Title: This Thing About Birthdays
Author: Andrea
Rating: R. Yes, I do mean R. As in "not suitable for children under 17." This chapter contains adult themes. So as #2 helpfully suggested, it's being rated TVDon'tLetAnyoneUnder17ReadIt. That means you, your kid sister, the neighbor kids, the children you're baby-sitting, and probably even your grandma. But since she's undoubtedly over 17, that's up to you.
Summary: She's having a baby.
Author's Note: Thanks to Cath and Kel for the editing and the helpful suggestions. And a special thanks to Kel (#2 to you) because I flat out stole some of her dialogue. But then, can you steal something that's been given to you? Probably not. But anyway … thanks #2. And #2, sorry I didn't work in that word that you wanted. I'll save it for the next smutfest fic, okay? To everyone else … thanks for reading. And, as usual, I know that review button is just calling your name.
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This Thing About Birthdays
Part II
Chapter 10: Baby Time
I wake up and right away I know something is different. For one thing, there is light streaming in through the windows. I struggle to prop myself up on my elbows and look over at the clock. Eight o'clock in the morning. How did that happen? The last thing I remember, I was lying in John's arms and he was bound and determined to do whatever it took to get me into labor. I know all that nipple stimulation must have been tough on him, but he's a good guy so he does what he can. But how did I get here from there? I know I suffer from a lot of pregnancy-induced forgetfulness, but I usually remember nocturnal stirrings. But I don't remember a thing. No middle-of-the-night snack, no trips to the bathroom. In fact, my bladder is about to explode. I push the covers back and maneuver myself to my feet. Oh look, I'm still naked. I guess I really did sleep through the night. Well, that's a first in … weeks. Months maybe. We might have to try that sex thing more often.
I waddle into the bathroom thinking that maybe my good night's sleep accounts for the difference in the way I feel this morning. Energized, yet relaxed. Yesterday I was overcome with a bout of nervous energy that left me scurrying around the house. But this morning, it's different. I'm rested and full of energy, but at the same time I feel very calm. The calm before the storm? Ha, probably just wishful thinking. Although suddenly, I don't feel such a desperate need to be done with this pregnancy. In fact, I almost think that I might miss it. After I've completed my rituals in the bathroom, I stand looking at myself in the full length mirror. And I realize that whether it's today or tomorrow or next week, someday in the very near future I won't look like this anymore. In some ways, I'll be glad to get my body back … well, sort of get my body back, anyway. But then again … as my hand caresses my firm, large, rounded belly I realize there are things I will miss. I'll miss being a part of this miracle. All I have to do is look down at my full body to be reminded of how lucky I am. This being pregnant thing can be pretty cool. Of course there are plenty of things about it that are anything but cool. Hard to imagine that I might actually miss this cumbersome body, but I know I will. I'll miss feeling the baby's movements inside of me. I'll miss having my child with me, sheltered inside of me, all the time. I might even miss the fact that my belly, with all its roundness announcing the happy event, draws constant smiles from strangers and friends alike. And if I'm being perfectly honest, I'll miss having Carter at my beck and call, too.
Carter. I twist the rings on my left hand as I think about how lucky I am to have him. He's been so great through this whole thing. Anything I've wanted, he's gotten for me. Nothing has been too much to ask. And he's been there every step of the way. Right there holding my hand and carrying my pillows for the childbirth classes. Even managing to look interested and attentive during the breast-feeding class. Knowing that he'll be right by my side when this baby is born helps ease whatever apprehension I have about labor and delivery. Sometimes knowing too much can be scarier than knowing nothing at all. But John reassures me that it'll be fine, I'll be great, and he won't leave me side. I look over at him sound asleep on the bed where he is lying on his stomach (how nice would that be?) hugging his pillow with his tousled hair sticking up in all directions. There's something so sweet about him when he's asleep. He looks just like a little boy … preview of things to come very soon. Someday soon it will be our child that I'll be watching over in its sleep. Maybe our little boy will look just like his daddy.. Or our little girl. Whichever. I look back at my reflection in the mirror, watching my hand trail over my pregnant belly and the child within. This little baby bulge has been with me so long, it's going to seem very strange when it's not there anymore. Although it might be kind of nice to be able to see my feet again, and leave this bloated belly behind. Plus, I can't wait to see who's in there.
