A/N 1: Please read disclaimers from Chapter 1 before proceeding
A/N 2: Yes, the usual excuse of real life being a b**ch! It is, really, just believe me!
A/N 3: Thanks for reading and commenting, really helps me write.
A/N 4: Inspiration's been low these past few weeks, who knows why. I have the epilogue crystal clear in my mind but writing the chapters is proving to be a task, too many emotions, too much pain. Oh, and forgive me for incorrect medical information and breaches, I have absolutely NO prior knowledge, all of it is just Google the God.
Un-betaed so all mistakes are mine!
"You're the closest I will ever come to magic."
-The Zygote Chronicles, Suzanne Finnamore
12th February 2008
Dr. Susan Abassac's Clinic
5.07 p.m.
'Ohkay, so let's see what we're seeing here!' Dr. Abassac said as she looked pointedly at the sonogram screen and moved the doppler across Miranda's stomach.
Andy and Miranda concentrated on the screen a little too hard too. Andy tightened her grip over one of Miranda's white knuckled fingers and held her extremely rigid and tense body with another as they awaited the doctor's verdict.
'So, like you already know you're approximately 32 weeks along, I'm too concerned about the foetal growth although it's bordering the lower limits, but after all the improvement you've shown over the months, a little more care for a few more weeks could give us the ideal picture. Everything seems to be in place and growing absolutely in line.' Both women released audible sighs and Miranda visibly relaxed against Andy's hand as a blush of colour flew into her cheeks. She can't afford to screw this up after all, there is too much to worry about, too much pressure, but the doctor says things are fine and Miranda quells all her concerns about extreme back-pains and occasional abdominal cramps.
Then Dr. Abassac adds a 'But' and Andy deflates, she can't deal with more complications, she can't see Miranda suffer even more, 'as you can see here, the baby is in a breech position compared to the normal cephalic position.' Miranda notices at once and emits a small 'Oof'; Andy looks dazed, so Susan adds, 'generally during birth the child comes out head first, in the breech position the rear end appears first, which might create complications.' Susan can see panic flash through the young woman's eyes.
'However, generally by the 36th or 37th week the baby changes positions to come to the cephalic one to accommodate itself in the mother's belly; but we need to be careful and keep close track of its movements. If by chance the ultrasound shows a breech position even at the 37th week we can artificially change the position by various techniques like ECV, stimuli towards light etc which we can talk about as an when required. If nothing works, we'll have to drop the idea of a vaginal birth and go in for a Caesarean.'
Miranda looks indifferent, like she's accepted her fate of having to face every obstacle with this pregnancy but Andy looks terrified. Dr. Abassac's heart goes out to the bright young woman to whom this is still all very new, she looks softly at Andy and is forced to add, 'Don't worry Andy. I will take care of it, it's not a big deal, and we'll work it out.' It is then that the girl looks only a wee bit appeased.
Over the course of the next two weeks Miranda tries every weird thing to change the baby's position-holding up her 'derriere' in the air which Andrea loves looking at, hips elevated onto a pillow, weird acupuncture tricks with 80% success rates, playing Mozart from different angles, but the baby's just like Andy-'stubborn' Miranda says, it refuses to budge.
Miranda gets frustrated, Andy gets terrified and Susan calms them down-there are enough options open, it'll all be fine.
Dr. Abassac asks them to start considering different birthing techniques in the subsequent appointment.
Miranda declares she's done it all and Andy enrols herself for Lamaze classes and devours every material on water births, hypno births and a million new techniques; she fills Miranda in every night who looks more and more uncomfortable and distracted with every passing day.
Miranda listens to Andrea only half heartedly as she tries to keep up with the world and completely shut herself from the feeling of pain and discomfort -the constant back-ache, the swollen ankles, the heaviness and indigestion-Andy helps in every way possible-gives her massages, oil baths, makes her jasmine tea, rubs almond oil all over her oversized belly to prevent her skin from stretching, lulls her to sleep and treats her like a queen. Yet, yet with every passing day Miranda feels more tired and exhausted than ever.
Andy and the twins stare wide-eyed when Miranda announces one chilly February night that she's gonna work from home. Andy becomes a walking zombie again-her parents tell her it's good preparation for the days to come and she tries even harder-builds up her stamina-becomes Miranda's personal assistant once again-she's beside Miranda at the drop of a hat and stays there until she is satisfied that Miranda is asleep, safe and not in pain.
