Losing her career in nursing weighed on Catherine, and her heart dropped as she felt the pains of la

Losing her career in nursing weighed on Catherine, and her heart dropped as she felt the pains of labor coming on nearly a month early. Her mother, a midwife, reassured her that everything would be fine, and joined her daughter in her apartment to prepare for the labor and calm her daughter down, but her fears (and Francis’s) were only quieted after a long and difficult labor, and she could finally hold little Martha in her arms. Even though she had been rather scared to give birth to her first child while Influenza still held the world in its grip, Francis was far worse. He’d constantly worried ever since he first learned of Catherine’s pregnancy, and insisted on carrying anything even slightly heavier than a dinner plate. He’d also worried plenty about his role as a father. He knew from the whispered comments on the street and the occasional wails of passing children that his burns were far more visible than he would have liked, and he constantly thought about the many things he simply couldn’t do. His father had never been one for sports, but he had kicked a ball around every once in a while. Such a simple thing, and yet Francis feared it would be almost impossible. Even simply running and playing with his child felt like it would be an insurmountable task. But Catherine, guessing at her husband’s thoughts, gently placed baby Martha into Francis’s arms, and he found himself sobbing without even knowing why. With the midwife’s permission, he ran his fingers gently along Martha’s face, trying to build a picture in his mind of what his daughter looked like. Even though he knew he would never truly see her face, and the thought saddened him, he felt as if he already knew her. “We have a baby girl, my love,” Francis mumbled in amazement in between sobs, trying to choke back further tears so he didn’t cry onto the baby. “We have a baby girl.”Catherine bent down and kissed her daughter’s forehead, and touched Francis’s shoulder to gesture for him to do the same. “No, I–” he stuttered. “Are you sure I should? My face is a little rough, you know, and I don’t want to frighten her–”Catherine sighed loudly and planted a kiss on the scar tissue that plastered his cheek. Even without seeing her face, Francis knew when Catherine was feeling particularly stubborn (which was most of the time), and gingerly kissed Martha’s forehead, and she–much to his surprise–grabbed onto his nose.“See?” Catherine said, ruffling his hair. “She already likes you more than me.” Francis laughed, but it came out as more of a sob, and he placed his finger on his daughter’s nose with another laugh. “I can do that too, you know,” he said to the baby, grinning as he wiped the tears from his cheeks before the three of them settled into bed for the night.(I started reading @deadlymodern’s WTWC again, and–man, these captions are a lot of work, how do you do this? I don’t think I’ll stick to the captions; they’re a lot of work and I don’t have that much patience, but it was a fun experiment!) -- source link
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