Title: A Dream Life
Author: Andrea
Rating: R
Summary: Well, it's been a while, so I guess I should catch you up. Abby wanted a baby. So she and Carter had sex. And then they had some more sex. And then they had sex again. Then Abby decided she didn't want a baby just yet after all. But, alas, it was too late and she's already got one. And they were happy.
Author's Note: Thanks, Catherine. And what does it take for you people to review? Not that I ever review myself … but do as I say, not as I do, right? Whatever.
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A Dream Life
Chapter 9: Food, Glorious Food
I wake up with a small smile on face as I've done every morning for the past few weeks. In those first moments between wakefulness and sleep, as my eyes are just fluttering open, my mind scrambles to remember just what it is that I'm so happy about. And then, just like every morning, I become aware of the hand casually draped across my stomach if he's still asleep, or softly tracing light patterns if he's already awake. And then I remember why that smile is plastered on my face, even in sleep. This morning, like every morning, the small smile turns into a grin when I remember that, oh yeah, I'm pregnant.
It's still unbelievable to me that there's a new life growing inside of me. Truly amazing. I can't help but think that I should feel different now, but aside from some occasional queasiness, I haven't noticed any telltale signs of the miraculous goings-on in my body. Well other than your garden-variety fatigue and an alarmingly large appetite. Still, those don't necessarily make me feel pregnant so much as just tired and hungry. But I'll take it. Much better than morning sickness. Even if it is considered a hallmark of pregnancy, it's one I can live without. I'm glad not to be experiencing that particular sign of the miracle happening within me.
As if he was reading my mind, John pipes up from beside me, just as he has every morning, "How are you feeling?" I turn to look at him, as he smiles the same smile that's on my face.
"Fine." I hate to have to disappoint him yet again. He seems to be anxiously awaiting the moment that I start projectile vomiting with no warning whatsoever. I keep trying to convince him that plenty of women get through pregnancy without any morning sickness. That there's nothing wrong with not having morning sickness. It doesn't mean that anything is wrong or that you won't have a beautiful, healthy baby. It just means you won't spend three months puking. Morning sickness is merely an unpleasant side effect of pregnancy, not some sort of absolute rite-of-passage. And so far, I seem to be tending towards a very mild case myself. If I don't eat enough, I get queasy. But then it passes. No big deal. Yet Carter seems to forever be on barf patrol, waiting for the morning sickness to kick in with a vengeance. Maybe he's having the same trouble believing it's really happening, and it would seem more real to him if I spent half the day with my head in the toilet bowl. Personally, I'm perfectly happy with this whole little-to-no morning sickness routine.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
"You don't want some crackers or ginger ale?"
"No thanks."
"Are you sure? Because it's supposed to help with morning sickness." He just looks at me. Almost like he's waiting for the fates to call me a liar by suddenly descending an assload of nausea on me.
" I don't have morning sickness. It's almost like you want me to be sick." I say. He looks somewhat taken aback. Oops, I think maybe the hormone bitch came out there for a second. Was I snapping at him? Yeah, probably. Poor guy. And then I remember my theory about him having trouble grasping the reality here and I soften my voice a little. "But I am pregnant. And I do have plenty of other symptoms -- exhaustion, enormous appetite, cravings, even some food aversions. I just have yet to feel the urge to puke."
"Sorry," he says sheepishly. "Of course I don't want you to be sick. It's just … if you ever are, I want to do whatever I can to make you feel better."
Well, God damn it. Now I want to cry. Where does he get off being all sweet like that? He's sitting up against the headboard, watching me. I gently lift the hand that is still lightly massaging my belly and sit up. I turn around and move to straddle his lap. Making myself comfortable, I lean forward to kiss his chin. "You're sweet. Sorry I snapped, I think it's just the hormones."
"Those damn hormones sure seem to be responsible for a lot of new behavior lately. Not that I'm complaining about this aspect." Hmm, he must mean the way I'm running my tongue along his jaw line and planting little kisses here and there as I go. Automatically, his hands travel up my legs that rest on either side of his hips, and capture the hem of the t-shirt that I'm wearing. Within moments it's been pulled up over my head and tossed somewhere across the room. Our lips meet for a long, drawn-out kiss. Mmm, something else that happens almost every morning. And most nights too.
