Hey, guys, I know I've been out of the fic game for a long long long time... but I heard the song, as always, and my mind ran away with the idea. This will have 6 updates, tentatively, 3 for Addison and 3 for Mark. By all means, let me know what you think! Thanks!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Grey's Anatomy, etc.
Every Other Weekend
Reba McEntire and Kenny Chesney
Every other Friday
It's toys and clothes and backpacks
Is everybody in?
Okay, let's go see Dad
Same time in the same spot
Corner of the same old parking lot
Half the hugs and kisses
There are always sad
We trade a couple words and looks and kids again
Every other weekend
Every other weekend
Very few exceptions
I pick up the love we made in both my arms
It's movies on the sofa
Grilled cheese and cut the crust off
"But that's not the way Mom makes it, Daddy" breaks my heart
I miss everything I used to have with her again
Every other weekend
But I can't tell her I love her
I can't tell him I love him
Cuz there's too many questions and
Ears in the car
So I don't tell him I miss him
I don't tell her I need her
She's(He's) over me, that's where we are
So we're as close as we might ever be again
Every other weekend
Every other Saturday
First thing in the morning
I turn the TV on to make the quiet go away
I know why, but I don't know why
We ever let this happen
Falling for forever was a big mistake
There's so much not to do, and all day not to do it in
Every other weekend
Every other Sunday
I empty out my backseat
While my children hug their mother in the parking lot
We don't touch
We don't talk much
Maybe goodbye to each other
Then she drives away with every piece of heart I've got
I re-convince myself we did the right thing
Every other weekend
So I can't tell her I love her
I can't tell him I love him
Cuz there's too many questions and
Ears in the car
So I don't tell him I miss him
I don't tell her I need her
She's(He's) over me, that's where we are
So we're as close as we might ever be again
Every other weekend
Yeah for fifteen minutes we're a family again
God, I wish that he was still with me again
Every other weekend...
-xXx-
The room is white, sterile. Crowded. Machines and IVs click and beep intermittently, monitoring both baby and mom's heartbeats. Nurses flutter about around me, updating me on the status of my patients. I suck in a deep breath behind my mask, and step into the gown. "Okay, mom, dad," I say as the sterile latex gloves slap against my skin. I glance to the clock on the wall – 1 p.m. With any luck, this little one will be born just in time for me to get my kids from school. "This is it. Time to push."
The dad – Patrick – nods enthusiastically, perking up. The mom – Vanessa – lets out an exasperated groan-slash-sigh; after nearly 18 hours in active labor, I know she's exhausted and sore. Patrick takes Vanessa's hand and squeezes it supportively as he presses a quick kiss to her damp forehead. "Come on, baby," he soothes, and I can't quite tell if he's talking to his girlfriend or his almost-born baby.
"Okay, Patrick," I direct as I take a seat near the edge of the bed. "We'll use the stirrups to make this easy on everyone. You hold her hand, okay?"
"Okay," he agrees happily, a second-wind burst of adrenaline obviously coursing through his veins. "Okay."
"And Vanessa," I say, smiling behind my mask, "with every contraction, put your chin to your chest and bear down. Your body and Mother Nature will do the rest. And when it hurts, which it will, you take Patrick's hand and squeeze that sucker 'til it breaks, okay?"
She manages a small laugh and says, "Sounds good, Dr. Montgomery."
"Perfect," I say, watching the monitor. In about two seconds, her next contraction begins, so I say, "Okay, Vanessa… push!"
She bears down, letting out another groan as Patrick slowly counts to ten, just like we talked about an hour ago. "Breathe, Vanessa, breathe," he coaches.
"Don't you tell me what to do!" she snaps as another contraction begins, just mere seconds after the first one ends. "Christ!"
"You're doing a great job," I coach, my voice soft and reassuring. "Big, deep breaths."
"Big deep breaths," Vanessa repeats as she bears down and pushes again.
After several more minutes of the same – pushing, coaching, yelling – the baby's head is crowning. "Wanna have a peek, dad?" I ask, in between contractions. He looks to Vanessa for approval; she nods ever so slightly, exhaustion and frustration clear on her face. "Lots of dark hair," I say as Vanessa lets go of his hand. He stretches it out as he joins me at the foot of the bed.
"I see our baby," he nearly whispers, tears already forming in his gray-green eyes. "We're so close, baby. So close."
