April 1, 2004
Oh, God, not again, I groan, rolling over and covering my head with the pillow.
Three nights ago, David stopped sleeping through the night by waking us up at 2 am with a blood-curdling scream. I bolted out of bed, convinced I'd find him with his head stuck between the slats of the crib. What I found was my nine-month-old son standing up, clutching the crib rail with tears streaming down his face. Thinking that maybe he'd had a bad dream, I rocked him back to sleep, tucked him in and returned to bed.
To be reawakened two hours later.
When it happened again the next night, Donna went into research mode and hunted down an explanation.
Separation anxiety.
Apparently, David's now old enough to notice whether we're in the room with him or not and when he wakes up in the middle of the night and we're not there he thinks we've abandoned him.
Or something like that.
I didn't retain it all, seeing as I'd gotten 2 hours of sleep the two previous nights.
Regardless, the solution is something Donna refers to as sleep training.' Which I think is easy for her to say, since she's the one who gets to stay in bed.
What it boils down to is this: when David wakes up and cries, I'm supposed to comfort him until he's almost asleep, then tuck him in before he completely drifts off. The purpose, according to Donna, is to teach David to fall asleep on his own after he wakes up in the middle of the night, yet show him we're there if he needs us.
David's standing in his crib and he reaches out his arms to me as soon as I enter the nursery.
I coo, picking him and running my hand over his curly brown hair.
God, when did I become the kind of man who coos?
He calms quickly, but shows no interest in going back to sleep.
What's gotten into you, huh, Bear? I ask rhetorically as I amble out of the nursery and into the living room in search of his favorite storybook.
My independent research indicates David's changing sleep habits may have been triggered by a sudden change in habit or routine. I think he senses his mother's increased anxiety over the pending arrival of his sibling.
Just a couple more days until the cub comes, Bear, I tell him, squatting down to pick up the book from its place on the floor.
I hope you get a sister, I continue my monologue on our way back to the nursery. You'll like having a sister, I promise.
We plop down in the rocking chair and I flip open the book needlessly. I've memorized the story of The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Sam gave it to David for Chanukah and, like the worm from the Bartlets and my old teddy bear, it's become a favorite.
Four pages in, David starts yawning and rubbing his eyes. I carefully stand up, still reciting the story, and cross to the crib. Gently lying him on his back, I cover him with the quilt and watch as he yawns once more and lets his eyes drift closed.
I turn to go and make it two steps down the hall before I hear him whimper and start to fuss.
Da! Da! Da! Da da! he cries, clearly not ready to go back to sleep.
Picking him up, I return to the rocking chair, humming under my breath.
Looking down at David, I have a clear and frightening revelation. In two days, or less, I'm going to be responsible for two children under the age of one.
Not one.
Two.
Two children to comfort when they cry, two diapers to change, two tiny beings to carry everywhere. Although, since he started crawling a couple of weeks ago, David prefers to get himself wherever we're headed.
How the hell are we going to do this? I ask myself as I rock back and forth. What the hell have I done?
What's Daddy gonna do, Bear? I ask David.
My son doesn't begin to understand his father's fears, but he comforts me nonetheless, and albeit unknowingly, by snuggling deeper into my embrace, seeking the safety he's come to expect there. Showing me without words he trusts me to care for him come what may. The same way I trusted my father and my grandfather to always care for me and guide me along the right path.
Can I do any less?
Oh, God, I groan involuntarily as every muscle in my body cramps up. Saturday cannot get here fast enough. I don't even care about the labor part even though Janet seems to think this time it will last a lot longer.
Of course, active labor with David lasted all of fifteen minutes, so longer is a relative term.
Josh calls, hustling into our bedroom from the nursery with David in his arms. Are you okay?I'm fine, I lie, struggling not to grit my teeth against the pain. How's Bear? he replies. His eyes search mine knowingly. Do you want me to call Janet, honey?
I shake my head and draw a deep breath. It's not time yet. It just hurts.
