Michael Jackson x Fem!Reader
Summary: Welcoming your daughter into the world <333
A/N: There is so much more I want to do with the hospital, but since I haven’t uploaded in a long time, I’ll include it in the next chapter <333
Warnings: Labour pains, giving birth, blood
The baby is currently overdue by two days. It seems as if she has no interest in leaving anytime soon.
You stand quietly in the nursery, one hand supporting your stomach as the other holds a tiny onesie for the baby against your chest. You've fallen in love with the room now that it is officially complete.
The crib has finally been assembled, sitting beside the wall, a delicate, cream coloured canopy hangs overhead. Tiny blankets have been folded neatly to the side as storybooks fill the shelves Michael was so excited about. A wide variety of small stuffed animals are placed into corners as they await their future owner.
You usually spend your days now on the rocking chair. Everything around you is prepared. However, the only thing that's not ready is the baby. A soft smile develops on your face as your fingers smooth over the tiny fabric in your hands. You're still in disbelief that your daughter will be wearing these clothes very soon.
In the next moment, you simply imagine it. Tiny fingers. Tiny feet. Tiny yawns. Tiny cries. The thought alone makes your chest ache in pure love for someone you haven't even met yet.
"Baby," Michael's voice appears softly from the doorway. You glance over your shoulder. He's already changed into his sleeping clothes which consists of grey sweatpants and a t shirt. Curls falling loosely around his face. In that moment, when his eyes land on you, his expression immediately softens, "it's midnight."
Your eyes widen slightly, "already?"
"Mhm," Michael nods. He walks further into the room before stopping beside you, "you love it in here."
"I do," you smile fondly, looking back down at the onesie.
He laughs quietly under his breath, "come to bed with me." His hand settles naturally against your stomach.
You carefully fold the outfit, placing it back into the drawer, you look up at Michael, "okay." He smiles immediately, waiting near the doorway as you take one final glance of the nursery. Not being able to see it again until the morning, you turn off the remaining lamps.
The second you reach him, his fingers automatically intertwine with yours. Together, the two of you slowly make your way towards the bedroom. Since you're both already wearing your pyjamas, neither of you bother changing.
By the time you're settled beneath the sheets, exhaustion begins pulling at you immediately. Michael shuffles closer to you. One arm slides around your waist as his forehead rests lightly against yours.
You stare into each other's eyes before leaning in to kiss. Your fingers drift absentmindedly into his curls before brushing against the back of his head. Slightly, Michael winces at the touch and you immediately pull back.
"Oh my God," your eyes widen, "Michael, I'm so sorry."
His hand reaches for yours, "no, no, baby-"
"I'm sorry," you apologise again, tightening your grip around his hand.
"You didn't do anything," Michael smiles reassuringly.
"I forgot," you shake your head at the memory of you getting lost in the moment of his lips over yours. Guilt evidently settles across your face.
Michael moves closer again, "it's okay."
"Are you sure?" Your brows knit slightly together.
"I promise," he nods. Brushing his thumb across your cheek, his lips gently press against yours again. Kissing now that you're married always somehow feels so different.
A few moments later, he sits up slightly, "one second." You watch curiously as he reaches towards his hair and carefully removes the extensions he's wearing.
Eleven years after the Pepsi incident, the burn itself has long healed, but the area remains sensitive. Scar tissue stretches across sections of his scalp beneath thinner patches of hair growth. A reminder of something painful he's lived through.
Your eyes soften instantly. Not because the scars surprise you anymore. They don't. Michael has told you everything months ago. One quiet evening beneath blankets and dim lighting, when the two of you had somehow ended up talking about childhood memories and painful things you still carry.
He told you about the filming. The pyrotechnics. The pain. Waking up in the hospital. You remember listening silently whilst his fingers absentmindedly played with yours.
Hearing him say it himself felt so different from hearing it on television years ago. Back then, you had only just left foster care. Still trying to understand where you belong. And you remember hearing people talk about how badly Michael Jackson had injured himself.
You didn't know him personally at the time. And you never would have imagined that one day, you'd be sitting beside him in bed with his hand in yours. Never imagined that you'd be the one to kiss his scars people only read headlines about.
He sets everything carefully aside before climbing under the sheets again. You immediately move closer, resting your head against his chest. His arms wrap around you comfortably like always.
Neither of you speak for the next few moments. With your husband beside you and your daughter safely beneath your heart, the two of you eventually fall asleep.
At around three in the morning, you feel something begin to hurt. It's enough discomfort to drag you somewhere between sleep and consciousness. Your brows furrow sleepily at the sudden pain you're experiencing in your back.
You shift beneath the blankets, still half asleep. Beside you, Michael remains completely unconscious as one arm drapes heavily across your stomach.
You exhale slowly, assuming it's nothing, you've been uncomfortable for weeks now; everything has been hurting. You carefully adjust yourself beneath the blankets, closing your eyes again, you aim to go back to sleep.
Another few moments pass and your eyes immediately open again. This time it comes a lot stronger. The discomfort wraps around your stomach and lower back before slowly easing away.
You're currently facing the ceiling, hands moving over your stomach as the pain eventually fades and leaves you confused and tired.
Five minutes later, it happens again. Only worse. You inhale sharply as your hand immediately presses against your stomach. Now you're fully awake, you slowly sit upright in bed.
Michael's arm moves away from you and goes beneath his pillow. He breathes softly, in deep sleep, completely unaware as to what is happening to you.
You sit still. Waiting. Listening. Something feels different. The usual pregnancy discomfort is far from what you're currently experiencing.
You push the blanket aside to carefully climb out of bed. The floor feels cool beneath your feet as you slowly begin to walk around the room. One hand against your stomach as the other supports your lower back.
You feel nothing for a few seconds. Continuing with your walk, you stop immediately to grab onto the edge of a dresser. You wait again, taking deep breaths before eventually feeling the pain ease again.
