Post by Maggie Douglas on Sept 25, 2011 10:07:31 GMT -5
Maggie, in the fashion of powerful, NYC business women, had scheduled a c-section. Rosie was now a week overdue and the Mother-to-be was less than glowing. Her body was sore, overripe, and she needed her daughter to get the Hell out. (Pardon her French.) She and Tex had already met with the Doctor, booked her birthing suite and packed her overnight bag. Doctor Rosenbloom (a name both parents took as an ironic, good sign) would meet them at the Roosevelt Hospital on June 23. Today.
Gwyn, Kip, Arthur, Jean, Pol, Lucy, Abbey and Barney were all gathered in the VIP version of a waiting room. Plush leather couches were set up in the middle of the room, facing the north wall: marble and a fireplace. Bottles of Perrier chilled in the bar fridge along with other goodies and treats. It was lovely and lush and exactly what people who paid for this sort of thing expected.
Lucy had dozed off in Apollo's lap. The night before had been a full moon and she and Kayden hadn't gotten in til almost dawn. But she couldn't miss this- the birth of her niece. So she'd left her baby boy and girl at her Mum and Dad's house to spend the day, no doubt being spoilt, and came to mortopia.
Gwyn would have paced if Kip hadn't sat him down an d made him drink a up of tea. Mags would always be his little girl. Of course he was worried. His eyes flickered to Tex's parents: Arthur was reading the paper. Seriously? Their granddaughter was being born, his daughter was in labor, and he was reading the paper? He shook his head.
The door opened and the snowy haired Doctor came in. He smiled reassuringly, “Both Mother and baby are fine. Though Dad seems a little worse for wear. Now, who's going to be first to say hello?”
**
Maggie was still drowsy from all the meds. She lay in the soft cloud of her bed, curled up. In the bassinet beside her bed lay her lil pink bundle; Rosalind Jean Kip Douglas. Taking a sip of water, she winced. “Any bets on who'll barge in first?” She teased her husband, “Or do you think on of the Belles will beat 'em to it?”
Gwyn, Kip, Arthur, Jean, Pol, Lucy, Abbey and Barney were all gathered in the VIP version of a waiting room. Plush leather couches were set up in the middle of the room, facing the north wall: marble and a fireplace. Bottles of Perrier chilled in the bar fridge along with other goodies and treats. It was lovely and lush and exactly what people who paid for this sort of thing expected.
Lucy had dozed off in Apollo's lap. The night before had been a full moon and she and Kayden hadn't gotten in til almost dawn. But she couldn't miss this- the birth of her niece. So she'd left her baby boy and girl at her Mum and Dad's house to spend the day, no doubt being spoilt, and came to mortopia.
Gwyn would have paced if Kip hadn't sat him down an d made him drink a up of tea. Mags would always be his little girl. Of course he was worried. His eyes flickered to Tex's parents: Arthur was reading the paper. Seriously? Their granddaughter was being born, his daughter was in labor, and he was reading the paper? He shook his head.
The door opened and the snowy haired Doctor came in. He smiled reassuringly, “Both Mother and baby are fine. Though Dad seems a little worse for wear. Now, who's going to be first to say hello?”
**
Maggie was still drowsy from all the meds. She lay in the soft cloud of her bed, curled up. In the bassinet beside her bed lay her lil pink bundle; Rosalind Jean Kip Douglas. Taking a sip of water, she winced. “Any bets on who'll barge in first?” She teased her husband, “Or do you think on of the Belles will beat 'em to it?”