"You Make It Christmas" part 4/5
By Rita Widmer
Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, but my birthday is a week from tomorrow so if anyone is interested in getting it for me, I'll be happy to take it.
AN: Thank you for all the wonderful feedback! I hope you enjoy the last two parts.
And so on some warm summer evening Should the heat get too much for us to take
August, 2005
Harm swept the sweat from his forehead once more. The temps were making records this summer, and it had to be at the same time that Mac was 9 months pregnant. It wasn't like she was letting him forget that fact either.
The air conditioning was not working at her place for some unreasonable reason, and her superintendent was away on vacation somewhere. His place was not even that much cooler for her. She also hated not knowing where to find things, and not having her own bed to sleep in.
Going back into the living room area, he handed her the cold bottle of water she had requested from him. As he walked around to face her, he saw the wince of pain on her face.
"Mac, what's wrong?" He asked her.
"Nothing, your son has decided he wanted to complain about the heat also. Will you help me up? I need to use the little girl's room once again."
He helped her up from the couch, and got her set on her way. "Hey, I thought you said it was going to be a girl," he called out when she was too far away to him.
"I keep changing my mind whenever your son takes revenge on my stomach. A little girl would be much nicer to her poor mother."
"Can't marines handle anything?"
"It's the marine in me that makes it possible to last 9 months with carrying your son. Now leave me alone, I have to use the bathroom."
"You love every moment of it," I mumble to myself. Luckily I'm a secure enough man to know that she really is happy carrying my child. Sometimes I catch her laying her hand down on her stomach, and staring at it with awe. She'll do it until somebody or something stops her.
She enjoyed letting me know all the problems being pregnant causes her to have, and make sure I pay up for punishing her. No one believes me when I tell them how much work she makes me do every night. They just laugh at me.
No one seems to have any sympathy for the poor father. I don't think I've worked so hard as I have these last two months. You want to know something; I really don't mind it at all.
I have my reward. Mac and I are engaged to get married. It was the time we spent trying to make this child that really brought us together, and for that I'll never complain about all the punishment.
Then there is the baby. Mac doesn't always allow me to touch her stomach. I think it makes her self-conscious. When I do, it's magical. I can't wait for the day that I get to hold that child in my arms.
Who would have ever thought this is what I would get when I made that promise over 6 years ago? A part of me never believed we would ever get here, and now I can't imagine my life any other way.
I must be daydreaming once again. Mac is waving her hands in front of my face. It is then that I notice what she has in her other hand.
"It's...it's...." I'm stuttering, and Mac is looking at me like exasperatedly.
"Yes, Harm, it's time to go to the hospital."
Bethesda Hospital
2 hours later
I really don't think my hand is going to recover after going through labor with Mac. Its already showing nail marks from where she held on tightly through the latest bout of contractions.
I think Mac is trying to trick her inner clock into thinking the contractions are closer then they are, because we keep disagreeing on time between each. I have finally learned not to contradict her anymore on times, because she keeps reminding me how I'm always late for every event.
My hand is practically nothing compared to the pain she is in, but I want to complain to somebody. No sympathy for this poor father once again. Doesn't anyone sympathize with us mere men that have to sit back and watch?
The time is passing faster then I thought it would, but the pain in my hand keeps growing exponentially with each passing hour. She is almost ready to start pushing, and I can feel my heart start to race faster. The time is coming, and I'm going to see my child for the first time in the flesh.
A child that is part Mac and part me. In my mind, there is no better combination then that, but what father wouldn't. The scream coming from my marine surprises me as I look back down at her with a smile on my face. She is not enjoying this experience as much as I am.
I try to massage her head and neck as she goes through another contraction. I'm once again surprised when she shoos my hands away.
"You're never touching me again," she grits out between her teeth that are clamped shut.
I put my hands up in surrender motion. I whisper to myself that this is only a passing phase, and once the baby is here she will once again to allow me to touch her. The doctor gives me a sympathetic look. There! Somebody feels sorry for the father.
As the doctor calls, "Push," I try to send her encouraging words, but I only get a look from her. Being stubborn I still do it, because honestly I can't do much to help. This is the only way I know how to help her.
There is a new wail surround the room as I watch the doctor lift up our child. I hurriedly go around the bed so I can't cut the cord. They let Mac hold the child for a moment before taking off with him.
My flyboy smile is back into place as I realize I have a little son. Mac is looking up at me with a big smile on her face. I lean down and kiss her. I don't let up until I hear the doctor clearing her voice.
"There's a little boy waiting to see his parents." She hands my son over to Mac, and walks away leaving us alone.
I look down into those big bright eyes that I could never not recognize. Those are my eyes. In that moment I see my future with my son. He's going to learn how to play baseball and football. He's going to ask me all about flying, and he is going to want to go to the Academy. He'll be one day one of the greatest flyers ever. He's going to have three generations smiling down on him and blessing his want to fly. This child is going to bless our future with great things.
The tears are flowing down my face now. I lean down to whisper in Mac's ear, "I love you," and then I tell our little son that I love him too. Life is perfect right now.
