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Thank God it’s Saturday, Harry thought as he turned over onto his side and wrapped his arms around his aching belly.
They had no interviews, no recording sessions, no rehearsals. No nothing. Instead, they actually had a rare whole weekend to themselves. And they were home, so they got to sleep in their own bed.
He and Louis had planned to get in a lot of sleep, but they also wanted to try to get out and do something fun, perhaps go to a movie or take a drive—they so rarely had time to drive their own vehicles.
Harry was pretty sure none of that was going to happen. He felt awful. Truly awful.
Looking over his shoulder, he could tell Louis was still asleep, so Harry tried to make himself comfortable enough to get some more sleep himself. Maybe that would make him feel better.
An hour later, however, when Louis finally began to stir, Harry hadn’t been able to get any more sleep—and he still felt horrible.
“Maybe it was the fish from last night,” Louis suggested as Harry struggled into an upright position, his back against two pillows. “It had been in the freezer a long time.”
“Maybe…,” Harry said, grimacing and holding one hand over his unhappy stomach. “I guess it could be a stomach virus, too.”
“Hope not,” Louis said. “We’re back on the road in a week.”
Harry’s eyebrows reached halfway up to his hairline. “I hope I don’t feel this sick in a week.”
“I just hope you don’t give it to me,” Louis teased. When Harry just glared in his direction, Louis sobered. “Do you think you need A&E?”
Though he did stop to think on it, Harry finally shook his head. “Hopefully, if I rest, it will start to feel better.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry to ruin our day out.”
Louis shrugged and offered Harry a smile. “It’s okay. We have lots of TV to catch up on. You can rest on the couch, and we can binge something.”
Harry’s smile was somewhat dimmer than Louis’, but he nodded his agreement to the plan all the same. “You get yourself some breakfast, and I’ll get myself to the couch.”
“Any breakfast for you?” Louis asked, pushing himself up from his side of the bed.
Just the thought of food made Harry feel queasy. “No. But tea would be nice.”
“It’s a deal.”
* * *
By lunchtime, they had watched several episodes of Lost, a show they had been meaning to watch for eons. Harry didn’t feel any better—if anything, he felt worse—so Louis ate lunch on his own, though he brewed another herbal tea for Harry.
When Harry started throwing up just after lunch, Louis held his hair back and placed a cold flannel against his neck. Again, Louis asked Harry if he thought maybe they should go to A&E. When the dry heaves stopped, Harry shook his head. “No. Maybe now that I’ve thrown up, I’ll start to feel better.” It had certainly happened before—and he most certainly hoped it would once again.
An hour later, sharp pains began to wrack Harry’s stomach—some strong enough to make him cry out. At this point, Louis pulled rank as the elder—and wiser, he claimed—partner in this relationship. They were going to the A&E. Harry didn’t argue.
The drive was only about fifteen minutes. Harry spent the entirely of it with his arms crossed over his aching belly, hissing between his teeth each time another pain hit. He could not imagine this was either food poisoning or a stomach virus. He had experienced both of those in the past, and neither had felt this bad. Maybe his appendix had burst. He figured that had to hurt a lot.
Once they made their way into the A&E, Louis got Harry situated in a chair, then went to ask for help. He came back with a clipboard and a pen and a report that someone should be with them soon.
In a fortunate turn of events, Louis had no sooner turned in Harry’s paperwork—having filled it out on Harry’s behalf—than a nurse appeared to show Harry and Louis to a cubicle. Louis helped Harry onto the bed, and the nurse assured him a doctor would be in to see him momentarily. In another fortunate event, the nurse was an older man who didn’t seem to recognise either Harry or Louis. They did not need fan interaction on this particular afternoon.
Harry curled up on the bed, clutching his stomach. Louis stroked his hair back and tried to say soothing things—though Harry was in enough pain he didn’t quite catch every word, even if he appreciated the thought.
The doctor who arrived was a woman about ten years older than Louis. She had short blonde hair and warm brown eyes. She did a quick double take—she may well have recognised him—before straightening up and introducing herself. “Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Bolton. What seems to be the problem today?”
Harry was overcome with a massive pain at that exact moment, and he looked up to Louis, hoping his boyfriend would step in.
“He woke up this morning with a horrible stomach ache,” Louis explained. “We thought it might be food poisoning, but it’s just been getting worse and worse.”