Without really pulling my lips away from his, I say "Just because this is the first thing we do in the morning …"
"And the last thing before we do before we go to bed at night …"
"Well … are you complaining?"
"Absolutely not."
"Yeah, I didn't think so."
"Thank God you don't have morning sickness."
"Amen to that," I say, as his hands start sliding up my body, anxious to explore the ever-changing terrain.
"You're starting to look a little different." He tells me. A little? That seems like a vast understatement. I don't think I could manage to shove my boobs into one of my old bras if my life depended on it. Thank God for tank tops with built-in support. Not to mention that at least half my pants are already too tight.
"Starting to look fat, you mean."
"Not fat. Curvy. Voluptuous, maybe. Definitely 'booby.' But whatever you call it, you look gorgeous. You're glowing, you know."
"Fat and radioactive. Great."
He laughs. "Abby …"
Before I can answer though, his head falls forward, finding my neck, then nibbling his way down my chest to the swells of my enlarged breasts. He seems to find them irresistible. Which wouldn't be a problem for me if they weren't so sore. But as usual, he's very gentle, caressing the tender flesh lightly with his tongue. And his feather light touches do feel wonderful. As do his hands running up and down the length of my back.
I glance over at the clock and realize this is probably going to make me late for work. Is Weaver's wrath worth it? Just then his mouth captures a nipple and laps at it lightly. Yeah, just about anything would be worth it at this point. I glance over at the clock, and then resolutely look away. I've got more important things to attend to anyway.
A while later, I start to untangle myself from his embrace.
"Don't go." He murmurs into my neck, holding me tight against his sweaty and sated body.
"I have to. Some of us have to get to work."
"Hey, it's my first day off in two weeks! And I'm gonna spend it dealing with foundation business. You wanna trade?"
"No, that's quite all right. But since I have to get to work, I better hit the shower."
"Want some company?" He waggles his eyebrows at me.
"Then I'd never get to work."
"That was kinda my plan." He looks like a disappointed 6-year-old. "If I make you late enough for work, maybe you won't go in at all. I can blow off the foundation stuff and we'll spend the day here in bed."
"Tempting … but I have to go to work or Weaver will probably fire my ass."
"So?"
"What do you mean 'so?'"
"Abby … it's not like you need the job … why don't you just quit now?"
"What do you mean 'now?'"
"You know, now, as a opposed to later."
"You mean after the baby comes?"
"Well … yeah." He looks a little nervous, maybe realizing that he could be stepping in something here. And he's right, I'm a little mad that he should just assume that I'll stay home with the baby like a good little wifey.
"Carter … what makes you think I'm gonna automatically stay home?" There's a bit of an edge to my voice. "Just because I have a baby, I'm gonna be nothing more than a mommy? I should just sit around the house all day taking care of the kids and being some sort of breeding machine for you?"
"Abby …"
"No really … you know you could ask me how I feel about it before you assume." I huff and puff and do my best to look as pissed as possible.
"Okay … Abby, do you want to stay home after the baby is born?"
"Maybe."
"Do you want to go back to work?"
"Maybe."
"Abby …"
"I don't know … ask me after the baby's born. Or at least give me some time to think about it."
"Okay, fine. But you better call it soon."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, if you don't want to stay home, maybe I will."
"Oh! Hey, now you're talking. We can both quit. We'll both stay home, lying in bed all day …"
"Yeah, Ab, with a screaming baby in between us."
"Well, he'll have to sleep sometime."
"He? You think it's boy?"
"I don't know, but since you always call the baby 'she,' I thought someone ought to hold up the other end."
"So you don't think it's a boy?"
"I don't know!" I say in an exasperated, but playful voice, as I finally get up out of the bed. "I don't know if it's a boy or a girl. I don't know if I'm gonna stay home or keep working. All I know is that Weaver's gonna kill me if I don't get my ass to work." He laughs as he settles back against the pillows, admiring the view of my naked, 'curvy' body as I head for the bathroom.
