Who: Bruce Wayne, Dinah Wayne + Open (later) NPCs: Alfred and introducing Samuel Wayne What: It's that time. Dinah goes into labor, there's a kerfluffle, Sam is born and people get to visit. Where: Stately Wayne Manor & Gotham Memorial Hospital When: Friday, January 27th, early early morning & evening Rating: PG-13. There's not going to be anything graphic, I promise.
It started as a strange pain in her back that woke her up at half past midnight. Unable to get back to sleep after an hour and a half of tossing, she finally resigned herself to getting out of bed, slipping into her bathrobe to ward off the chill of the January night, and headed downstairs. The stairs proved to be trickier than she'd remembered them, and she took several breaks between the top and the bottom. Every now and then, a pain struck-- just enough to be uncomfortable-- but she pushed it from her mind. Everything her body was doing these days was uncomfortable after all. It took a few minutes for her to make her way into the kitchen, getting into the fridge as quietly as possible so as not to wake Alfred in his quarters nearby. She got herself a glass of milk and a pair of cookies-- dutifully pouring the former into a glass and putting the latter on a plate, though she kept the carton of milk out next to her (she was not going to get back up and get it again if she wanted a refill, too much of a hassle) and managed to carefully climb up onto a stool at the island.
That hurt too. Not just uncomfortable but a pain, low in her belly. Frowning, she rubbed at the spot to encourage Sam to move his elbow or knee or giant head out of the way so she could eat. He'd been strangely inactive recently, but the doctor had told her to expect that as he moved lower-- which he should be doing any day now. Dinah ate her cookies in relative silence, pausing occasionally to dust stray crumbs off the shelf that was the top of her stomach, and diligently drank her milk, occupying herself by reading the back of the milk carton.
She didn't know what vitamin A palmitate was or what specifically vitamin D3 did, but 30% calcium seemed good. And she was slightly surprised to discover that it was gluten-free, and nodded her approval because well... that just made sense when you thought about.
Dinah opened the top of the milk carton again and went to refill her glass (good for baby, the doctor had said), when another pain struck-- and this one took her breath away. She dropped the milk from her hand, managing to keep it mostly upright so that only a portion of it spilled, and bowed over her stomach, both hands flying to her belly.
It ebbed quickly, and she turned to look at the clock in the kitchen. Two thirty-six A.M. She waited.
Now, on the one hand, she had a pretty clear idea what was starting to happen-- but on the other more stubborn hand, the last thing she wanted was for this to be false labor and to end up in the hospital, six days overdue and to be sent home with no baby to show for it to wait until Monday when they were scheduled for induction.
So, she sat and waited. She got up, cleaned up the spilled milk (the best she could, there were spots on the floor that she just could not reach without getting on her hands and knees which sounded terrible), and put her dishes away. The next pain didn't come until three ten A.M. The next at three thirty-seven, then three fifty-two.
With each successive timing, the pain grew more intense until finally, at five minutes past four, while she was leaning on her elbows against the counter with her face all scrunched up against the mild (this had to be only mild because she knew it was going to get a lot worse from there), she decided that it might be time to get some help.
After the contraction past, with one hand scooped under her belly like it might keep Sam where he was for a while longer, she made her way to Alfred's door, and knocked.
"Alfred?" She called, and tried not to look concerned when he answered-- the effect only made her look sheepish instead, "I think... I think we need to call Bruce."