Title: A Dream Life
Author: Andrea
Rating: R
Summary: Abby and Carter are having a baby. That really narrows it down, doesn't it? When last we saw our favorite couple, they were doing a little shopping (among other things) while paying Grandma Maggie a visit.
Author's Note: Thanks, COURTNEY and LISA. Thanks for the encouragement and hours speculating and brainstorming. I couldn't do it without you. Thanks for the line-by-line, COURTNEY. To everyone else: thanks for the reviews. Sorry it's been such a long time since I updated this one. Inspiration doesn't come as easy these days. It sort of comes and goes. Therefore, I can't really say when I'll have something up again, but I do have a few things in the works. I know a lot of you want more of Let Go of Your Heart, but that one is on hold for the moment. Sorry, but if I spend my time trying to force that one, nothing will get done. I will try to get back to it, though. I'm still working on the others, just at a somewhat modified pace. Take what you can get, I guess. However, I *may* be able to drum up some holiday inspiration … so be on the look out for possible holiday-themed short and sweet stand alones.
*~*~*~*
A Dream Life
Chapter 15: The Name Game
"Whatcha doin'?" I ask, watching Abby standing in front of the bed in our room, surveying a mountain of … stuff.
"I have no place to go with any of this crap," she says, sounding exasperated. "Ever since we got home from Minneapolis I've been tripping over these bags of clothes. Not to mention that stupid bear."
"What's your problem with the bear?"
"You mean besides it taking up room that we don't have and being completely unnecessary?"
"Yeah, besides that."
"It stares at me."
"It stares at you? Abby, it's not real."
"I know … but I feel like it's watching me. When I'm getting dressed, when I'm sleeping, when we make love. It's creepy."
"You want me to put it in the other room?"
"Great, then it can watch us when we eat, when we watch TV, when we make love. No thanks." She looks at me for a moment, then over at the bear sitting in a corner of the bedroom, and then back at the pile of clothes on the bed. She sits down with a sigh, looking resigned. "I think … we need a bigger place." There's a tentative note in her voice, like she's afraid that I might protest.
"Okay," I say.
"We don't have any room for the baby. I mean … where are we gonna put a baby around here? Or not the baby so much, but all the baby's stuff. I don't even have room for my new fat clothes."
"They're maternity clothes, Abby. And … you don't have to convince me that we should move; I wanted to look for a bigger place months ago. You were the one who never wanted to talk about it."
"Well, I guess we're gonna have to do more than talk about it soon. This baby's gonna be here before we know it." She rubs her little round belly beneath the baggy shirt she's wearing. Yes, Baby Carter is making its presence known more and more all the time. And Abby's right, this pregnancy has been going by remarkably quickly. Seems like just yesterday that we found out … and now suddenly, in just a couple more weeks, we'll be at the halfway point. Halfway to the day when we need a house with a nursery. And furniture for that house and nursery. And a more baby friendly car. Not to mention strollers, carseats, high chairs and all the other miscellaneous baby stuff.
"You okay?" Abby asks. "I thought I was the one freaked out about the whole white picket fence routine."
"I'm fine. I was just thinking about everything we still have to do before the baby gets here. A house, furniture, all the baby stuff, a new car."
"A new car?" She asks, sounding surprised. "You're gonna give up your Jeep?"
"Well, I thought once we're driving around with the baby, it might nice to have a car with windows that you don't have to zip up. Besides, it's getting old. Time to replace it anyway."
"Yeah, but every time you replace it, you get the same thing. I know you don't really want to give it up." I shrug. It's not that big of a deal. Not really. Things are gonna change when the baby arrives. So what if I've had the same kind of car for as long as I can remember? "John, just because we're becoming parents doesn't mean that we have to give up all vestiges of our former life. I'm sure there's some compromise we can make. Just like with the house."
"The house?" I ask, not quite sure what she's referring to.
"Yeah. I know if it were up to you, we'd move into the Carter family mansion … or at least into some big sprawling thing out in the suburbs. But I don't think I'm ready for that. A house, though … something regular-sized, maybe here in the city …"
"You could live with that?"
"I think so. As long as it's not too big. And then maybe someday …" She trails off.