“It’s Harry, right?” Dr. Bolton checked.
Hauling in a deep breath—trying to recover from his stomach trying to turn itself inside out—Harry nodded.
“Can you describe the pain you’re having?”
Though he was still a little short on breath, Harry was able to answer this question directly. “It started out as just an achy stomach, but it’s turned into sharp pains—really sharp pains—now.”
“Where is the pain centred?” the doctor asked.
Harry waved a hand over his lower abdomen.
“Any particular side?”
“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “It did make me throw up. I thought it might be my appendix or a stomach virus.”
“Probably not your appendix,” Dr. Bolton said. “That would be pain more on your right. The throwing up could be a sign of any number of things. Can I feel around?” She gestured toward his belly.
“Sure.” Harry’s hands were still gripping his stomach after the last sharp pains, but he moved them to give her room, hitching up his shirt as he did.
With gentle, firm fingers, the doctor pressed in different areas of his stomach and abdomen. He was watching her face to see if he could figure out what she was finding.
She had barely lifted her hands away from Harry’s middle when Louis asked, “What do you think it is?”
With a frown, Dr. Bolton said, “I’m not sure. I’d like to do an ultrasound so we can see what might be going on.”
It took a few minutes to get an ultrasound machine into the cubicle Harry occupied, and a few more moments for the doctor to get it ready. Harry used that time to try to keep himself from curling back up on his side around the pain.
He hitched up his shirt once again, hissing as the doctor squeezed cold gel onto his belly. She began to run a wand over Harry’s middle, intently watching the ultrasound monitor. Harry intently watched her face, desperately wanting to know what was happening.
After a moment, a surprised look flashed across Dr. Bolton’s face. If Harry hadn’t been watching her, he would have missed it, since she quickly schooled her features into a look of pure professionalism.
“Well, Harry, I think I can see the cause of your pain today,” she said.
Another pain lanced through Harry’s midsection at that exact moment. Instead of questioning the doctor about her discovery, Harry focused on squeezing his lips together and shutting his eyes to remain in position to continue the ultrasound.
In his place, Louis asked, “What? What’s happening?”
Dr. Bolton waited until the most recent wave of pain left Harry and he was able to meet her gaze. Then she said, “Harry, you are about to be a father. You’re pregnant, and, if I don’t miss my guess, you’re in labour. I think these pains you’ve been having are contractions.”
Harry could only blink at her—rapidly—rendered inarticulate by her pronouncement.
“I…,” Louis attempted. “How…?” He was unable to come up with anything resembling a complete thought as he looked back and forth between the doctor and the monitor.
It took another moment and a little fish mouthing, but Harry finally said, “That’s impossible.”
In response, Dr. Bolton moved the wand just a little until the monitor displayed exactly what she wanted it to. She pointed as she gently explained, “If you’ll look right here, you can see the head, the hands, a foot, and the heart.”
At the sight of the tiny flutter apparently located right inside of him, Harry gasped and reached for Louis’ hand. Louis took it, squeezing hard.
“Were you aware you’re a carrier, Harry?” Dr. Bolton asked.
Harry nodded. “I knew.”
“Well, you look to be about thirty-six, thirty-seven weeks along,” the doctor continued. “Baby looks healthy and perfectly positioned at the birth canal. What I’d like to do now is check to see if you’re dilated at all.”
“Okay,” Harry agreed, only able to muster a whisper as he stared at the image on the monitor. It was clearly a baby, but he was having trouble wrapping his brain around the idea that the baby was inside him.
“I’m going to give you a moment to get undressed and into a hospital gown, then I’ll check to see what we’re working with here,” Dr. Bolton said. She stepped outside the cubicle without another word.
Louis puffed out air. “Oh my God, Haz.”
“How can I be pregnant, Louis?” Harry asked, eyes wide. “I mean, I see it on the screen, but I haven’t had one single symptom. I have no bump. I never felt anything move. How can there be a baby?”
“We’ll ask the doctor about it when she comes back in,” Louis said, clearly recognising that he needed to be the calm one here. “Let’s get you into the hospital gown.”
Louis helped Harry off of the table. The moment his feet hit the floor, Harry felt a rush of fluid rush out of him. “Shit.”