Granted, it feels like it will be time soon, but I'm terrified of this baby coming even a day early.
Despite my desire to shove the kid out, I'd rather wait a couple of days.
I am by no means an expert on the subject, however, I'm fairly certain Donna's in labor. I'm also certain she's not going to admit it.
Sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, I reach out with my free hand and brush a stray lock of hair out of her face. Tell me when it's time, okay?
She nods and then grimaces. I count silently to myself, reaching ten before she relaxes a bit. I've learned many, many things about labor and childbirth over the past couple of months in an attempt to actually be prepared this time. One thing I learned is how long the process normally takes.
And it's a lot longer than it took with David.
Donna's biting her lip in anticipation of the pain and when it doesn't come, she relaxes even more.
My water hasn't broken and nothing's going to happen before that, she says in an attempt to reassure me. Can you help me scoot up a little?
I set David down on my side of the bed to help my wife into a more comfortable position, propping a couple of pillows behind her.
I'm going to see if David'll go down, I murmur once she's fully settled, kissing her on the forehead. You should sleep, too.
Josh stoops over and plants a second kiss on my belly button.
You stop torturing your mother, little cub, he admonishes the baby.
Like that's going to work.
After Josh leaves the room, I take a deep breath to prepare for the next round of pain.
Which doesn't come.
The way our kids listen to their father is absolutely disturbing.
Over the baby monitor, I can hear Josh trying to sing David to sleep and let myself relax to the sound of his voice.
Six months ago, Abbey Bartlet told me the time would come when I would be grateful Josh is as hands-on as he is. Back then I would have felt a rush of jealousy listening to Josh sing and David babble in reply. Tonight, I find a rush of comfort in knowing I have an equal partner.
As soon as this baby enters the world, Josh and I will have two utterly helpless lives depending on us. There's no way one of us could do it without the other.
Donna did manage to get some sleep last night, but I know it wasn't much. I could hear her periodically moaning in pain while I read and sang to David, who had zero interest in sleeping.
I'm feeding him breakfast when Donna emerges from the bedroom, one hand massaging her stomach and the other kneading her back.
How are you feeling? I ask.
she replies, pouring herself a glass of water.
I survey her skeptically, but don't say anything. I just return my attention to the task at hand. Which is going surprisingly well this morning.
Really, Josh. Donna puts her hand on my shoulder. My back hurts and my breasts are sore, but the cramps stopped. And I'm not craving sex.
I can't suppress a smirk at the memory of what we were doing when David decided to make his entrance into the world.
I think we should stay home today, I suggest, despite Donna's insistence she's feeling better.
I am not having this baby today, Donna replies, much as I thought she would. She's unreasonably anxious about the cub arriving even a day early. We're going to work.
I know better than to argue with that tone of voice and, besides, Donna knows her body better than I do, right?
Today, being the first day of the month, is Bring David to Work Day.'
This Presidentially-mandated monthly appearance gives everyone who's interested, an opportunity to keep up with him as he grows. David loves the attention and the halls echo all day with his giggling and babbling.
For only being nine months old, David has a decent vocabulary. Da, ba, ob and duh are the most frequently heard and he's arranging them into some impressive combinations.
Last Saturday, for instance, he insisted he wanted to watch ba-ba' with Daddy and the men instead of going shopping with CJ and me.
I find it highly amusing that the entire executive branch of the federal government is now referring to March Madness as ba-ba.' Even Toby, much to my surprise.
Though if I think about it, it shouldn't be surprising. Toby has performed quite the 180 over the past few months and the closer his ex-wife gets to having the twins, the more interest Toby expresses in David.
For his part, Bear is fascinated by the grouchy Communications Director. According to CJ, Toby melted visibly at Staff last month when David climbed out of Josh's lap and crawled his way across the room, bypassing Sam, Leo and the President, to snuggle up with his Ob.'
Josh claims he's going to be pissed as hell if his son says Toby' before he say Daddy.'