"Oh, shut up, Patrick! You're so annoying," Vanessa grunts as another contraction hits and she gives baby a big push… one big enough where I can turn her face and begin suctioning. Patrick, unsure of what to do, looks to me for reassurance as Vanessa screams through the pain.
"Get up there, daddy. She needs you," I say softly, guiding baby's shoulders out of the birth canal. He nods and climbs into the bed beside her, squeezing her shoulders for support.
"Two more pushes, Vanessa. And your baby will be here," I say, glancing to the clock again – 1: 27 p.m. Baby is making a quick entrance into the world, and for that, I am grateful.
Vanessa, newly motivated, pushes again with the next contraction, and the shoulders are free. With the final push, the baby – a girl, I quickly announce – makes her grand entrance into the world, just shy of 1:30 p.m. I suction out her nose and mouth again and rub her back with a receiving blanket, willing her to cry. The nurse hands Patrick the instrument as he snips the cord.
"Come on, baby," I soothe, as I continue to warm her up. Patrick looks tense, Vanessa panicked. "Come on." After an excruciating thirty seconds – which felt like a lifetime – the baby cooperates and lets out a warbled cry. Fresh tears cascade down her parents' cheeks as a nurse whisks the baby away to be measured, weighed and swaddled. I turn away here – this moment is always private, one that brings me back to the birth of my own children.
"Can you believe it?" Mark whispers as I let out fresh tears, a mix of relief and pure joy. "Our baby is here, Addison, she's here."
"Ella's here," I whisper back, looking up into his tear-filled eyes as our newborn daughter's cries fill the hospital room. He leans down and pushes my sweaty bangs off of my face and kisses me – hard – and it's then I know we're a family of three. The nurse, Shannon, brings our tiny baby over to us and places her in my arms.
"Hi, Ella," I coo. "I'm your mommy, and this is your daddy," I manage to whisper, my voice cracking as I place a gentle kiss on our daughter's forehead. Though my relationship with her father effectively ended my first marriage, I wouldn't trade this moment for anything else in the world. She's my miracle. She lazily blinks as her cries subside, turning into gentle baby hiccups. Mark kisses my head again.
"Wanna hold her?" I ask.
He nods excitedly. "Of course."
"Dr. Montgomery?" the nurse prompts and I'm jarred back to reality. "Baby girl…"
"Avery," Vanessa corrects, looking lovingly into her boyfriend's eyes. He nods and presses a tiny kiss to the baby's forehead.
"Avery is weighing in at 7 pounds, 6 ounces. 20 inches long," Katie says with a smile. "She looks good so far."
"Thanks, Katie," I say, suddenly back into doctor mode. "Let's get this placenta delivered, and we'll take Avery here to the nursery for her first check-up. Sound like a plan, mom and dad?"
Vanessa and Patrick nod. We all work together to finish the special delivery and get cleaned up. Once it's finished, another OBGYN enters the room.
"Look who's just in time," I tease my colleague. "Vanessa, Patrick, I've got to run and get my girls from school and take them to my… their dad. You're in good hands here with Dr. Jonas. Call my cell if you have any questions or concerns, and I'll be back at the hospital first thing in the morning to see you."
"Alright," Vanessa says with a smile. "Thank you, Dr. Montgomery… for everything."
"Don't mention it," I reply, snapping the rubber gloves off. "Thanks for being here, Dr. Jonas," I add.
"No prob, Doc," he says with a sympathetic smile. I ignore the gesture as I wave goodbye to my patients. I make a quick run by the nursery to see little Avery, and just short of 2:30 on a Friday afternoon, I'm out of the hospital and racing to my daughters' school to meet my nanny and my youngest.
-xXx-
Every other Friday, my new routine is very much the same. I wake up two hours earlier than I usually do. I sneak downstairs, avoiding soft spots on the floor so I don't wake my girls up, and make them a special breakfast. As I impatiently wait for my coffee – breakfast of champions – to brew, I'm packing up three matching pink, sparkly backpacks. I make sure to pack some of their comfort items – Ella, her stuffed bunny, Madelyn, her baby blanket, and Grace, an extra pacifier, even though I know, at 18 months, I should probably start weaning her off of it. Then I pack up their clothes and a few other things I know they'll want while they're at Mark's apartment.
I wake the girls up and we eat breakfast together. Ella tells me about her latest-and-greatest project at school. At age six, she's crazy smart, far surpassing the expectations of her first grade teachers. Madelyn chatters about something new she's learning at preschool, or one of her new little friends, and Gracie laughs and babbles at just about everything. After breakfast, we brush teeth and get into school uniforms. Our nanny, Abigail, arrives just after 6 a.m., and I take my eldest two to school, while leaving Gracie in the nanny's care.