"Baby steps, huh?" I'm not sure if she really thinks that someday she'd want to move into the family home. That's something that I don't really expect to happen. But a house would be nice. Something in between this little apartment and the mansion. I'll be glad just get her out of here, actually.
"Something like that," she says, not sounding especially enthusiastic. I walk over to the bed and sit down next to her, draping my arm over her shoulder.
"I guess we have to find a realtor and do some house hunting. And some car shopping." I look over at her in time to see her making a face at the thought. "But don't worry … not today. Today we have something more important going on." I move my free hand to her belly.
"Sonogram day," she says.
"Yep. We get to find out who's in here," I say, giving the belly a pat.
"Are you sure you don't mind finding out?"
"I wasn't aware I had any choice in the matter," I tell her.
"Well, if you really didn't want to know …" I think about that for a minute. There's something appealing about waiting and being surprised. On the other hand, I've been so sure that it's a girl from the very beginning that maybe it would be a good idea to know for sure. And it would certainly make planning and buying for the baby that much simpler.
"No, I think we should find out."
"Really? Are you sure?"
"Yeah. I'm sure. Of course, just watch … since we want to know, she probably won't cooperate."
"Hey … you in there," Abby starts, looking down at her belly, "Mommy and Daddy are gonna get a look at you today … and we'd kinda like to know if you are a boy or girl. So if you could help out with that, we'd really appreciate it."
"Well, I'm sure that will do it."
"It better," she says, flopping back on to the mound of clothes piled up on the bed, "I want an obedient child. Hey, this is kind of comfortable," she says, presumably referring to her pillow of maternity clothes.
"Why, exactly, is all this stuff dumped out on the bed?"
"Well, ever since we got home from Minneapolis, I've been meaning to put it away, but I never got around to it. But then today, I decided I was sick of looking at all these bags … and I figured if I put it all on the bed, I'd have no choice but to fold it up and hang it up and put it away. And that's when I found out that I have no place to put it away. There's no room in the closet, there's no room in the dresser …"
"Well maybe you could put away your regular clothes, you won't be needing them for a while."
"Put them away where? We don't exactly have an abundance of storage around here. So see? We need a bigger place."
"I'm not arguing with you. But you know … we will need to put this stuff somewhere. We can't exactly sleep on a bed covered in clothes."
"When you figured out where to go with them, let me know."
"How about under the bed?"
"Oh well, that would be convenient. Fishing my clothes out from under the bed. And with this belly, I'd probably get halfway under and get stuck."
I can't help but laugh because I get an instant image of Abby on her back, on the floor, halfway under the bed with her legs flailing around. Of course, I'm not sure why she would have to actually get under the bed instead of just reaching under the bed … but nevertheless, it's a funny picture.
"I'm glad you think this is funny." Oops, she sounds a little upset. Even though the mood swings have greatly improved as Abby's moved into the second trimester, they haven't disappeared completely.
"Sorry. But when I suggested 'under the bed,' I meant we could put your regular clothes under there. Because by the time you need those again, we'll be in our new house … with plenty of space and big, beautiful closets."
"You're awfully optimistic."
"That's my job."
"So I suppose you figure we'll just trip over the perfect house."
"Sure, why wouldn't we?"
She looks at me for a minute and then rolls her eyes. "Somehow, I don't think we'll be on quite the same page."
"So finding a house we can agree on will be a challenge. It'll be fun."
"Ha. Just keep telling yourself that," Abby says, as she struggles to push herself back up into a sitting position. I give her my hand and help her up.
"Where are you going?" I ask, as she starts across the room.
"To pee. And then we better get going. I don't want to be late for the sonogram."
"Ab … it's not for another two hours."
"Okay … fine. I want to be early for the sonogram."
"Excited?" I ask her.
"Yes, of course. And don't pretend like you aren't … I know you didn't sleep half the night last night."
"That was just … indigestion."
"Uh-huh, sure." Abby says as she heads into the bathroom. I guess she doesn't believe me. Just because I've got the date circled on the kitchen calendar and have been anticipating this day like a kid waiting for Christmas. I would gladly do sonograms every day just to get a glimpse at my baby, and I think Abby feels the same way, at least in part. But she insists, in spite of the scare that terrified us both, that she doesn't want any special treatment. She says that it would only make her worry more, and that kind of stress wouldn't be good for her or the baby. Everything was perfect at the last sonogram, so we've been operating on the assumption that it still is. As tempting as it is to constantly reassure ourselves that the baby is fine with daily sonograms, we both know that there's a fine line between worry and paranoia. And we're both determined not to be overly-anxious, uptight parents so I guess it's best that we start practicing now.