Staring down at the carpet, your eyes then glance over at the alarm clock on your bedside table. The time is 3:11am. The numbers illuminate in the dark room. You keep walking until your mind flickers to the pregnancy books you've read recently and how they've described contractions.
Your eyes widen slightly. Studying the possibility of going into labour, you laugh nervously under your breath.
Still trying to convince yourself otherwise, you quietly head towards the bathroom. The bright light makes you squint immediately. Leaning against the sink, you take deep breaths, trying not to panic or overthink.
Your eyes suddenly widen and your body goes completely numb. Glancing at the floor, you find your feet are stepping into a puddle. Your water broke. The baby is coming.
You freeze for a few seconds, processing the situation, you stare at the wet floor. Finally being brought to reality, you then leave the bathroom and head towards Michael who's still asleep.
Moving very slowly due to the overwhelming pain and shock, you settle over the duvet beside your husband. Everything feels as if it's going in slow motion, it doesn't help that you're completely exhausted at the same time after getting hardly any sleep.
"Michael," you call, shaking him gently, but he doesn't move. "Michael," you repeat, tapping his arm. A sharp pain comes again and you immediately clutch your stomach, tears threaten to spill as Michael's eyes begin to open.
"Y/N...?" He murmurs sleepily, eyes closing briefly again.
"Michael," you panic, "the baby..."
"What's wrong?" He struggles to stay awake. Lying against the pillow, he turns to look up at you with furrowed brows.
"The baby's coming," you whisper, slightly wincing as you fold forward and try easing the pain in your stomach.
"Okay..." he nods casually, "how are you feeling?" He slowly straightens to get out of bed. His hand moves to yours which rests over his shoulder.
"Not good," you shake your head, tightly closing your eyes, "we need to go to the hospital.
Michael nods, trying to move as fast as he can but still stiff with tiredness. "Let's go," he walks to the dresser and starts pulling clothes out to get changed into.
You follow his movement, getting off the bed yourself, your hand remains over your stomach as the pain eases again. Collecting your clothes which sit on top of a chair in the corner, another contraction immediately hits. Your hand clutches the edge of the chair and your eyes shut instantly.
"Baby?" Michael's hand rubs your back, "baby, look at me."
You breathe sharply, waiting for the contraction to pass before turning to face Michael, "...I'm okay."
His eyes search for yours, "are you sure?"
You shake your head weakly, "...no." You look up at him, eyes still wet and stinging from tears, "it hurts."
"I know," Michael nods, trying to provide comfort, "we're going to the hospital now, okay?"
"...okay," you look back down at the clothes you were wearing earlier. Sweatpants. Cardigan. Whatever looks comfortable enough. You lift the straps of your nightdress to take it off and get changed.
Your hand suddenly grips the edge of the chair again. Your entire body folds forward instantly, "oh my God." The pain feels even stronger now. It wraps around your back and stomach until your breathing stutters.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you wait desperately for it to pass. Behind you, Michael is already dressed in grey sweatpants and a jacket. He reaches towards his bedside table for his wallet before turning around and immediately freezing.
"Y/N," he crosses the room instantly. You can't find the strength to answer. Your fingers are digging into the chair so tightly your knuckles ache. Your head hangs forward as you try forcing yourself to breathe through it.
Michael's hand immediately moves over your back, "baby?"
Your stomach tightens again, feeling so much pressure in the area. "I can't, Michael," your voice shakes, "it hurts so bad." The words barely leave your mouth.
Slowly, the contraction begins easing enough for you to breathe properly again. Your grip loosens slightly and Michael crouches in front of you.
"Okay," his voice becomes softer. His hands settle carefully around your arms, "come here." He helps with lowering you into the chair nearby before kneeling in front of you again, "let me help you." You don't bother arguing. You don't have the energy or strength to.
Carefully, he guides your arms through the sleeves of your shirt before pulling the fabric down gently over your shoulders. His movement is slow and patient, as if he's handling something so fragile. Then he helps lift you slightly so he can pull your sweatpants up before leaving you to button the cardigan yourself.
Meanwhile, he's already reaching for the overnight bag and car keys with his free hand. Doing three things at once, he's trying very hard not to look scared.
A few seconds later, he returns to your side immediately. "Ready?" His hand rubs your shoulder comfortingly. You nod weakly, but the moment you stand, another contraction crashes into you.
Your eyes squeeze shut, "oh my God."
Michael catches you instantly, "come on, baby." One arm wraps around your waist as the other reaches for your hand.
He opens the bedroom door and slowly guides you out. Reaching the stairs, he walks one step below you the entire time. One arm steadies you as the other holds onto the overnight bag. He's terrified of you slipping. Terrified of letting go.
Once you've made your way down the stairs, he lets go of you for a second to grab your shoes as well as his. Collapsing against the wall beside you, your hand never leaves your stomach as you continue to take deep breaths.
Michael recalls the times you've spoken about taking a certain pair of shoes with you to the hospital. Once retrieving it, he holds out his hand for you to take as you carefully slip into the comfortable flats.
Hurriedly stepping into his own, the shoelaces are half tied. He hardly notices and doesn't pay no mind as the state you're in seems a lot more important. He struggles to input the house key into the front door as it annoyingly hits against the edges a few times before finally entering the hole.
Outside, in the December air, everything feels impossibly cold. The sky is dark. Your scattered inhales and exhales is the only thing which can be heard as Michael unlocks the car and helps you into it.
He fastens the seatbelt over you and closes the door before heading over to his own side in the driver's seat. Turning his key into the ignition, everything passes by in a blur. The engine starts and he's immediately driving towards the gates.
Only a few people linger near them at this hour. Nothing compared to its usual crowd as only a handful stand outside and chat quietly amongst themselves. They look over once headlights appear with confused expressions as to what the reason can be that Michael Jackson is travelling this early in the morning.
Inside the car, only the faint sound from the radio plays as they broadcast the hourly news. Neither of you bother to change or turn it off as you're very much preoccupied with different, pressing matters.