Whoever is in there is stirring around a bit. The movement and kicks have really slowed down this past month, and especially the past few days. But there's a little flurry of activity now. I look down, and I can watch, as well as feel, the movement. Poke. There's a little foot sticking out. I move my hand over the spot and give the bump a little squeeze. In goes that foot. But … oh, there's the other one. I'll miss this little show once I'm not pregnant anymore. But then I guess I'll have a new show to watch. Namely a newborn baby to watch with fascination. While I'm still busy poking back at the baby that's poking at me, I suddenly feel a little trickle running down my leg. Son of a bitch. I just peed. Okay, this is one part of pregnancy I can do without. Although usually something like a sneeze or a laugh (or a sharp kick directly to the bladder) is required for this kind of … um, leakage. And I swear I managed to completely empty my bladder just a few minutes ago. Wait a second. Maybe I didn't just pee all over myself. Maybe … well, my water didn't exactly break, but maybe it sprung a leak. This could be a step in the right direction. Or it could be the beginning of several days of leaving random wet spots.
Either way, I need a towel. I've just walked back into the bathroom when it starts. I feel the first spasms in my back and the pain makes me suck in my breath. I brace myself on the counter as the cramp wraps around to my abdomen and all my muscles seem to clamp down and tighten. Oh. Ouch. Crap. Shit. This hurts. Uh … breathe. Right. I stop holding my breath and try to relax as I exhale. Okay. Better. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. The pain seems to be fading. And then it's gone. Braxton-Hicks? I don't think so. Those hurt, but not like this. I look over at the clock in the bedroom, making note of the time. This might just be the real thing. This was certainly something new. Braxton-Hicks, my ass. And those never started in my back.
My back. Well, shit. All day yesterday my back kept flaring up. Weird little spasms and mild pain. With all the extra weight of lugging around a twenty-five pound pack of baby belly, my back has been sore most of the third trimester. I assumed that's what was happening yesterday. But those "flare ups" came and went all day. At regular intervals? With increasing frequency? I can't remember. And I never even thought that it could be the beginning of labor. Wow, all those years in OB were apparently a big waste. I'm not even sure now if I'm in labor. What should I do? Wake Carter? Go to the hospital right now? And what if it's a false alarm? What if I end up stuck in the hospital for days? Or having to come back home again, still pregnant? Yuck. Okay … maybe I should just wait and see what happens.
I collect my towel and head back to bed. Might as well get some rest while I'm waiting around. If I am going into labor, I'll need all the rest I can get. I lie down carefully on my towel … as if that's gonna do anything to soak up the tide if my membranes rupture. But it'll help with the leaking, if, in fact, my amniotic fluid is slowly seeping out. Of course I could maybe put on some clothes on and even find some sort of pad to soak up any leakage, but that seems like entirely too much trouble. Besides once Carter knows that I might be in labor, he's sure to want to examine me. And if we're going to the hospital I'll need to take a shower. Especially after last night's activities. Huh. It worked. Who knew? Okay, so maybe it was starting already, but our little romp last night does seem to have helped to speed things along. Maybe. Either way I won't complain. It was fun, and possibly productive too, so what's to complain about?
Well, maybe this next contraction that's starting up, just like the last one. I'm prepared this time, though, and I find that it passes with relatively little pain so long as I stay relaxed. Okay, maybe there's something to be said for this whole Lamaze bullshit. I can't imagine that it's nearly as effective an epidural, but it doesn't come with a big needle stick in the back, a urine catheter, and numb legs. Then again, this is pretty early in the process, and I probably won't get the full intensity until after my water breaks. I remember to look over at the clock as the contraction is fading away. Eight minutes apart. Okay, not bad. As long as they are consistent. Now it's just a waiting game. I lie here on my side, with Carter snoring behind me, and watch the clock. The minutes are ticking away slowly. Geez, this is boring. No one ever tells you it's gonna be boring. But I'm really bored. I could wake up Carter. No. Bad idea. He'll freak out if I wake him up. Better to let him sleep while I wait around to see what's going on. I go back to watching the clock. Eight minutes since the last one. Nine minutes. Ten minutes. And then my back clenches up. Deep breath … let it out as the pain creeps around to the front. I move one hand to low on my stomach and rub. That helps. But my back still hurts. I move my other hand around to the small of my back and push. Better.
