It would be cool if this could be more than a one-shot. I hope you all enjoy!
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Only those greatly prepared for the adventure could ever see to more than one child. Women in Poplar never had another choice, until the days where that magical pill came about, and contraception usage was at an all-time high.
Talking with us midwives of Nonnatus, you'd find mixed feelings about the new phenomena, and absolute complacency when it came to the dramatic decrease in month to month births. We were all watching the East End shift before our eyes. Younger couples were able to keep marriages new, taking on the excitement of each day without an extra mouth to feed, and wait until a baby could be taken care of in their home, rather than grit their teeth, and deal with the onslaught of labor pains, diaper changes, and midnight upsets.
Then, there were those women, who denied it's utilization, and went on set in their ways, birthing baby after baby, pushing prams with two, and sometimes even three little ones lying a-snooze on their backs. Walking through the effervescent cobblestone streets of Poplar, alive with young couples holding on tightly to one another, you could feel the confidence radiate from the smiling faces of all who now had the right to choose.
But, as with any wonder drug, like Penicillin, there were cases where it did not work. Those cases were the saddest, for women were no longer accustomed to not having a choice, and the idea of a baby conceived without their consent flustered them to no avail.
In Nonnatus House, a few of us had considered it, although, only one began a course of the treatment.
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Every morning, Chummy Noakes would sit up in her bed, and stare at the bottle that so greatly mocked her womanhood. Solemnly, she would pop one pill into her mouth, and press a glass of water to her lips, cringing as she let it slide down her throat. It had not been a decision she was -willing to make- just one she had to.
Baby Fred was no longer a baby. He toddled around the house, pointing and giggling, obviously having inherited his mother's curiosity, he got into everything. It was no surprise, that with a son as outgoing, and wonderful as he, Chummy had begun to feel an ache, and it was one she wanted desperately to cure.
Peter was onboard from the start- jaded by his wife's certainty that this must be the right time.
Apparently, it hadn't been- three times over.
Heartbreak One, Heartbreak Two, and Heartbreak Three- as the whispers had dubbed them- occurred over a span of one and a half years, and had not only poor Chummy and Peter disturbed and saddened beyond repair- but every member of Nonnatus House was hurting, and hoping desperately for them.
This is why Doctor Turner kindly advised the Noakes, that perhaps it was time to put dreams of a second child on hold, or perhaps shelf the idea for a little longer than ever, or else, a body could only stand so much.
Chummy had cried alone in her room on multiple occasions. Mostly the many mornings that Peter had already dashed off to Patrol. Often, she would arrive to Nonnatus House, with eyes red, and puffy, handkerchief damp with all the tears of sunrise. She'd wipe the trickles off of her cheeks, and paste a smile upon her lips- the after taste of the impossibility of motherhood still stinging her tongue, and mocking her to her very core.
Had she been on the pill for only a short time, she wouldn't be worrying, but the way she could not overcome these ailing emotional escapades had her wrought with more than just the disdain of her angry womb. There was more to it than that. She had been diligently taking that pill for six whole months now, passing her own birthday, and Little Fred's second. Six months was a great deal of time- too great a time for her to be feeling as if it had all just began again. Something was curious, very curious. She probably wouldn't have realized it, if it hadn't been for Shelagh Turner swearing Chummy's confidence. She and Patrick were hoping to expand their family.
Now, the taller of the two knew her sprout of a chum hadn't meant to spring upon her the worst memories, or the most frightening of realizations. She had taken the news with undeniable grace- more than Chummy Noakes had ever displayed in a fazing moment, "How exciting," she smirked. "I trust you're having no troubles?"
"No, no troubles," Shelagh sighed, "It's actually quite fun," she giggled.
Chummy laughed too, "Yes, I can attest to that." She was packing her bag, the pinard horn going in last. It was fun to have girl talk with a married woman, the conversation could go further than that chap over there is cute. There were things they could share with each other about their husbands that they couldn't share with any other of their midwife peers without seeming brash or overly liberal about their sexual experiences. They were never explicit, vague phrases were only exchanged, enough to get the gist, and then the talk was over after whatever advice, or assurance either of them needed.
Chummy had excused herself then, to the loo. Leaning on the sink, one hand ran through her hair, and her other fingers twitched as she counted silently, wondering how it could be true, remembering how cautious they were. Remembering those pills still sitting on her nightstand, and chewing on her lip in disbelief that they would actually fail her when it was the thing they were relying on most, was how she spent the next ten minutes, until the sound of Sister Evangelina's bangs on the door became unbearably loud. She was knocked from her haze in seconds, "I say, someone's in here!"
"Nurse Noakes, have you accidentally ingested Castor Oil?" she called sarcastically. "It's time to let others utilize this room!"
