When the night has been
Too lonely and the road has been too long
And you think that love is
Only for the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the winter snows
Lies the seed, that with the sun's love
In the spring becomes the rose.
"The Rose"
Bette Midler
October 15, 2012
Echo Park, Los Angeles, California
"What are you doing?" Chuck asked, reclining on the bed, placing his head close to hers as she rested, perfectly still, on her back, with her hands folded across her stomach. He was on top of the sheet, she was underneath it.
"Lying still. For 30 minutes," she told him, looking at him quickly, then slightly past him to indicate she was actually checking the time on the bedside clock.
"O…kay," he said, his face twisted in confusion.
"It, you know, helps everything…get where it's supposed to go," she said with a smile.
"Pfft," he breathed. "Wait, let me guess. Ellie again, right?" he asked, looking from the corner of his eye at her.
"She is a doctor, Chuck," Sarah argued.
"And she's my sister," he retorted.
"And she's my friend," she shot back.
"And she's my sister," he repeated, stressing the words again.
"All she did is give me the tips she used when she was trying to get pregnant before, with Clara," Sarah explained. "Taking my temperature, checking mucus–"
"Ok, I know, I know," he blurted out, not ever wanting anything that medically specifically discussed just moments after he'd been intimate with his wife. And certainly not when it pertained to his sister.
She laughed, patting his cheek. "You're adorable, you know that, don't you?"
"At this point, I'm taking your word for it," he teased, his voice low and deep.
"Also, the lying still, the once a day every other day thing," she added.
"So I have my sister to thank for that, too?" he laughed.
"You know, so you're not spreading your soldiers too thin. Concentrated attack pattern," she replied, making a gesture with her hands, palms facing each other, back and forth, like she was marking an imaginary path.
"We're using military metaphors now?" he teased. He sat up on his elbows. "You didn't ask Casey anything did you?"
"Come on, Chuck! Are you kidding me? No, I didn't ask or tell Casey." She breathed out. "Alex, maybe, but not Casey."
"This keeps getting better," he sighed. All of his feigned distress was just comical, a byproduct of his ridiculously happy state of mind, now that he and Sarah were trying to get pregnant.
She turned her head, looking slyly at him, a wry smile on her face. "Since we're talking about your sister, you know, there was something else she told me."
"Oh, god, what? Is this something that's going to scar me for life?" he grumbled.
She giggled, but continued. "She said it's also good to…make sure…if we didn't, you know, finish… close together, to sort of…take care of that afterward."
He closed his eyes, covering his face with his hand. "Scarred. For life," he muttered.
"But don't worry, Chuck, I told her we never have that problem," she said, struggling to keep from busting out laughing, as she regarded his distress.
"What?" he screeched, nearly jumping completely off the bed.
"You're shaking the bed, Chuck," she admonished him. He continued to sputter as she spoke over him. "It helps…move everything upward."
"She's my sister!" he protested, blushing beetroot red under his hands that still covered his face still.
"Just be glad she didn't ask you to talk to Devon for her," Sarah teased, her voice uneven as she fought a hysterical fit of laughter.
He pulled his hands away, smirking, his eyes bright with mirth. "I can't tickle you now," he stressed. "But the clock is ticking," he said triumphantly, pointing to the time, and then his watch, indicating he knew exactly when her vigil was complete. "But you wait. My sister will hear you screaming in Burbank."
"Maybe she already has, Chuck," she teased. "Waiting 48 hours in between–"
"Ut!" he scolded, placing his hand gently against her abdomen. "You could be getting pregnant as we speak. The first thing my unborn child hears shouldn't be tales of how she or he was created."
He was still teasing, but the moment amplified around her, building like a rising tide, until she felt it inside her. Her eyes, wide and sparkling, fixed on his face. The softest smile lit her features as she sighed with contentment. "I love you," she said.
He rolled towards her, kissing her forehead gently. "I love you, too, Baby," he whispered. He lingered, then rolled out of bed. He was in the hallway, on his way to shower, when he called back to her, "Vitamins and a glass of milk, don't forget, ok?"
She giggled, remembering how Ellie had said she had hated how Devon had doted on her in the beginning, when she was pregnant. Chuck was doting, even before the fact. But that was just him, how he had always been. One of the many reasons why she loved him, why she knew she was so lucky to have him in her life.
October 23, 2012
Echo Park, Los Angeles, California
Three days after her ovulation window had closed, as Sarah had called it, based on Ellie's expert tutelage, she had begun to notice when she slept on her stomach, her breasts were tender when she woke up. The feeling intensified as the week continued, as she found most of her undergarments were too coarse and restrictive. She had found herself lying awake at all hours of the night, staring at the ceiling, never because of a nightmare or anxiety, but just her lack of sleepiness. Her morning coffee had started giving her heartburn by day eight.