I take a quick shower before turning the bathroom over to Carter. Deciding to forgo the daily struggle to find pants that I don't have to squeeze into, I just dig up a pair of scrubs. Not even two months along, and I'm already losing sight of my waist. No round little belly yet, just a wider waist and hips. I frown at my reflection in the full-length mirror for a moment, and then, figuring it's only gonna get worse, I decide not to worry about it. As long as the scrubs still fit, everything should be okay. I give the front of my scrubs, and the baby underneath those scrubs, a fond little pat. "It's all your fault that Mommy has nothing to wear, you know." I say in the general direction of my stomach. "But that's okay … I guess I'll just have to buy new pants." Obviously if the baby has an opinion on my pants situation, she's keeping it to herself. So I give up on staring at myself in the mirror and head out to the kitchen.
While John's in shower using up all the hot water in the Chicago metropolitan area, I throw together some breakfast. Eggs, toast, cereal, fruit, leftover pizza. Surveying the state of the fridge when I'm done, I think to myself that I hope Carter's not too hungry, there won't be much here for him. I grab a package of pop tarts for the ride to work and head out the door while he's still in the shower, before something else comes up to make me later than I already am.
Work is … work. I manage to get there more or less on time. I keep an eye out for Susan who is reportedly returning to work today after an impromptu leave she took last week. Since none of us really know what was going on or where she disappeared to, I'm anxious to find her and catch up. But it seems she's nowhere to be found.
As it creeps closer to lunchtime and I still haven't had a chance to grab a real break, the fatigue that I'm plagued with these days starts to set in. I want my bed. Barring that, I want to sit down. I plop down in a chair at admit. I'm starting to feel a bit light-headed and I just need a moment to get my footing. Of course, it's not meant to be. Just then Luka buzzes by wanting a hand with pelvic exam. Well, joy. I stand up fast. Too fast. The room starts spinning and immediately, instinctively, I sit back down, almost missing the chair, but righting myself at the last second by grabbing the edge of the desk for support. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, hoping to clear my head.
"Abby? Are you okay?"
Well, I'm sure I will be once the room stops spinning. I plaster some semblance of a smile on my face, and answer him. "Yeah, I'm fine, Luka. But thanks for asking."
"Are you sure?" He asks as I close my eyes again for a moment.
"I said I'm fine!" That comes out a lot more forceful than I had intended. Poor Luka. He was just trying to help, and I bit his head off. And unlike Carter, he doesn't even understand why. "I'm sorry. It's just been a long morning. And everyone has been asking if I'm okay." Apparently I look like death warmed over these days, and no one hesitates to tell me so.
"Are you sure you're not coming down with something?"
"I'm just a little tired." He gives me a dubious look seeing as how he witnessed me almost falling on my ass in the midst of a dizzy spell. "And maybe a little bit dizzy. That's what I get for skipping breakfast." Now, I must have eaten a five-course meal for breakfast, but he doesn't need to know that.
"Ah … well Abby, you have to eat. Maybe you should go get some lunch. I'll get someone to check on your patients."
I look around. Things are pretty crazy, but lunch sounds like a really good idea. Fingers of queasiness are starting to creep in, so I know it's time to eat before I start feeling worse. After all, if I get too queasy I won't want to eat … and if I don't eat, I'll just feel worse and worse. So yeah, I really need to go to lunch. And if Luka wants to run interference for me, I guess I should take him up on it. With John off for the day and Susan still MIA, my first lines of defense are gone. "Yeah, okay. Thanks." I give him a more genuine smile and head off to the lounge.
I open the lounge fridge and retrieve the lunch that John packed for me. I guess he was busy while I was in the shower. When I was rooting around in the refrigerator this morning, assembling my breakfast, I found a brown paper bag with my name neatly printed on the front in magic marker. Just the kind of lunch my mom might have sent me off to grade school with. Except, of course, Maggie was much more likely to send me to school to with a candy bar in one pocket and a soda in the other. I come by my junk food habit honestly, I guess. However, I'm sure this is one lunch that will be perfectly nutritious. I smile as I grab my home-packed lunch and decide I need to find a retreat. Off to the roof I go.
As soon as I get up there, I know I'm not alone. It's an aroma I know all too well. And then I see the telltale sign of the curling wisps of smoke. Since I'd been counting on being alone, I turn and head back from where I came.
"Abby?" I turn around at the voice. Go back the way I'd originally been heading.
"Susan? What are you doing here? I've been looking for you all morning."
"Yeah, I'm not on till one. I got here a little early, so I thought I'd come up here first. Grab a smoke."
"Since when do you smoke?"
