24 WEEKS
113 Days To Go (Timestamp: Wed, October 2, 2013).
He wakes slowly, his body weighted down and sluggish; dragged into consciousness by the soft murmurs that float past his ears.
He was writing again late last night, the words impatient, a furious stream running from his brain and out his fingertips that kept his mind occupied, on edge until that very last scene came alive on the page, the last word was in place. And then he stumbled into bed, exhausted and weary, and spooned around his wife who was sleeping peacefully, curled onto her side. An arm wrapped around her waist, his hand resting over the noticeably rounded, firm curve of her belly and the length of him stretched against her back, along her long legs. He closed his eyes, breathed in her scent, and dropped off into oblivion.
His mind struggles, still clawing for the remnants of sleep but her voice sounds warm and intimate and he wants to be there, needs to feel and see and not miss any moment. He's wondered whether it'd calm down at some point, his eagerness, the giddy excitement, the absolute wonder at every small moment and change, but it doesn't, it's alive and bright in him, exhilarating.
His eyes open to the silver-grey light of an early October morning, sneaking in slivers through the half-opened blinds, and to Kate, sitting up against the headboard, knees drawn up and her hands cradled lovingly around her belly. Her eyes are half-closed, her lips stretched in a serene, intimate smile, and it makes his heart stutter. She's completely focused inward, just her and the baby, the two of them, mother and daughter. It's beautiful and private and there's a familiar ache that lances his insides, a yearning for something he isn't a part of, can't have, almost a stab of jealousy that he can't be part of this unit, can never have a bond as strong as what Kate has with their child, growing her inside of her body.
She's murmuring sweet nothings to her baby, her fingers tripping, rubbing her stomach and he swallows hard, listens to the calm melody of her words, trying to let it calm his aching heart.
As if she could feel his inner turmoil Kate reaches for his hand, entwines their fingers, and maybe she could because she presses his palm to her skin and the powerful kicks beneath it.
"She's doing her morning exercises," Kate murmurs, laughter in her voice, so much pure joy that it flares right through him, warm and soothing, and then he feels silly, stupid for feeling left out, for even allowing the thought to take roots. The belly is growing noticeably by the week now, so much rounder than barely four weeks ago when they got married and she could still hide it beneath the flowing lines of her dress. The kicks are stronger now too, coming at a fast rhythm, bulging out from underneath her skin and it's amazing, so amazing.
"She'll come out lean and muscly, if she keeps that up," he grins up at Kate, rolls over further onto his stomach, one leg draped over hers and pressed tightly into her side.
She smiles, doesn't reply though, instead she lifts a hand to his head, runs her fingers through his unruly morning hair, softly scratches his scalp.
"You still coming with me to my appointment this morning?"
"Of course," he nods, rubs his palm over her belly, long strokes that seem to sometimes calm their active baby. "I've been wondering…"
"Hmm?"
"Should we not find out about the sex?" Her fingers still in his hair, cradle the back of his head and the baby kicks particularly hard right at that moment, as if she approves.
"They'll ask in today's appointment, won't they?"
She nods.
"I mean, you're convinced anyway, you believe in this and I don't know what it is but these last weeks, months, it's been amazing not knowing and just believing in this with you. I love that; it's wondrous and I think we should keep that for us."
Her smile widens and he knows he's got her with this idea, with the unerring belief he's showing in her mother's intuition. They'd known with Alexis but everything about this experience with Kate is different, wonderfully different and he wants to hang on to that as tightly as possible.
"Okay." She nods, curling her soft fingertips around the rim of his ear, the edge of his jaw. "Yeah. Let's not find out the gender of our daughter," she grins at her own joke.
Suddenly she sucks in a deep breath, a sound like a mix between a squeal and a giggle coming from her throat. "Oh. There it is." She grabs his hand, moves it off her belly. "Watch this," she instructs, her eyes shining with mirth.
"Over here," she points to her left side and he stares at the two rounded bumps that poke up beneath her skin. "Those are her feet. See, she pushes off my side…" There it is again, thump thump beneath her ribcage and Kate sucks in another breath. And then it's like a wave of movements that rolls from her left all the way to her right.
"It's like she's doing somersaults in there," Kate explains, her fingertips tracing the pattern of movement along her belly, for him to see. "Here's her elbow, an arm… Oh this is her butt," she points at the thicker bump that appears right below her navel for a moment and keeps moving to the right until the kicks are on her right and everything stills. He's still staring in awe, his mouth hanging open when Kate takes his hand, presses his palm over her left side. "And now her head is over here, can you feel it?" He rubs her side and "yeah," he sighs in astonishment, able to make out the rounded shape beneath his hand and the layer of muscled skin of Kate's stomach. "Wow. She gonna do it again?"