I work from 7 a.m. to 2 p.m., if I can help it, so I can make it to the school to get the girls at 3. They love when I get to pick them up from school – it doesn't happen very often, but during the divorce, when we were settling custody arrangements, I made it a point to get them from school, so I could see their beautiful smiles and get some of the best little girl hugs in the world before I send them off to see Mark for the weekend.
Today, I'm there at 3:07, just a tad late, but Abigail – my lifesaver, especially lately – had signed Maddy out of preschool, and was entertaining the girls on the playground.
"Sorry, I'm late, girly goos," I say as they all see me at the same time.
"Mommy!" Maddy screeches, hopping off the swing and racing toward me. Gracie claps and laughs, a smile spread wide across her chubby baby cheeks.
"Did you help a baby get born?" Ella asks with a sincere smile, standing with her hands on her hips, looking so much like Mark that it almost makes my stomach hurt.
I nod and smile. "I sure did. A girl today. Her name is Avery," I inform my daughter.
"Cool," she grins – her four front teeth still missing, her expression literally melts my heart – and steps closer to hug me. "You're not as late as daddy was that one time. Remember?"
"I remember," I reply, thinking back to the time where Mark was nearly 45 minutes late picking Ella up from kindergarten. "Speaking of your daddy, it's almost time to meet him at the park. Do you have any homework, El?"
"Yeah, but daddy can help," she says, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. I know that she and Mark have a special bond. "We're going to the Yankees game tomorrow," she informs me.
"Maddy and Gracie, too?"
"Dunno," she shrugs, and I bounce Gracie on my hip, eliciting a tiny laugh from my baby girl. "I guess so."
"Hmm," I reply. He didn't say anything about it to me, which is not unusual for Mark, especially lately. If there's one thing he loves more than his girls, it's the Yankees. Though I don't know how I feel about him taking my 18-month-old to the new Yankee stadium in the Bronx, especially on a weekend where the Yankees are playing the Red Sox, I bite my tongue and smile. "Ready to go girls?"
"Yeah!" My oldest daughters chorus together, racing ahead of me to our SUV, where their suitcases and backpacks are waiting in the back.
"Thanks, Abigail," I say to the nanny. "Are you…"
"I'm free tomorrow," she says with a reassuring smile. "If Mark needs me to watch Grace, have him call me."
"Thanks," I say. "I swear, I would lose my mind without you."
"I get it," Abigail says with a kind smile. "See you Monday, Addison. Bye, Gracie baby. Be good for your daddy," she adds as she tickles Grace's chubby thigh.
"Say bye-bye to Abigail," I prompt Grace, bouncing her on my hip once again as I take a step toward our car. "Buh-bye," she manages, waving her little fingers at the nanny, who falls in step behind us to her own car.
-xXx-
"And today, Parker brought a worm in from recess," Ella explains, wrinkling her nose. I watch Grace attempt to mimic her big sister through my rearview mirror, and I smile. "Miss Cooper did NOT like that at all. He dropped it on the floor and squished it with his shoe!"
"Ew!" Maddy screeches.
"Maddy, inside voices," I remind my rambunctious four-year-old.
"Sorry," she replies. "Ew," she repeats in a whispered tone.
"Yeah, and you know what else?" Ella asks, widening her already-big emerald eyes.
"What?" Maddy and I say together, which prompts a giggle from my little girl.
Ella claps her hands and says, "She sent him to the principal's office. And the principal called his mom!"
"Oh no," Maddy giggles.
I listen as the conversation turns to something else, and Grace babbles and repeats random words. It's times like this – when I'm taking them to Mark, and it's just us four in the car – that I love the most, that I wish would last forever. But as we make our way to "the spot"—the East 96th Street Playground at Central Park – I know it won't last forever, and it always ends in goodbyes – for me – and hellos – for him.
I park the car, by some miracle, in a spot just across from the park's entrance. All three of my girls – even Gracie – are well versed in exiting the car in New York. Ella unbuckles Gracie and exits on the passenger (sidewalk) side, with Madelyn hot on her heels. I hoist Grace out of her seat and plant her on my hip and hand the girls their backpacks.
"You packed Bunny, right, mom?" Ella asks, more out of habit than anything else. In the last six months, since this every other weekend ping-pong game began, we've only forgotten Bunny once, and it ended in me taking the stuffed toy to my hysterical then-five-year-old at 3 in the morning.