“That’ll be your waters,” Louis said, speaking with the wisdom of someone with six younger siblings and a mother who was a midwife.
“Shit,” Harry repeated. He looked up from the puddle on the floor, a panicked look on his face. “Louis, I’m only twenty. How can I be having a baby?” A pain—a contraction, he silently corrected himself—took hold just then, and Louis supported him all the way through it, holding Harry up until the pain passed.
“You okay?” Louis asked, easing his grip on Harry’s arm.
“I don’t know,” Harry replied. “This is…a lot.”
“I know. But you’re not alone, Harry,” Louis said. “I’m right here. It’s my baby, too. At least I assume it is.” He smirked and winked.
Harry elbowed Louis right in the stomach, albeit gently. “Of course it’s yours.”
“Okay, then. We’ll figure it all out. I promise. Now, let’s get you into that gown so the doctor can check you out.” He tugged at Harry’s shirt. “Come on, lift your arms.”
In two minutes, Harry was back on the bed. Louis poked his head through the curtain, spotting Dr. Bolton chatting with a nurse. He cleared his throat to get her attention. When she turned, he said, “Harry’s ready.”
Dr. Bolton gave one last direction to the nurse, then walked back toward Harry’s cubicle. “Louis, right?”
He nodded. Everything had been moving so fast, he’d forgotten he’d never been introduced to the doctor.
“You’re the other father?” she asked, reaching to part the curtain.
“I am,” he answered.
“Excellent,” she said, walking back into the cubicle, leaving him to follow. Louis took back his spot on Harry’s left, while she positioned herself closer to the end.
“My waters broke,” Harry told her as she drew a fresh pair of gloves from her pocket and pulled them on.
Dr. Bolton smiled reassuringly. “That’s okay. It’s perfectly normal.”
“Is it perfectly normal to have no symptoms that I was pregnant? I mean, I don’t even have a bump,” Harry pointed out, working hard to keep his voice from squeaking. “How is this possible?”
“It’s not common,” the doctor said. “But it’s not unheard of. You’re experiencing what’s called a cryptic pregnancy. Sometimes, a person becomes pregnant, but never shows any of the usual symptoms, not even a bump.”
“You’re supposed to see a doctor when you’re pregnant, and I haven’t had a single appointment. Will the baby be okay?” Harry asked.
“We’ll have to do some tests, but you’re young and in good health yourself, so the odds are good your baby will be fine.” She patted his hand in a soothing manner.
Harry was about to ask a few more probing questions when another contraction hit, causing each and every query to flee his brain.
When this latest pain was over, Dr Bolton said, “Okay, Harry, I want you to put the balls of your feet on the bed, knees bent, legs open.” As soon as he’d done as she ordered, she went on. “I’m just going to feel to see how dilated you are. It may be just a little uncomfortable. You ready?”
Harry nodded, bracing himself.
It was a weird feeling, having someone other than Louis explore his entrance—apparently also his exit. Harry grabbed for Louis’ hand, and Louis gave it most willingly.
She withdrew her hand after a few moments. “You are about nine centimetres dilated. That baby is almost ready to come out.”
“Nine?” Louis asked, his voice incredulous, as if he’d just been told pigs could fly. “He’s at nine?”
“He is,” Dr. Bolton confirmed, smiling widely. “Perhaps even nine and a half.”
“Nine out of what?” Harry interjected, looking from the doctor to Louis, then back again.
“Ten,” Louis answered before the doctor could. “Nine out of ten.”
Before Harry had time to react, Dr. Bolton said, “I don’t think there’s time to get you to the birthing ward, Harry. Your baby is going to be born right here—and soon. I’m going to call in a nurse to help us. You need to get yourself prepared.”
As if confirming what the doctor said, the strongest contraction yet swept through Harry’s belly, nearly taking his breath away. And this time, there was a new angle. He felt a sudden urge to push—to get what was inside of him out. Now.
He reached for Louis’ forearm and gripped it tightly enough that Louis hissed. Harry did not much care. “Louis, I need to push. I need to get it out.”
Louis bent down so he was almost forehead to forehead with Harry. In a soothing tone, he said, “I know. Don’t push quite yet, though. You need to wait for the doctor.”