Once the pain recedes again, I'm back to my thumb-twiddling routine. I look back over at the clock and catch a glimpse of our wedding picture on the night stand where it's been for the past three months. It's collected three months of dust too, I realize as I pick it up for a closer look. There we are. Me in a simple, cream-colored dress, my hair swept up with curls falling down alongside my face. My bouquet made up of red and pink and white roses, as an acknowledgment of the day. John in a black suit, a favorite of mine, along with a cream shirt and tie, red rose boutonniere . Both of us smiling into the camera. Happy to be married. Happy to have gotten through the day relatively unscathed.
The whole thing went surprisingly smoothly considering our families were involved. It took place just the way John has suggested, in one of the hotel ballrooms on Valentine's Day. And it was really beautiful. Not too fancy and not too plain. Not too big or too small. All our friends and family were there. Susan was my maid of honor. Carter asked his cousin Chase, in spite of his handicaps, to be the best man. Eric walked me down the aisle. My mom cried. The Carters refrained from staging a protest. Susan did an impressive job of only blowing her nose once during the ceremony. Chase managed to not run anyone down in his 'mighty wheelchair,' as he likes to call his motorized chair and laughed when Eric first asked him where his cape was and then requested that he pop a wheelie. So basically everyone was on their best behavior. Well, all except for that one incident with Maggie and Jack over the punch bowl. She called it being friendly, I called it "just get away from my father-in-law before things get ugly."
But aside from that, Maggie was fine. She was, of course, thrilled to see me getting married. And even more excited because I was about to make her a grandmother. As soon as she found out about the baby, she started sewing tiny clothes for the little one. And then she put that aside to make my wedding dress, saving me the embarrassment of having to look for a maternity wedding gown. When she came to town a week before the wedding to help pull it all together, I'll admit I was skeptical. But we didn't kill each other. We actually had fun and managed to do some mother-daughter bonding. And even with all the excitement from the wedding, Mom managed to stay on an even keel and was acting … normal at the wedding. So was Eric. No untoward incidents occurred. Although in his excitement over becoming an uncle, my brother did ask me, rather loudly and exuberantly, how old the baby would have to before he could start giving it flying lessons. Seems he was thinking maybe five. I told him sixty-five … because maybe I'll be dead by then. And God knows if I'm not dead the day my brother takes my child up in a plane, knowledge of that adventure would surely kill me.
Luckily the only one of John's family to overhear that conversation was Jack, and he seemed to take it all as one big joke -- little did he know that Eric was completely serious. And actually, Jack seemed to find my family to be amusing all the way around. And he genuinely seemed happy to have me for a daughter-in-law. Eleanor and Gamma seemed decidedly less thrilled about me marrying into the family, but at least they were resigned. They both offered somewhat reluctant congratulations, but seemed to show some interest in the baby. And in the weeks following the wedding, Gamma had seemed more and more willing to accept me into the family, and more and more excited about her great-grandchild. Her death came as a sad shock to both of us. And John is still torn up over it. I know how sad he is that his grandmother will never get to see her great-grandchild.
I wondered if it would change his feelings about the names we'd chosen for the baby. Unlike most other couples, we'd spent our wedding night discussing baby names, finally nailing down our final choices for both a boy and a girl. Our wedding weekend was spent in the same suite we'd spent my birthday weekend in. It was a wonderful little mini-honeymoon. Even if most of it was given over to discussion of baby names. Well that, and discussing the move into our new house. When we do something, John and I, we like to do it big. Why just get married when you can get married, buy a house and have a baby all at the same time? And what better way to spend your honeymoon than arguing over baby names? But at least all that arguing had resulted in us eventually coming to an agreement. But maybe John is having second thoughts now, in the wake of his grandmother's death. I'll have to be sure to ask him.