"I sure did, sweetheart," I murmur as I grab the rolling duffel that, for now, comfortably fits clothes for all three of the kids and hand it off to Ella. The last thing I need is the diaper bag, which I swing onto my arm with Grace's backpack. She buries her head in my neck, a true mama's girl.
"Ready, kiddos?" I ask as I shut the door and lock the car and glance down to my eldest two daughters.
"Ready," they reply in unison, Ella taking Maddy's right hand in her left. As soon as we get the signal, we cross the street to the playground. Exhausted, I plop down on the bench with Grace, backpacks, the diaper bag and their duffel around me, as we wait for Mark.
After about fifteen minutes, and right on time, Mark arrives, slightly out of breath. "Sorry, I'm late," he apologizes before I can even mumble a word.
"You're not," I politely say. "Ella tells me you're taking the girls to the game tomorrow." My tone is colder, chilly.
He sighs. "We have box seats, a thing from a prospective supplier," Mark explains. "We'll be in a suite. I'll douse them with sunscreen, Addison. I won't even have a beer, for God sakes. I'm bringing a sitter—"
"That's fine, then, Mark. I just didn't want Grace…"
"I know," he replies, clipping his words. "Jesus, Addison, I'll be careful."
"Fine," I reply, knowing that at this point, it's useless to argue with him. Our conversation is over, and we fall into an awkward silence, waiting for Madelyn and Ella to notice that he's joined me.
Five, four, three, two…
"DADDY!" the girls yell, each abandoning their swing on the playground and running towards us as fast as their little legs could carry them. "Daddy, daddy, daddy!" Ella continues as Maddy falls behind, panting slightly.
He scoops her up and she peppers kisses all over his cheeks, squeezing him tightly. My heart thumps hard in my chest – they've always had a special bond, and I know the divorce has been hard on our oldest girl – and I swallow the growing lump in my throat, the lump that arrives every other Friday, no matter how many times we do this.
"Hi, princess," he soothes her, squeezing her tight one last time before he sets her down and turns his attention to Madelyn. She waves shyly and squeezes his legs; he bends down and hugs her, pressing a kiss to her fine, blondish hair. "Hey, Maddy girl."
"Hi, Daddy," she says softly, pulling away from him and glancing back up at Grace and me.
"Okay, girls, say bye to your mommy," he says for me. Ella immediately obeys and hugs and kisses me.
"Love you, mom," she whispers, and I kiss her cheek one more time.
"Make sure you take good care of your sisters," I whisper.
My toothless wonder smiles and nods and squeezes me one more time, and her sister interrupts, hugging me around Grace. "Bye, mommy," Maddy says sadly, her perfect pink lips folding into a pout. "I love you lots and lots."
"I love you too, sunshine, and you be a good girl for your daddy this weekend, okay? And stay with him and El tomorrow at the game," I instruct her and she nods along.
"K," she says softly.
I kiss her forehead, and then stand up, still balancing Grace in my arms. She buries her head back in my neck, and I rub her back slowly, whispering my goodbyes to my littlest one. Ella and Maddy swing their glittery backpacks onto their backs. I kiss Grace's cheeks over and over again, as many times as she'll let me, and as I hand her over to Mark, the temper tantrum begins.
She stretches her arms out to me and cries, alligator tears streaming down her already-red cheeks. She kicks against Mark, and he struggles to hold her close. I lean over and kiss her, and fight the urge to take her back in my arms – it won't help her any to prolong the inevitable, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. Fighting my own tears, I quickly grab the pacifier out of her bag and pop it into her mouth, muffling her sobs for me.
"Bye, Gracie baby," I whisper, my voice nearly cracking as I hand Mark the diaper bag and Grace's backpack. "I love you girls, have fun with daddy, okay?"
"Okay," the older two reply, once again in unison. Mark nods at me, still struggling with Gracie, and I know I should go now before it gets worse.
I turn and walk away from him and our girls, my heart pinching and pulling as I do, and before I can even help it, tears are streaming down my face. It hasn't gotten any easier, and I doubt it will – at least not until they're more grown up. I quickly cross the street, only looking back once to see where they are. Maddy catches my eye and waves at me; I bite my lip, blow her a kiss and wave back. As they walk the opposite way – Grace, still crying, and Madelyn and Ella already chattering away – I put my car into drive, and head back to my now-vacant brownstone to spend another weekend alone.
-xXx-