Sara Sanders sat at the kitchen table in her their little apartment, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried in vain to wriggle the diamond and wedding band free from her slightly swollen fingers. After several minutes of wrestling with Grandma Elsa Hojem's diamond, she stopping fighting with it, and rested her head in her hands. Of course her fingers were swollen. Her abdomen was swollen, her ankles were swollen, her whole body felt like an industrial sized waterlogged sponge that weighed far too much for her slight frame, and moved far too slow for her 34 years.
Whoever coined the term 'happy pregnancy' was obviously male.
Sara eased out of the chair at the table, abandoning her mission to remove her wedding rings before her fingers broke the delicate bands with their newfound ability to retain water and swell. Stupid fingers.
She moved to the bathroom, the corner of her mouth curling into the beginning of a smile as she remembered Greg's proposal in the shower, her staring contest with the home pregnancy test strip on the tank of the toilet, and a few of the highlights of their bubble bath foreplay that always resulted in Greg with dripping wet hair and pains in her sides from the giggles.
Her eyes settled on Greg's tattered chess team hoodie hanging on a hook beside a yellow towel. She had worn that hoodie the first time she told his she loved him. Worn it when he convinced her their love was real, worn it when they sat on the bed and planned out their wedding. Worn it when she had found out she was pregnant. That brought her thoughts back to her current self-inflicted drama. Her smile faded considerably, and she glared at her abdomen.
Sara Sanders was sick and tired of being pregnant.
Sighing, she wished Greg would get home already. She was going stir crazy with their time apart. Grissom had forced her onto a diet of half shifts a little over a month ago, at the start of her third trimester. Her due date was fast approaching, and to Sara, it couldn't come fast enough.
Space was an issue, now that there was to be three of them. Her little apartment was fine for just her, cozy, even, when Greg moved in. Now, however, she was starting to get claustrophobic. And there was still no word on the little house they had made an offer on in Henderson, making her uneasy.
Fortunately Catherine had brought over a Denali full of necessities from Lindsey's infancy, so Sara had settled restless nerves sifting through some of the contents of the boxes. The question remained, however, set up a nursery in the apartment, or hold out for a return offer the house. Today, she had chosen to hold off on nesting and wrestle with wedding bands.
She hadn't even heard the door open, or Greg call out her name, and was genuinely startled when she noticed his presence at the door of the bathroom, eyebrow cocked in an amused fashion.
"Hey." She jumped at his voice, but smiled.
"Hi." She let go of the sleeve of his hoodie that she hadn't realized she was grasping onto, and burrowed her face into her husband's shoulder. Greg wrapped his arms around his wife, the amused expression on his face turning instantly to concern.
"How old are you?" Sara wiped the moisture from her eyes and shot Greg an inquisitive look.
"You know how old I am…"
"It's just that I remember crying in the bathroom to be a phenomenon consistent with being in junior high." His hesitant smile put her to ease, and she choked out a laugh.
"Was not crying."
"What's going on?" Greg sifted his fingers soothingly through her hair, gently kissing the top of her head. He placed a hand softly to her cheek, dropping a tender, chaste kiss to her lips, and resting his forehead against hers.
"It's stupid. I'm being stupid. It's fine."
"Let's try this again." Greg smiled at his wife. "How can I fix whatever is broken?" She pulled away from him slightly, and wiped her eyes again, and Greg was pleased to see a faint smile cross her face. "Sara Jane?"
"I'm just.. and with.. and even.. ugh." She shook her head, frustrated. "I can't get my wedding ring off." Greg took a step back, taking a deep breath, and slowly licking his lips before speaking. When he returned her gaze, panic flickered in his eyes.
"Don't leave me." His voice was just above a whisper, barely audible. Sara's expression softened as she realized what her grievance sounded like to her husband, whose insecurity would flash by from time to time. She pursed her lips together, ruffling his hair with one hand, before dropping it to touch his jaw line affectionately.
"Never, Gregory. Ok?" He nodded, not quite meeting her gaze. "I love you."
"I love you too." She smiled contentedly as he took a deep breath again, and bent to kiss her.
"I'm sorry. I- you just scared me there for a minute." Back was the lopsided grin and the childish sparkle in his eyes, however it didn't fully convince her. She would make it up to him later.
"What I meant was, my body has turned into a sponge, and my fingers are swollen." She held out her left hand in front of her, turning it over in examination. "I can't get my rings off." He nodded, letting out a relieved chuckle under his breath.
"That I can fix." He instructed her over to the sink, and turned on the cold water. He tested it with his own fingers, and put hers under the faucet when the water had become almost unbearably cold. "One sec." He disappeared from the bathroom, turning toward the kitchen. Why didn't she think of this? Basic chemistry. He returned with the ice cube tray from the freezer, and an old faded black velvet box, the one they had kept their rings in before the wedding. She watched him twist the nearly empty ice cube tray into the sink, and flip open the velvet box. He grinned at her, and cocked an eyebrow playfully.