For the first few minutes of the journey, nothing is said. Michael's focus remains solely on the road as he's speeding slightly over the limit in order to reach the hospital.
Another contraction hits. Your hand immediately grabs onto the side of the door as your eyes squeeze tightly. "Michael," your breath shakes, "I can't do this."
As one hand steers, the other reaches across the central console and immediately towards yours. "We're almost there," his grip tightens around yours, "we're going to get through this."
You shake your head as tears burn your eyes, "it hurts so much...I can't do this."
"Everything's going to be okay," his voice shakes slightly too. Despite trying to stay calm, he's also scared. "You're doing so well."
The hospital finally comes into view. You're convinced the journey took six years despite only being 15 minutes.
Michael barely waits for the car to fully come to a stop before unbuckling his seatbelt. "I'll get you," he instructs you to wait for him as the driver's door slams shut. A second later, your own door opens and cold air immediately rushes inside.
He crouches slightly beside you. One hand reaches for yours as the other carefully settles around your waist. "Easy," he whispers comfortingly. You grip onto him for dear life.
As soon as your feet touch the ground, another contraction threatens to build, "no." You shut your eyes, failing to suppress the overwhelming pain.
"I've got you," Michael's soft and calm voice steadies you. The two of you slowly make your way across the parking lot and towards the hospital entrance. You're certain that you would've fallen many times if Michael wasn't here with an arm around your shoulder.
Finding your way inside the waiting room, bright lights hit immediately. You're already so exhausted and overstimulated that it just makes matters so much more worse.
At this time of night, the room's quiet. Only a few people are waiting, whether that's for their own sake or for a family member, they sit with a magazine in hand.
Their attention immediately lifts to you and Michael walking in through the automatic sliding doors. The two of you hardly notice as you're too distracted by the labour pains.
Michael guides you to a row of seats, "sit." You don't argue, lowering yourself carefully with hands resting against your stomach and brows knitted together in discomfort.
Once Michael's made sure you're fully sat, he rushes towards reception to explain the situation and receive help. "Hi," his words leave far too quickly, "my wife's in labour."
The lady blinks once, processing his words and the fact that Michael Jackson is delivering them. She freezes for a second before shaking her head back to reality and replying, "okay, sir." She speaks into the walkie talkie sitting on the shelf of her desk, "I have a woman in reception who's currently experiencing labour symptoms."
A few moments later, a middle-aged nurse appears pushing a wheelchair. "Let's get you comfortable, sweetheart," she encourages you into the chair but you're too weak to even move.
"Come on, baby," Michael gently lifts you by placing one hand under your back and the other beneath your knees. Your arms wrap around his neck as you finally settle into the wheelchair.
You cling onto the armrest as the nurse quickly pushes you through a series of doors and elevator trip. They all pass by in a blur as Michael stays closely beside you. His hand soothingly rubs yours as you're taken into a small, private room.
It's quiet and kind of claustrophobic. The nurse smiles sympathetically, trying her best to be supportive, she recites the next instruction, "we need to get you changed into a gown."
"Okay," you nod. Feeling the contraction ease and pass, you're able to function somewhat normally again.
"I'll help you," Michael offers as the nurse distracts herself with organising the room for you. He undresses the same cardigan and sweatpants you're wearing that he initially helped you to put on.
You look down at yourself as soon as Michael finishes tying the hospital gown. The fabric's long and very loose. No dignity left remaining. "...I look stupid."
Michael fails to stifle his laugh before providing a sense of reassurance, "no you don't."
Your brows raise, refusing to believe that you're looking at the same thing, "yes I do." You begin to smooth the fabric before stopping in your tracks, "Michael..."
His brows furrow at your expression, "yeah?"
"...there's a hole," you look down and start pulling at the flap near your chest in complete confusion.
The nurse turns to face you and Michael. Smiling in slight amusement, she clarifies the hole, "it gives easier access to breastfeeding when the baby arrives."
"...oh," you blink awkwardly, taken aback at the topic of breastfeeding. Michael covers his mouth, turning slightly to stifle his laugh.
You slowly waddle towards the bed to sit down. The nurse pulls a chair over for herself as Michael takes a seat next to you. His hand immediately reaches out for yours as you wince at another wave of pain.
"Okay, sweetheart," she clicks her pen and hovers it over her clipboard, "I'm going to ask you a few questions." You nod weakly as a sign for her to continue. "Firstly, what's your name?"
"When did the contractions begin?"
"...around..." you take a deep breath, "...three."
"When is your due date?" She writes down your answers in the required spaces.
You nod, already out of breath, it progressively gets harder to answer the questions. Michael leans forward, having his own questions to ask. "How long does labour usually last?"
The nurse glances up from her clipboard, "labour is different for everyone. Some women are here for a few hours..." she shrugs lightly, "...some are here much longer."
Michael's eyes widen, "much longer?"
The nurse quickly adds once sensing his worry, "first babies usually take longer, so don't panic."
He nods slowly, understanding her reassurance but clearly still panicking. "How often are contractions meant to be?"
"They'll gradually become closer together and stronger. Right now, we're going to keep checking how often they come and how your wife is getting along."
His face softens slightly as he looks back at you, "are they supposed to hurt this much?" The question is delivered more quietly as he watches you in so much pain.
"Sweetheart," she glances at you for a moment before turning back to him, "labour can be very painful." Your hand squeezes Michael's automatically as another wave begins building. "But she's doing exactly what she should be doing...both of you are doing fine."
Michael looks down at your joined hands for a second. He leans closer to press a kiss against your forehead. "You hear that?" He mumbles quietly as his thumb brushes across your knuckles, "you're doing amazing."
Your fingers grip Michael's hand tighter. Your other hand grabs the rails of the bed. Exhaling deeply in order to stay calm, you quietly ask the nurse, "...can I have an epidural?"
"Um..." she presses her lips together and stares at the ceiling in thought, "I'll go find out for you."
The nurse offers one last sympathetic smile before stepping out of the room and gently pulling the door shut behind her. The room feels quiet again apart from the sound of your deep breaths.