TBC...
By Rita Widmer
Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, but my birthday is a week from tomorrow so if anyone is interested in getting it for me, I'll be happy to take it.
AN: Thank you for all the wonderful feedback! I hope you enjoy the last two parts.
And so on some warm summer evening Should the heat get too much for us to take
August, 2005
Harm swept the sweat from his forehead once more. The temps were making records this summer, and it had to be at the same time that Mac was 9 months pregnant. It wasn't like she was letting him forget that fact either.
The air conditioning was not working at her place for some unreasonable reason, and her superintendent was away on vacation somewhere. His place was not even that much cooler for her. She also hated not knowing where to find things, and not having her own bed to sleep in.
Going back into the living room area, he handed her the cold bottle of water she had requested from him. As he walked around to face her, he saw the wince of pain on her face.
"Mac, what's wrong?" He asked her.
"Nothing, your son has decided he wanted to complain about the heat also. Will you help me up? I need to use the little girl's room once again."
He helped her up from the couch, and got her set on her way. "Hey, I thought you said it was going to be a girl," he called out when she was too far away to him.
"I keep changing my mind whenever your son takes revenge on my stomach. A little girl would be much nicer to her poor mother."
"Can't marines handle anything?"
"It's the marine in me that makes it possible to last 9 months with carrying your son. Now leave me alone, I have to use the bathroom."
"You love every moment of it," I mumble to myself. Luckily I'm a secure enough man to know that she really is happy carrying my child. Sometimes I catch her laying her hand down on her stomach, and staring at it with awe. She'll do it until somebody or something stops her.
She enjoyed letting me know all the problems being pregnant causes her to have, and make sure I pay up for punishing her. No one believes me when I tell them how much work she makes me do every night. They just laugh at me.
No one seems to have any sympathy for the poor father. I don't think I've worked so hard as I have these last two months. You want to know something; I really don't mind it at all.
I have my reward. Mac and I are engaged to get married. It was the time we spent trying to make this child that really brought us together, and for that I'll never complain about all the punishment.
Then there is the baby. Mac doesn't always allow me to touch her stomach. I think it makes her self-conscious. When I do, it's magical. I can't wait for the day that I get to hold that child in my arms.
Who would have ever thought this is what I would get when I made that promise over 6 years ago? A part of me never believed we would ever get here, and now I can't imagine my life any other way.
I must be daydreaming once again. Mac is waving her hands in front of my face. It is then that I notice what she has in her other hand.
"It's...it's...." I'm stuttering, and Mac is looking at me like exasperatedly.
"Yes, Harm, it's time to go to the hospital."
Bethesda Hospital
2 hours later
I really don't think my hand is going to recover after going through labor with Mac. Its already showing nail marks from where she held on tightly through the latest bout of contractions.
I think Mac is trying to trick her inner clock into thinking the contractions are closer then they are, because we keep disagreeing on time between each. I have finally learned not to contradict her anymore on times, because she keeps reminding me how I'm always late for every event.
My hand is practically nothing compared to the pain she is in, but I want to complain to somebody. No sympathy for this poor father once again. Doesn't anyone sympathize with us mere men that have to sit back and watch?
The time is passing faster then I thought it would, but the pain in my hand keeps growing exponentially with each passing hour. She is almost ready to start pushing, and I can feel my heart start to race faster. The time is coming, and I'm going to see my child for the first time in the flesh.
A child that is part Mac and part me. In my mind, there is no better combination then that, but what father wouldn't. The scream coming from my marine surprises me as I look back down at her with a smile on my face. She is not enjoying this experience as much as I am.
I try to massage her head and neck as she goes through another contraction. I'm once again surprised when she shoos my hands away.
"You're never touching me again," she grits out between her teeth that are clamped shut.
I put my hands up in surrender motion. I whisper to myself that this is only a passing phase, and once the baby is here she will once again to allow me to touch her. The doctor gives me a sympathetic look. There! Somebody feels sorry for the father.
As the doctor calls, "Push," I try to send her encouraging words, but I only get a look from her. Being stubborn I still do it, because honestly I can't do much to help. This is the only way I know how to help her.
There is a new wail surround the room as I watch the doctor lift up our child. I hurriedly go around the bed so I can't cut the cord. They let Mac hold the child for a moment before taking off with him.
My flyboy smile is back into place as I realize I have a little son. Mac is looking up at me with a big smile on her face. I lean down and kiss her. I don't let up until I hear the doctor clearing her voice.
"There's a little boy waiting to see his parents." She hands my son over to Mac, and walks away leaving us alone.
I look down into those big bright eyes that I could never not recognize. Those are my eyes. In that moment I see my future with my son. He's going to learn how to play baseball and football. He's going to ask me all about flying, and he is going to want to go to the Academy. He'll be one day one of the greatest flyers ever. He's going to have three generations smiling down on him and blessing his want to fly. This child is going to bless our future with great things.
The tears are flowing down my face now. I lean down to whisper in Mac's ear, "I love you," and then I tell our little son that I love him too. Life is perfect right now.
TBC...