Andy has never worked this hard for anything in her life. With every passing day she realizes how crazily she wants this-she doesn't dread it-not at all-she just can't see Miranda in pain and wants it to be all over, so that she can become a parent, become a sleep deprived happy walking zombie because no matter how hard this is-it's worth it. Miranda, the twins and this boy, this little boy growing inside her wife is worth every hour of sleep she loses.
She still remembers the doctor's appointment on the cold yet sunny December day which informed them about the sex of the baby. Miranda had been far removed when it had come to selecting the donor or other trivial little details concerning the pregnancy but she had been very specific about wanting a son. She had very non-chalantly added that she wasn't ready to have a hooligan for a daughter who'd take after her biological mother at which she had been attacked by a series of tickles which had left her red-faced and horrified after which she had even more firmly pronounced her need for a son to protect her against his wild mother. She'd also very confidently assumed Andy was qualified enough to teach him golf, polo, cricket, charm and chivalry and Andy would have to take classes if she didn't.
Andy on the other hand would have been equally happy with a son or a daughter, except she'd always dream of sparkling blue eyes and wispy brown ringlets of hair. Andy, in short, was too overwhelmed all the while to want anything. She'd been gifted with too many beautiful things all at once and she figured it only made sense to not want anything more. She'd be happy with whatever she got as long as Miranda was happy and safe.
At the clinic God had listened to Miranda of course, Dr. Abassac had told them it was a boy- a boy, a son for them. Their son.
She still remembers the look on Miranda's face-glowing with uncontainable happiness, that little smile she smiled whenever she was self satisfied and the gleam in her eyes. She remembers dancing at the townhouse with the twins, like a kid as her lover looked on, she remembers binging on Pizza and laughing till her jaws hurt. Miranda's expressions from that day are etched in her mind and she pulls it up at will every night before going to sleep and everything just melts away and life is perfect again.
A boy.
Her son whom she can't wait to hold, to play with, to stay awake and stare into his eyes, to make him laugh, to kiss, to hug, to love and spoil him rotten.
2nd March 2008
12:04 a.m.
Foyer
Manhattan Townhouse
Andy tiptoes into the townhouse to keep its inhabitants from being woken up from sleep, God knows one woman in particular really really needs it.
She tries to put back her coat into the closet soundlessly but of course she trips because of her stupid party heels and drops one of the vases onto the floor-thank God for the carpeted flooring!
She takes off those Godforsaken heels and mutters under her breath about how her eight month pregnant wife can bear to wear them day in and day out, good thing she's off he feet these days! She manages to retrieve the fallen vase and puts it back on the table without much further ado and makes her way upstairs towards the bedroom.
The floorboard squeaks under her two feet and she curses herself for having stayed out late but she couldn't have helped it- the office had thrown a party for having surpassed their primary rival in readership statistics for the first time in 10 years- apparently a lot of it had to do with Andy and her optimistic disposition-she'd been offered a promotion without much change in the salary, of course. She'd been happy and she couldn't have dodged a party which was partially being celebrated for her success. She had of course called up Miranda and given her the good news who had sounded more than enthusiastic and supportive about the promotion but deflated instantly when she heard the money part, nevertheless she had asked her to have a good time because she 'deserved' it.
Andy had decided to get back home just in time to put the girls to bed but the tension from all the previous months and weeks, the momentary joy of the promotion and the impending familial happiness had made her forget all about the time and she had indulged in one too many drinks and danced like a teenager after a million years. She had done exactly what Miranda had asked her to do that is have a good time.
Except now, at midnight she felt guilty for not having been able to speak to the girls and taking care of her very pregnant wife. She hated leaving Miranda alone at home in the mornings and worried all day about her calling up about a million times to check in on an irritated but nevertheless satisfied Miranda. She hadn't been able to do that today.
She huffs and tiptoes up the steps and decides to settle down for the night in the guest bedroom-no need to wake Miranda up now with squeaky door hinges-God knows their son is a ball of energy keeping Miranda awake at the most odd hours of the day.
She reaches the second floor landing and almost takes a right for the guest bedroom, when her eyes fall on the thin beam of light seeping from under the door of the master-bedroom.
Miranda's awake, Andy's intoxicated, not drunk though but so not ready to face Miranda or any of her mood swings. What did you think Andy, you'd just slip into bed and cuddle with a sleepy Miranda?
12: 10 a.m.
Master-Bedroom
Miranda looks with hawk like eyes from over her glasses as Andy slightly stumbles in. She pretends to be too absorbed in The Book and make a huge red cross across the page before looking up and scrutinizing Andy.
