Rifiuto: Non Mirena

Week Twenty-Seven

She took a deep breath, studying herself in the mirror. No matter what way she looked at it, or how she tried to get the dress to lay, her belly still protruded, her belly button being the leash the led her stomach into the room before she herself entered. She sighed, quickly untying the wrap and dropping it to the bed. This was a bad idea.

When Jeanne had suggested they take a couple days to get away before the baby came, Ziva never imagined that Penny would call and suggest that they come up and spend some time with her and Sarah- who had gone up the week earlier- at her house on Cape Cod. But here she was, twenty-seven weeks pregnant, in a dark blue polka dotted halter bikini- Sarah had insisted, and she could always wear a wrap over it it she wasn't comfortable.

The thing was, Ziva wasn't particularly comfortable in anything at the moment, least of all her skin.

She sighed, resisting the urge to scratch. Thanks to her ever expanding middle, the skin over her belly was often dry. She grabbed the moisturizer out of her bag and gently rubbed it over her belly. A soft knock caused her to turn, as Tim slipped inside. "Hey, you ready?" He stopped in the doorway, gaze drinking her in. "You okay?"

"I don't... want to go. I don't want to go to the beach. Can't... can't we just stay in?"

"You're self-conscious? You? You are the most self-assured person I know, and yet you're self-conscious." He made his way towards her, slipping his arms around her and pulling her close.

"You would be too if you had a... bulging stomach with stretchmarks and-" But he silenced her with a soft kiss.

"We don't have to go if you don't want to."

She frowned softly. "But I want to go to the beach. It's been so long since we've been to the beach, and after Amal's born-" But he rested a finger against her lips.

"I think I have an idea."

Ziva settled back against her husband's chest, tilting her head back to look up at him. "Thank you for doing this for me, Tim." He grinned, meeting her gaze.

"Hey, we used to do this all the time, why should it be any different now that you're carrying our baby?" She pulled away, turning to look at him.

"You remember doing this?" He thought a moment, before nodding slowly, his teeth coming out to worry his lower lip. "Vaguely. They're... the memories are there, they just-" She reached up, resting a hand against his cheek.

"I understand, sweetheart. Toda."

"Al lo davar." She kissed him softly, before moving to relax against him. After Ziva's spiel about not wanting to be seen in public in a bathing suit, Tim had gone into the adjoining bathroom and run a warm bath before stepping in and helping her in after him. They'd then settled against the back of the tub, Ziva situated between her husband's legs, her back against his front. Ziva had been truly touched, realizing that, even though Tim didn't remember, he was doing something they often did in the evenings after a difficult case- only still in their bathing suits, so that the only person who would see her in her bikini was him, which made her feel better.

They had also attended their first Lamaze class the day before, and for some reason, it had freaked Ziva out to no end. Most likely because attending Lamaze meant that soon the baby would be ready to be born, which meant that soon he would be out in the world-

She sighed. "I don't know that I like Lamaze." He slid his arms around her, gently rubbing her belly. Ziva watched, before reaching down and squeezing his hand gently in encouragement. In so many ways, he was becoming the man she'd married again, even if he didn't realize it. Yes, he memory was still... broken, the amnesia still strong and prominent in every aspect of their lives at the moment, but there were times when the Tim she knew and loved and remembered shone through.

It was a work in progress, just like their son.

He looked down at her, furrowing a brow. "Why not? The whole purpose is to help you get used to the birth process, and to understand what's happening during childbirth so you don't-"

"Have a meltdown." She finished, and he chuckled.

"Yes." His wife wrinkled her nose, tilting her head back to look at him.

"You realize that I am going to have a meltdown when I go into labor whether I like it or not. Lamaze classes are not going to change that, nor are they going to help me deal with the fact that Amal is going to have to come out of me, and that I am the one who is going to be pushing him out. So it does not matter whether I take Lamaze classes or not, because it is going to be the same result: I am going to meltdown, our son is going to enter my birth canal, and I am going to be pushing a ten pound human being through a very, very small space between my legs."

"Our son is not ten pounds; most likely, he'll be about six, maybe seven at most when he's born."

She sighed, studying her nails. "Well I feel like I am carrying ten pounds. Actually, I feel like I'm carrying about twenty pounds, and they just keep growing."

Tim chuckled softly, brushing a kiss to her shoulder. "Well, I think that you look absolutely beautiful, and by the time you give birth, you'll be gorgeous." She turned to look at him.

"What did I do to get so lucky, hmm? How did I end up winning the husband lottery?"