She knew she was pregnant. She could feel it, even though it was too early to take the test. She told her husband, as they sat at the table in the morning having breakfast. "The most advanced test you can take is for five days before."
"When you thought you were before, do you remember any of that?" he asked her.
"I was over a week late before I took that test," she told him.
"And that was negative," he countered. "You were nauseous too. And still not pregnant."
"I'm telling you, Chuck, I have never felt like this before. I'm not nauseous. My breasts feel like water balloons," she told him.
"Ok," he conceded, tilting his head, as if he agreed with her. "So when can you take it? The test?"
"Tomorrow," she told him.
"Ok," he breathed. She watched him rub his hands down the sides of his jeans. She smirked at how sweet he was, knowing he would be a nervous wreck until tomorrow morning.
October 24, 2012
Echo Park, Los Angeles, California
She sat on the edge of the bathtub beside her husband. She could see the timer on the front of her cell phone as it rested flat on the toilet seat. Resting on the top of the toilet tank was the pen, clicked shut. Chuck's legs twitched, bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet in his nervousness.
She had been here once before, and she did remember the experience. Before she was worried, contrite. And then confused with that strange disappointment that twisted through her relief.
This time was different. She wanted this, knew he wanted this. If this was negative, she would be upset. But she knew, as certainly as the sun would rise, as certainly as she knew Chuck loved her, that she was. The fact that her most absolute truth of all was his love for her reminded her again of how lucky she was.
When the timer went off, she jumped. Her heart started pounding against her breastbone. She could hardly support her weight on her legs as they shook when she stood to retrieve the device. Her hand shook as she picked it up, but forced herself not to look at the window until she pulled it to where he could see.
They both saw the simple plus sign at the same time.
"I told you," she whispered, as tears flowed freely from her eyes. Laughing and crying at the same time. Nothing had prepared her for that giddiness, the once in a lifetime feeling.
She realized he was doing the same thing, laughing behind his palm even as his fingers pressed against his weepy eyes. His bottom lip trembled when he turned to look at her. "Happy Mother's Day."
It was while he was kissing her that she understood what he'd meant. October 24. Ellie and Chuck's tradition. How had she forgotten that it was today?
"Happy Mother's Day, Chuck," she breathed against his lips.
July 12, 2013
Westside Medical Center, Los Angeles, California
Sarah held her son in her arms, marveling at the beauty of his face as he slept peacefully. He looked exactly like Chuck, curly mop of hair and all. The nurse had said baby hair usually fell out or changed, but she knew this was just his genes.
She had amazed herself in just a short period of time how much she really did know, just as Ellie had promised her she would. Never a baby-sitter, no siblings, Sarah had known she had no real experience with children or babies. Ellie had been quick to assure her she had been in the same boat, and had felt the same. Sarah knew from past stories that had been why Chuck had originally persisted in the search for their mother, why Sarah herself had gone under cover to retrieve Mary from Russia, though all of that information was relayed rather than remembered. And, with a sigh of relief, Sarah knew now she had Ellie, an experienced Mom, her sister-in-law, and her friend.
"He does look like Chuck, Sarah," Ellie beamed as she sat beside Sarah in the hospital room. "I remember when my parents brought him home from the hospital. I was only three, but I remember it perfectly. I thought they brought him home just so I could play with him, like he was a real live baby doll." Sarah laughed at that, not taking her eyes off her son.
"You were never jealous of the attention he got, you know, after that?" Sarah asked with honest curiosity. She had been an only child, never quite understanding the internal dynamic between siblings before she had seen Chuck and Ellie together.
"No one gave him more attention than I did," Ellie laughed. "I would wake up with my mother in the middle of the night, give him his bottle. I always helped her change him, feed him. He really was a sweet, good little baby, all things considered. Although I know at three I never worried about him learning how to latch on, or if he had a cold or a fever. But he did sleep a lot, and he cried so little."
"Well, he's already taking after his dad if that's the case, because I haven't even seen him with his eyes open in almost 24 hours," Sarah said.
"They take him at night?" Ellie said with a knowing smile.
"Yeah," Sarah said. "Chuck was worried about my…what is it?" she asked her.
"Your hematocrit. It's perfectly normal for it to be low the morning after giving birth. You did lose a lot of blood," Ellie added, widening her eyes, knowing Sarah understood. "Did Chuck really stay upright during all of that?" Ellie asked.