If he ever wakes up. What? Is he going to sleep all day? I wasn't going to wake him, but at this rate I think he might sleep until the baby's first birthday. The contractions are coming pretty regularly. Nine minutes, eight minutes, ten minutes apart. But the last three have been at the eight minute mark. And this one started barely six minutes after the last one ended. Yep, okay. That's it. This is getting serious. Time to go.
"John?" I roll over onto my back and shake his shoulders. Nothing. He doesn't even stir.
"John?" Still nothing.
"John!" Louder this time. He rolls over onto his back, dangerously close to the side of the bed. Oh well.
"Carter!!"
"Huh?!" He sits up all at once, his limbs splaying out like newborn displaying the startle response, just before he falls off the bed and onto the floor.
I lean over the bed and look at him sprawled on the floor, sheet wrapped all around him. "You okay?"
"Yeah. What happened?"
"You fell out of bed. "
"Huh." He says as he gets up and sits on the edge of the bed, scratching his head and yawning.
"I'm glad you're awake, though."
"Oh yeah?" He waggles his eyebrows at me. "Looking for a repeat performance of last night?"
"What is it with you and mornings?"
"Hey, I can't help it that I wake up like this."
"Well, you're gonna have to take a cold shower this morning."
"Not in the mood?"
I laugh at that. "Not exactly. I think last night worked all too well."
"Huh?"
"It's time."
"Time for what?" Carter says, looking over at the clock. "It's not even ten o'clock on a Sunday morning. I'm not working today so…"
"No, John. It's time." He gives me a blank look. Geez, this is just like when I told him I was pregnant. I tried to ease into it by telling him I was late, and he kept asking me what I was late for. "Time. Time. You know, baby time."
"Baby time?! You're in labor? Are you having contractions? Did your membranes rupture? How far dilated are you?"
"Um … yes, yes, no, and how the hell would I know -- I can barely tie my own shoes these days, did you expect me to examine myself?"
"Oh, yeah. Right." He gestures for me to roll over.
"What?" I ask.
"Roll over and I'll take a look."
"I don't think so,"
"Abby … come on. I'm a doctor. Let me look. That way we'll know what's going on." I knew this would happen. Maybe I should have taken a cab to the hospital. "Abby." He gives me the stubborn stern look.
"Fine." But I don't have to like it. I roll over. Which is pretty damn uncomfortable right now. He moves over next to me. Pushes my knees open … "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"Whoa. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Which is better than waking up on the floor like I did. I guess that's really the wrong side, huh Ab?"
"I woke up having God damn contractions this morning. And lying here on my back really isn't making me feel any better. And if you think you're just gonna stick your hand up me like that, you better think again. Would you do that with a patient?"
"You want me to use a glove?" He gives me a confused look.
"No, not a glove." I tell him in sing song voice.
"Oh! Right. Okay, yeah, I guess you need a little something to make it more comfortable."
"Ya think?"
"Let's see." He says, rummaging around in nightstand. "Vaseline? Baby oil? Oh, here's that flavored stuff …"
"Don't even think about it. Go get the good stuff."
"Where is it?"
"In the drawer."
"Which drawer?"
Which drawer to you think, asshole? "You know, the bottom drawer. That drawer."
"Oh, that drawer. Right. You know, Ab … we're gonna have to find a new place for that … stuff. Or at least do some baby proofing." He says, as he climbs back onto the bed and moves over me. Yeah, because I don't have anything else to worry about at the moment.
"Ow!" I cry as he starts to check me.
"What? It hurts?" He asks immediately.
"Little bit." I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster. What the hell is he doing in there? Digging for gold? "Jesus Christ, John!"
"What?"
"You're poking the shit out of my … hoohah. Lay off, would you?"
"Just a minute, I'm just trying to --"
"Are you sure you've done this before? God, hurry up."
"Okay, I think …"
Oh crap, here comes another contraction. "Get out. Get out! GET OUT!"
He pulls his hand away as I roll over onto my side. "What? Did I hurt you that much?"
