It's Complicated

“I fucking hate your fucking guts,” Maria snapped through clenched teeth in the delivery room, her hand squeezing Harry’s for dear life. “Oh my God, I feel like someone’s stuck a sword in my stomach and is slicing me open slowly.”

Harry winced. He could imagine from various accounts and television shows that labor was painful, but he had no personal experience, of course. He wanted more than anything to take away the severe pain that was wracking her body, but he couldn’t do a thing. It was too early for the medicine, whatever it was called, and he knew she was going to be in pain for a while longer.

As she collapsed back onto the bed, panting loudly and her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat, the contraction finally passed, her engagement ring caught the light and sparkled in the corner of Harry’s peripheral vision. Although the two had been too busy preparing for the baby to make plans for the wedding, he was still incredibly excited to make the beautiful woman his wife. Because, even though he’d never seen her so ignorant to her appearance, not giving a care in the world whether she looked like a mess, he thought her strength and determination was beautiful.

“Not too much longer now,” he breathed, brushing some of the hair away from her forehead. Of course, he was lying; she was not dilating very quickly at all, and the doctors had warned that the labor could take a long time.

“I fucking hate you,” she whimpered, taking another deep breath, probably trying to calm the pulse Harry could feel was racing. “I seriously hate you more than I’ve ever hated anyone.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he murmured. “But this will all be worth it. Just wait. This too shall pass.”

She looked over at him with bloodshot eyes and glared. “That’s not helping.”

He smiled at her sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. “I think the only thing that will help is delivering the baby. Maybe getting that shot in your back.”

She whimpered at the thought of the needle and blinked a couple times. “I don’t know what will be worse: getting that shot at the base of my spine or getting torn apart by the contractions.”

“Can’t help you there.” Harry had never minded needles, so to him, the option was obvious. For Maria, however, it was a totally different story. “Jess had a natural birth, though.”

Harry remembered Louis’ recounting of Jess giving birth to the twins, how she had sworn when the labor started that she didn’t want any drugs, and she maintained throughout the whole process. She’d nearly broken Louis’ hand with her squeezing and his eardrums with her screeching, but she made it through with one girl and one boy, both adorable with her dark, dark hair and olive complexion and Louis’ bright eyes. Though Harry had always thought newborn babies looked like disgusting aliens, even he had to admit that the children were beautiful. And he wasn’t just saying that because the boy’s middle name was Harry.

“I don’t fucking care what Jess did.” Maria’s voice was clipped again, a signal that another contraction was on its way, and Harry braced himself for the pain that was about to be inflicted upon his poor, bruised hand.

He had a feeling that Maria might have been squeezing his hand harder than necessary as payback, since she seemed to think that the pregnancy was all his fault, but he couldn’t be sure. He knew, however, that the second their baby boy (both he and Maria were absolutely positive the baby was a boy) emerged, she would forget all about the pain and blame, and she would just love the baby unconditionally.

After all, Maria had proven long ago that she was not heartless or soulless. She might have had an attitude problem, but a genuinely lovely person rested underneath her harsh outer shell. It just took some chipping and determination for someone to find it.

“HARRY.” Her scream was so loud that he was positive random passerby would poke their heads into the room and see how he was torturing the poor girl, but no one paid them any mind at all. “CAN’T THEY JUST CUT THIS FUCKING THING OUT OF ME AND GET IT OVER WITH?!”

“I think a vaginal birth is healthier for the baby.” Harry worked to keep his voice soft and soothing, and it struck him how easy it was for him to say the words ‘vaginal birth’. In the beginning, it had made him slightly uncomfortable, since he never said ‘vagina’ in a casual manner. If he said it at all, it was because he was joking. But after months of prepping for birth and taking Lamaze classes, he’d become completely numb to the uncomfortable words.

Maria groaned as the doctor came back in, probably to check for dilation again. “How are we doing?” he asked politely, grinning, like this was the most wonderful thing in the world.