"I don't. Not really. Only when I'm stressed out."
"So I guess your vacation wasn't exactly a vacation after all." She fixes me with a look as I settle into a lawn chair next to her. I look at her cigarette with longing, for just a moment. Then I remember how long it's been since I quit. And then I remember that if there was ever a time not to smoke, this is it. But Susan catches my eye and holds out the cigarette to me, a silent offer. I quickly shake my head 'no.' "So you wanna talk about it?"
She lets out a big sigh, stubbing out the cigarette. "Nothing much to talk about. Just my sister up to her old tricks again. Only, of course, she drags Susie into now. Poor kid. She's been calling me for months now … begging to come stay with me. Or at least visit for a little while."
"Why? What's going on? Or does she just miss her Aunt Susan?"
"Well, she may miss me, but mostly I think she wants to get away. Needs to get away." She stops and look out at the city vista before us before turning back to look at me. "Her parents are making her life miserable. Chloe's drinking again, maybe abusing more than just alcohol. She swears she's not doing drugs, but she swears to a lot of things. So she and Joe are at each other's throats all the time, and Susie gets to play referee. When she's not busy taking care of her mom."
"Sounds like a mess." I say, my voice stronger than I would have suspected as I'm definitely freaking out a bit. A mess? Sounds like a nightmare. One I lived through. One I desperately want to protect my child from. It's probably my greatest fear. But at least I have the power to make sure it doesn't happen to my baby. And I will make sure it doesn't happen. Whatever it takes. Poor Susan. I know how much she loves her niece, yet there's little she can do to help her. I reach out and pat her arm. "I'm sorry."
"Thanks." She shrugs. "I think I actually made some progress this time."
"Oh yeah?"
"Well, at least with getting Susie out of there."
"She's here? With you?"
"No, not yet. I couldn't get Chloe to agree to let her come stay with me for the summer the way I hoped. But for some reason, she readily agreed that it would be a great idea for Susie to go to camp. She even agreed to let he go to the same camp we went to as kids. So Susie's in Wisconsin for the next two weeks."
"And then what?"
"Well, Chloe doesn't know it yet, but I have every intention of bringing Susie back here for the rest of the summer, at least. If that's still what she wants."
"You'll just move her in with you for the whole summer?"
"I'd move her in with me forever. She's such a great kid. In spite of the myriad of ways her parents, my sister especially, have managed to fuck up her life."
"Well, at least she's away from it now."
"Yeah, at least for a little while, anyway." We both fall silent, lost in thought. She's undoubtedly thinking about Susie while I'm busy having a breakdown over my brush with what could be. But it won't be. I'll see to that. No matter what it takes. "So what's new around here?" She asks.
"Nothing much." In the time she's been gone, I've eaten about 400 pounds of food and slept an average of 12 hours a day. Carter and I have probably had sex thirty times. And we undoubtedly said the word "baby" at least 5000 times. But of course I won't share any of those tidbits because, just like everyone else, Susan doesn't yet know that I'm pregnant. John and I've been enjoying keeping it our little secret. Although Susan does look kinda bummed, maybe she could use a little something to cheer her up. Unless it would just depress her. But why would it? She seemed awfully happy back when I'd told her that we were trying. But then again …
"Is that your lunch?" She asks, interrupting my thoughts. I nod. "Why did you write your name on it? Do we have a lunch thief again?"
"Not that know of," I laugh. "No, this is John's handiwork."
"He packed your lunch?"
"Yeah, I think he feels guilty because I'm working today and he's not." Well, that's one answer. The other being that he lives in terror that I'll revert to the candy bar and soda pop lunches of my youth, leaving his baby nutritionally deprived. Of course, he has been very solicitous to me these past few weeks so maybe he was just trying to take care of me. Or maybe he's just practicing for when the baby's old enough to need a sack lunch.
"Whatcha got in there?" She asks. She'd better not be eyeing up my lunch. Nevertheless, I empty the contents of the bag since I was wondering the same thing myself.
I pull out a sandwich and peek to see what kind it is. "Yum, ham and cheese." I pull a couple more things out of the bag. "Yogurt with fruit. A pickle. Carrot sticks. Juice." Susan's eyes are getting wide as I reveal the contents. "Some trail mix. Too bad there's no ice cream … but oh! A peanut butter cup. " Getting my candy bar after all. But other than that, a nutritionally sound, well-rounded lunch.