He shouldn't be too worried. Da,' by itself, is specifically reserved for Josh. Me, he points at and screams.
Just like his father.
My first meeting of the day is with representatives of the Sierra Club. We're discussing the impact of proposed changes in the regulations governing logging on federal land in the Pacific Northwest.
Settling into a chair in the Roosevelt Room, I'm studiously attempting to ignore the twinges that have resumed in my uterus. I flip open my briefing book in an effort to focus on anything other than the signals my body is sending my brain.
A longer-lasting, body crushing contraction is all it takes to convince me Josh was right this morning. We shouldn't have come to work and I should have had him call Janet.
My water hasn't broken yet, so I resolve to get through this meeting. Then I can quietly corral my husband and go home. High on my list of nightmares about childbirth, right after having the baby early, is having it in the White House.
I am about to sell my soul to the devil.
Can I talk to you? I approach Josh quietly while Bonnie and Ginger are occupied with the baby.
Yeah. What's up? he replies, casting a glance over his shoulder at his son as he follows me into my office.
I need a favor.
A favor might be understating what I need, but I blame Josh completely, which is one reason why I'm asking him. He's the one who told me I needed to decide where Andi stood in my personal life and how involved I wanted to be with my children. And what I decided is the reason I'm doing what I'm doing.
The other reason is because he's the only person I know who can reasonably provide what I need. I'd just rather not explain why I need it.
I need to borrow $50,000.You need WHAT?! Josh screeches, drawing the attention of everyone in the Communications bullpen.
Close the door! I hiss. The last thing I need is for my plan to get out.
Josh continues to stare at me in disbelief, but he does shut the door.
I need to borrow $50,000, I repeat.
For what?None of your business, I snap. The business of lowering myself to ask Josh Lyman for a loan has frayed my temper.
You're asking me for fifty grand, Toby. That automatically makes it my business. I have to justify a trust withdrawal of that size to my accountant, he retorts, crossing his arms and looking at me expectantly.
Just forget it. I'll find another way.I'm not saying no. I just need to know why.I'm buying a house and I'm $50,000 short on the down payment. I mumble.
You're buying a house? His horrible poker face expresses his level of shock in a way his annoyingly squeaky voice cannot.
I state flatly, praying he doesn't continue his line of inquiry.
His shock gives way to the inevitable curiosity. Why did you buy Donna a farm? I reply, meaning it rhetorically. Which is not the way he takes it.
Because she wanted it to stay in the family and because I knew we'd need a home when our time in Washington is over. His expression indicates it should be self-evident to everyone why he bought a 200 acre farmstead outside of Madison, Wisconsin.
It's Jefferson Wyler's place. He and his wife are moving back to California and I leave it hanging there, unable to admit the reason.
You want to give it to Andi, Josh surmises. Sometimes he's quicker on the pick up than others.
I admit. Her apartment in DC isn't any bigger than mineYou think this gesture will make her understand how serious you are about getting back together?
I nod my head slowly, making my case to Josh since Andi doesn't seem to listen to me. I've tried everything else. I eat salad, I'm exercising, and I'm trying to fix every reason she ever gave me for the divorce! What more does she want from me?
Josh looks thoughtful as I vent my frustration.
Not to rain on your parade or anything, but what if she still says no?
I'll drink myself into oblivion. I'll give her the house. She's wanted it for years. Since before we got married. She needs a place to raise the kids. They deserve a yard to play in and grass to roll around in. I don't want them growing up in a tenement block like I did.
Bonnie knocks on the door before Josh can give me an answer.
You guys are going to be late, she says, handing David to Josh.
It shouldn't be a problem, Toby, he says, settling his son on his hip. I'll let you know for sure tomorrow, okay?
The only thing I can do is nod. I honestly don't know if he'll loan me the money or not.
I'm ready to permanently ban logging in the Pacific Northwest if it will get me out of this meeting any faster.
There is no longer any doubt in my mind.
