It was now New Year's Eve 2015 and you were as comfortable as you could be in Richard's arms on the new-ish corner sofa watching the countdown in Madison Square Garden in New York City on the flatscreen television that your and Richard's brothers had finally managed to get on wall mounts with an additional set on the front of the television to secure it against attempts to pull it down as children were wont to do out of curiosities, and that was something neither you or Richard wanted to think about as you felt your son faintly moving around.
His estimated due date of January 8th was getting closer with each and every passing second so there really wasn't as much room for him to be able to move around as freely as what he had been on the day you and Richard were married at the Harrow Arts Centre where the minister, it had later emerged in the British press, was none other than Sir Ian McKellan, who was not only a licenced minister but, as the world knew, he was Richard's costar for a time when reprising the role of Gandalf the Grey in the internationally successful HOBBIT trilogy.
You had your head tucked under Richard's and he had his fingers locked and settled across the top of your now impossible to be able to try to deny baby bump, one of his legs stretched across the sofa and the other foot on the floor, your now two dogs happily sleeping in their crates in a room at the back of the house with easy access to the yard if they needed it for any reason at all in the middle of the night, which meant that you and Richard were able to sleep as long as you were able.
The final countdown to the end of 2015 and the start of 2016 was halfway through and the instantly recognisable ball was slowly descending from its secured position at the very top of a specifically constructed tower, the lights all over it sparkling and you thought that if you had been in that crowd, the brightness would have been blinding. But instead you were at home in London with your husband, dismissing the cramps you had been feeling for the last half hour to forty-five minutes as Braxton Hicks as they had come and gone a lot in these recent weeks.
Ever the intuitive one, especially when it came to how his pregnant wife was feeling, once it was over and the ball had dropped to the bottom of its tower, Richard glanced toward you and noticed a slight grimace on your face. Gently holding you in place with his hands, he'd been the one to move around so that he could kneel on the floor next to you, taking both of your hands in his, "I don't think this is the Braxton Hicks" you said as another one came and went, spurring him into action, leaving the dogs with a neighbour.
The closest hospital to your choice of location for a home together was the not-so-world famous Chelsea and Westminster but it was one of those hospitals where self-referral to the maternity unit was permitted, you didn't need to go through your doctor, although you knew she would hve only been too happy to fill a few things out for it. Having pre-registered at the hospital, they had a room and wheelchair waiting when you and Richard arrived in a car driven by your brother, who had dropped by to visit, meaning Richard didn't have to leave you to park the car.
"You may not have felt it or noticed that it was there if you werer as active as you could be for so close to the end" the on duty doctor (you said you would take whoever was on duty if yours was away) explained, "But Y/N it turns out that you have actually been in labour for the better part of the afternoon; from about 3pm I'd say" and if you were honest that was the last thing you had expected to hear because the doctor was so right in saying that it was ikely that you hadn't noticed it.
You were already seven centimetres dilated by the time you arrived at the hospital so there was another three to go, during which time you were able to have as much of the epidural as was needed just to try to take a little of the edge off the contractions, that is of course if you wanted it, and knowing you as well as what he did, Richard wasn't in the slightest bit surprised when you politely turned it down, choosing to bring your baby boy into this world the old-fashioned way, regardless of how much it may end up hurting.
"Ok Y/N it's time for you to start pushing this little one out" the doctor remarked after she had done the hourly examination to check on your progress and it was with those simplest of words that Richard gripped your left hand in his, holding on tight while his other hand was supporting your back to hold you at the required angles to ensure as easy a delivery as was considered possible, and to his surprise, you never screamed once, though he was sure he heard a little something as you pushed your son's shoulders out, leaving the rest to doctors.
"And you have your little boy" a doctor's assistant announced as beset she could above the sound of the screaming and soft crying your son was making as Richard let go of you to go to the examination table where the cord, which had been clamped after it stopped beating as per your request, was cut by the new dad who stood and watched as his son was cleaned and weighed, coming in at a healthy 6lbs 11ozs with the length an impressive 21.6 inches to match his length before being wrapped in a pre-warmed off-blue blanket and returned to you.
With one side of the hospital bed lifted up for what the nurse said was reasons of your own safety as much as it was for that as your new son, the other side is where Richard sat with a quiet smile, placing an arm around your shoulder and leaning his head on top of yours, his left hand on your son's stomach, but ended up being lifted slightly after he'd caught his new dad's pinky in his tiny hand, causing the both of you to laugh at the reflexive action, doctors and nurses by now gone, leaving you three alone.