'You're still awake!' Andy says in mock surprise and walks up to kiss Miranda's cheek and caresses her hand over the distended abdomen, then bends down to kiss it. Miranda shows no sign of acknowledgement.
Woops. Instead she hisses ' No, I'm sleep-sitting.' She closes The Book with a smack and puts it on the bedside table then flings the pen, the poor thing falls outside the bathroom door, her Versace glasses experience a better fate as she takes them off and places them atop the book.
Andy sighs. She isn't ready for another of Miranda's mood swings. She walks towards her closet and rummages for sleepwear before hurrying into the bathroom (she also decides to pick up the pen and place it on the book).
She tries to take as much time as possible hoping against hope the Miranda dozes off-she changes, removes her make-up, braids her hair and all the while her head pounds enough for her to want to behead herself.
Then she remembers that Miranda will probably behead her if she doesn't vacate the bathroom soon because Miranda might need to relieve the pressure on her bladder which seems to be increasing by the hour these days.
She exits the washroom and almost trips on the red pen which is lying in front of the bathroom door, again.
She picks it up again and puts it on top of the book. Miranda by now has settled under the covers but isn't lying down as yet. She has her lips pursed and a poker face, but Andy knows she's pissy and it's late so she hurries under the covers to prevent Miranda from staying awake any longer. She switches off her side of the bedside lamp and she just about to utter a goodnight when Miranda's voice rings clear into the night's silence
'Is this going to become a regular occurrence?' the tone of accusation spits venom from every angle.
'What is?' Andy asks innocently knowing all too well what Miranda means. Even in the darkness Andy can see the anger and impatience in Miranda's eyes as she glares at Andy.
It was going to be a long night.
Andy sighs, 'Miranda, I told you, I got a promotion and they threw this party-and I had to be there, I would have-'
'Being a parent is a responsible job. I don't expect you to be one to the girls but if you don't remember and if my huge presence doesn't remind you, you do have a child coming!'
Now Andy was seeing red,her- not a parent to the girls, what bullshit!
'What did you say? You don't expect—let me remind you I am the one who drops them and picks them up from school, I play video games with them and make popcorn and cupcakes and I help them with their homework, I DO IT not because it's my duty because I love doingit, just like a parent would. Don't you dare imply anything else. And yes, I remember perfectly about my son, our son. One day—one fucking day-'
'Mind your language' Miranda rolls her eyes.
'Oh fuck the language, how dare you bring up the girls? How dare you say they're not mine?' her head pounds in her skull and she can feel the tears pricking at her eyes. Miranda Priestly can be the cruelest human being on the face of the earth if she wants to.
'Well, now with the way you put it, I highly doubt if the girls are mine since I seem to do nothing for them. It's all you, isn't it? What happened tonight then? Were you hiding in their room to kiss them goodnight, because I didn't see you there!' Miranda seethes.
'One night, one bloody night I decide to take a break and you're having some weird hormone induced anxiety attack. This, whatever you think will not be a regular occurrence, understood?' Andy shivers with anger and frustration. 'It's been a tough past few months and I think I deserved tonight, whatever you might think, every parent does, so do you. Even after he is born WE WILL HAVE A NIGHT OFF, once in a while, understood?'
Miranda smiles ruefully 'Parents don't get a break, understood?' she mimicks Andrea 'You think it's been easy for me, talk about difficult, it's been a cakewalk for me hasn't it? Being a parent means having to forget about your own whims and fancies, do I get a day off from swollen feet and nausea and the million other humiliating things I have to face every day?'
'Ugh, Miranda, this isn't going anywhere, I won't apologize for going for a drink with my colleagues, I'm happy about our newspaper's performance and my promotion but of course it was too much for you to pretend to be happy for a day, atleast for me! I know what you go through every day and you know what I feel about this whole thing, I can't believe-' and with that the first fat drop of tear fell down Andy's blazed cheeks.
'Oh—oh please! I'm-stop this now, I'm just saying do not make this a habit. I told you, you were too young for this.' She waves her hands wildly around the room and decides to get out of bed. Andy does too. 'Once he's here you'll need to realize being a parent is not about staying out till midnight but staying up to let him sleep.'
'Okay, okay, that's it!' Andy wipes at her eyes furiously 'You know what? I feel like you don't want this, is that it? Telling me I'm too young, indirectly alluding to the fact I am not right for you—not, not rich enough, not man enough, not responsible enough, what Miranda what?' Andy wishes their closed door and a flight of stairs was enough to keep the twins asleep.