"Contraction." I manage to get out through gritted teeth.
"What can I do?"
"My back." I say. "Push on it." I pull his fist into the small of my back and move my own hands low on my protruding belly. With his free hand, John smoothes back my hair while whispering comforting noises in my ear. The pain starts to let up and I relax, blowing out a breath.
"Bad?"
"Not a picnic in the park, that's for sure."
"Sorry."
"Pfft! I'll bet."
"Abby!" I give him a look. And then he smiles at me. "The good new is: you're a good three centimeters. Maybe even four. I couldn't tell for sure the way you were squirming around. Membranes are intact, but it's a bulging bag. I think we're on our way." Oh, thank God. It's not all in my head.
"Do you think we should go to the hospital?"
"How far apart are the contractions?"
"About eight minutes. Six, the last time. This time was about …" I look at the clock. "Seven minutes."
"How long has this been going on?"
"I woke up about two hours ago, so I guess that's probably when it started."
"Why didn't you wake me sooner? We could have been to the hospital by now."
"Well, I didn't want to get there just to have to turn around and come home again. And I really didn't want to get there any earlier than necessary."
"Well, I think it's necessary now. We don't know how fast you'll go."
"First babies aren't exactly notorious for coming out quickly. We've probably got at least another twelve hours to go."
"But you never know. And better safe than sorry, right?"
"I guess. Yeah. Okay, let me just take a shower. The bags are in the closet. Can you call my mom? And Susan?"
"And maybe your doctor?"
"Good idea. But call Maggie first. She asked us to call right away. She said she wants to get here as soon as she can." I call over my shoulder as I head back into the bathroom. Might as well pee again while I'm here. And then I get into the shower. It does seem kinda silly, taking a shower just to go give birth, but I figure I might as well start out with a clean slate. I haven't gotten much past standing under the hot water when the door opens and Carter steps in.
"What are you doing?" I ask him.
"I thought you might want some help."
"Don't get any funny ideas."
"Abby! Geez, you're in labor."
"Just remember that." And then, as a helpful demonstration, the next contraction hits. "Uhn." I … grunt, reaching around to my back.
"What?"
"Contraction." What do you think, John? Charlie horse?
"Oh!" And he wraps one arm around me to rub my belly while the other hand pushes into the small of my back. He does a much better job of that than I do.
"Oh, that's better."
"Relax. Just relax. Breathe." His voice is soft and soothing. I take comfort in it now. But I wonder what will happen a few hours from now. Will he still be as concerned and patient and helpful? Yeah, probably. Will I care? Probably not. Will I be screaming obscenities at him regardless of how sweet he's being? Probably. The pain dissipates and I turn around in his arms.
"It's over?"
"Yep."
"Was it a bad one?"
"No, not too bad yet. But getting stronger."
He smiles at me. That same awestruck smile I've seen so many times in this process. "This is it, Ab. In a few hours, we'll have a baby. We'll be a family. The next time we come home, there will be three of us."
"John?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
"I want you to remember that."
"Abby … are you worried that something might go wrong?"
"No. I'm worried about the hateful things that I might scream at you in couple hours. But no matter what I say, I want you to remember that I really do love you."
"And no matter what you say, I will get to touch you again, right?"
"Probably. Depends on how much this whole thing hurts."
"Fair enough." He says with a grin.
"Did you call everybody?"
"Yep. You're mom's calling our travel agent to try and get a flight."
"She's really coming right now?"
"Yeah. You said she wanted to."
"I know. That's what she told me … but I didn't know if she'd really do it." I know how excited she is, but still, a part of me doubted that she'd actually come through. I feel a lump forming in my throat. Surprise, surprise -- I actually want her here. I never would have imagined that.
"Well, I think she will if she can … but with the holiday and all …"
"Holiday?"
"It's Memorial Day weekend, remember?"
"No. But who travels in the middle of a long weekend?"
"Good point. Maybe she'll have good luck getting a flight. My parents are working on getting here too. And Susan is mobilizing the local troops, so it should be quite the party."
"Party? Some party. Do me a favor? I'm not sure I want the entire 'party' in my room, okay?"
