Title: A Pumpkin From A Lemon

Summary: A day in the life of a birthing mother. No uteruses were harmed via vampire teeth in this little ditty.

Word Count: 500

Rating: M

Disclaimer: SM owns the characters. I make no money from having Bella torture Edward while birthing an alien. But reviews are a nice payment.

"Please! Kill me!"

Edward gently pushes me back into the bed. He speaks to me in a tone that's meant to sooth me; instead, it sets me on edge.

"Shh, Bella, it's okay," he encourages.

Hell hath no fury like a woman getting her vagina torn in two by something the size of a carving pumpkin. I look at him with laser eyes and his widen in surprise.

"YOU did this to me! I hate you!" I spit at him.

"You don't mean that, honey." He brushes my hair back with his hand and I flinch away from him.

"Don't touch me!"

His hand moves away just as another contraction hits. I snatch it back and hold on for dear life. He complains about my death grip, but my gaze quiets him. We grimace at each other in pain, until his expression becomes one of concern.

"Bella, you have to breathe. Remember, in … and then out." He does a dramatic show of the Lamaze technique. I see red.

He sighs in relief when I let go of his hand, and then groans when I fist his shirt, pulling him to me. I don't even recognize the deep growl that emanates from me as I yell in my husband's face.


"I can see the head, Bella, not long, sweetie. Next contraction I want you to push down hard for me okay?"

"NO! I don't want to. Please, can I go home? I don't want to do this anymore. I promise I'll come back tomorrow and finish … FUCK! MOTHER FUCK! RING OF FIRE!"

"That's it, Bella, that's the head coming now, keep pushing, sweetie. You're doing so well." The nurse continues to encourage me as my girl parts burn like a thousand suns.

The pain leaves again but something is happening down there and I know it doesn't look pretty. I hold Edward back as he moves to look below.

"NO! Don't you dare! Pumpkin out of a lemon…"

Another small contraction, a few happy cheers and a tiny cry all seem to happen simultaneously. Edward and I both look down at our baby as he's held up to us, and gasp.

"What the hell is that? Is that ours?" Edward looks at me in confusion. I have no words. The grey, wrinkly thing, covered in blood and crying it's lungs out doesn't look anything like us. My husband's questions are warranted.

The baby is whisked away, returning minutes later all cleaned and wrapped in a light blue blanket. He's placed in my arms. A bronze haired, brown eyed boy looks up at me momentarily, before closing them contentedly, and I instantly fall in love.

"Our son!" Edward whispers excitedly by my ear.

We had spent many long nights picking out our son's name. In the end we went with a beautiful mix of our family names.

"Charsper Alisle Remmettose. But when you're not in trouble, we'll just call you Car for short." I coo.