Margaret handed her suitcase to Daniel and he set in the trunk of the taxi. She turned around and walked over to Peg Hunnicut.
"Goodbye Peg," she whispered. "I hope you'll write." Peg nodded and hugged Margaret warmly. The two women had gotten rather friendly as they were approximately the same age; although it made Margaret rather awkward to realize that someone the same age already had a husband and child.
"Goodbye Hun," Margaret turned and was engulfed in a warm hug from Mildred Potter. The woman was very sweet and Margaret had taken an instant liking to her; Margaret realized just how miserable Sherman must be with out his wife by his side.
Margaret waved to the Klingers but they were too involved in a heated discussion over the definition of an urn. Finally, Margaret walked across the rooms to where Eric and Janelle Winchester were seated. Margaret bid them farewell and in turn, they politely wished her safe traveling.
Margaret smiled to herself as she walked to her cab. Everyone she met here was so drastically different, and yet here they were all together and they had managed to have a good time and enjoy one another's company.
"Bye Margaret," Daniel said cheerfully. Margaret turned around and looked up into the tall man's face. He hugged her affectionately.
"Don't be a stranger," he said. "Call me whenever you want to." Margaret nodded and climbed into the cab.
On May 1, Margaret sat alone in her apartment attempting to read a book. She was eight months pregnant and bored to tears. She sighed and set down her book and picked up a piece of paper.
BJ, I enjoyed looking at all the names you sent me. I agree with you, Emily is a darling name but I knew an Emily once… well, I will just say the baby is NOT going to be named Emily. I am doing fine; I am keeping myself busy with getting the baby's room ready. I wish there was more time in each day. In answer to your question, I am not nervous about the birth at all. It happens every day to millions of women around the world. Why should I feel nervous? Oh, and yes I am extremely excited about being a new mother. Isn't that what every woman wants from the time she is a little girl? Well I have to go, tell everyone I said hello.
Margaret
Margaret folded the sheet of paper in thirds and sat it on the end table. She stared out of the window for a time and then picked up another sheet of paper.
Hawkeye, I read over the list of names you and BJ sent me but I am still so indecisive. I feel so insensitive; but try as I might I cannot get myself excited over this child. Isn't that horrible? Jenna (my next-door-neighbor) is completely fed up with me. She suggested that I decorate the baby's room but I reminded her that I do not exactly have a nursery. Your dad called again today, we talked for about an hour. He was telling about when you were born. I feel sorry for your poor mother. Good god, 39 hours in labor, the very thought of it makes me nauseous. I am scared to death every time I think about going into labor. Jenna promised me that she would drive me to the hospital, but that does not help my anxious mind. I cannot believe I am going to be a mother. I just do not see myself as the maternal type. Even as a little girl I never played with dolls, well I would but my mother would take them away after I ripped off their limbs. The thought of being solely responsible for something so tiny and fragile terrifies me. I miss you Hawkeye, write to me soon.
All my un-love, Major-Baby
3:49 am, July 5th, 1953
Margaret lay awake in bed grimacing at another contraction. She knew she had to get up but she so desperately wanted to pretend that it was nothing. Eventually she awkwardly rolled her large body off the bed and grabbed for her clothing.
2:17 pm, July 5th, 1953
Margaret lay back on the bed completely exhausted. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
"Mrs. Pierce?" Margaret opened one eye and smiled slightly as she saw the doctor standing over her, a small bundle in his arms.
"Mrs. Pierce, would you like to hold your daughter?" Margaret nodded and tentatively reached for the child. As she looked into her child's tiny face, she felt tears welling up behind her eyes. She was shocked at how calloused she had been. At that moment nothing mattered to her more than that little girl did.
BJ, I know I just wrote to you but is Hawkeye alright? I have not received any letters from him. Has he gotten any of mine? When I got home from the hospital, I was expecting at least one letter from him. Please write me back soon.
Margaret
Margaret, I am sorry you were worried; I should have mentioned something to you. Hawkeye went on a little R and R in Tokyo. He will be back soon I am sure. When he gets back all of your letters will be waiting for him. Thank you for the beautiful photographs of you and Felicity. She is gorgeous Margaret. (Although I think you would stone me if I said otherwise) I am so happy for you. Felicity is a lovely name by the way, although I did notice that it was not on either Hawkeye or my list, but I am not one to hold a grudge. I miss you Margaret, I hope we can see each other when this damn war is finally over.
All my love, BJ
Margaret folded Hawkeye's letter with a puzzled expression. He had not said one word about Felicity; that was not like him. Margaret stood up and walked into the bedroom where her daughter was sleeping peacefully. She walked over to the small bassinette and stroked the little girl's cheek.
"I love you my Lissy." She whispered. She was nervous at times, being all alone and responsible for the little child, but the incredible love she felt outweighed any nervousness.