"Good girl-- good girl, that's it! Listen to your body."
A bag full of snacks, and books, and massage oils, all woefully surplus to requirements, flung to the side of the room. The dappled reflection of under-lit water on the dark ceiling. A stack of warm towels. A tiny woollen hat. A little trolley of equipment; a calm attendant wearing smiles and blue.
Kento, knelt at the edge of the pool, his shirtsleeves soaked to the shoulder. One thick arm looped around your neck and chest as if he meant to throttle you, when really, he just needed to be held. Or, did you need to be held? The paired clinging comfort to be found in the gloom of fear, was not mutually exclusive, it seemed.
"Amazing work...you're doing so well, sweetheart...just going to listen to the baby's heart..."
Your heart and Kento's pounded in tandem, almost as fast as the little pwssh-pwssh-pwssh-pwssh of your baby's heart, tinny on the Doppler, as the midwife's hand swished through the water. Kento whispered to you, his cheek clasped to your temple, sweatslick hair sticking you together.
"Our baby-- that's our baby-- god I love you, I love you so much, I'm so sorry, I wish I could do this for you--"
You gasped, splashing legs clamouring for resistance against the edge of the pool, writhing back against Kento. Kento's face crumpled, his teeth gritting so hard against your agony, they crunched.
You bellowed, another contraction roaring through you like wildfire, and you gripped Kento's arm. Your scream became a roar as you pushed, absurdly, overwhelmingly dragged from your body by a brutal force of nature. You barely heard Kento's hushed rumble, through the haze of blinding pain.
"...can do it, you can do it, you're so strong-- not long now-- nearly here, they're nearly here, our baby--"
You gasped again, seeing stars for a moment, surely being cleaved in half and you panicked, crying out and digging your nails in. Kento didn't care, surely deserving this, certain your nails didn't sting as much as the stretch you felt stung. You babbled at Kento and the midwife, pleading, bargaining.
"I can't do it anymore-- please don't make me, please please--"
"You're doing it, sweetheart. The biggest part of the head is coming with the next push-- with the next one, just listen to me, and breathe. No pushing. Just little breaths."
You looked up at Kento, your eyes feverish with the love that ripped you asunder. Kento nodded, trusting you, trying to hide the fear and miserable male helplessness and uselessness that threatened to fill him with violence, if he did not cling so desperately to being gentle instead.
Kento felt you tense; another pain peaking as you shook your head, sobbing so briefly, only to be replaced by gritted resolution. Kento saw the fire in your eyes as you began to roar, and thought his heart may break with the weight of his adoration.
Kento grasped you close, your fingers plaited together. He whispered to you as you trembled, fighting against nature as your body pushed for you.
"...that's it-- that's it-- just breathe, little breaths, little breaths-- I know it stings, good girl, good girl-- and the head's out!"
Kento's heart stopped, to see the crest of a little head, its soft waves of hair swishing in the birthing pool. Invigorated by thrill, almost weeping with excitement, he whispered to you, heated and trembling.
"--oh god-- right there, they're right there-- nearly got them, we'll know what we've got--"
"Just one more big push, sweetheart-- one big push with the next contraction, and your baby's here--"
Almost ten months of blooming and worry and scans and building and laughing and crying and aching and fearing, all ended in one enormous push, and a whoosh, and a cry...
...and a cry, wet and sweet and crumpled and on your chest, mother and child still bound together by the string of life.
Kento buckled against the side of the pool. Still he held you, looking down at you, looking down at your baby, blue and angry and baleful at having been shoved into the world from their warm dark kingdom.
Arms replaced the womb, and Kento huffed a couple of great sobs to hear you babble love at your scrumply flailing babe.
"--oh my god-- oh you're so beautiful-- oh, mummy loves you-- daddy loves you--"
Daddy. Kento almost buckled again, nuzzling his tears away into your hair, smothering your sweaty cheeks with kisses and relief. His voice was thick with joy, the fever of pain in your eyes replaced with elation, clasping the boon of a champion within your arms.
"Thank you. I can't...I can't thank you-- I-- love you, love you both so much--"
You gazed up at Kento, basking, your eyes glazed. "Kento...Ken...what have we got? Tell me-- tell me what we've got."
Kento sniffled, looking at the midwife as if for permission. She looked on, an enamoured, privileged bystander, and nodded encouragingly to Kento. Kento leaned over you, gently lifting his baby's legs apart, peering under the cord.
He huffed a single wet laugh, and looked at you, honey-brown eyes rimmed red. Kento's voice was gravelly as he stroked your hair back, to your wondrous grin.
