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letterblade*****
New York City, the Upper East Side, winter of 1951
The mother barely survived.
The baby was small, true, almost premature, but breech-birth and stubborn, and there were complications. Blood. Maria Stark slept for thirteen hours, woke exhausted with the tiny baby curled red-faced in the hospital bed beside her.
Her husband comes in an hour later, tense as a whip.
"I'm sorry, Howard." She's holding her now, and she's awake, a squalling bundle. "I know you wanted a boy."
"Never mind that. Next time." He puts a hand on the railing, leans over, kisses her damp, mussed head. "Are you all right?"
"They say I will be." She puts her hand on his. "It still hurts a good deal, but I feel better now. Had you--do you have a name for her?"
Howard looks down, shakes his head. "I had so hoped...it was going to be Anthony, for a boy, after my father. But..."
"Your mother's Andrea. I've always liked that name."
"Excuse me, sir, ma'am." The doctor has come round, hovering. There's bad news in the cast of his face.
Howard stands, takes one stiff look at his wife and daughter--as if preparing himself to lose either. "Spit it out, young man."
"I--well--" He looks at Maria instead. "We've gone over what happened during the birth. Mrs. Stark, and your uterus is badly injured. It's a miracle you survived. I'm sorry to inform you that you won't be able to have any more children."
There's a moment of leaden silence. Next time dies, as Howard and Maria look at each other, as Andrea howls in her mother's arms.
*****
This post is part of the Fanfiction Frenzy for Planned Parenthood, which is![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wired_lizard's outing for Day of Blogs, and has raised $235 so far. Like what you see? Please consider donating!
New York City, the Upper East Side, winter of 1951
The mother barely survived.
The baby was small, true, almost premature, but breech-birth and stubborn, and there were complications. Blood. Maria Stark slept for thirteen hours, woke exhausted with the tiny baby curled red-faced in the hospital bed beside her.
Her husband comes in an hour later, tense as a whip.
"I'm sorry, Howard." She's holding her now, and she's awake, a squalling bundle. "I know you wanted a boy."
"Never mind that. Next time." He puts a hand on the railing, leans over, kisses her damp, mussed head. "Are you all right?"
"They say I will be." She puts her hand on his. "It still hurts a good deal, but I feel better now. Had you--do you have a name for her?"
Howard looks down, shakes his head. "I had so hoped...it was going to be Anthony, for a boy, after my father. But..."
"Your mother's Andrea. I've always liked that name."
"Excuse me, sir, ma'am." The doctor has come round, hovering. There's bad news in the cast of his face.
Howard stands, takes one stiff look at his wife and daughter--as if preparing himself to lose either. "Spit it out, young man."
"I--well--" He looks at Maria instead. "We've gone over what happened during the birth. Mrs. Stark, and your uterus is badly injured. It's a miracle you survived. I'm sorry to inform you that you won't be able to have any more children."
There's a moment of leaden silence. Next time dies, as Howard and Maria look at each other, as Andrea howls in her mother's arms.
*****
This post is part of the Fanfiction Frenzy for Planned Parenthood, which is
wired_lizard's outing for Day of Blogs, and has raised $235 so far. Like what you see? Please consider donating!