Lady Munson

From the other side of the heavy black curtains, the roar of sixty thousand people chanting and singing along to Eddie's songs sounded like a physical wave. You were always so proud of him for chasing his dreams, graduating and getting the hell out of Hawkins, and proving to himself that he wouldn't turn out like his dad when it was his turn to raise a child.

For all of that alone, you couldn't not be sat backstage, humming away, as your baby kicked and rolled inside of you.

Eddie was in the middle of his guitar solo, the one that earned him his rightful spot in the Rock ' n Roll Hall Of Fame three years ago, it was the shift in his career that sent Corroded Coffins' albums platinum and gave him the opportunity to buy the most expensive engagement ring he could find.

As the crowd cheered and hooted, you shifted slightly to get more comfortable when a sudden, warm trickling made you freeze, the fabric of your sweatpants dampening in an instant. 

"Oh fuck!" you gasped, your eyes widening, "You've picked today? Of all days!" you whispered to your bump.

Trying to slowly stand up and find someone, anyone, you were stopped in your tracks by a crawling and intense shockwave that tightened around your bump and ached in your lower back, the sheer intensity of it causing you to yelp out in agony.

"Help!" you managed to shout, your voice cracking. "Please! Someone help!"

The door swung open almost instantly, and one of the new stage assistants, a young guy no older than twenty, poked his head in and as he saw you bent over, clutching your stomach,  his eyes widened with panic.

"Mrs Munson?" he hurried over to you, placing a supportive hand on your back, "Is everything-"

"The baby is coming," you gasped, another wave of pressure hitting you, the tightening coming back stronger. "my-my water broke, and I need..." your eyes squeezed shut at the increasing intensity "Get Eddie. Get Eddie now, I need to get to a hospital!"

Luckily, as the song came to an end, Eddie spun on his heel, hoping to grab a bottle of water before going back to the setlist, but when his assistant frantically waved his outstretched arms and made a quick cutting motion across his throat, pointing to his stomach, he knew that there was no time for another solo.

The band trailed off, looking confused and concerned, as the crowd's roar dipped into a murmur. Eddie ran to the mic, his chest heaving. He nodded at his bandmates, the planned signal saved just for this. They knew. Their wide grins only made Eddie more excited.

"I'm sorry, guys" he shouted, a massive, manic grin breaking across his face. "But I think tonight's show is gonna have to be cut just a little bit short. My wife just went into labour backstage, and I gotta run the hell out of here, I'm going to be a dad!"

The stadium erupted into a deafening, joyful explosion of sound. Eddie didn't wait for the applause to die down; he ripped his guitar off, handed it to a tech, and sprinted offstage. 

"Sorry I'm late, sweetheart," Eddie beamed, trying to hide his anxiousness, "let's get you out of here."

The private suite at the hospital was quiet, save for the hum of the monitors and your heavy breathing and low groans with each contraction. Eddie was officially a nervous wreck, pacing the floor behind you like a caged lion, while you refused to stay in the bed with your hand braced against the wall.

"Baby, please, the doctor said you should sit down," He pleaded, reaching out a hand.

"The baby books say you should... fuck!" you snapped, freezing and groaning, waiting for the pressure to dissipate, "the books say, you should keep active during labour." Your temper flared with the hormones and the pain. 

Eddie softened and slowly wrapped his strong, tattooed arms around your waist. He linked his fingers under the heavy curve of your belly and lifted slightly, taking the immense pressure off your lower back. You let out a long, shuddering breath, resting your head back against his shoulder.

"Better?" he whispered against your temple.

"Yes," you grunted. "Now don't move, Eds, please don't move."

An hour later, the pacing left like a distant memory, the room that was just the three of you was now filled with two midwives and the doctor. The baby was ready, and all you needed to do was follow the midwife's instructions and the signals your body was giving you.

You were in your hospital bed, back against the pillows, with your forehead breaking out in beads of sweat, with your stray hairs sticking to it. Throughout every push and pant, you wouldn't let go of Eddie's hand; you were clutching so hard he was scared you were going to break his fingers.

"I can't do this!" you sobbed, raising your voice. 

"Y-yes, you can, sweetheart," Eddie said softly, his doe eyes full of concern and worry.

Your head went back and hit the pillows, your eyebrows scrunched and lips red, "You got me into this mess!" you seethed, another push ready.

Eddie took it all with a saint-like patience and asked if the midwife could get you some more water and a new straw. Between the screams, you were sobbing, exhausted and overwhelmed.

"One more big push!" the doctor urged.

"I'm not fucking pushing!" you shouted, feeling your baby's head lowering.

With a final, guttural scream, you forced yourself to push for as long as you could, until that mounting and heavy pressure suddenly dissipated, replaced by a delicate and sharp wail that made Eddie's ears prick up.

The world Eddie knew came to a complete stop, and as your warm and slippery crying baby got placed onto your chest, your frustrations were gone, replaced by a sob of relief.

"You did it," Eddie whispered, tears filling his eyes, "You did it..."

"It's a girl," the doctor whispered, placing a towel over you and the baby.

You clutched your daughter in your arms with tears rolling down your face, watching her squinting eyes blink up at you, and her tongue pushing out of her mouth, like a baby animal tasting the air. "Hello, Baby Munson," you cooed sleepily, "Hello."

Eddie was leaning over you, his face a mask of awe. When the cord was clamped and cut, the midwife took the baby to the warming table to be cleaned and checked. Eddie finally sat on the edge of the bed. He took your hand, his eyes shimmering with tears of admiration and pure love.

"You are incredible," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He brushed a damp curl away from your forehead, looking at you with more worship than he had from the thousands of his fans "You're so strong, and so beautiful. You have no idea how incredible you are... thank you. Thank you for our daughter."

The midwife softly interrupted with your daughter wrapped up in her arms, "Would you like to hold her?" she asked your husband.

Eddie looked at you nervously, but you nodded your head and smiled, "go on," you encouraged him, "she's your little girl."

The midwife carefully placed your daughter in Eddie's arms and helped him adjust to properly cradle her and support her little head, and as the little baby stared up into his eyes, Eddie couldn't stop himself from crying. He stroked her soft pink cheek with his index finger, and she reached out with her long arm, bringing her tiny fist up to his finger and curling her hand around him. 

"You picked a great day to be born on, sweetheart", he cooed.