Chummy wiped her face of her tears. "Of course, straight away!" she shuddered, grabbing a handful of tissue and then squeezing them in her grasp. When she swung open the door, surely Sister Evangelina had to know she hadn't meant to assail her with the frame, but she grew red, before she took a proper look at the apologetic Nurse.
She cocked her head to one side, hand rubbing her potential bruise, "Have you been crying?" she wondered lowly, "has something happened?"
Chummy only shook her head. It wasn't time to say it allowed, and, the Sister wasn't the first she would ever tell. "I've foolishly sprayed some cologne in my eyes, and I was rinsing them when you called. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"Perhaps Doctor—
"No," the Nurse replied surprisingly forceful. "There is no need, nature will flush it out as it has many times before already." Her voice broke, like she had hoped it wouldn't. The pain spewed out into the air around them, diffusing with the oxygen so that she could only breathe it back in. She felt it rattle around in her lungs, until it circulated all the way to her heart to make an attack on her weary soul.
The Nun, of course did not seem convinced, but, nodded. "Carry on then, Nurse," she replied, with a suspicious eye, before she scooted the door closed quickly.
Chummy was left alone in the hall, staring down at her own hands as she fiddled with the tissues she'd tucked away in her palm.
It came, in that moment, that she undeniably wasn't alone. Another presence mingled within her, as a few had done once upon a time. Because of this thought, there came another grotesque sob, one she hadn't been able to control. This time, she inhaled resulting misery, and that misery sunk low into the pit of her ferociously churning tum, where it would pick away at the joy found there. Once God's grace, and the miraculousness was eaten away from her, her body would angrily spit out the remains of what could have been, to taunt what was supposed to be her new, returning safe-guarded peace of mind. She almost decided then, not to tell a soul so none other would have to take this nearly inevitable blow along with her. But, her mind jilted violently at the mere speculation of going it alone, especially when the only sanity that remained was that of the others she loved so.
How she longed to engulf Little Freddie in her long arms, and take in his wonderful boyish scent, or wipe the caked on dirt from his knobby knees to watch him muddle them once more. She wished for Peter to press his lips whipped from the chilly winds of Poplar onto her own, and bring her away from now. It would all be so favorable, then choking back the breaks in her diction, and having to scurry off to grab the 459 extension.
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The hours grew late, before Chummy found her son asleep in his own bed, and her in her own room beside her husband. The words she had held back from him throughout this entire day, trickled meekly from her defeated lips in such a tone it could surely make the jolliest of all frown terribly. Sadness was not to be conveyed directly from the soul, as Chummy was accustomed to doing- others could not handle it as well.
"Peter, I'm late," the woman stated hushed, cheeks reddening, and eyes to the floor.
He raised his brow, "Late for what? You haven't got first call for Nonnatus, tonight," he stated dumbly.
Chummy sighed, shaking her head, and holding tight to the bed knob. "Not that kind of late, Peter," she responded in a prude whisper.
"Well you couldn't possibly be- Camilla, you don't think you are, do you?" he choked incredulously, pointing to her middle, and becoming cross with fear. "Because that would be-
"Horrendous, I know," she finished knowingly. "Doctor Turner promised me that this was very unlikely to occur…" She slid her long legs underneath the warm covers, still sitting up, counting on her fingers once more.
Peter lay back, his eyes glued to the ceiling, "Well, we don't know for sure, Camilla. After all, we are in uncharted territory when it comes to that pill."
She tried to nod in agreement, but even that turned out to be hesitant. "It's never happened before when I wasn't-
"Perhaps Jenny Lee, or Cynthia could check tomorrow?" he added with a slight gulp. "Or even Doctor Turner…"
"Oh, what's the point of anyone checking?" Chummy quivered, "It's not as if this time I'll get lucky."
He looked at her sternly, "Well then, that's no way to think, is it?" The man turned onto his side, and placed a large paw on her tummy unintentionally.
She scooted onto her back, shoving the hand off of her middle, and back to the mattress where she felt it belonged. "It's the way things have been, Peter," she said honestly. "There's not really much thinking to it."
"Camilla," he pleaded, knowing the tears were next.
She wasn't aware, but he had listened to her cry herself to sleep in the silence of the night. He had done it a few times himself.
"What?" she answered with a pout, her bottom lip trembling.
He grabbed hold of her again, this time tighter, and not near the touchy area of her tummy, "Promise me you'll get yourself checked."
Chummy rolled her eyes, to rid them of them of the droplets threatening to fall. "Fine. I will," she gave in quickly, heart aflutter with fear and worry.
Neither of them would sleep a wink, he knew, turning over, and saying, "Good Night."
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Hope you all enjoyed, please review and tell me what you think!