I am having this baby today.
And sooner rather than later.
Ms. Moss? Are you alright? asks the bespectacled older gentleman sitting across from me.
I'm sorry, we're going to need to cut this a little short. Would it be possible for you to just leave your information with my assistant? I ask, trying to be polite while fighting through an extended contraction.
Yes, of course, he stammers, grasping what's happening. Is there anything we can do for you?
I'm about to say get me the hell out of here' when I spot Larry meandering down the hallway.
I call. Get Josh. Right now.What's wrong?
He watches me breathe through the next contraction and then trips over a filing cabinet in his haste to summon my husband.
Larry comes busting into the Oval Office in the midst of item number 2 on the morning staff meeting agenda: the passing around of David.
He's gasping for breath. Whatever's wrong, he came at full Larry speed.
What's the matter? I turn away from the President, who has David standing on his lap, to see a look of sheer panic on Larry's face.
It's Donna.
I rocket out of my chair, all coherent thought fleeing my brain.
I think she's Larry can't seem to complete the sentence and turns green.
Go, Josh, the President says. He's talking to my back because I'm already out the door.
The Senior Assistants have barely had time to gather before Josh comes skidding to a halt at my side.
April Fool's. I flash him a pained smile before panting through the next contraction.
He crouches down and grips my hand. The worry lines on his forehead transform into an excited grin when he realizes I'm not dying just in labor.
he asks.
We called for the doctor, Bonnie volunteers. He didn't seem to think it was urgent and suggested we take her to the hospital.
Josh gapes at her in disbelief. Two words, Bonnie. Active labor.It'll be okay, baby.
His hand is on my abdomen and he can feel my muscles ripple as well as I can.
Glancing around the room, I decide the first thing we need to do is get some of these people out of here. Catching Sam's eye, I jerk my head toward the door.
Why don't we move the meeting down to the Mural Room, he says, instructing Ed to finish hearing the anti-logging people out.
Ginger materializes next with every cushion from every couch in the West Wing. Where do I put them?Has your water broken? I ask Donna quietly.
How do you want to do this?Not here, she grinds out.
I glance around wildly, trying to decide what room would offer the most privacy.
Can we take her to the Residence? proposes Bonnie.
Donna clenches my hand tightly, a muted scream of pain issuing from her lips, encouraging me to hurry up.
The Residence sounds perfect.
Can you walk? I ask, trying to figure out how best to get her from here to there.
Donna shakes her head, sending beads of sweat flying.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath of my own, trying to force down the fear and panic I'm feeling.
With a second exhalation, the procedures Janet has drilled into my head flood back and I quickly plot a course of action.
Step one: get Donna comfortable.
With a grunt, I lift Donna from the chair and carry her toward the Residence, a few friends and co-workers tagging along behind.
Unsure what else to do in this situation, I follow behind Josh in case he needs help. Part of me wants to watch so I know what to do when it comes time for Andi to deliver, but another part of me thinks this should be a private moment between the two of them.
The Secret Service guides the two of them into the Lincoln Bedroom where Josh helps Donna with her skirt and underthings.
You ready? he murmurs.
Donna moans loudly.
Toby? Can you and Sam help her get comfortable? Josh rips off his suit jacket, tie and dress shirt.
Donna none too kindly directs us to help her squat with her feet on the floor and her back against the bed. Sam hustles to the other side of the bed to keep the mattress from sliding off, leaving me to help Josh, who seems to have every intention of delivering this baby.
Something I think should be better left to medical professionals.
I kneel next to him and voice my concerns quietly. Shouldn't you I don't know Wait for a doctor or let Mrs. Bartlet do this?
Josh doesn't answer me. Instead, he puts his hand between Donna's legs and
Oh God.
I should not be witnessing this.
Are you nuts? I screech. I mean shouldn't she be on the bed or something.Push when you're ready. Josh ignores me again, concentrating fully on his wife.
Donna nods, sweat pouring down her face.