Michael's thumb continues to move across your knuckles absentmindedly, "...do you think we should call anyone?"
"Right now?" You pull yourself away from your own thoughts to look at him and then towards the clock ticking on the wall, "...they're probably asleep."
"It's okay," he reaches into the pocket of his jacket before pulling out his Nokia, "who first?"
You stare at him quietly for a second before answering, "...your mom."
Michael nods, having already memorised her number, he dials the sequence into the phone and presses it against his ear. The line rings for a few seconds until someone eventually picks up. "...hello?" Katherine's voice sounds sleepy
Michael sits forward, "hi, mother." He doesn't waste a second before telling the news, "Y/N's gone into labour."
There's silence on the other end for a brief moment before Katherine screams, "...WHAT?" Michael pulls the phone slightly away from his ear and you're able to hear his mom. "When?" She begins to push for answers.
"Tonight," he tries his best to answer accordingly.
"Is she okay?" Katherine's worry is evident through the call. You smile at her concern for you.
"We're at the hospital," Michael stands up as you extend your legs to lie on the bed.
"Do you need me there?" She asks with genuine care.
Michael looks towards you, wanting your input, "baby?"
His hand still holds onto yours. "If she wants to," you don't want to force her considering it's very well late into the night.
Michael repeats your words into the phone as Katherine replies with no hesitation, "I'm getting dressed."
As the call ends, Michael looks over at you again, "anyone else?"
"Huda," you nod since she's most closest to you. Michael asks for you to dial her number into his phone due to forgetting the diary in which he keeps everyone's phone number he hasn't memorised at home.
The line rings until eventually reaching nothing. Michael waits another few seconds before lowering the phone, "no answer."
"It's okay," you breathe sharply as another contraction hits, "...she's probably asleep."
He nods, reaching the same conclusion, he glances around the hospital room. It's cramped with minimal walking space and mostly being taken up with machines neither one of you could even begin to describe what they can do.
"...do you want to watch TV?" His eyes land on the small television hanging on the wall.
You look up from your stomach and towards him, "...sure." You don't really care, but the idea of having something else in the room besides pain sounds nice. Lying on your back has given you an ache for the past few weeks. The only position you can have even the slightest bit of comfort is on your side.
He walks over to the television and presses a button. Eventually, the screen flickers on and what you assume to be the news comes into play. A journalist stands outside and speaks into her microphone whilst dressed in heavy layers for the cold weather.
"Anything specific?" Michael stays close to the television and waits for any suggestion on what to watch.
You stare blankly at it, "anything." He nods, leaving it on the news, and quietly sitting down beside you on the bed. The scene changes and a man appears in the studio to relay new information about weather and politics.
Neither of you are listening as it continues in the background. Michael hasn't looked at the scene once as his attention remains fixed on you. Every breath. Movement. Tiny expression on your face. The way your fingers tighten around the metal bar beside the bed. He notices.
An hour passes and the nurse still hasn't come back. Michael glances at the door for a second then turns back to you. His leg starts to bounce in anticipation. Then he stands and sits back down. Standing again, he calls for you, "baby?"
"Mm?" You look over weakly.
"Do you want me to get someone?" His fingers gently brush across your knuckles.
Another contraction hits as your fingers tighten around his hand instantly, "...please."
He nods, brows knitting together as he watches you go through unbearable pain, feeling so helpless. He looks back at you for a second once reaching the door before leaving. Turning his head to view both directions, he's met with nothing.
A few seconds later, he spots a nurse walking past carrying paperwork. "Excuse me," he lifts his hand to grab her attention. She looks up, and for a split second, her eyes widen slightly.
"Oh," she pauses, "...you're Michael Jackson." She acknowledges how terrified he looks right now which means that asking for an autograph may be inappropriate on this occasion.
"My wife's in labour," the words leave his mouth quickly, "someone did say they were coming back, but..." he glances at the room you're in, "she's in a lot of pain."
"Oh," the nurse presses her lips together, "I'll come with you."
"Thank you," he releases a sigh of pent up relief. Holding the door open for her to come through, you barely even look up as your head rests against the pillow with your eyes squeezed shut.
The nurse takes a clipboard from the end of the bed which contains all of your information. Her eyes scan each word before humming at the conclusion she'll make, "so about the epidural..." your eyes immediately open at the mention of pain relief, "we may need to wait."
Your entire face drops, "...no."
Michael moves to your side immediately, taking your hand, "what do you mean wait?"
Placing the clipboard back into its initial position, she carefully explains, "we're still waiting for blood results and anaesthesia is currently occupied. We need to make sure everything's safe before proceeding."
"How long?" Michael questions further.
"We're trying to move things quickly."
Tears sting your eyes, you look up at him, "no...Michael..." your breathing shakes, "I can't do this without it." Your words destroy him. His face completely falls.
Before he can answer, a knock sounds at the door. It opens to reveal Katherine. Her eyes find you instantly, "oh, sweetheart..." she crosses the room and carefully leans down beside the bed, brushing hair gently away from your forehead
"Not good," is all you can say as she kisses your forehead softly.
"You're doing so well," she reassures you anyway. Her eyes move from you to Michael. The panic written all over his face is visibly noticeable.
Another contraction comes over you. It's the worst one so far as you grip onto the bed rails. Your entire body tenses, "oh my God," your breathing breaks. "Michael," you scream, "MICHAEL."
He freezes instantly, feeling completely helpless. Katherine reaches over to lightly touch his arm, "Michael." He looks at her as she calls his name, "baby her."
Putting her instruction into practice, Michael moves to sit beside you so quickly his knee almost hits the bed frame. One hand grabs yours as the other rubs your back. He leans in so close his forehead touches yours. "Baby," his voice shakes slightly, "breathe with me."
He begins exercises which require deep inhales and exhales, recalling what has been stated in the maternity books he's confided in. "I'm right here," his lips press into your hair, "I love you so much." Despite his eyes beginning to water, his support remains beside you.