Harry closed his eyes, hauled in a deep breath, and worked against the contraction until it—and the immediate urge to push—subsided. He looked up at Louis. “This is not how I thought this day was going to go.”
“I know. But you’re doing great, Harry,” Louis said. “You really are.”
Dr. Bolton reappeared just then, a nurse she introduced as Katy in tow. “Let’s get you in a position to deliver, Harry.” She pulled up two brackets, one on each side of the bed. Harry had seen enough medical shows with his mum to know what these were for. “Scoot down just a little and get your heels in these slots in the stirrups.”
With Louis’ help, Harry was able to move down enough to place his heels where the doctor directed. Louis got a pillow behind him so he could lay back comfortably.
While Harry was getting situated, Katy set up a tray of instruments Dr. Bolton might need. Some of them looked very sharp—Harry hoped she would not need them.
“I am sure you’ve seen plenty of movies or TV shows where people have given birth, Harry.” Dr. Bolton read Harry’s mind as she sat down on a stool and positioned herself in between Harry’s legs. “It’s not as good as a labour and birthing class would have been, but it will have to do.”
Harry chuckled. “Thank goodness my mum had a huge crush on Patrick Dempsey and made us watch Gray’s Anatomy every week.”
Both Louis and the doctor laughed.
“I just want to check where you are now, okay, Harry?” Dr. Bolton asked.
“Okay.” Harry braced himself for another invasion. He had hoped for some action this weekend—but this was absolutely not what he had had in mind.
“Ten centimetres,” she declared, pulling her hand back. “You should soon start to feel like you want to push when you have a contraction.”
“It felt like that with the last one,” Harry told her.
“Okay, then. Next time you feel a contraction, you can go ahead and push,” Dr. Bolton said. She shifted her gaze from Harry to Louis. “Your job is to support Harry the best you can.”
“I’m on it,” Louis assured her. He took Harry’s hand in both of his, waiting for the next contraction to hit.
He did not have to wait long. Another strong contraction overcame Harry, along with that intense need to push.
“All right, Harry,” Dr. Bolton said. “Push as hard as you can. Tuck your chin into your chest and bear down.”
Harry didn’t need to be told twice. Every muscle in his middle was calling out for him to push. He focused all of his attention on those muscles and pushed with all his might, squeezing the bedclothes in his right hand and Louis’ hand with his left.
As the contraction wound down, Harry collapsed back onto the pillow, already spent.
“That was great, Harry,” Dr. Bolton told him. “Just like that a few more times, and your surprise baby will be here.”
A few more times? Harry didn’t know if he could do that a few more times. This was more exhausting than anything he’d ever done before—and that included a worldwide tour that lasted several months.
There wasn’t much time to think about how knackered he was because the next contraction came on fast and furious, and he had to pull himself up and push, push, push. This time, as he pushed, he could actually feel the baby working their way through him. It was just about the weirdest sensation he’d ever experienced. At the same time, it was easily the most painful sensation—it felt like the baby was splitting him apart. He could not help but groan from the effort.
“You’re making great progress, Harry,” Dr. Bolton said as this latest contraction eased. “Keep up that intensity.”
Harry let out one more groan before he sighed and flopped backwards. He looked up at Louis. “I can’t do this. Make them get it out.”
Bending down, Louis pressed a kiss to Harry’s temple before whispering, “You can do this. I have complete and utter faith in you.”
“It’s so hard, Louis. And it hurts. It hurts a lot.” Harry wasn’t sure he was conveying to Louis the depth of how hard it was or how much it hurt. If Louis understood, surely he would make the doctor get the baby out some other way.
“I know,” Louis said—even though what Harry knew was that Louis was telling a lie. Louis straightened up and tightened his grip on Harry’s hand. “But you only have to push a few more times, and it will all be over.”
As the next contraction hit him, he hoped Louis was right. He tucked his chin deep, got a hold of the bedclothes and Louis’ hand again, and pushed as hard as he could.
“Baby’s head is crowning!” Dr. Bolton announced.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught Louis doing a tiny leap. “Oh, my God, Harry! There’s a baby in there.” It was good, Harry guessed, that Louis was catching on.
It was a huge disappointment all around that the baby’s head seemed to slip back inside as that contraction passed, then the next.
