Title: Tragic - PT 4
Rating: R (language)
Summary: Cameron's life full of tragedy... (Cam's POV - kind of) in her eyes, and how she copes - or doesn't.
Disclaimer: Don't own any of it, just playing...
Note: PT 4 - Still not sure where it's going yet... Had real trouble with this chapter (sigh, should have never stopped the other day, feel like I lost my rhythm.)

Note: As always, I hate good punctuation, I am horrible with grammar, and I reserve everything to be a work in progress...

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Your child decides to choose the middle of the night to wake you to announce their impending arrival. You get up and debate whether or not to wake House. You dress and sit by the phone. The baby isn't rushing you along yet. Because you've been doing so well, part of you wants to show him that you can handle this all by yourself. The other part of you knows that he would be upset (secretly) if you didn't call him, because you know that he's excited about the birth of this child. You loved the look on his face the first time you took his hand and placed it on your belly so he could feel the kicking. You resisted folding yourself into his arms, though you longed to do so. You call and wake him up. He seems to be waiting for your call. You insist on driving yourself and meeting him there.

You're pacing around when he comes House-running into your room. You adore him. He shows up in I-just-got-out-bed-scruffiness and pajamas that are so sexy, you're wondering if you could coerce him into sex before the labor really gets going, maybe it will help move things along, think? (Where is your mind at times?) You laugh at yourself for your thoughts. He thinks you're laughing at him because of this pj's and snarks at you because he's doing something nice. You want to kiss him for it. Instead you allow him to feed you ice chips.

He's behaving like an expectant father and you're worried that he has a camcorder tucked away somewhere. He jokes with you that maybe the spicy food for lunch yesterday did the trick, since you were getting really tired of being pregnant. You smile at his excitement, but you worry that he'll later start to berate the doctor and the nurses too much (and they're still a little confused at his presence, especially as Ryan was also a doctor at PPTH, and his death affected others besides you. So the birth of your child is to be a happy note for others as well). He also better maintain his position and stay up by your head and not interfere, or you'll kill him with own cane. Besides, he's never been intimate with the lower half of your body and you think you're doing enough sharing right now.

Your daughter makes a nice easy entrance into this world. (You deserve something easy for once.) Your OBGYN asks House if he wants to cut the umbilical cord. He looks to you, and you nod to him okay. Somewhere, in a tiny speck of light in your soul, you know he will be connected with you and your child forever. (You better not tell him that, he'll be running faster than he did pre-limp.) It's just the gut reaction you have when you see the doctor hand him your daughter and House brings her to you. You are full of tears to see her here healthy and crying, and she distracts you enough that you don't notice him shaking when he hands you the brand new little bundle. Nor do you take notice of the gamut of emotions that are running through his eyes. It's better that way, because you don't have in your possession the dictionary for all of their meanings.

You're crying, she's crying. You're smiling through your tears, and for the first time in months you feel the ray of light shine briefly through you as a little hand reaches up and scratches your face with her little nails. You count her ten little fingers and ten little toes, and examine every part of her to make sure she is okay and perfect and undamaged (like you are not). You are exhausted, but so happy that she's here, it doesn't matter. You want to drift off to sleep, the nurse comes to take the baby away, and you are suddenly in a nightmare. You beg her to leave her with you, she insists you must rest. House takes over the situation and persuades the nurse to leave the child in your room with you and him and he'll keep an eye on her. With a lifted eyebrow, she agrees. You are able to rest.

You awaken feeling like you've been hit by a fourteen wheeler or something large of that nature. House sits in the glider with your child cradled in his arms feeding her a bottle. Hi, you smile to them. "Mommy awakes!" he mocks you and quickly starts to move to hand you the baby.

You comment to him he looks like he knows what he's doing there, as you accept your daughter from his warm embrace.

He looks away, shrugging, "You've been sleeping a long time. I wouldn't let them wake you. So you're little one and I learned how to use a bottle! Fun stuff I tell you!" You too are engrossed by your daughter to hear any more of what he is saying. You tuck away the image of him and your daughter for a later time.

Your daughter, your daughter. Yours. You keep repeating that to yourself. It awes you. She is yours. You feel raw with emotion. You just want to start crying. Again.

Knocks on the door inform you that Uncle Foreman is here for his first visit. House took the liberty to make some phone calls for you while you were sleeping. It makes you think about another phone call you think you need to make, because you always do the right thing. You and your baby receive more visitors bearing balloons and plants and you see House make his exit, way too many people. Wilson comes by with his boyish grin kissing you on the cheek. He asks to hold the baby, and "By the way, what are you naming her?"

You are frozen. You realize right then, there are so many things about having a child that you just refused to think about, mostly because you are alone and you're going be raising this child alone. Honestly, you never really wanted to think about how the hell you were going to do it. You just tried to pretend she was never going to be quite real, and now she's here and you have to put a name to her. One you have to decide all on your own. You are just overwhelmed by things you are going to have to do by yourself for her, and one of them is just being a parent. For too long you lived in a pregnant hormonal cloud and you didn't think, or you wouldn't allow yourself to think, outside the loneliness you felt because you didn't think you could function, now suddenly it's slapping you in the face. You didn't plan, you didn't talk about any of it. You are screwed. You gulp and reach for a glass of water, glad that the baby is not in your arms, because this situation is suddenly very very real and you are scared.

You decide to name your daughter Pearl after Ryan's grandmother that he adored. You figure you owe him that because you don't plan on giving her his last name, you feel like it will be too confusing for her as she gets older (that her name is different from yours). You give her your mother's name (Geraldine) for a middle name. In your mind's eye, you like the idea that she is a Pearl, because out of your darkness came a wonderful little being, like a little piece of sand that transforms into a pearl in the pressure of a clam. As scared as you are, you know that she is wonderful jewel.

You call Ryan's parents to tell them their grandchild has arrived. You haven't seen them or spoken to them since court, nor have they inquired after you or the health of the unborn baby. You call them for Ryan, you do this for him, and because it is the person you are. You hope that if they decide to visit, they behave, but you don't expect it.

They do come. They don't behave. First they complain about her last name. Then they ask why House is there, because he's obviously been spending a lot of time with you. He freaked when he found out you called them. He decided that he would be present if they showed, whether you liked it or not . . . for Pearl's sake. They claimed how could you be having an affair with another man when you just had their son's child! Your anger bursts. You are a volcano. You tell them you asked them to come here to see their grandchild and spend time with her, not to criticize your relationship with your best friend who has helped you out more in the last nine months when they didn't even bother picking up the phone to call just to see how the pregnancy was going, never mind how you were doing. (House, please pick you jaw up off the ground.) You politely ask them to leave. If they want to see their grandchild, you will be happy to have your lawyer contact their lawyer for supervised visitation. You were hoping you wouldn't have to do that, but obviously you were mistaken. Their behavior here at the hospital has proven it. Thankfully they leave on that cue.

You are now more upset and frustrated. You are craving comfort. You'll be glad to go home. You'll be glad to be in the comfort of your own home. You'll be glad to bring your daughter home. So you think.

END PT4