Another hour somehow passes. One filled with endless pain. The television has long since become background noise as Michael's hand has never left yours once.
Katherine remains beside you too, occasionally smoothing your hair back from your forehead as she whispers little reassurances.
You barely register most of them anymore. Every few minutes, another contraction comes and they somehow feel worse than the last.
Eventually, a knock sounds at the door again. "Finally," Michael lifts his head as an exhausted sigh leaves his lips, "come in."
The door opens, a doctor steps in holding a clipboard. He's middle-aged, containing a calm expression and professional smile, "good morning." He walks further inside before introducing himself, "I'm Dr-"
"...can I have a woman?" You immediately look up as you're met with a brief moment of silence.
"Of course," he smiles, no offence taken whatsoever, "that's completely fine." He nods politely before turning back towards the door, "I'll send someone else in."
Your head collapses onto the pillow again as your neck aches. Everything aches. Michael notices and tries his best to adjust your position, hoping to enhance your comfort.
Another several minutes pass before the door opens again. This time, a woman walks in wearing dark blue scrubs and a gentle smile. You relax a little as she greets you, "hi, sweetheart." She takes a pair of gloves from the unit it's stored, "I'm Dr Williams."
"Hi," is all you can manage as she moves closer to review the information made on the paperwork sitting at the end of your bed.
"First baby?" She examines the details carefully.
You nod, unable to speak as you're met with another sharp pain, causing your lips press together as a way of coping. "Yes," Michael answers for you, glancing up at the doctor as he sits beside you on the thin mattress.
For the first time all night, someone actually seems to be doing something. Michael watches every movement she makes as she continues to assess you.
"So what's going to happen now?" Michael asks as the doctor removes her gloves.
"I'm going to bring in a few nurses to help," she smiles before leaving. Again.
Michael's eyes narrow at the door. Slowly turning to you and Katherine, he laughs in disbelief, "why does everyone keep leaving?" There's no humour behind his voice.
Neither of you answer. Katherine shakes her head as if she's given up entirely. Michael stands up from sitting on the bed to begin pacing around the room. Running both hands through his curls, he complains, "no one's actually doing anything. They come in," he gestures his hands dramatically, "look at things then leave again."
Katherine watches him quietly for a second before standing and moving towards him. Placing both hands gently against his shoulders, she tries to level with him, "Michael." His eyes immediately lift to her from the floor. "You need to calm down."
"No," she dismisses him, "look at her." Michael glances over at you. Your face is tired. Hair messy. Eyes filled with tears. Hand gripping the bed rail again. Katherine's voice softens, "right now, she doesn't need your panicking." She squeezes his shoulder gently, "she needs you to take care of her."
Michael's expression changes completely as he comes to the realisation that he isn't being helping. He's worrying. His shoulders slowly relax as he quietly nods, "...okay." Feeling guilty, he immediately walks back over to you. Sitting beside you, he takes your hand and brings it to his lips, "I'm sorry."
You blink confusedly, "for what?"
You stare at him for a second before squeezing his hand in reassurance, "...you're doing fine." Those three words bring a smile to his face. Despite everything you're going through, you still have that effect on him.
Only a few minutes later, the door opens again. This time, three nurses enter together carrying equipment and paperwork as Dr Williams follows closely behind.
For the first time since stepping foot into the hospital, progression is finally being made. The room suddenly fills with movement. One checks and starts up monitors as another begins to prepare medication.
Dr Williams approaches your bedside again. Her expression stays gentle, "okay, sweetheart, I have an update."
Your fingers tighten around Michael's hand, "...okay?"
She pauses briefly before continuing with knitted brows, "we won't be able to safely give you the epidural."
"No..." your eyes shut in pure agony, completely fed up with the whole situation.
Michael looks between you and the doctor before asking, "what do you mean?"
Her tone remains calm as she carefully explains, "your body isn't responding in the way needed for the procedure right now. I don't want to put you or the baby at unnecessary risk."
Your eyes immediately fill with tears. Although you understand her reasoning and completely agree, your body focuses on how much it's hurting.
She can read your expression, "we can give a small dose of fentanyl to help take some of the edge off."
There isn't a moment of hesitation before you answer, "I'll take anything." Michael's hand squeezes yours tighter, reminding you of his presence.
She nods at the confirmation of your choice, "we'll get that ready."
The room's organised chaos continues as one of the nurses unexpectedly glances at Michael and pauses. She looks again, "oh my God." Another nurse looks up and her eyes widen, "...you're Michael Jackson."
He waves his hand slightly, "...hi." His lips press together to politely resemble a smile, but in reality, he's truly worried for you.
"I'm sorry," the nurse recollects herself as they all try acting normal again.
You release a small laugh under your breath as it quickly turns into a wince. "What time is it?" You quietly ask.
One nurse checks the watch pinned directly to her uniform, "a little after seven-thirty, dear." Your eyes widen, glancing at Michael who also looks surprised at how many hours the two of you have been in hospital for.
You lie down once again. Staring at the ceiling, you ask another question, "...when's the baby coming?"
Another nurse immediately softens, "oh, sweetheart," she smiles sympathetically, understanding the pain you're in, "we don't know yet."
Not knowing somehow feels worse. You stare blankly for a second before speaking up, "...I'm hungry."
"Of course you must be hungry," the last nurse smiles, "you need your energy."
"Would you like a sandwich?" Michael offers, recalling the snacks which have been prepared for this specific occasion. You nod, enabling him to rush towards the overnight bag and dig around for a few seconds. Eventually, he pulls out a few sandwiches which have been wrapped in cling film.
He unfolds one carefully from its wrapping before sitting beside you. He breaks off a piece and waits for your mouth to open before gently placing it inside. You chew slowly and swallow the food. The numbness in your hands prevent you from being able to feed yourself properly.
Michael glances at Katherine, "mother, would you like something to eat?"
She smiles warmly, "no thank you, sweetheart."