"You would have been amazed. IVs, needles, blood draws, plus, well you know…about a gallon of blood on the floor. I've been at crime scenes where I've seen less blood," Sarah kidded, twisting her lips to the side as she saw Ellie flinch a little at that bit of conversation Sarah treated as normal. "He was definitely pale, and he told me he couldn't make a fist. But he was right there the whole time. For nine hours."
"He is pretty amazing, isn't he?" Ellie said, half serious, half kidding. After a pause, Ellie added, "Look, I don't know if you remember when we first brought Clara home from the hospital." Sarah did not, and the vacant look on her face told Ellie that she didn't. She continued, with that in mind. "Everyone was there. It was overwhelming. I had my mother, and she was there all along and it was great. But she was my Mom. Don't be afraid to tell people that you need time to just adjust. If you need to. And don't be afraid to ask for help. I was nervous as hell, but my Mom being there all the time helped. Your Mom can help, and I can help. Or we can not. Morgan doesn't need to be there 18 hours a day, unless you want him to be."
"I know, Ellie. I appreciate it. And I'll take your advice. I promise."
Sarah heard the knock on her hospital room door, looking up as her husband quietly crept into the room. "Hey," he said, his voice hushed, a huge, beaming smile on his face. He smiled at his sister as well.
Ellie rose, patting Sarah's leg as she did so. "I'll leave you guys alone. Oh, Chuck, I almost forgot," Ellie said suddenly. "Did you see that real estate listing I sent you?"
He walked into the room, a bouquet of white flowers in one hand. He pulled the phone from his back pocket. "Yes, yes, I did." He walked to the side of Sarah's bed, tilting the phone so she could see it. She gasped at the photo. A white house, with a picket fence. "It's three streets over from my sister. The door's not red, but that's easily fixed. It went on the market this morning. I already put a downpayment on the offer."
"You did what?" Sarah asked, her mouth hanging open.
"It was only two thousand dollars, the deposit. We can always back out if you don't like it. I told the real estate agent we literally had a baby, like, yesterday. And we're a cash buyer, so…" He was smiling nearly ear to ear, and it was contagious.
Ellie kissed her brother and patted him on the shoulder. "I'll be in touch." She waved to Sarah and departed.
Chuck sat on the edge of her bed. He laid the flowers alongside her legs. Her gaze followed the flowers, and she opened her mouth like she was going to talk, but he interrupted her. "There's more pictures." He first reached over and ran his finger ever so gently across his son's tiny clenched hand. Then he tilted the phone for her to see.
The house was empty, with hardwood floors. A beautiful hearth, freshly painted walls. It was a cape, so there was a staircase with an intricately carved banister. More rooms, bedrooms on the second floor, both with built out dormers. "It's perfect," she said, just as the last photo froze in place on his phone.
It was a close up shot of the doorframe. She could see the letters carved there. Sarah Chuck. Her eyes were filled with tears when she looked up at him.
He seemed nervous, like he had forgotten that picture was there. "I made sure I paid the deposit before I did that," he said sheepishly, ribbing her gently in the process.
"I don't know what to say," she said slowly, choking on her emotions, feeling the baby start to stir in her arms. "Except that you're amazing."
"Is he waking up?" Chuck asked her, leaning over and peeking inside the light blue swaddled bundle in her arms.
"Here," she said, shifting the baby towards him. She saw his eyes widen briefly. "Don't freak out," she told him, just as she laid the baby in his father's arms. "Just slide your hand under his head," she coached, placing his hand in the right place.
"Look who's an old pro at this," he said, winking and smiling at her. He looked awkward, but the longer he looked at his son, the more relaxed he became.
When her arms were free, she reached down for the flowers. She brought them up to her face, inhaling their fragrance. "These are my favorites," she said. She paused, seeing the strange look on his face. "You knew that though, right? Something I don't remember, right?"
"We were still cover dating. Ellie and Devon had just gotten engaged and she was flipping through this magazine one day, when you were having dinner with us. You told her how much you loved gardenias. You didn't know I was listening, but I was. I have supersonic hearing apparently," he explained.
"Like the Lisa comment?" she asked, lifting her eyebrow.
He smiled at her remembrance of that. "Right."
The baby opened his eyes, making soft little cooing sounds, attracting Chuck's attention. "Hey, Kiddo," he whispered, smiling brightly. Continuing to address his son, he continued. "So Stephen Charles, this is how this story goes. Mommy went off mission to protect me, and got hurt when a car bomb went off. I brought flowers to her while she was in the hospital…"
She listened intently as he continued, understanding this was his first time ensuring their children would always know the whole story. She rested her head on his shoulder, looking down at her son, who was fixed on his father's face and voice. Half was in her head, and the whole was in his heart. And there was forever to fill from one to the other, and back again.