, “And she’s got my hair. At least I know she’s mine.”
Xander said nothing. Willow looked up at him, concerned.
He was transfixed. She smiled, and took his hand. “You can touch her, you know.” She placed his hand gently on the baby’s fragile face.
With a careful finger, he stroked the soft cheek, and drew in a long breath. “Wow,” he whispered shakily. “Will, this is… this is just amazing.”
Mary interjected softly, “I have to take her for a moment. We’ll just be over there.” She pointed at the tiny weighing table on the far side of the room. She picked up the baby and carried her off. The new parents watched her longingly.
It felt like an eternity, but it was only a few minutes before she was back in their arms, wrapped snugly in the blankets Xander had prepared. “Congratulations,” Jenny said. “We’ll give you some time alone. Someone will be along shortly to take you up to your room.” Mary opened the blinds a little, to allow sunlight into the room. Then they left, both grinning.
Xander picked up the baby with painstaking care. “You won’t drop her,” Willow said firmly. “I trust you.” He stared down at the baby in his arms, marvelling at the tiny container which held an entire life. He fumbled through the sheet carefully, finding a small hand. It closed around his finger.
“Look at that,” he murmured, smiling in disbelief. “Just look at that.”
He rocked her back and forth, with increasing confidence as the baby seemed to settle, then had an idea. He placed her delicately back on Willow’s stomach. Willow cradled the little bundle.
Voice wavering, he started to sing. “So darling, darling, stand by me, stand by me.”
Willow sucked her lower lip between her teeth, and looked up at him, eyes suddenly bright. Singing softly, he leaned over the bed, embracing his two miracles. His world. Willow sighed, and settled herself back into the comfort of his arms.
“So, about the name…” Xander murmured tenderly.
Smiling, they looked at each other, then said in unison, “Jessica.”