Suddenly, your eyes lift, "Michael..."
His brows furrow, following your line of sight, he turns around to face the television. It's live footage showing the outside of the hospital. The word LIVE appears across the bottom. A reporter stands outside surrounded by cameras and people.
Michael slowly stands and moves towards the television to turn up the volume. "...outside the hospital this morning, crowds have begun gathering after reports confirmed that Michael Jackson and his wife are currently inside..."
Your mouth slightly parts. Katherine blinks. Michael just stares, "...what."
The reporter continues, "witnesses say Y/N Jackson is currently inside labour."
Michael turns to face you, "do you want me to turn it off?"
"No," you shake your head lightly, eyes still fixed on the television, "...it's distracting me." Another contraction builds as you grip onto the rail.
Michael nods, leaving it alone at your request. Around the room, nurses continue preparing things. Meanwhile, Katherine moves closer to the curtains. She pulls them back just enough to take a slight peek, "oh my goodness."
Outside, a massive crowd has actually formed. People can be seen holding flowers, signs, balloons, and cameras. On television, someone appears onscreen being interviewed, "I just hope she's okay." The woman adjusts her coat to generate warmth in the cold morning air, "we want to show our support for the new baby."
Another person appears as the reporter pans the microphone towards them, "I think it will be a boy." A different person immediately interrupts, "it's definitely a girl." Others recite their own predictions, "I think she'll give birth around lunchtime."
Despite being in labour, you can't help but smile. Outside of these hospital walls, people are waiting to welcome your baby into the world.
The television continues to murmur in the background as everyone continues with their assigned task. You barely notice any of it anymore. Your body feels heavy and exhausted as if you've somehow ran a marathon without leaving the bed.
You stare towards the ceiling for a long moment before quietly announcing, "...I'm so tired." Your voice sounds completely drained. "...when can I get the fentanyl?" Michael's eyes look emotional as his fingers brush comfortingly across your forehead.
One of the nurses looks over sympathetically, "we're organising it right now, sweetheart." She gestures towards some equipment being prepared nearby, "it'll be given through an IV." Then, she points towards the small line connected to your hand, "it'll go through gradually."
Your head moves slowly to nod. At this point, you'd probably agree to anything with the condition you're in.
Another few seconds pass when you look down at your stomach and then towards the nurse closest to you. "...is she okay?" You pause for a second, referring to the baby, "...can you check on her?"
"Oh, sweetheart, of course," the nurse replies with knitted brows and a gentle smile as she wheels over a machine. Lifting two soft bands, she explains its purpose, "we're just going to monitor the baby."
Michael leans forward, observing what's in the nurse's hands, "what does that do?"
"This will track her heartbeat and contractions." Very carefully, she lifts your gown to wrap the bands around your stomach. Cold gel touches your skin which causes you to immediately flinch.
Michael watches in complete anticipation as his leg bounces nervously. Adjusting the monitor to slowly move over your stomach, only static can be heard. He becomes stressed, "why can't we hear anything?"
"Michael," Katherine gently touches his arm, "just wait."
Suddenly, the room fills with a fast rhythmic sound. You smile instantly. Turning to look at Michael, his eyes expectantly widen. There she is. Your baby. The nurse laughs softly under her breath at your reactions, "that's her."
Tears begin to slip quickly down your face as the heartbeat fills the room. Your hand rests proudly against your stomach as your eyes lift to the nurse, "...does this mean she's okay?" Your voice shakes slightly.
"Yes, sweetheart," the nurse reassuringly nods. Relief washes across your face. Beside you, Michael closes his eyes for a second as if he's unknowingly been holding his breath this entire time.
Dr Williams glances between the two of you, "are you having a daughter?"
You nod immediately, still emotional and trying to process everything. Still overwhelmed after hearing her little heartbeat. For the first time all morning, the fear eases a little. Knowing that she's okay and still here waiting to finally meet you. "Yeah."
"Aw," her hand connects to her chest in pure awe, "have you thought of a name yet?"
Michael looks over at you with a softened expression before announcing to the room, "...Valentina."
You smile lovingly at him, reaching your hand out to hold his, "Michael chose it. Because of what it means."
Everyone turns to look at him which causes him to become slightly shy. His other hand brushes against your stomach gently. "In Latin..." he smiles softly, "it means strong."
Katherine's hand immediately rises to her chest. "Oh," her eyes soften instantly, "that's beautiful." Michael has already discussed the name with her, but hearing it now with the knowledge that little girl will finally be here soon, makes it feel more different. More real. More precious.
You smile through the tears, "we're going to call her Tina for short."
"Tina Jackson," the nurse tries it out, "oh that's adorable." Michael smiles to himself as he hears the name out loud. Tina. His daughter.
The room becomes quiet again after that. Nurses continue to adjust equipment and prepare medication whilst soft beeping fills the background. Very carefully, they begin connecting the fentanyl to your IV.
Michael keeps ahold of your hand. His thumb absentmindedly brushes over your knuckles.
A few moments pass and you suddenly frown, "...this must be so traumatic." Everyone look at you as you glance down at your stomach, "for her...she's probably so confused." Your hand rubs gently over your bump, "poor baby." Your eyes begin watering again, "she's gonna be exhausted when she's finally born."
"Baby..." Michael leans forward, his hand joins yours as it rests over your stomach, "she's okay." He presses a gentle kiss over your forehead, then against your stomach, "you'll both be okay."
Hours seemingly continue to slip by. Time no longer feels real. Everything has been measured by contractions, heartbeats, monitors, and small moments between pain.
The clock on the wall now reads a little after eleven. Morning sunlight has gradually shifted through the windows and softened into afternoon brightness.
Outside, the crowd has somehow grown even larger. Every now and then, distant cheers filter faintly through the glass whenever someone spots movement near the hospital entrance.
Inside the room, everything feels smaller and quieter. The fentanyl has helped a little. Just enough to dull the edges and occasionally allow moments for your body to relax. But not enough. Nowhere near enough. The pain always comes back.