"It's a chemistry thing. You physicists wouldn't understand." He pressed two of the five ice cubes against her fingers, and held them there for a few seconds. When he dropped the ice cubes, his own fingers made quick work of Grandma Elsa's diamond, and the thin gold wedding band under it. They slipped off easily, and he dropped them in the velvet box, closing it with a click.
"You're amazing." He handed her a hand towel to dry off her fingers.
"It's the properties of hydrogen and oxygen when manipulated by varying temperatures that's amazing. I'm simply doing my job as the preventer of emotional breakdowns of the extremely pregnant." He grinned at her in full, and she followed him out of the bathroom. "You know, I could be a super hero."
"Yeah, that's all you need, comic books of yourself."
"They will call me the 'Impregnator,' and I will soar about Las Vegas, manipulating the chemical properties of water to ease the pain and frustration of pregnant women everywhere." His mock seriousness made her laugh outright. He sat on the worn in couch, and pulled her gently down beside him, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she snuggled into his side. "What's the matter, love?" She heard the concern in his voice, and laid her own hand over his on her rounded belly.
"Nothing, I'm fine." Greg leaned back, stretching out his legs, yawning like a child who had had too much excitement for one day. He ran a hand lazily through her hair, playing with the ends of the wavy curls.
"Yeah, ok. I'm no expert on women, definitely no expert on pregnant women, but I'm going to do my best to translate. I would venture a bet on 'nothing' meaning 'something,' and 'I'm fine' meaning 'I'm not fine, and even though I say I'm fine, you should know that I'm not fine, and it's all your fault, because I didn't get myself pregnant by my onesies.'" He leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to her abdomen. When he looked up at her, she was hastily wiping back tears, and choking back a sob. His amused expression shifted immediately to guilty regret. "Sara, love, don't cry. I was only joking."
"I'm not crying." He arched an eyebrow at her. "Ok, I'm crying."
"How can I fix it?" He waited patiently for her to take a few deep breaths.
"I'm just tired of being pregnant. I want to wear my favorite pair of jeans, I want to sleep on my stomach. I miss wearing your old hoodie." She sniffled, childishly wiping her eyes again. "I just want to get this all over with, I want her out of me, and I want my old body back, and I-I miss-" She blinked away new tears, and smiled, laughing at herself, and crying at herself simultaneously.
"This is so stupid."
"It's not. What do you miss?"
"You'll think I'm weird."
"Um, yeah. Weird doesn't bother me." Greg smiled at her. "It was actually a prerequisite for marrying me." She returned a small smile, and he took her hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to her palm. "Spit it out, Sidle."
"I miss, I miss you."
"I'm right here, Sara."
"I know. But I love when you roll on top of me, it's comforting, and your body heat always makes me feel safe. I miss your weight." She paused, laying a hand to her swollen belly. "All I want is for you to lay on top of me like you used to. It makes me feel like a kid."
"Another few weeks and you won't want me anywhere near you."
"But making out on the couch and wrestling around in bed are my favorite." She was whining, she knew, but she chalked it up to these stupid pregnancy hormones.
"I solemnly vow to lie on top of you and make out on the couch whenever I possibly can after the baby is born." She shook her head, amused.
"You're mocking me, Sanders."
"Even I'm not that much of a risk taker. You know how to hide bodies much better than I do." She grinned at him, and he kissed her soundly. He sat back against the back of the couch, and wrapped his arms around her once more.
"How did the interrogations go?" She asked, changing the subject as she settled back into his arms.
"Fine. We cornered him with evidence, he really had no option other than to confess, which was fortunately what he ended up doing." She was about to answer him, and their landline rang. Greg reached over to the end table that held the cordless phone, and answered it on the third ring.
"Greg and Sara Sanders." His eyes flashed wide, and he glanced at Sara excitedly. "Yes. Mmhmm." Pause. "That's what we had originally said. Uh huh." He stood up, and ran a hand through his halfway curly hair.
"Is that the realtor?" Sara sat up, but he was listening to whoever was on the other end. He was grinning childishly, and his eyes seemed to sparkle like they did after their first kiss, despite the far away look on his face.
"Of course. Yes. Sooner rather than later." Pause. "Mmhmm. Ha, yeah. Ok. Thank you. We'll be right down. Alright. Yup, bye." Greg pressed the hang up button, and tossed the phone onto the couch, grinning at his wife.
"So you and I need to make a trip to the DMV." He tone was casual, but he was bursting at the seams.
"Why on earth would we need to go there?" Sara winced as the baby kicked, and crinkled her brow in utter confusion.
"Well, we need to file for change of address." He grinned widely and closed the distance between them, sitting again beside her, cocking his head to the side. "You sure you're a level 3?" He lay a soothing hand on her belly, feeling the baby kick. Realization dawned on her features.
"That was the realtor."
"That was the realtor."
"We got the house?"
"We got the house." She was surprised to see Greg's eyes welling up with a few tears. "Your powers of deduction never cease to amaze me, Sara Jane." She pulled him toward her, and he caught her in a gentle kiss, leaving the rest of the world momentarily forgotten. She pulled away, and wiped the tear from Greg's eye with her thumb. This was happy pregnancy. Happy indeed.