When she bears down and groans loudly, I do what I've seen on TV and in the movies I take her hand and encourage her to push.
Is it over yet? Sam squeaks from the other side of the bed, his enthusiasm for being in the room muted by his empathy for Donna's pain.
A gush of fluid precedes the appearance of the top of the baby's head. Josh gently touches it as Donna regroups.
Tearing my eyes away from the scene in front of me, I meet Sam's gaze over the bed and shake my head in answer to his question.
I return my attention to Donna when she tightens her death grip on my hand. You're doing great. Just breathe.
She turns her head and glares at me, her breath coming in panting gasps.
Clearly I said the wrong thing.
I look down at Josh, who's now sitting on the floor between Donna's legs.
How much longer? I ask.
A couple more pushes, he replies without looking up.
His confidence, whether real or faked, does wonders for me. I mean, he and Donna are doing the work. All I have to do is hold Donna's hand.
What's going
I hear Dr. Bartlet arrive and I hear someone answer her, but I'm too focused on what's going on in front of me to hear the response.
Donna bears down, crushing my hand with her effort. This time the head emerges and the rest of the baby follows with comparatively little effort.
Josh blindly accepts the towel someone hands him and wraps the newborn in it, carefully cleaning the gunk out of the baby's nose and mouth. Sam comes around the bed to support Donna while I stare at Josh tending his newborn.
When Josh catches my eye, it's as though the world has stopped rotating on its axis. I return his grin, fully aware of what he just shared with me.
Dr. Bartlet appears on his other side, offering Josh a couple of metal thingies.
Hold him for me? Josh asks, proffering the tiny, squalling bundle to me.
While the First Lady guides him through cutting the umbilical cord, I take the time to survey the little guy. The first thing I notice is he's, well, ugly.
His entire body is a reddish-purple and he's all wrinkled and squished. His hair is wet and plastered down, accentuating the fact his head is pointed at the top. He's covered in blood and some sort of white crap.
Mostly, though, I notice how small he is. The most substantial part of what I'm holding is the towel.
Shouldn't he be bigger? I whisper to Dr. Bartlet with a bit of trepidation after Josh retrieves the baby from me.
He's a little smaller than average, but it's nothing to worry about. Babies come in all sizes, Toby, Dr. Bartlet assures me while we watch Josh tenderly present Donna with their creation.
I'm not sure who helped me back up onto the bed, but I'm grateful to lie down. I don't remember hurting this much ever in my life. It feels like somebody pried my hips apart with the jaws of life.
Josh passes me a towel-wrapped bundle. He's a boy.
Our new addition looks just like David did when he was born.
Except bigger and quieter.
His mewling whimpers are drowned out by the oo's and ah's of our friends.
Oh, great, we had an audience.
Only after Ginger gives me a towel to wipe my hands on do I realize that we had an audience. The only person I was truly cognizant of, other than Donna, was Toby.
President Bartlet steps forward with David. The little boy reaches out to me and I take him into my arms.
We return to Donna's side and I introduce my sons to one another.
This is your little brother, I whisper to David. He leans forward from my arms, peering down at the tiny person occupying his mother's attention.
David looks back up at me, confused.
I can't help but grin at him. Yep, your brother.
Josh and David are wearing matching grins, but I think for two different reasons. Josh's smirk screams I'm da man.' David is smiling because Daddy is.
Dr. Bartlet appears on my other side. You want me to check him out for you?
I feel empty when she takes him from me, but it isn't long before she hands him back. Ten fingers and ten toes. Does the little guy have a name?
I look up at Josh, who we agreed is still in charge of names for the foreseeable future.
He shrugs to the room at large, but his eyes tell me he wants me to know first. I'm not 100% sure.Were you planning on GW again? There's an ambulance waiting outside, she offers.
We planned on having him at home, I tell her quietly.
Why don't you spend the rest of the day up here then, Abbey offers. She looks a bit taken aback. We'll move you to another bedroom.