'STOP SHOUTING!' Miranda screeches as a pained expression mottles her features while she presses a hand to her abdomen and releases a strained breath. Andy stands paralysed with fear, shaking, wide-eyed—what was happening? Was she responsible for whatever was happening to Miranda right now? Oh God, what was she going to do-
'Braxton Hicks I've been having them for a while now, I'm sorry you haven't noticed.' Miranda says calmly as the contraction subsides. Her face which had gone beet red a while back seems to quickly regain its pale luminescent hue, she looks radiant and Andy in that moment wants to make Miranda believe that she'd do anything Miranda expected her to do, that she was sorry, that she was not ready to lose Miranda, this life, their life with the twins and their son, that she'd die without Miranda and no she wasn't exaggerating it a bit, that without knowing she had reached this point in her life where she merely drew breath for Miranda and for her alone.
So she tries to do just that. She walks up to where Miranda is standing at the other side of the bed but didn't dare touch her 'Okay, I'm sorry. Sorry for shouting and getting back so late. Look, all I'm saying is that we all need a break once in a while, I don't regret going out today but I should have come back earlier. Miranda,' Andy pleads and tries to look her lover in the eyes but in vain 'Look, I know my responsibilities and I love being with you. I know you know that but-oh, just please believe me okay, I'm gonna be here forever' as if Miranda was worried about Andy leaving her more than Andy being worried about Miranda throwing her out.
'Don't say things you don't mean' Miranda spat.
Brilliant!When was this stubborn woman going to understand, Andy would never lie to Miranda.
'I mean every word Miranda, I'm here for the whole thing even if you don't believe me now, even if you think I'm too naive and simple headed. All I'm saying is I'm capable, I can do this.' She pleads and then appends an extra 'Please.'
Miranda always starts these stupid fights and then Andy ends up crying and apologizing even if Miranda's in the wrong but Andy doesn't care because if that's all that it takes to transform Miranda from the ruthless editor to the woman she loves she's ready to do it a thousand times over and she will willing to bet all this is going to abate once the hormones stop wreaking havoc on Miranda's nerve receptors.
Miranda keeps staring at Andy with this unreadable look on her face probably gauging the sincerity of this young woman's words or thinking of a scathing retort or even thinking about dismissing Andy with the wave of her hand. Instead—
'What makes you so sure I want you here 'forever'?' Miranda quirks an eyebrow and smirks.
It's over. The ebb tide has receded and left all the starfish intact on the shore, no destruction, no malice, no apprehension left. Everything is alright again, hormones decide to cooperate again, and Andy smiles.
In that moment she knows that Miranda believes her-believes the Andy loves her and is capable, worthy and meant solely for her. She believes that Andy was and always will be the missing piece to her life's puzzle.
The bedroom lights go out and they go to bed happy. Andy even dares to cuddle Miranda who willingly allows it.
3:15 a.m.
Master Bedroom
Whoever's trying to pry away the fluffy pillow she's cuddling into is gonna have a bloody end if they don't stop soon. She tugs at the pillow again and draws it in further, the pillow resists. The pillow resists? Andy is ready to put a stop to this dumb assery because she has a pounding headache and she needs her sleep. She needs to buy mittens for the baby in the morning—flying bibs and liquid watery balloons-and then she suffers a major blow to her stomach.
'Stop crushing me, wake up! . !' Andy open's her eyes to dizzyingly bright sunlight—? She can't seem to open her eyes because someone is hammering her head.
'Andrea, Andre-aaah' a grave groan ' ' .Hicks.' Miranda says through clenched teeth.
Andy has some weird recollection about Hicks—some economist, eyes still closed. She wonders why Miranda is talking economists in bed.
'Andrea, I'm going to the hospital, my water just broke. I think I'm having the baby.' Her voice almost choking over the last word.
And then and then Andy wakes up with the speed of light, thoroughly and completely and throws the covers away before getting up and starting work on autopilot mode.
The only thing that her mind kept repeating the moment she registered what was happening was: It's too early. Keep them safe. It's too early. Keep them safe. It's too early...
Yeah, so tell me? Does this qualify for a long update? Next up, dinner with the Sachs' and Priestly's, hope Chris can work his magic! So I'd say 5-6 more chapters and an epilogue and then this'll be done! And I'm not kidding, inspiration strikes whenever I see even a single new comment!