Michael sits beside you, holding your hand whenever he can. Other times, he paces around the room. There's a sequence where you can find him sitting. Then standing. Running both hands through his curls. Subtly looking out the window. Then looking back at you.
Katherine watches him stress quietly. Eventually, she speaks up, "Michael." He looks over immediately at his mother, "how're you doing?"
His mouth opens in preparation to answer before closing again. He looks towards you then sighs, "...I don't know." His eyes never leave your figure. "I thought I was scared before," laughing weakly under his breath, "but seeing her like this...I hate seeing her get hurt."
Katherine listens as Michael continues, "...I keep saying I want a huge family." He shakes his head slightly at the idea, "...I don't think I can watch her go through this again." His mother rubs his shoulder gently. After a moment, he looks over at her with a small smile, "...thank you for being here."
"Oh, sweetheart," she brushes a curl away from his forehead. The same motion she used to do when he was little. "There is nowhere else I'd rather be."
Meanwhile, across the room, the television is still playing. News anchors talk about politics. Weather. Random, light-hearted stories. Every so often, it cuts back to outside the hospital. You stare at it absentmindedly, trying to focus on anything.
Every few minutes, another contraction comes. They're sharp, heavy, and always manage to steal your breath. You've been lying in this position for hours. Exhausted and beginning to become hungry again, you just want everything to be done with.
Michael notices every contraction you're dealing with. His head immediately turns as his hand reaches out to hold yours. Providing any form of support during the pure agony you're experiencing.
Katherine, in an attempt to satisfy her boredom, reaches into the overnight bag resting beside her, "you don't mind if I look through this would you, dear?" You smile, shaking your head as an indication for her to continue.
Pulling out tiny baby clothes, she smiles softly to herself. Her fingers run over the fabric as the memories of her own babies come to mind. How impossibly small they looked. How quickly they grew.
Suddenly, your breathing pattern changes. Your hand grips the bed rail harder as your face tightens. Michael notices, kneeling beside you, he calls, "baby?" He's met with no answer as your pain worsens, "...Y/N?"
Your eyes squeeze shut. Tears immediately spill down your face as another wave hits. And suddenly, you're crying even harder than before. Michael's panic intensifies, "baby, what's wrong?" His hand grips yours, "talk to me, please."
You can't. You physically can't. The pain hits so hard that words will not come out. Only crying, shaken breaths, and broken sounds.
Cautiously, Katherine stands up from her seat, "Michael..." he looks terrified, "what's happening?"
A nurse who was occupied with checking the monitors suddenly turns around. She looks at the screen which contains an ultrasound image of your baby. She looks over at you and then back at it again. "Oh..." her eyes slightly widen, "the baby's coming."
Complete silence. Michael blinks at her words. You nod weakly through the tears to confirm. Katherine's hands move to cover her mouth in pure shock.
The entire room explodes into a series of movement. The nurse runs towards the door in order to announce loudly, "I need extra hands in here right now."
Almost instantly, a group of midwives and nurses rush in. Voices overlap from every direction as equipment is carried into the room. After nine months, your baby is finally coming.
As if the room wasn't cramped enough, it feels even smaller. The light becomes too bright as well. "Okay sweetheart." "You're doing amazing." "Deep breaths." "That's it." Is all you can hear as it echoes across the walls.
Michael tries moving closer to your side, it proves to be a difficult task with so many midwives and equipment surrounding you. He pauses helplessly, turning to his mother as his voice shakes in worry, "...what should I do?"
"Go hold her hand," she point towards you as one of the nurses notices.
Shuffling slightly to the side, she makes space for Michael to join, "come here, dad."
Michael doesn't waste a second before positioning himself beside you. Immediately releasing your hand from the bed rail, it reaches out to find his. Your fingers squeeze so tightly around his hand you're sure it must hurt.
Regardless, Michael doesn't even react. He's certain that whatever pain you're feeling is infinitely worse. "I'm right here," his thumb gently wipes the tears from beneath your eyes. You grip onto him as if he's the key to holding yourself together.
Katherine eventually stands up from her seat and walks over to an open space beside you. Her hand soothingly presses against your forehead to brush away stray hairs which cling onto it from sweat.
Minutes pass and you're doing everything the nurses instruct. "Push," they repeatedly say as your eyes close at the pressure between your thighs. You're constantly grunting and screaming at the pain of feeling as if you're being split apart.
With your legs parted into the traditional position of giving birth, a midwife exclaims, "we can see the baby's head."
Michael's eyes widen in disbelief as they move to finally see his daughter for the first time in nine months. For a second, he completely forgets how to breathe. "Oh my God," he whispers so quietly no one can hear him over your screams.
Your head collapses against the pillow as your eyes open to glare at the ceiling. Michael looks back over to you, "you're doing so well, Y/N." He encourages you, "she's almost here, you can do this."
Your chest rapidly rises and falls as you're out of breath. A nurse smiles warmly, "just one more push, sweetheart." You cry harder as all of your energy goes into making one final push.
Taking a deep exhale, the room suddenly fills with small cries as the pain gradually fades from your body. Almost instantly, your face turns to bury itself into the pillow and release a quiet sob.
Michael's lips trace your hair despite the sweat it has built up from the entirety of labour. Your head lifts from the pillow as your eyes search for Valentina.
You find the midwife holding your baby gently in her arms as her screams fill the room. Very carefully, she walks over to place Valentina against your chest.
Everything around you seemingly disappears at the action. The crying also stops as soon as she feels your touch. It's as if she already senses you're her mother. It's difficult to grasp that she had been inside your stomach for the past nine months. She feels so much smaller now that she's outside of you.
Valentina's eyes remain shut tightly as if the world is far too bright for her. She settles instinctively on your chest. Cheek squished slightly against your skin. Already comfortable and safe.
One tiny fist stays curled beneath her chin as the other rests over your breast. Her fingers occasionally open and close weakly as if she's still trying to understand where she is.