I nod my head in agreement. Josh gives David to Toby then scoops the little cub and me off the bed. Resting my head on his chest, I don't bother to argue. I doubt I could walk two steps if I had to.
As we head down the hallway, Josh whispers, Elijah Lincoln.What was it going to be? The Lincoln' part sounds spur of the moment.
Elijah Joseph, he replies with a chuckle.
The First Lady leads us to the Pierce Bedroom, far from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the Residence. There is a beautiful oak crib in one corner and a matching bassinet near the bed. They are family heirlooms the Bartlets had brought down from Manchester after Thanksgiving. For emergencies, Mrs. B told Donna originally. I think it has more to do with her and the President wanting to babysit their grandson' more often.
David starts crawling around and exploring the floor as soon as Toby sets him down. It only takes him a minute to rediscover the open chest full of toys that are far more enticing than the small creature Mommy and I are fussing over.
While Abbey takes Elijah again this time to clean him up I help Donna put on my clean dress shirt in place of her soiled blouse.
It's fine, Josh, she insists when I ask if she's comfortable.
Our new cub is quite fussy when the First Lady returns him, but he is more presentable, no longer coated with white crap and blood. He's still pretty squished looking, though. I sit at Donna's side to marvel over him.
He doesn't seem to understand what to do with the breast he's being offered.
Da! Boo-boo! David pulls himself up on my pants and tries to scale me in an effort to see what's going on.
I pick him up and watch with fascination as he stares at Elijah, unsure what to make of this intruder in our family.
The newborn finally yawns and Donna seizes the opportunity to pop her breast in his mouth.
David repeats.
How's he doing? I run my hand over Elijah's full head of brown, curly fuzz. His little hands are balled up, pushing against Donna's breast.
It feels right, she replies with a contented sigh.
Elijah's rhythmic suckling lulls me toward sleep. The peace is short-lived, interrupted by a knock on the door.
President Bartlet sticks his head in. May I?Yes, sir. Josh answers from his place at my side. He knows I'm long past caring who sees me breastfeeding.
President Bartlet is carrying two packages.
This one is for Bear. He smiles at David, handing him a small gift.
Would it kill him to say dada?'
His huge brown eyes are pleading with Josh for help with the wrapped package.
Daddy complies, tearing back the paper to reveal a cloth busy book with a bright red, plastic ring on the front cover.
It immediately goes in his mouth.
This is for the new guy.Elijah Lincoln, Josh supplies.
Elijah's gift turns out to be a Notre Dame baby blanket.
Family name? President Bartlet asks.
Elijah was my grandfather's name, Josh confirms, quickly clearing his throat and changing the subject. Dr. B weighed and measured him for us. He's 6 pounds, 2 ounces and 17 inches. The biggest Lyman baby in history.
That would explain why I feel like I delivered a small car. I don't have any idea how my mother ever gave birth to 9 pound babies. I'd have demanded a C-Section.
The President chuckles at Josh's announcement and bends down to kiss my cheek. I'll make sure you have a few hours of peace, he whispers, running his hand over Elijah's hair.
Thank you, sir, I return his smile grateful for his understanding.
We lounge on the bed, bonding as a family for better than an hour, by which time I feel strong enough to leave the boys with their father and take a shower.
I want to be clean and not smell like I just gave birth when the parade of visitors start showing up.
Our co-workers make their way through in twos and threes: Margaret, Bonnie, Ginger, Ed and Larry, most of my Assistant Deputies, both of our assistants. Carol brought the books for the baby pool to tell us Senator Howard Stackhouse had picked the correct date, sex and had the closest weight. He wanted us to know he was planning to donate the money, in our name, to a charity called Cure Autism Now.
CJ stopped in twice, once to get Elijah's vitals for the afternoon briefing and again to fawn over him. Sam came with her the second time. He stammered and turned red when Donna thanked him for his help.
