Summary: Kitty reflects on her and John's walk through parenthood so far. It hasn't been joyous road she hoped for.
Writer note: A little pre-quel to "Snowstorm", but first part in the "Baby Mine" series.
John wasn't too excited about being a father. He knew I wanted children and grudgingly agreed to be a parent for my sake. He was there for me during the pregnancy – rubbing my aches, satisfying my food cravings, putting up with my mood swings.
But when Aaron was born, John became more standoffish than usual. I had always envisioned him as one of those people who, as soon as he held his newborn baby, he'd fall in love at first sight and become a total softy. Well, John was not one of those people and that fact made me incredibly upset.
I was pulling full duty with Aaron for the first two months. I tried desperately to get John more involved. He'd grudgingly feed Aaron or held him sometimes. By the middle of our son's third month, I had enough of John's attitude and blew up at him one night before bed. I screamed and ranted and even slapped him hard across the face.
I thought our marriage was over. I thought John would walk out that room and never come back. But he did the complete opposite.
Aaron had begun crying during my blow up. I didn't move to go get him in the adjoining room. I couldn't take my eyes off the man I loved with all my heart, but had also hurt me so deeply.
It was John who moved. He disappeared into the adjoining room, and for a crazy moment, I thought he was going to hurt the baby. I was about to phase through the wall when I heard his hushed voice.
"Shush up, kid. It's okay. Your Mom is just getting out some anger."
I caught a glimpse through the door crack of John cradling Aaron. I sat down on our bed, and balled my eyes out for the rest of the night.
We had slid to the bottom of the mountain. The only place left to go was up. The climb was slow, like a snail's crawl. John fed Aaron every other day, played with him sometimes, and even started to put him to bed about once a week. He didn't, however, change diapers, but I never expected him to ever do that. My frustration and discontent started to lift. I was happy again. We were finally enjoying our son together.
Aaron is six months now. John is putting him to bed tonight. He's taking a little longer than usual. I walk into the adjoining room to find John sitting in the rocker, Aaron asleep on his shoulder. My heart is warmed by the sight. I smile, trying to keep back the tears that want to well up in my eyes. It's a sight I had lost hope in seeing for so long .
John looks up at me. "He seemed so comfortable. I didn't want to lay him down just yet."
"That's okay. I don't mind if you stay in here a little longer." I stroke John's hair and wish I can crawl onto the rocker with him and watch Aaron sleep. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For not leaving us."
John scoffs softly. "I promised I'd never leave you, Kitty, and I meant it."
"It was hard to believe that for a while."
"I'm making an effect doing the whole 'daddy thing' now. Just because I don't go around blubbering about my kid to everyone or act all silly and speak in that stupid baby talk to him, doesn't mean I don't care about Aaron." I can see his features darken. That happens when he gets defensive. He glances down at our son, his hand protectively cupping the back of Aaron's head. "It's taken me a while to get use to this. I never thought I was father material. Sometimes I wonder if I can do it."
"You can do it, John." I stroke his hair some more, tickling the back of his neck with my fingertips. "Aaron needs his daddy."
John leans into my touch. "I will try to be, Kitty."
It's moments like these I store in my most important memory files. Slowly but surely, we're becoming the family I had dreamed to have.