"Deep thoughts?" Abby asks, coming out of the bathroom.
She studies her image in the mirror for a minute and, I'm guessing by the look on her face, decides something isn't right. She pulls off her shirt and tosses it toward the hamper, coming over to the bed to root through the pile of clothes. Luckily enough, this puts her now bare belly practically at eye level. I put my hands on her hips and pull her over to me, lowering my head slightly to her stomach where I lovingly plant a kiss.
"I can't wait to see this little one," I say, kissing the bulge again before shifting my gaze upward to look at Abby.
"Well, that's gonna be kind of tough if you don't stop making out with my belly." But as she says this, she rests her hand lightly on the back of my head, seemingly content to hold my head against her. I turn and put my ear against her bare skin, as if I might be able to hear something.
"So today we find out whether we have a son or a daughter. Last chance to guess," I say to her. "So what do you think … boy or girl?"
"Girl." She says it so confidently and with so little hesitation that I'm surprised.
"Really? Since when?"
"I've thought it was a girl all along."
"But you always said you didn't have any intuition about it one way or the other."
"So I lied." She shrugs. "Mostly, though, you were just so confident, I had to argue with you."
"I guess we'll both be awfully surprised if it turns out to be a little boy in here, huh?"
"Yeah …"
"Will you be disappointed?"
"If it's a boy? Of course not. I'll want him to be just like his daddy. I could never be disappointed with that. What about you?"
"No, I won't be disappointed. Either way is fine. Just so long as she's healthy." Abby chuckles at that, pushing my head away in mock annoyance, before pulling on another shirt. "No, really … a little girl would be wonderful, but a little boy would be lots of fun, too. So no matter what, I'm gonna be happy. Either way, I'm gonna be a daddy. We're gonna be family. There's nothing disappointing about that."
"Nope. Just so long as everything's okay."
"It will be," I say, hearing the nervousness in her voice.
"I hope so," she says, sitting down next to me on the bed and taking my hand.
"But it's normal to be nervous. I'm nervous, too." I'm more nervous than I want her to know. Logically, I know there's no reason to worry. The baby was perfect at the last ultrasound, no reason to think that anything is different now. Still, things can change. There are so many things that can wrong … so until I see with my own eyes that everything is fine, a part of me will worry.
"It'll be okay," she says, giving my hand a squeeze. "You ready to go?"
"We'll be a little early," I say, glancing at the clock.
She shrugs. "Maybe we'll get in sooner."
"Maybe we'll just be stuck sitting in uncomfortable chairs that much longer." But she's already dragging me across the apartment to the door. I guess we'll go early.
So an hour later we're sitting in the waiting room … waiting. The chairs are just as uncomfortable as I suspected they would be. But that's okay. If Abby feels better being here, a sore back is a small price to pay. Of course, Abby doesn't seem to be more relaxed here. In fact, she's becoming increasingly nervous, the longer we sit here. I look over at her now and find her frantically flipping through a magazine, snapping the pages as she goes along. Unless she's taken a speed reading course recently, I don't think much of the information is sinking in. I reach over and put my hand on top of hers. She looks at me with a questioning expression.
"What did this poor magazine ever do to you?" I ask, as I gently take it out of her hands.
"Sorry. I guess I'm just a little anxious."
"Anxious good … as in you can't wait to see the baby? Or anxious bad … as in you're worried about we'll see?"
"Yes," she says, with a sigh.
"Both?" She nods. "It'll be okay," I tell her, using the exact words she said to me before we left home.
We tend to do this … take turns freaking out and reassuring each other. I can be upset or worried myself, but when I look at her and see the fear in her eyes, some instinct to shelter her kicks in, and I find the words to at least try and make her feel better. I can only assume the same is true for her. And the best part is that when I'm busy trying to reassure Abby, I end up making myself feel better, too.