Elijah and I are the only ones awake right now. Donna is getting some much needed rest and David is curled up with her, having finally cried himself out after a spectacular temper tantrum when he realized the tiny interloper had usurped his place at his mother's breast.
Not that David has been regularly breastfeeding, but Donna never denied him when he wanted to suckle for comfort until this afternoon.
Bear's reaction was screaming and crying and kicking like nothing I've seen outside the candy section of the grocery store. We've been very lucky with David in that regard, but I think our luck has run out.
I'm going to have to start using the word no' a lot.
Don't worry about Bear, Boo-Boo, I tell my youngest. David's name for him seems to be sticking. Although if we're going to call Elijah Boo-Boo' we probably ought to start calling Bear Yogi' because Yogi and Boo-Boo sounds a lot better than Bear and Boo-Boo. He'll get used to you. Before you know it, you'll be poking him in the eye and pulling his hair and biting him. Don't tell your mother I told you that, though. Okay? That's just between us men.
Us men. Me and my sons.
No, he's not the daughter I truly wanted, but I'm sure we'll have a girl soon enough and in the meantime, I can practice using the word no' on the boys so when it comes time to say, No, you cannot date until you're 50, I'll be ready.
I am insanely covetous.
Standing in the doorway to the Pierce Bedroom, watching Josh rock his new baby, I can't control the jealousy rising like bile in my throat.
Others, primarily Sam and CJ, have accused me of being envious of his situation before, but I always vehemently denied it. Especially after Andi told me she was pregnant.
What did I have to be jealous of?
I was going to have children, too. Twins even.
Except Andi is as receptive to my overtures at reconciliation as Josh is to compromising with Republicans over the budget.
The house is a last ditch attempt to convince her I'm serious. I want her and the babies to be a part of my life. I want the chance to be half the father Josh Lyman is. Which would still be twice the father my own was.
I clear my throat to announce my presence without startling anyone.
Hey, Toby. Josh looks up and smiles at me.
I reply, nervously rocking on my heels.
Do you want to hold him? Josh offers, gesturing for me to come closer.
I take a couple of hesitant steps. Hesitant because while I do want to hold him, the prospect of handling something so small and helpless terrifies me.
Halfway across the room, my fears get the best of me.
No. No. I, um, I might break him or something.
Josh raises his eyebrows at me before rising from the chair with a practiced ease.
he says, laying Elijah in my arms and showing me how to position my hands. Make sure you support his head. Otherwise it'll be all floppy.
The baby promptly starts to whine and wiggle.
Oh, God.
Josh chuckles at my horrified look before telling me what to do. Move. Just sway or rock on your heels. He's used to feeling movement all the time.
Toby is almost always in motion. Even when he's standing still he shuffles his feet. Right now he's like a statue, staring down at Elijah with a mixture of terror and fascination. I'm sure that if someone had taken a picture of my face the first time I held David it would reflect the same thing.
Elijah is not interested in being stared at, however, and starts to squirm and whimper.
I instruct with a low chuckle. He's used to feeling motion all the time.
Toby shifts his weight from foot to foot slowly. Too slowly for my son, who screws his face up and turns red in preparation for an ear-splitting wail.
I take Elijah back, holding him close to my heart so he can feel it beating. Now, sit in the chair.
Once Toby's settled, I put the baby back in his arms and watch as he rocks haltingly, stopping and starting until he finds a gentle rhythm to soothes the savage infant.
That's not so hard, is it? I temper my words with an encouraging smile.
Toby doesn't answer me at first, but when he finally looks up, his eyes are glistening.
Thank you. For, you know, earlier, he says, so low I can barely hear his words.
It takes me a minute to realize what he's referring to.
Don't worry about it. I didn't consciously pick Toby to help, he was simply there.
No, I mean it. The whole thing terrified me, but watching you and Donna It doesn't seem so I mean, I think I can, now, you know he explains.
The string of disconnected phrases indicates we're getting into the type of emotional territory Toby and I don't venture into together. There's only one way I can think of to let him know I understand what he's struggling to express.