"You were right, lover...as always."
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two midwives show off their searchlight tattoos.
searchlight designs vary between families, communities, and specialties but always incorporate sky themes like suns, moon, clouds, stars, flying insects, ect. thinking about the context of a design can tell you a lot about the rabbit it's on.
tattoos and dyework, especially if they're ritualistic or emotionally significant, are usually touched up every 5 years or so if they're the kind that are meant to last. the pigments used for these tattoos not only color the skin but bleach and/or color the fur for years afterwards so everything shows up nicely. midwives and doctors keep the fur on their arms very short for hygiene purposes so any designs there are especially clear on them.
dirt and blood don't stain this treated skin/fur easily, so it's common to see pale rabbits with the tell tale signs of being up to their elbows in viscera often decorated with markings so bright white that they almost seem to glow. it's either very cool or very unsettling depending on who you are.
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The other thing about Anakin and the Jedi is that I’m pretty sure he could’ve gone to Yoda and been like “Look, I’ve been having a secret affair with Senator Amidala, she’s pregnant with twins, I’ve been having visions of her dying. Previously, my visions of loved ones dying have proved to be accurate, please can you spare some of the Order’s literally magical healers to assist her.”
And Yoda would probably be like “Hm. Grant healers, I can, but make promises, I cannot. Matter of your departure from the Order, discuss at a later date, we will.”
Like, yeah, Anakin would have to stop being a Jedi, but if he truly loves Padme, that’s a no-brainer.
But he doesn’t do that. What he does instead is ... *checks notes* ... murder children because an evil wizard told him a fairytale and then telekinetically strangle his heavily pregnant wife.
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about this post of yours:
https://www.tumblr.com/feminist-furby-freak/741545317484347392/even-from-the-same-sources-nhs-and-cdc-mens?source=share
why are TIMs not advocating for "people w prostates" and "ppl w testicles" language too? cuz isn't that also "misgendering"? (maybe im misunderstanding the point of ur post though. like I get that they call "ppl w cervixes" inclusivity, and by them not doing it w men too, it's a double standard. is it abt controlling women, and how we identify ourselves as a group? I don't fully understand what their goal is for this "inclusivity" to be one way?
again, maybe im j misunderstanding the point of your post but I don't get -- if its abt being inclusive of misgendering -- it doesn't apply to both?
or is it not directly TIMs and instead like cis-identified males only caring abt using "inclusive" language when it doesn't interfere w what they want to do (call themselves men too and not "ppl w prostates")?
it j feels weird being yelled at all day (I'm exaggerating ofc) abt girldick, so why would TIM be okay w other stuff being j called men? (I'm assuming they are not okay w it, but I see it doesn't matter practically as people are still saying men and then "ppl w cervixes")
sorry for the long ask!! thanks for your help!
Ding ding ding. Yes this is a lesser discussed point. The double standard is proof that it is not about being invalidated or inclusivity. TIMs know that they are men and know that “men should be screened for prostrate cancer” applies to them. They whine about everything from not being included in period campaigns to individual lesbians not letting them rape her. They don’t complain about being included in men’s health because they don’t actually care abt inclusivity they just want to insert themelsves into women’s spaces. Not to mention, they have never had barriers to healthcare because of their sex so they don’t care. Removing the word women from medical language is about further breaking down the category and meaning of “women” and making it harder for us to organize and talk about our issues. That’s it.
TIMs hate the idea that there are some (now, very few) spaces and resources that are not and will never be accessible to them. The last remaining one is gynecology and obstetrics. That is why they have this campaign against “Women’s Health” as a field. As someone pursuing graduate education in the field yeah my degree is still called Women’s Health and Midwifery but in most academic spaces we do this stupid dance around language. My undergraduate women’s health journal changed to “gender minority to health” and said I couldn’t use a picture of a uterus with my article about childbirth because it’s exclusive. This is actually why I left. In a country where more women die every year from complications of birth, “activists” are campaigning to make it harder to discuss and research women’s healthcare. Soon it will be practically impossible to talk about women’s health at all. A few years ago when the gender movement had a shred of common sense the rhetoric was include trans women in everything except for women’s health because obviously that doesn’t apply to them. Unless people start speaking up in a few years they will probably rename the discipline entirely. TIMs are now showing up to OBGYN offices/clinics expecting to have their “neos” treated because “it’s practically the same.” I can assure you they are not and regular women’s health providers do not have training to provide care for those surgical creations. Anyway that’s my rant.
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