“I’m debating asking you to kill me because I think death would be more enjoyable than this,” Maria replied with a deadpan tone, and Harry had to struggle to keep from bursting out laughing.

“I assure you, it’ll be worth it.” He looked under the blanket, his eyes critical, like he was studying a piece of meat before buying it at the market instead of staring at a woman’s nether regions. “Not too long now. You’ve progressed really well in the past hour. You’ll probably be able to start pushing in about an hour or so.”

“Oh my fucking God,” Maria groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “Another hour? I might die.”

“You won’t die,” Harry assured her.

“Did I say I might die? I mean that I will. I’m not going to make it through this.”

“Yes, you will.” Harry, suddenly full of purpose, got to his feet and took her clammy, flushed face in his hands. “Maria McCormack, you are so much stronger than a little pain. You’ve overcome way worse struggles than a little baby poking its head out of your vagina. You absolutely will make it through this, and you’re not going to let yourself joke about dying because that’s not going to happen. Do you hear me?”

Her eyes shone with admiration, but she didn’t say anything. She just sighed and nodded. And the next time a contraction hit, she just whimpered and clasped Harry’s hand without another mention of how much pain she was in.

And when they came in with the drug, Maria refused, afraid that it was going to hurt the baby somehow. “Plus,” she added in a whisper as the nurse disappeared, “if I take that shit, I have to stay here for days. But if I don’t, then I can leave a couple hours after the baby is born. It’s ingenious, really.”

Harry fought back the snicker and sucked in a breath as she started to pant with pain, clutching his hand again.

About two hours later, the doctor came in, still looking as joyful as possible. After confirming that Maria was dilated enough, the pushing commenced. Her screams returned as she pushed with all her might, her flushed face darkening into a bright, angry red, and Harry was positive that her eyes were even more bloodshot than they had been previously. He couldn’t imagine the horrible pain she must have been in, but he didn’t feel the need to bring it up.

“We’re crowning!” the doctor announced gleefully, and Harry squeezed Maria’s hand in excitement. Just a little bit longer, and they would be real, official parents. Harry would be able to hold his son in his hands. The future seemed wide open, and Harry was excited to get started.

But they had to wait then until another contraction started. When it did, Maria pushed as hard as she possibly could, grunting and probably popping vital blood vessels in her brain with the intensity.

And then, Harry saw him. His eyes were closed, and he was completely covered with blood and other nasty things from Maria’s insides, but he was incredibly beautiful, even while he was screaming and crying. Harry felt his heart stop as he stared at the baby that he’d had a role in creating. That he’d had a role in saving.

There was just one problem, he realized as the baby finished exiting Maria’s birth canal. And unlike Harry, Maria didn’t have the tact to stay quiet about it. “Oh my God, where’s his penis?”

One of the nurses started snorting with laughter, while the doctor just looked confused as he waved Harry over to cut the umbilical cord. “Take a look at your beautiful baby girl.”

“Girl?!” Harry and Maria gasped, sharing looks with one another.

Oh, God. Harry felt panicked, as the two hadn’t even entertained the possibility that the baby had been a girl. They just picked out the boy’s name, and that was it. There had been no further discussions.

But Maria was quicker on her feet, and when one of the nurses asked for a name as the baby was being whisked away to get cleaned up, she said, “Clarissa Anne Styles.”

And that was it.

“You gave her my mum’s name?” Harry was absolutely shocked, as he hadn’t expected Maria to remember under all the stress.

“I figured you’d want that,” Maria breathed. “I’ve always liked the name Clarissa, and Anne sounds nice enough with it.”

Harry took a deep breath and leaned forward, tears gathering on the edges of his eyelids and clinging to his eyelashes. “I love you,” he breathed, pressing a small kiss against her forehead. “And you did it. We have a baby girl.”

The grin Maria sent back at him was beautiful enough to shatter every heart in the UK, Harry was sure.