“You may need to push a couple more times, but you’re so close to getting the head out,” the doctor said. “I know you’re exhausted, and this is taking a while, but you can do this. I want you to try something on the next contraction. Katy is going to put her hand under your right knee and Louis is going to do the same on your left, and they’re going to pull back to help widen things up. Okay?”
Harry nodded wearily, then watched Katy and Louis get into position. As another contraction began, they pulled back on his knees gently, but firmly. Instinct drove him to grab the back of his thighs, and opening his legs as wide as he could, he pushed with as much energy as he could muster. This time, the baby’s head moved down far enough that Harry screamed at how much he was being stretched.
“Push, push, push, Harry,” Dr. Bolton urged.
As he did, pushing right through the pain, he actually felt the baby’s head pop out of him.
“Great job, Harry,” the doctor said. Harry could see where she was cradling a baby’s head. It was covered with a dark cap of hair, along with a coating of goo. He could hardly believe this creature was coming out of him.
“Almost there, H,” Louis said.
“Take a moment to rest,” the doctor told him. “Then I want you to try one last, big push for the baby’s shoulders.”
Harry sagged onto the pillow behind him, trying to breathe deeply, collecting energy for the hopefully last push. Louis leaned down to press another kiss to Harry’s head. “I’m so proud of you. You’ve got this.”
Harry could only nod and offer Louis the faintest of smiles.
When the next excruciating pain came, Harry hauled himself up and he, Katy, and Louis stretched his legs back. He imagined getting what was in out and pushed with everything he had left in his tank.
He knew the minute the baby left his body and looked up to see Dr. Bolton holding a small baby in her hands. His small baby. His and Louis’ small baby.
“It’s a girl!” the doctor proclaimed. Katy ran a small towel over the baby as Dr. Bolton passed the squalling infant through Harry’s legs to place her on his chest.
She was tiny, but perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes—Harry quickly counted. Louis crouched down enough that he was more or less at eye level with her. He reached a hand over to cup her head, and she quieted.
“Look at her, Harry,” Louis said, his voice full of wonder. “She’s perfect.”
Even as tired as he was, Harry managed a smile. “I can’t believe I just had a baby.”
Louis tore his gaze from said baby to meet Harry’s gaze. “You did an amazing job.”
Katy cleared her throat from the other side of the bed. “Gentlemen, I need to take her for just a few moments to clean her up and give her a quick check-up. I promise to bring her right back when we’re done.”
“Would you like to cut the cord, Louis?” Dr. Bolton asked.
“Sure.” He straightened up.
The doctor placed a clamp on the umbilical cord connecting the baby to Harry a few inches from where it jutted out from the baby’s belly, then she handed a pair of scissors to Louis. She pointed to the spot where he should cut, and he did.
Once the baby was free, Katy scooped her up and carried her away.
“Just a small bit of business, Harry, and the birth will be officially over,” Dr. Bolton said. “We just need to deliver your placenta.”
Off Harry’s confused face, Louis interjected, “That’s where the baby has been living.”
“Right,” Harry said. Looking from Louis to the doctor, he asked, “How do we do that?”
“I’ll pull and you push, and it should come right out,” Dr. Bolton said. “It’s not a big deal, and it shouldn’t be painful.”
She was not wrong. Ten minutes later, the placenta was out and off to the lab to be checked out—just because it had been such an unusual pregnancy.
Harry was transferred to a private room both to keep an eye on him and the baby for one night and to free up a bed in A&E. He was no sooner settled in a proper bed in a clean hospital gown when Katy reappeared with their newborn, now wrapped in a white blanket with pink and blue stripes around the edges. Harry held his arms out anxiously to take her.
“She’s perfectly healthy, passing all our tests with flying colours,” Katy said, handing the baby over to Harry. “She weighs five pounds even and is twenty inches long. Congratulations.”
Katy told them someone would be in soon to talk to them about baby care. In the meantime, they were to use the button hanging over Harry’s bed if they needed anything. She left, then, to attend to other patients. Leaving Harry and Louis alone with their surprise bundle of joy.
The baby was clearly tuckered out by all her adventures, and she was asleep as Harry and Louis gazed down at her.
“I still can’t believe she’s real,” Harry said, eyes focused on the baby’s sweet face.
“I can’t either,” Louis agreed. “I just thought you’d eaten bad fish last night.”
