Spoilers: General Season 10 after the birth of the Roberts twins

Summary: Mac ponders the direction of her life at the twins' Christening party

Note: I found this vignette in my writing notebook; I had never gotten around to typing it up. It was just a bit of fluff that demanded to be written in response to my own musings after I found out that a friend from college was pregnant.

Disclaimer: Harm, Mac, etc. are not mine, so don't sue me because I have an imagination and my muse inspires me.

1132 EST Sunday

Roberts' Residence

Nicole Roberts has my full attention, even though I do not have hers. She is sleeping through the noises of the party downstairs—a party celebrating the Christening of her and her twin brother. As we rock together in the wooden glider that occupies the corner of the Roberts' nursery, Nikki yawns and then snuggling deeper into the soft pink blanket in which she is cocooned. My heart melts at the little noises she makes in her sleep and merely watching the small angel napping in my arms makes everything seem so much simpler.

A sudden burst of laughter from the guests below shatter the moment, and the thoughts I have been trying to keep at bay all morning return to me full force.

What am I doing with my life?

I have a career that I enjoy, a loyal group of friends, a nice place in Georgetown to call my own, the title to a little red sports car, enough money in the bank to maintain my current standard of living… and usually that is enough for me to be satisfied. But when I look at any of my godchildren, I cannot help but wonder what tangible legacy I will leave behind someday. All of the possessions I have accumulated will gather dust, and all that I have achieved will be forgotten. The most enduring legacy any human can create is a child, and that is the one piece of myself that I ache for the most at moments like this.

Then I think about of the challenges of raising a child. Not only is it obscenely expensive to be a parent today, it is also scary as hell. The world out there is slowly but surely becoming a darker and less secure place—I keep up with the news and all of the disheartening events that seem to be a little worse every day. Who would want to expose an innocent child to such a reality?

I frown at the thoughts running rampant through my head as I run my thumb across the tiny pink fingers wrapped around my much larger index finger. I cannot hold back the small sigh that escapes. This inner battle is one with which I am quite familiar.

My only answer to why I believe that a child will make me feel like I have accomplished something good with my life is because deep down, I have hope for a better future despite my predictions of doom and gloom. Obviously, Bud and Harriet are a lot more hopeful than I am, as can be attested to by their houseful of children.

But they started their family when they were younger. Forty is a quickly approaching reality for me, and with my recent health issues, God only knows if I will ever be able to conceive, much less carry a child to term and raise it to be a positive member of society. Why was a family not a priority earlier in my life?

At this point, I'm not sure if I am more afraid to try and be unable to conceive, or to try and then fail miserably as a mother. But in order to have either as an option, I have to find someone to father my child, or more correctly, convince Harm that he is the right man to father my child.

Nikki begins to squirm, scrunching her face in preparation to let out a wail. I pick up the pink pacifier from the folds of the blanket where it fell earlier and rub it across her miniature lips. She instantly latches onto it, and I realize that she is probably hungry. I lean down to kiss her on the forehead as she earnestly sucks on the pacifier.

This life could be mine if I really wanted it. Harm made me a promise, which is overdue, and I know that he would keep his word if I asked him to. But what would I have to give up in order to have a baby? My orderly lifestyle? My comfortable daily schedule? My freedom to come and go as I please? My military career?

Harriet pushes the door open with her backside, a blue-clad baby asleep against the burp cloth on her shoulder. After gently tucking her son into his crib, she turns to me and holds out her arms for her precious baby girl. The petite woman is thrilled to be a mother of four young children, though it cost her the career that had fulfilled her life for many years before Bud and the babies came into the picture. In the end, I know that being a mother was not a sacrifice after all. "Mommy" is a more satisfying title that "Lieutenant" could ever be.

Babbling soothingly at the tiny baby in her arms, Harriet radiates pure joy. It does not matter that she will never again have the same figure she did in college. She does not take into account the interrupted nights of sleep to take care of a hungry infant. Stains of all colors on any given part of her wardrobe have ceased to upset her.

Harriet gives me a look of understanding as I vacate the rocking chair so that she can nurse her daughter. I close the door behind me as I leave so that she can savor a few stolen moments of peace. Lean back against the wall opposite the nursery door, I take advantage of a few more minutes of quiet introspection.

My musings do nothing to dispel the anguish I feel when I fantasize of a life in which I am as happy as Harriet, but every so often I cannot help but dream of what it could be like.

Written January 24, 2007; Edited September 1, 2008