"No," Kate shakes her head, straightening out her legs and settling deeper into her pillow. "She usually settles in after that stunt."
He lays his head on her chest, forehead nudged into the curve of her neck while he wraps an arm low around the curve of her belly where the baby has stopped her kicking. For long moments he just lies there, breathing her in, holding on tight, so tight, while her fingers draw nonsensical patterns over his scalp and nape.
"Appointment's at ten, right?" He mumbles sleepily, drowsy from the lack of sleep and the calming beat of her heart beneath his ear. She hums in agreement.
"Then let's get some more rest. If she sleeps, we should sleep, right?" He feels rather than sees the smile stretch across her cheeks, but she doesn't call him out, just continues to caress his head, his face, his shoulders, until he's drifting, hazy, gone.
"Here is your baby," Dr. McMillan says, turning the screen further toward them to see, and Kate's hand automatically seeks his, their fingers entwined tightly as they both stare at the monitor's image, completely entranced.
After Kate has been examined, her glucose screening done, the baby looked at and measured – about eleven and a half inches long and approximately 15 ounces now, right on track with her development – they were given advice about the signs of preterm labor, and what to look out for, especially given Kate's earlier issues with placenta previa. Kate's placenta had migrated further up as the uterus grew, Dr. McMillan was quick to reassure them, just as they had hoped it would, and she didn't expect it to cause further problems.
Relief rushed through him, the image of Kate's blood still too stark in his memory, the sense of fear ever-present, still vivid when he remembers. Though it would require lots of medical intervention, the baby would now be able to survive outside the womb, and that helps, too, scary though it would be - that she'd have a chance; they could give her every possible chance, they wouldn't have to lose her, should anything go awry.
But here she is indeed, the images so surprisingly clear, well defined and Dr. McMillan just holds the wand in place, allowing them to watch for a while. A small shudder ripples through the tiny body. "Baby's got the hiccups," the doctor clarifies as Castle watches in wonder at the tiny being, not even born and yet here they can watch her, see her already.
"Oh that's what that is!" Kate exclaims, her smile wide. "I can feel that."
"I'd assume you would, yes," Dr. McMillan agrees, closely observing the image on-screen. "I think baby's resting. You can nudge your stomach a bit, see if the baby wakes up."
Kate does as suggested, pressing her fingers into her stomach, just where they can see baby's shoulder and the fetus fidgets, flails her arms for them, the tugs them tightly to her body once more. Kate repeats the move and then their little girl stretches for them, arms and legs straightening out, kicking and they can see every move, the images so clear, tiny toes and fingers, a lean long frame.
Dr. McMillan guides the wand to where the little one is most active and suddenly she flips, turns around, her face smudged right against the inside of Kate's belly, letting them stare right at her, as if she's pressed against a window. Castle's breath catches, the emotions so thick that he can barely hold back the rush of tears.
"She looks like you, Kate." He's awed, amazed at this first photograph of their daughter, rosebud mouth and tiny, straight button nose. The pronounced cheekbones and high forehead, the narrow chin, and he clutches Kate's hand, rests his cheek on her head. "Just like you."
He hangs out in the waiting room while Kate gets dressed, mindlessly leafing through pamphlets and magazines when a flyer sails from one of the magazines onto the floor. Castle picks it up, scanning its contents, about to put it back when the words arrest him mid-movement.
'The Ultimate Second-Trimester Check List', the headline proclaims, and he sits down with it, eyes glued to the items on the list. One by one, he reads through them, his heart thudding faster by the moment, the influx of panic like a freight train, running over him at full speed.
"You ready to go?" Kate's palm lands on his shoulder and he looks up at her, eyes wide, the list clutched between his fingers and he tries to nod.
"Hey, you okay? Castle, what's wrong?" She sinks into the chair next to him, resting a hand over his knee.
"Kate, this list…" He stammers, holds it out to her with shaking hands.
She takes it from him, running her eyes over the information, murmuring its title under her breath. "What about it?"
"All these things… Kate, it's almost over, we have what, three more weeks till the third? And we haven't done so many of these items we're supposed to have handled! We haven't done a prenatal class, or found a labor coach, or finished the nursery or planned your baby shower; we don't even have a baby name list…"
"That's because you keep making it longer every time I try to narrow it down…" She interjects, and she's smirking, actually smirking at him and why isn't she panicking about this too?