“I wanted babies,” Harry said softly. “I love babies. I just didn’t imagine I would be having one this soon. What will we do, Louis?”
“We’ll love her and take care of her,” Louis said, his tone as sure as Harry had ever heard it. “The rest will come.”
“But the tour…." Harry trailed off, knowing Louis would get his meaning.
“We’ll figure it out.” Louis’ tone brooked no argument, and Harry looked up at him in time to catch his raised eyebrows and his no-nonsense look, tempered by his warmest smile.
Harry smiled back before shifting his gaze back to their brand-new daughter. One of the baby’s tiny hands was peeking out of the top of the blanket, and Harry gently stroked it with his index finger. It was soft and warm—and one of the best things he’d ever felt.
After a moment of admiring the sleeping baby, Harry said, “Here, Louis, take her. You haven’t even had a turn yet.”
Gingerly, Harry passed the baby into Louis’ waiting arms. Louis had already gotten quite a lot of baby time this year, what with his smallest brother and sister having been born just a few months earlier. Who knew they would be an uncle and an aunt so soon?
While Louis got cuddles from their still-snoozing newborn, Harry looked at Louis. “What should we call her?”
Louis didn’t lift his eyes from the baby’s face as he said, “I guess she does need a name, eh?”
As if she knew an important decision was about to be made, the baby opened her eyes and gurgled. Harry laughed and reached over to cradle her head in his hand. “Well, hello there, little stowaway.”
“She was a little stowaway, wasn’t she?” Louis chuckled. “We can’t call her that, though.”
“Look at her eyes, Louis. They’re so blue. Just like yours,” Harry said, smiling fondly.
“Well, I hope she’ll have your dimples.” Louis pressed a pinkie into the baby’s cheek right where a dimple might pop.
Neither of them said anything for a long moment, each of them staring at their baby girl, trying to think of the perfect name for her.
Harry broke the silence first. “I can’t think of a name that seems to suit her.”
“I can, actually,” Louis said. “What do you think about Margaret?”
It took Harry a minute, but then he asked, “Like your grandmother?”
Louis’ grandmother had died right at the start of the year. He had been very close to her, and he’d taken the loss hard. “We could call her Maggie. My gran always said she wished they’d nicknamed her Maggie.”
“I think that’s perfect,” Harry said, grinning. “And what do you think for a middle name?”
“Maybe Anne, after your mum,” Louis suggested. “That way she’ll have a name from each side of the family.”
“Margaret Anne.” Harry tested the name out, letting it roll on his tongue. His grin grew bigger. “I love it.”
“I love it, too. What do you think, baby girl? Does Maggie work for you?” Louis asked the wiggly infant in his arms. She cooed in response. Louis’ grin was as wide as Harry’s now. “I think she likes it.”
Louis paused for just a second before he spoke again. “So, now that we’ve figured that out, do you think we should let anyone know she’s here?”
Harry’s eyes widened. “How do we even explain…?”
Shaking his head, Louis said, “I have no idea.”
“You should definitely go first,” Harry stated.
“How? I’m holding the baby,” Louis pointed out.
“I’ll take her back, and you can call your mum.” Harry reached out to take Maggie from Louis.
Louis held Maggie just a little tighter. “Your hands are free. You call your mum first.”
Harry did not even know what to say to his mum. He was pretty sure Louis didn’t know what to say to his, either. It’s not that either of their mothers would be unhappy to be a grandmother. It’s just that they probably thought they’d have more warning.
Harry figured there was only one way to figure this out. “Rock, paper, scissors?”
With a sigh, Louis nodded. “But none of that sneaky fire shit,” he said. Harry did not need to channel his inner Joey Tribbiani right then.
“Fine.”
Louis kept the baby still with one hand, holding out his other in a fist to shake while Harry intoned, “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”
The paper Harry shot was cut by Louis’ scissors. “Get out your phone, H.”
Collecting his phone from where it sat on the table by the bed, Harry scrolled to his mother’s number. With a deep breath and a glance over at Louis holding Maggie to calm himself, he pressed the green button to call her. It rang three times, then his mother’s voice came over the line. “Harry? Hi, sweetheart. What’s up?”
Harry gulped, then answered her. “Hi, Mum. You are never going to believe what happened today.”
(End 15 May 2024)