But right now Abby doesn't seem to be comforted by my words. She's nervously biting on her thumb nail. Somehow I don't think that anything I say is going to really do the trick right now. Until we see a healthy baby on the monitor, we're both gonna be a bit uneasy. A distraction -- that's what we need. I glance down at the magazine in my hands.
"You know, Abby … we really need to start working on this," I say, gesturing to one of the headings on the cover of the parenting magazine.
"Potty training? I think they usually recommend that you wait until the baby is … you know … born for that."
"Ha … ha. I meant the one above that. The year's most popular baby names. We have to start working on names."
"Not Rudyard," she says, right away, but still somewhat distractedly.
"Would you spell that with an 'n' or a 'k' … I kinda like it with a 'k' myself. Knot Rudyard Carter. It's got a nice ring to it, and it's very nautical."
"Shut up," she says, but with a giggle. "Don't you think we might as well wait until we find out the sex to start discussing names? That'll make it easier by half."
"Well, it never hurts to come up with some general ground rules. What kind of names do you like?"
She looks at me for a minute and I think that maybe she's not gonna answer me or is just gonna give me some flip response. "Well … nothing too trendy. And no country club names, either," she says, giving me a serious answer, after all.
"Country club names?"
"You know … snotty, stuck-up, debutante names. Or long WASPy last names as first names with some stupid nickname. In fact, no last names as first names at all. And nothing made up. And no stupid spellings, either."
"So we're looking for something classic, then? Mainstream, but not too popular?" I ask, flipping through the magazine to find the list of the year's most popular names.
"Yeah, I guess."
"Well, then, I guess Emily is out," I say, referring to the one name we'd discussed at all so far. "Since it seems to be the most popular name every year."
"Oh," Abby says, clearly disappointed.
"What? Last time we talked about Emily, you said yourself that it was too popular."
"I know, but …"
"And if it's always in the top ten for girls' names, I guess you were right."
"Yeah, I guess …" she says, obviously not convinced.
"You want Emily, don't you?"
"Well, it's a great name. Girly, but not too girly. Cute, but not too cutesy. Classic, but not old-fashioned. Easy to spell and pronounce. It's perfect. No wonder everyone uses it. How much does that suck? It's so perfect that it's too perfect. I mean, it's just so popular …"
"Well … how about Emma? That's kinda close, but not nearly as popular."
"It's nice. But it's not …"
"Emily. Yeah, I know. I like Emily, too. Hey, maybe we could make her first name Emma and her middle name Leigh. Emma Leigh Carter." Abby turns her head slowly toward me and gives me a long look. "Or maybe not. Look, Abby, if we both like Emily this much, I don't think we should let its popularity deter us. So there's a million other Emilys out there … ours will still be our Emily, the only Emily as far as we are concerned. And she will always be incredibly special, even if she shares her name with lots of other little girls."
"Really? You think? I wouldn't want her to hate us for giving her a name that is so …common."
"Actually, I think kids probably like having common names. Makes them feel like they fit in, I would think. And her name will still be somewhat unique. I mean, there may be lots of Emilys in the world, but how many 'Emily Abigail Carter's do you think there are?"
"Abigail?"
"Hey, Emily was your idea, I should get to pick the middle name."
"No, Emily was your idea originally. I said it was too popular, remember?"
"Yeah, but you're the one who wants it now," I point out.
"And you don't?" Abby sounds a little worried.
"No, of course I do. I like it. A lot. I can't think of anything else I would rather choose. But still, you were the one who set the parameters. How do you know I didn't want a country club name? And you're the one who absolutely loves Emily and always has … so I should get some say in the middle name, don't you think?"
"There's a difference between having some say and just choosing it."
"Fine. I should get to choose it then. Please?"
"But Abigail?"
"Would you prefer Millicent?"
"Abigail's good."
"I thought you might see it that way. Besides, what's wrong with wanting to name her after her mother?"
"Okay, okay. If it's that important to you."
"It is."
"So … Emily Abigail Carter. What do you think?"
"I think it's perfect."
"But if it's a boy, his middle name will be John."
"I can live with that," I tell her. "But what do you want his first name to be?"
"Well, I guess if we're picking a wildly popular girls' name, maybe that's where we should start for boy's names."