"Sure. Whatever you want. It can be just us, if that's what you're most comfortable with."
"Thanks."
During all this, Carter's been carefully helping me get shampooed, shaved and washed. Once I'm all done, and after the next contraction is over, he helps me out of the shower so that he can have it to himself. I manage to get myself dried off and dressed with just one small break to breathe through the peak of a contraction. I see that John has gotten our suitcase and the diaper bag out and set them in the middle of the bedroom. I debate about at least taking the diaper bag downstairs, but hell, he's not having contractions so I guess that's his job.
I head down the hall toward the kitchen in the back. I want to check the answering machine and make sure my mom didn't call while we were in the shower. No message light blinking, but while I'm in the kitchen, I figure maybe I ought to make myself useful while I wait for Carter. I'm not supposed to eat anything, but I should probably feed him. I wouldn't want him passing out from low blood sugar. I'm just putting the scrambled eggs on a plate when John appears in the room.
"Abby! What are you doing? You can't eat."
"I'm not eating." Not really. Okay, so maybe I had a bite of toast -- okay, a piece of toast. And few bites of egg. I'm hungry and it's going to be a long time before I can get a decent meal.
"Abby, you really can't eat."
"Well, not once I get to the hospital, I can't."
"You shouldn't be eating at all." I stick out my tongue at him. "I'm not going to let you eat that."
"It's for you anyway. Although now I'm not sure you deserve it."
"Oh. Sorry." I might have made him pay, but since he was partly right about me trying to sneak a snack, I'm feeling a little guilty, so I'll just let it drop.
I hand him the plate of eggs and toast and promptly drop into a chair at the table.
"Contraction?"
"Yeah." He puts the food down on the table and kneels down next to me. He somehow manages to get one hand between me and the chair to rub my back while I hold onto his other hand.
"How far apart now?" He asks, once I let go of my grip on his hand.
"Still about seven, eight minutes." He nods, looking at his watch. He'll probably take over as time keeper now. "Oh God." I say.
"What?" He asks.
"I'm gonna have a baby." He looks up at me and laughs. "I mean, you know, in a matter of … hours. It just seems so weird. I mean, I got up and took a shower and got dressed. Came down here and made breakfast like it was any other day. But this is it. Our baby 's gonna be born. It's the first day of the rest of our lives."
"Yeah." He agrees between bites of egg that he's shoveling down.
"I guess I thought I would feel different. But I feel the same. Except for these annoying pains every eight minutes. It's just that … it's a big moment. There should be something to mark it. But when I'm not having contractions, I feel just like I felt yesterday and the day before. But this isn't like any other day."
"No, it's not. Today's the day we become a family. Assuming that baby comes out today."
"Don't even say that." I groan as Carter puts his glass and plate and the egg pan into the dishwasher.
"Okay, today it is."
"May 25th." I say. "It used to be just another date on the calendar, I had no idea that one day it would be my child's birthday. But now it will always be special."
"The best day of our lives."
"Well, one of them anyway."
"You really think it'll be today? I mean, I know you're hoping, but …"
"Yeah, I do. I have a feeling."
"Mother's intuition."
"I guess."
"So we'll have a Sunday's child."
"What?" I ask.
"You know … the nursery rhyme." I shake my head. "Sure you do. Monday's child is fair of face. Tuesday's child is full of grace."
"Nope. Never heard it."
"Oh." He smiles and shrugs.
"So what's Sunday's child?" I ask.
"Sunday's the best one. 'The child born on the Sabbath day is bonny and blithe and good and gay.'"
"That's a nursery rhyme? What the hell kind of kid knows what 'blithe' means? Or even the Sabbath? I mean … geez."
"I didn't write it, Ab." He comes over and kisses my forehead. Just in time, as it turns out. I reach out and grab his hand. "Another one?" He asks, noting the time. "That was six minutes. Guess we better get going."
"Okay." I agree.
I let him collect the bags and take my arm to lead me down the back hallway to the garage where he helps me into the car. We drive away from our house as a couple, but we'll come back as a family. And I realize that we are just starting the greatest adventure of our lives.