13
A scream rang out through the house on a cool Sunday morning. Two hours earlier, Rose had gone into labor. Jack was now knelt beside Rose, tightly holding her hand in his. It had taken a half hour of begging and pleading for the doctor to let Jack stay.
"You’re doing great sweetie," He kissed her head.
"Jack," Rose growled, grabbing hold of his shirt. "If you ever come near me again, I’ll kill you."
Jack looked at his wife, looking a bit hurt at the statement. The doctor laughed as Jack’s gaze fell on him. "That’s the pain talking. Don’t worry," the physician grinned, before turning his attention back to Rose. "Ok Rose. I’m going to need you to push. On the count of three! One…two…three! Push!"
Rose screamed as she pushed, trying to ignore the pain, but failing. Exhausted, she leaned against Jack. "I can’t…I can’t do this anymore. I’m too tired."
"One more time Rose! I see the head now! I just need you to push one more time," The doctor ordered.
"I can’t," Rose cried, panting against the pain. Jack’s heart broke for her. She was in so much pain. He’d do anything to trade places with her.
"Rose, remember how tired you were on Titanic? You managed, despite that didn’t you sweetie? You can push this one last time. Just grip my hand and lean against me if you have to. Our baby is almost here Rose," he rubbed her sweaty hand.
Finding strength in Jack’s voice, Rose leaned against him and used the last of her strength to push the tiny being out of her body. She felt a wave of relief as a tiny cry filled the room. Soft, tiny, but loud. Their baby had arrived.
"You have a daughter," the doctor announced, holding up a red, tiny, newborn. "Let me get her washed off and then she’s all yours."
Jack gasped in amazement as his daughter was lowered into Rose’s arms. Blue eyes met his in mute curiousity as a tiny fist was pressed into her tiny mouth. She was perfect. From the tiny red fuzz on top of her head to her tiny feet.
"Come Josephine in my flying machine…," he sang.
"She’s so tiny," Rose whispered, completely mesmerized.
"She’s perfect," Jack looked at his wife and felt the familiar wave of love he felt whenever he looked at Rose. "We should name her Josephine. She looks like a Josephine."
Rose nodded, a tired smile on her face. Josephine was perfect. "I love it."
"I love you. Both of you," He kissed her. "I better go telegraph Molly. Tell her about Josephine’s entrance into the world," He gently let go of Rose and went to send the telegram.
The future seemed bright and trouble free for the Dawson’s. Little did they know that trouble was right around the corner.