"Abby? Has Carter gone nuts?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well how many meals is that supposed to be?"
"Just lunch."
"For you and how many people?"
"Just me." And a tiny little embryo that seems to have caused my daily calorie intake to double. "Why? Are you hungry?" I hesitate a moment, and then, "Help yourself."
Susan starts laughing. "Yeah, that sounded like a sincere offer. But don't try to tell me your gonna eat all that food now?" Well, I'm already tearing through the yogurt, and as a matter of fact, yeah, I was gonna eat it all now. I give her a look that says as much. "What the hell are you doing? Trying to get yourself bumped up to the next weight class for your next big prize fight? Really … what's going on? You have a tape worm or something?"
In manner of speaking, yes. Not exactly a tape worm, but another little parasite feeding off my body. "Nooo …" I say.
"So? Then …"
"I'm just a little …"
"What?"
"Just a little bit pregnant."
She just stares at me for a minute. "No way."
I nod. "I'm afraid so."
"Bu … but … how'd that happen?"
"Well, Susan, when the sperm meets the egg …"
"Haha. I mean … well … Carter told me you guys were taking a break. So …"
"Well, this happened before the break. Can you believe it? Only took us one try."
"You're really pregnant?"
"Yeah, I really am."
"Oh my God. Abby …" She gets up and moves over in front of me, bending down to hug me. "Congratulations!" When she pulls away, there's a huge smile on her face. Then her face turns a little more serious. "Are you … okay with this?"
"Yeah, absolutely. I'm … thrilled." She gives me a look. "No, really. I am. I was a little freaked out when I first started to suspect … but I got over it pretty fast."
"Oh my God, Carter must be over the moon."
"Yeah, you could say so. He's pretty much … ecstatic."
"I'll bet. So how are you feeling?"
"Pretty good. Tired, you know."
"And with a good appetite, I see."
"Yeah."
"You look great."
"I look like a Macy's Parade float … all bloated."
"Huh?" I pull my shirt tight under my scrub top.
"Look." I instruct her.
"Oookay … what am I looking at? I don't see a belly yet."
"Well, for starters my huge boobs. And then there's my waist. I may not have a belly yet, but I'm so bloated I can barely fit into my fat pants. Already. What's it gonna be like in seven more months?"
"Maybe you should …"
"What?" I ask over my ham and cheese.
"I don't know … cut back on your calorie intake." She glances around at what's left of my lunch.
"Hey, the baby has to eat." I reply, somewhat defensively.
"The baby … you're gonna have a baby. Wow, I can't believe it."
"Yeah …"
"Hey, can I see a picture?"
"Oh, maybe I wasn't clear … but the baby hasn't come out yet. It's got about another seven months' cooking time."
"Very funny … I meant a sonogram picture."
"Oh … we haven't done one yet."
"Why not? Don't you want to make sure everything's okay, rule out an ectopic?"
"It's not ectopic."
"But you don't know for sure. Why not do the sonogram? You'd get to see the baby."
"Not much to see yet. And you know, Susan. Most women don't have sonograms in the first trimester if it's not indicated because of some problem. Or you know, if they think there's four in there."
"Ohh, maybe there's four in there."
"I don't think so. Look, my OB doesn't think it's necessary. My blood work is fine, everything checks out the way it should. If it was ectopic, I'd have some sort of warning."
"But why not just check it out … be totally sure?"
"Ugh, now you're starting to sound like Carter. I don't want special treatment just because I'm surrounded by doctors all the time. I don't want people fussing over me."
"Okay, okay …" she says, waving her arms in defeat. Just then her pager sounds. "Well, gee, guess I'm getting called in a little early. Lucky for them I'm already here."
"I'll bet I'm next," I say, just as my own pager rings. I hastily clean up my lunch and Susan and I head back to work. I, of course, swear her to secrecy about the aby-bay and she agrees not to tell a soul. I figure everyone ought to be congratulating me by the end of the shift. But Susan must keep it to herself because no one seems to pay any attention to me, ordering me around as usual. Susan, of course, has been a bit protective, doing her best to keep me away from the dangerous or infectious patients. But at least she's subtle about it, which is more than I can say for Carter. If they are shooting x-rays three rooms away, he practically lies on top of me to shield me from the potentially harmful rays. Or maybe it's just an excuse to wrap himself around me. At any rate, I prefer Susan's brand of mother-hen, maybe John can take some lessons from her.