The cries which previously filled the room have faded into soft little noises instead. Hearing your heartbeat again is enough to finally relax after the longest journey of her life.
Your hand trembles as your fingertips brush carefully against her back. She's unbelievably warm. For the first time since entering the hospital, everything hurts less. Suddenly, nothing else matters. Just her.
"...hi, baby," your voice shakes in disbelief and emotion. Michael leans over beside you. His eyes move slowly across every tiny detail of her face. His hand shakes as it brushes softly against the back of Tina's head.
An emotional laugh escapes him through tears, "...she's beautiful." The side of his head settles against yours as you both smile and watch your daughter rest over your chest. All three of you are finally together.
Observing the precious moment with a gentle smile, one of the midwives speak up, "okay sweetheart," she says softly, "can we take her for just a moment?"
Your eyes lift to her. Becoming instantly reluctant, you don't want to spend another second away from your baby. It seems as if the midwife can read your mind as she quickly adds, "just to clean her up a little."
You look back down at Tina who's still warmly resting against your chest. You nod slowly. Unable to even speak. If you did, you'll probably cry harder.
As the midwife lifts her carefully from you, she walks into another area attached to the room in order to wash her. Your eyes follow her automatically as if your body is programmed to do so.
Blood and other fluids that were just inside of you stain the hospital gown you're wearing from Tina. Your head turns slowly to Michael who’s also watching her leave. You stare at him in complete disbelief, “…our baby.” Your voice breaks instantly, “…she’s finally here, Michael.”
His eyes immediately find yours. For a second, he just looks at you with the most proudest smile. “Yeah,” he speaks softly, “…she is.”
Through the tears, you reach for him. Arms wrapping around his neck, Michael doesn’t even hesitate as he bends down to carefully wrap both hands around you. Holding on so tightly. After a long nine months and hours of labour, she’s finally with you.
Completely ruining the emotional moment with your husband, another nurse politely clears her throat. “Okay sweetheart, we still need to deliver the placenta.”
You pull away from Michael. Slowly looking between him, Katherine, and the nurse, you release a quiet, humourless laugh, “…you’re joking.”
Michael’s forehead drops onto your shoulder, “as if that wasn’t enough.”
“I’m sorry,” the nurse kindly apologises despite none of it being her fault.
Eventually, you give birth to the placenta. Pushing it was very painful but it hurt a lot less than pushing out a baby. As if you weren’t already exhausted enough, you’re completely drained. Michael stayed beside you the entire time, providing reassuring words alongside Katherine.
After what feels like forever, the midwife returns carrying the tiniest bundle you’ve ever seen. Despite the lack of energy, your face immediately lightens up, “hi Tina.”
You hold your arms out as she’s placed back into them. She’s wrapped snugly now beneath hospital blankets. You can’t wait for her to finally wear the baby clothes you’ve bought and held close to your heart for months. Her little face peeks out. Eyes closed. Small mouth moving sleepily. Perfect.
“Hello,” your finger brushes gently against her cheek. Her skin is unbelievably soft. Immediately, you fall in love all over again.
Michael watches from beside you with a completely devoted expression. After a moment, he speaks up, “…can I?”
You look up and smile instantly, “of course.” Carefully placing Tina into his arms, Michael’s hands immediately support her head and back. Rocking her instinctively, it’s as if it comes naturally to him.
Across the room, Katherine presses a hand over her mouth at the sight of her baby holding his baby. Tears begin to slip down her face too.
Breaking the moment, Michael’s phone rings which causes you to jump slightly at the unexpectedness. Resting on the bedside table, he quickly walks over to answer, hoping the sound hasn’t scared Tina.
Reaching over with one hand to grab it, he switches it on to be flooded with messages and voicemails. He laughs softly under his breath as it all begins to appear.
Almost immediately, the phone rings again. Michael glances down as he recognises the contact, “Huda.”
You smile weakly, “answer it.”
Michael looks down at Tina sleeping peacefully against him, “…she’s gonna lose her mind.”
Meanwhile, outside, the crowd has somehow managed to get even louder. Reminding you that they’re still here and supporting your birth, you turn briefly to the window before suggesting quietly to Michael, “…you should say hi.”
He’s about to dial Huda’s number before looking up at you, “hm?”
“To your fans,” you clarify. He smiles softly at the mention. “They’ve been waiting out there all night. They’ve probably been worried too.”
“You’re right,” he nods, carefully transferring Tina into your arms. He leans down to press a kiss against your forehead and then another against Tina’s. “I’ll be right back.”
In the meantime, you turn to Katherine, “would you like to hold her?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” her face lights up as if you’ve offered her the moon, “yes please.” She carefully takes Tina into her own arms as she completely melts into her. Tina’s tiny body remains tightly wrapped beneath a white hospital blanket with a little newborn cap covering her head. Only her little face peeks out. Small, sleepy expressions and tiny movement. Perfect.
Across the room, Michael pauses briefly by the curtains before slowly pulling them open. It takes only a second for everyone to register his face before erupting into even louder screams. “Oh my God,” you blink at the encounter Michael’s so used to.
He opens the window slightly, ensuring it’s not enough to make Tina cold, he leans out carefully to begin waving at the crowd. They completely lose their minds.
On the television which is still playing, it cuts straight to live footage of outside the hospital. You look towards the screen just in time to see Michael appear with a few seconds delay. You immediately start laughing. You find it amusing to watch him on television as he stands a few feet away.
Suddenly, he disappears from the window. You watch as he immediately grabs the large whiteboard nurses usually write notes on for the patient. He scribbles something on whilst walking back towards the window.
Seconds later, he’s back in frame carrying the whiteboard from beside the hospital bed. He turns it around to face everyone outside.
The crowd erupts into even louder cheers. People jump, scream, cry, hug complete strangers. You watch the television replay it a few seconds later. Watching your husband stand at the hospital window announcing your daughter to the world.
You stare, laughing softly through the tears. This is her entrance to the world.
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