"Castle," she hums calmly, clasping her hands over his, her thumb caressing in soothing circles. "It's okay. Look how many we've already covered." Her voice flows through him like a soothing balm to his fluttery stomach, his thudding heart, and he glances at the list, sees what she means. 'Decide whether to find out the sex of your baby,' there's one right there.
"And so what if everything isn't done how and when some random expert proclaims they should? We'll get it handled. Haven't we always found our own, unique way?"
He blinks up at her, finds her eyes on him, warm and smiling and he nods, at once calmed by her quiet resolve, her absolute confidence in him, them. She leans in, her eyes falling closed as she seeks his lips, kissing him softly once, twice.
"Come on, let's go do a fun one. Buy her some clothes to take her home in."
"My feet are killing me," Kate moans, dropping down onto the couch, the shopping bags flung on the cushions on either side of her.
They'd been to a variety of baby stores, spent hours browsing through the racks, admiring the large selection of clothes for a newborn. Little pink pants with grinning frog faces appliqued over the butt, small hoodies with fur lining for the winter, these tiny shoes and miniature socks with frills on top, and he couldn't get over all the dresses, each cuter than the next, frills and bows and pleats and oh, these little bloomers that went underneath, covering the diapered butt. It was all just too adorable and they'd giggled at the miniature outfits, holding them up to Kate's belly, and he'd bought pretty much every one she liked, despite her half-hearted comments that they wouldn't need nearly that much. But he loves seeing her happy, giving her everything she wanted, and it's not like they can't afford it. And really, he can hardly wait to see their little girl in all of them.
He sinks to his knees in front of her, tugging off her shoes, then her left sock before he cradles her naked foot between his hands, starts kneading the ball of her foot, digging his thumbs into the flesh.
Kate groans, at once sinking deeper into the couch, her head thrown back against the cushion, eyes closed in bliss. He rubs her foot thoroughly, paying attention to the soft flesh, the strands of muscles, listens closely to when she groans, when she winces, before he moves on to the right foot, digging and pressing, watching the tension flow out of her.
"Ugh thank you," she moans, her feet flopping to the floor. He raises, his knees cracking. "Oh hey, would you mind getting the lotion from the bathroom counter for me?"
He goes to grab it, comes back into the living room to find her still on the couch, but her pants unbuttoned and pushed below her thick waist, her shirt lifted to beneath her breast. He hands her the lotion and she squeezes a large dollop into her palm, warms it between both hands before she starts smoothing it over her belly.
"See," she says, winking at him, "just one more item covered from that list of yours. 'Start moisturizing your belly'."
Castle grins, kneels between her legs once more. "Let me," he murmurs, looking up at her and her eyes darken, more shimmering green than brown. She hands him the bottle and he repeats her steps, starts smoothing the lotion over her lower abdomen. She hums softly, her eyes closing as she relaxes back while he tenderly rubs the thick moisturizer onto her skin, precise and focused as he caresses the curves of her belly.
He grazes her hipbones, smoothing his fingers low on her abdomen and she hisses, her hips surging upward, at once seeking, eager for his touch. He kisses the line that trails down from her navel, murmurs his love over her skin, lower, lower, pulling off her pants and underwear. Looking up at her he marvels at her beauty, the long stretch of sinewy legs, that silky, pale skin, the curve of her stomach; her eyes are squeezed shut, her lips opened, shimmering wetly and she shivers, mewls his name.
"Another mark on the check list," he teases, nuzzling his lips up the length of her inner thigh. Her fingers grip his hair, eagerly trying to tug him higher. "Dedicate time to your partner."
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Your baby is starting to look like a miniature newborn. Her lips, eyelids, and eyebrows are becoming more distinct, and she's even developing tiny tooth buds beneath her gums. Your baby's growing steadily, putting her at just over a pound, about as much as a large mango. Since she's almost a foot long, she cuts a pretty lean figure at this point, but her body is filling out proportionally and she'll soon start to plump up. Blood vessels in her lungs are developing to prepare for breathing; her skin is still thin and translucent, but that will start to change soon. You may be able to see her squirm underneath your clothes now. Her brain is also growing quickly now, her taste buds are continuing to develop, and the sounds that your baby's increasingly keen ears pick up are preparing her for entry into the outside world, familiarizing her with loud noises. Turn on the radio and sway to the music – with her sense of movement well developed by now, your baby can feel you dance. (babycenter dot com)
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