When my shift finally comes to an end, all I want to do is go home and crawl into bed. But, unfortunately, there's one stop that I need to make on the way home. It seems like an interminable time until I am back on the El, heading home. At one point I rest my head back on the seat, closing my eyes for just a minute. I'm just so tired all the time. "You wear me out, baby, you know that?" It's only after the words are out of my mouth that I realize I said them out loud. Oops. Talking to 'the baby' in the privacy of my own home is one thing. Talking to it in public is a whole other. People must think I'm nuts, sitting on the train talking to myself. Luckily, when I open my eyes, I find an almost empty car. The other people are at the far end anyway and probably didn't hear me. Well, all but one other person. An older woman sits close to me and catching my eye, she gives me a smile.
"Are you expecting, dear?" She asks.
I laugh a little, embarrassed to have been caught talking to … well, basically, no one. But this is the first time that someone has asked me this question, and I find I'm more than happy to answer. "Yeah. I am."
"I felt the same way in the beginning. Felt like I could never quite sleep enough." I find myself nodding. "Is this your first?" I nod again. "Oh well, enjoy it this time around when you can sleep all you want. Next time it won't be so easy." I must give her a flustered look because she reassures me by saying, "Don't worry, you get through it. And in the end, it's worth it."
"Yeah."
She looks at me for a moment before saying, "Your mother must be so excited. I know I would love it if my daughter would make me a grandmother." Yes, Maggie will undoubtedly be excited when she finds out about the impending arrival. We should probably tell her soon. It would make her happy, I have no doubt. This lady in front of me reminds me a lot of my mother. Maggie who is so often friendly and at ease with strangers. Even in her medicated state, she's still what you would call a people person, striking up conversations everywhere she goes. Getting excited over the most mundane things, even now. I can only imagine how the knowledge of a soon-to-be grandchild is going to affect her. She'll probably have to adjust her meds to compensate for the euphoria.
"I'm sure she will be." I finally answer. "But she doesn't know yet."
"Oh. Are you and the daddy keeping it a secret?"
"Just for now. We're still adjusting, I guess."
"No sense in rushing the announcements. You'll just have people bugging you for a progress report that much sooner." Now there's something I hadn't really thought about. The entire ER asking me everyday how I'm feeling and if I want to hurl any time soon. What a treat. Oh, I hope Susan keeps it zipped. I close my eyes once again … in a silent prayer, perhaps.
"That's right dear, you just get as much as rest as you can. And be sure to let your young man do all the work around the house. After all, you've already got a pretty big job." I like the way this lady thinks. "Is he taking good care of you?" She asks when I open my eyes and smile at her.
"Yeah. He is. He's pretty wonderful." I stand up as my stop approaches, getting ready to finally finish the last leg of this never-ending journey home.
"Well that's good. You see to it that he keeps on taking care of you." I don't think I have too much to worry about on that score. She wishes me good luck as I leave, waving over my shoulder. That was kinda fun. Maybe I should talk to the baby more often.
I'm still chuckling over the encounter when I get home. No sign of John. I figured I'd be the first one home, even if I didn't come straight from work. As much as I would have liked to see him, I'm kinda glad to have the place to myself. Nap, nap, nap my body cries out. After a very brief shower, I steal a t-shirt from John's drawer and literally fall into bed.
Loud blaring noise. That's the first thing that registers. Ringing. A bell? The door? My pager? The phone? Yes, the phone. I reach out and grope around the nightstand, finally coming up with the receiver.
"He-wo …?"
"Abby? Abby what's wrong?"
"Nothing." I manage to get out. "I'm sleeping."
"Oh. Sorry. I thought you might be worried about me being so late." Late? As if I know what time it is. "I just wanted to let you know that I'll be home soon. I'm on my way now."
"Uh-huh. Bring food."
I hear him laughing on the other end and sincerely hope that my message was understood. I also hope he didn't have anything else to say since I promptly drop the receiver back in the cradle and roll over, closing my eyes once again. I want nothing more than to return my dreams of John and me and baby makes three while I wait for 'my young man' to get home and take care of us, his family.