I'll talk to my accountant tomorrow. You should get the check by the end of the week.Are you sure?Yeah. I
How do I explain that I understand how much he loves Andi? No matter how he fails to express it to her satisfaction, I see it. As a man, I get what a big deal the changes he's trying to make are and how difficult it can be to adequately tell the woman you adore that you love her. Very few women can read between the lines of male subtext and I thank God every day that I was fortunate enough to snag one.
I settle for keeping it simple. I understand.
Toby's response is typical Toby. He looks down at Elijah and whispers to him. For a pompous, pretentious, know-it-all, your Daddy's pretty smart sometimes. You should listen to him.He's so precious, I hear someone squeal. A female someone from the pitch of their voice.
hisses Josh. Donna's asleep.Not anymore, I grumble, loud enough to be heard.
Donna! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to wake you, but he's just perfect!
It's Zoey, beaming at Elijah and chattering at 90 miles an hour.
Laying flat has left an ache in my lower back, so I ease myself a bit more upright. Disturbing David in the process.
Bear doesn't wake up any happier than he fell asleep and seeing me only aggravates him more.
I call over David's crying. I'm tired and sore and in no mood for sibling rivalry. Come get your son.
Josh picks David up and glances around the room, visibly coming to a decision. I'm going to run home and get a bag together.
His words are music to my ears. Giving me a quick kiss, he heads out, closing the door behind him.
Zoey promptly perches on the edge of the bed.
You are so lucky, she gushes. He's so cute.Thank you, but I don't know if lucky is the word for it.Why not?It's not that I don't think I'm lucky, it's just with the newborn and David all of a sudden wanting to nurse and all the people I feel a little overwhelmed. Tears are welling up in my eyes, indicating overwhelmed might be an understatement. Over-hormoned might be a better way to put it.
Is there anything I can do? Zoey touches my arm supportively.
I shake my head ruefully. I think if I can get a little bit more sleep and if Josh can keep David occupied, I'll be okay.I don't know how you do it, the President's youngest daughter says with something close to awe.
Josh helps a lot. There's no way I could do it without him, I reply with my standard answer, thinking it's more true now than ever.
Can I say something? Zoey asks, looking sheepish.
You know how I was so upset at you and Josh for saying Charlie and I weren't ready to get married?
How could I forget? She's barely spoken to either of us since our first effort at parental divide and conquer.'
She continues when I nod. I just wanted to apologize for being bitchy and taking it out on you. You were right. Both of you. We aren't ready, yet. I can't imagine having a baby right now. We've been talking about it and decided that right now we're happy the way we are.It's a good conversation to have, I agree, remembering a similar talk in April 1998. Josh and I had it the night I came back from Wisconsin. He told me if I was going to stay and we were going to work together, he needed to admit he was very attracted to me, but wasn't ready to start a lifelong relationship yet, would I be willing to wait for him.Josh Lyman said that? Zoey almost falls off the bed in shock.
Tell me about it, I damn near fell off my chair that night. In all truthfulness we had found Toby's bottle of scotch and were celebrating my return.
What did you say?I told him I was attracted to him, too and I wasn't ready either. We agreed we'd see other people casually until we were both in a place where we thought we could give a relationship the attention it deserved. Over the years, the relationship sort of developed on its own while we weren't looking and one day Josh realized he was in that place. He told me and after a day or two, I realized I was there, too. Like I told you before, you'll know when the time is right and so will Charlie. Just don't force it.I know, she says softly, giving Elijah back to me. I should go and let you get some rest. I just wanted to apologize.It's okay, Zoey. Remember you can come talk to me or Josh any time you need to.
Once she leaves, I settle back against the pillows and put Elijah to my breast. The divide and conquer thing worked pretty well with Zoey and Charlie. Which is good, because I have a feeling it's a strategy we will be employing on a regular basis with Bear and Boo-Boo.