Why are you special?

Normally, babies don't pay attention to schedules: They come when they come.  But I have a little bit of an advantage there: I have the divine schedules for them.  And while I am not permitted to volunteer the information without a cause… well, narrowing down a date is a great practical exercise for Divine Bisection (it’s not as violent as it sounds: It's the term for using the Yes/No answers from a deity via the Commune spell to apply the solution to the higher/lower number guessing game to the location or time of things and events), and when I cast Commune, I can talk to me: And it’s my domain.  Cause covered, all nice, tidy, and by the book, with one free fifth level spell..

So when Avril the fifth rolls around, I've made sure Wanda's calendar is clear.  When her real contractions first start, I ask her a question that I know will be very important:

“Wanda, I hope it doesn't come to this,” but I'm asking because I KNOW it will, “If it comes to a point where I need to hurt you deeply to save your baby, do I have your permission?” I have a pretty good idea how she'll answer, as I wrote her, but she has been gaining less scripted life experience, so it's not a given.

She gives me an answer that is both partly what I expected, and a wound to my heart, “Do what you need. I'm just a cow.”

Right. I've saddled her with an extremely low sense of self-worth. It was one thing when I was doing it to that heartless rat Fredrick… but Wanda isn't him. She hasn't been for a while. This sweet woman doesn't deserve that.  And re-writing… no. I'm going to need to fix her the long way: Patient caring and soothing words.  For now, though… “All right. But do remember: You matter.”

Yes, it's a rough birth. The baby has too many limbs, and basically can't get out. If such things existed here, we'd have diagnosed this a long time ago with sonograms and had a surgery bay ready for a cesarean.

Fortunately, I don’t need to kill Wanda. She's on spells that give her Regeneration, so she's going to grow back anything I cut off of her in a few minutes, and she won't die of it.  But what I need to do is still pretty gruesome. I also have to be careful with the timing: I need to let things go wrong long enough that nobody will seriously question my decision to cut into her, but not so long as to inflict her baby girl with anything permanent.

Lucky for me I'm the goddess of childbirth, and I know everything about this birth.

Intellectually, what I'm doing isn't difficult: I can see everything of relevance thanks to my divine nature, so I know exactly how deep and where to cut. I also know that the buffs I put on Wanda will let her recover quickly and without complications, AND I made sure to obtain her consent in advance. Physically, it's easy for me as well. My claws are supernaturally sharp, I can ignore the damage reduction I gave her, and I have fine motor control that would make the most skilled neurosurgeon on Earth weep with envy.

Emotionally, though?  I'm cutting into my friend and lover. A person I understand better than I do myself: That's the hard part.  And she wants her baby to live.  I can respect that.  And I do.

… eventually.  I end up cutting it pretty close to the line forcing myself to do the deed, slicing open Wanda’s belly with my bare claws and pulling the little girl out of the resultant bloody mess… but no permanent damage to Wanda’s baby girl, who has two wings with a light down starting to grow on them, two wings that are nothing but skin stretched over bone, and two wings that have the start of scales on them.  She also has little cat claws, some rather vicious teeth, and the start of what will be thick golden scales all over her body.  Oh, and slitted eyes!  So cute!  And SUCH a good set of lungs.  Ooh, that baby’s loud.

And Wanda heals up just fine: It doesn’t take long, she’s tough, I made sure of that.  “Hi Sam!” is her first sentence when she sees her little bundle of joy.  Well, of wings, teeth, and claws.  But Wanda doesn’t seem to mind, and I think it helps that she’s got enough DR to ignore the teeth on what should be a very sensitive portion of her anatomy.  Honestly, with the buffs she's under, she'd barely notice a howitzer to the face.

I also have my own bundle of joy to deliver, of course.  I have the same problem, just from a different angle: I regenerate, so my hymen is in place, and I have Hardness-25 and a lot of DR.  Little Alex doesn’t have a path out at all: The most delicate portions of my anatomy are much more durable than simple steel, or even enchanted steel, for that matter… which also means I need to do it myself: No doctor can cut through me. I get to ignore damage reduction and hardness, though, so it's physically just as easy. Curiously, I find it emotionally easier to cut myself open than it was cutting open Wanda.  

What’s that say about me?

And I recover even faster… my son… ish… Alex is healthy. No blood for my child… mostly because I don't bleed.  I know that inherently, this is my son, but it's weird to see him become a her, and back, several times. Also, a baby nursing doesn’t feel the same as an adult nursing for fun. That's exciting, this is… content? And hey: My milk is finally serving the intended purpose.

I'll have to watch them. The old Life’s grandkids ended up with divine powers - at a cost - because they were a quarter deity and their daddy had a diabolic contract. Alex here is at least that, and a were-woman to boot.  Less obvious than Sam's powers will be… but it's hard to say which will be better, if it even matters. And at some point I'll need to introduce them to their father. Won't THAT be a hoot?  I don't even want to be in the same room with the man… with his contract, it's just not safe.

I still can't go back to being a guy: Not really. Temporarily, sure, but… well, I am The Blessed Mother. I'm fundamentally a fertility goddess, and that will always revert me… eventually. Also, I dig my new life: I have plenty of friends with benefits, lots of projects, and now a proper family. Two, really. I'm not going to abandon any of it any time soon.

So… maybe dying and getting divinely cursed was the best thing that ever happened to me? Time will tell. I may have to thank the old Life… when I see her again such that she can hear me: She's still working as a wet nurse for a poor family, and a visit from my material avatar could be disruptive. And I still don't know what will happen to me when she returns to her duties.

Well… as apparently this just all just cycles around… catch you next time.