"Michael?" I ask, consulting the list.
"Nah. I don't like Gallant that much."
"Jacob?"
"Nuh-uh."
"Joshua?"
"No!"
"Don't like Joshua, okay. How about Joseph?"
"Nah."
"Andrew?"
"I don't think so."
"Nicholas?"
"Not bad. But I'm not sure that I love it."
"Matthew?"
"Matthew … Now that I like. Matt, Matthew. Matthew Carter. Matthew John Carter."
"Matthew, huh?"
"Do you like it?"
"Yeah … I do," I say, honestly.
"Me too. It's not too tough-guy. And it's not too fruity, either."
"It's just the right amount of fruity?" I ask, with a chuckle.
"Something like that."
"So … Matthew John or Emily Abigail?" I'm happy with our choices. I like them a lot. I'm a little surprised, though, that it turned out to be this easy. Somehow I thought we would be debating for months. Instead, we got in all wrapped up in ten minutes, while sitting around a waiting room. Not too bad.
"Yeah," Abby says, with a smile. "Emily or Matthew. Now we just have to find out which one you are." She directs this last comment to her belly.
"Wow. Our child has a name."
"And as soon as we find out the sex, we'll know which one. And then you can stop calling it Flubber."
"Maybe."
"Maybe? No, I think you will stop calling it Flubber."
"You going to make me?"
"Yes." She gives me a coy little smile.
"And just how are you going to do that?" I ask.
"I have my ways," she says, leaning in to kiss me.
We're still lip-locked when a voice calls out, "Abby Carter?"
"It's time," I say quietly, pulling a way from Abby. "You ready?"
"Yeah." It's almost a whisper, and I know her nerves have probably returned full force. I know mine have. I've seen too much; I know too much about all the dangers, everything that can go wrong. There's a knot in the pit of my stomach. But I put on a smile for Abby and offer her both my hands, helping her up.
"C'mon … let's go find out who's in there," I say.
"So is this your first sonogram?" The tech asks cheerfully as she leads us back to the exam room.
"Uh … no," I say. "We did one several weeks ago."
"Here?" She asks.
"Downstairs. We work in the ER," Abby explains.
"Oh. Couldn't resist the temptation with all the equipment right there, huh?"
"Something like that," I say.
"Right in here," the tech directs us. "You can just lie down on the table, and we'll get started."
Abby gets herself situated on the table, pushing her clothes out of the way to reveal her bare stomach. I sit down in the stool that is by her head and pick up her hand.
"Did you bring a video tape?" The tech asks.
I look at Abby, who nods. "In my bag." I fish it out and hand it to the tech and then resume my position, holding Abby's hand again.
"Okay, this will be a bit cold." Abby stiffens a bit as the cold gel hits her skin, but moments later, we are both riveted to the screen.
There's an image.
Our baby.
I squeeze Abby's hand. She turns her head and looks at me, and we share a smile. At first glance, at least, everything looks good. A perfect little baby. Everything fully formed and just where it should be. No obvious deformities. The heart beating steadily, nice and strong. And lots of movement. Soft, fluid movements of little arms and legs.
"It looks like a real baby now," Abby says. And indeed, in the few weeks since the last sonogram, the baby has gone from looking like Flubber to looking like an actual baby. Tiny and still somewhat oddly proportioned, but a baby nonetheless. While we watch, one hand comes up, fingers splayed.
"Oh! She's waving at us. Hi, baby," I say to the screen.
"She?" The tech asks.
"Just a guess," I tell her.
"Ah. Would you like to find out the sex?"
"Yeah, we want to know," Abby tells her.
"Okay. We'll take a look. But let's start at the top and work our way down." So, starting with the baby's head, we take a closer look, the tech recording measurements and pointing things out to us that we already know. But it's still good to hear it said out loud -- everything is just right with the baby. Fully developed lobes in the brain, healthy organ systems, no birth defects of any kind.
"The baby looks good. Healthy." Even though Abby and I knew this from seeing the images ourselves, we can't help but grin at each other when we hear those actual words. A healthy baby. Boy or girl, I don't care. We're lucky enough to have a healthy baby, what else matters?
"Congratulations," the tech says, "It's a girl."
