I thought I would change it up a little.
Thus, I picked this song for this fic.
I also chose to use lyrics almost exclusively for dialogue.
It jumps around a lot. :)
Future, Bridgette/Geoff, as it seems they'd be the earthy, give-birth-as-many-times-as-possible kind of parents.
Disclaimer: I do not own TDI, nor do I own the rights to the excellent Morrissey song: Pregnant For The Last Time.
Pregnant For The Last Time.
Bridgette was a good mother, she knew it. With two little girls aged three and seven, and two little boys, aged five and ten, and another little girl on the way, she knew all about scraped knees and tea parties, new bikes and buying school supplies, she knew about ear infections and broken arms, buying new comic books and sleepovers.
But the pregnancies were beginning to take a toll on her. She was irritable when she was pregnant. She snapped at her kids, and she had back aches. It was normal, but she hated not being mellow, not being able to surf and play with her kids as much.
"I've had it!" She finally announced to her husband in bed at night, rolling over to face him.
"Oh?" Geoff asked, a small smile on his face.
"Phlegm lapels for the last time," she started, "Corn beef legs for the last time."
--
"Oh, we're so glad, that you've finally decided," Her mother and father professed with a flourish once she had told them.
--
"But then you see someone new," she complained, after seeing Gwen's newborn baby, "and you want someone new, so you have someone new."
"I don't blame you," Gwen had said, still smiling wryly. "We would all do the same as you, if ever we had the nerve to."
--
"Chips with cream for the last time!" She nodded adamently, and Geoff chuckled.
"The people's friend for the last time?" Geoff continued, and she rolled her eyes.
--
Oh, we're so glad, that you've finally decided," The babysitters agreed, laughing about how five was going to be a lot of work for them.
--
"Tiny striped socks for the last time, pokes and prods for the last time," she continued, patting her pregnant belly.
--
"And the doctor said, 'don't knod your head until June!'" Bridgette complained to Gwen over the phone, a sympathetic ear.
--
"Sick at noon for the last time, and who is going to clean up?" She groaned, before her oldest son came out with a mop. "Would you be so kind?"
--
Slipping the maternity dress over her head, she spoke to herself in the mirror. "Everybody's staring, at the strange clothes that you're wearing."
--
"Bad advice for the last time!" She giggled, rolling back over in their bed to find that comfortable groove she had abandoned. Yawning, she tucked in, "People being nice for the very first time..."
--
"Oh, we're so glad," Her own kids thought, also yawning as the family drifted off to sleep...
--
End. That was strange, but fun to write.
Sorry for the sloppiness.