Abby's eyes get wide and the smile on her face gets a little bit bigger. I can only imagine that I look much the same. After a moment, my eyes move away from Abby's and look to the screen. And sure enough, it's a girl. No doubt about it.
"A girl," Abby says, sounding awestruck.
"Yeah, it's a girl."
"It's Emily," she says. And right away, the name clicks. It just sounds -- and feels -- right.
"Hi, Emily," I say, calling my child -- my daughter -- by her name for the first time. I have to admit, it's much better than Flubber.
"We were right," Abby says.
"About her being a girl or about the name?"
"Both." For a few minutes, we both get lost staring at the images of our daughter on the screen. So tiny, so perfect. Such a miracle. There are tears in our eyes, but smiles on our faces as this new reality sinks in.
The technician finally turns off the monitor, with Abby and I waving good-bye to the baby. She hands us our videotape and some still pictures before leaving the room.
"We have a daughter," Abby says, rubbing the bulge that is currently home to our little girl.
"I know. It's … incredible."
"Are you happy?"
"Are you kidding? My daddy's little girl? Of course, I'm happy. Besides, I like being right."
"But mostly you like the idea of having a little girl who will worship the ground you walk on," she says with a teasing smile.
"No, I like the idea of having a little girl just as wonderful as her mommy."
Abby gives me a little eye roll, but she moves off the table and stands in front of me, wrapping her arms loosely around my neck.
"Her daddy is pretty wonderful, too."
"She's a lucky little girl."
"Our little girl … our little Emily. That is … as long as you're sure."
"About naming her Emily?" Abby nods in affirmation. "I'm sure. I think it's just right. Emily Abigail. I love it."
"Me too."
"Even the Abigail part?"
"Well, I'm getting used to that part. But it's growing on me, I guess. It does flow nicely. And … I think she likes it."
"How would you know that?"
"Mother's intuition," she says wryly.
"Is that right? What do you think, Flubber? You want to be named Emily?" I ask the belly, giving it a little pat.
"I'm sure she prefers it to Flubber."
"Well, who wouldn't? Emily's a beautiful name. Much better than Flubber."
"So stop calling her Flubber and start calling her by her name," Abby instructs as she makes her way toward the door.
"Yes, Mommy," I say, catching up with her and grabbing her hand.
"Don't call me 'Mommy.'"
"You know you love it." A small smile spreads across her face.
"Well, I'll love it when she calls me 'Mommy' … when you do it, it's still a little creepy."
"Just trying to get you used to it."
"I don't think I'll have any trouble getting used to being a mommy."
"Of a little girl," I add.
"I know."
"I can't believe we got a girl. Not that a little boy wouldn't have been wonderful … but this …"
"Just feels right," Abby finishes for me. "Of course, we'd probably be saying the same thing if it were a boy."
"Yeah, probably. But now that I know she's a girl, I guess it's okay to say that a girl was my first preference."
"So it really was wishful thinking."
"What?"
"You know, the way you always called the baby 'she' … I was never sure if it was wishful thinking or reverse psychology."
"You thought maybe I really wanted a boy?"
She shrugs. "Well, I wasn't sure. But I can tell from the grin on your face that you're pretty happy."
"Yeah, I am. And you look pretty happy yourself," I inform her.
"Well I should … because I am."
"Me too," I say, ushering Abby into the elevator. "I've got all I ever wanted. You and … Emily." I rub Abby's belly lovingly, thinking that how weird, but great, it is that the little person in there suddenly has a name, an identity. My daughter, Emily. Amazing.
"John," Abby says, interrupting my thoughts, "We're hungry. Can we go get something to eat?"
"Sure, what sounds good?"
"Waffles."
"Waffles? At 3 o'clock in the afternoon?"
"Please?"
"For you, Abby? Anything."
And I would give her anything asked for. Why wouldn't I? She's giving me something priceless. A daughter. A family. She's making me a father. And everyday I'm grateful to have her and our baby in my life.
"C'mon," I say to Abby, slipping my arm around her waist, "Let's go get you your waffles." She gives me a big grin and the three of us start on our way together, as a family. For the first time as Mommy, Daddy, and little girl. It's not just Abby and I anymore; now our little family officially has a new member. Little Emily Abigail. And I couldn't be happier.