Rifiuto: Non Mirena

"It's ridiculous. It's... distorted and disgusting and..." She sighed, meeting Tim's gaze. "That's not normal, is it? For... for a pregnant woman to like having her belly rubbed. There's something drastically wrong with me, isn't there, Tim?"

He sighed, pressing the photograph down gently before sitting back and turning to his wife. He'd met Sarah for lunch, and then the two had gone to a small boutique that sold things for children; his sister insisted that she get a gift for her nephew, while Tim replied that her filming the birth would be gift enough for them. Ziva had told him about it on the way home from their appointment, that she wanted Sarah to film the birth and that the young woman had agreed. He'd told his sister that as it got closer to their son's birth, he was getting more desperate to grasp those memories that had never seemed to return- the ones of their marriage, their wedding, the days before the accident and the night of Amal's conception. And Sarah had informed him that those memories would return in time, if he just gave them a chance.

"Ziva... you're pregnant. The rubbing probably helps ease the itching you feel, and calms you down. As for your liking it..." He shrugged. "Hell know if I can explain it. That's what's going on in your brain, not mine, and you're isn't damaged."

She raised an eyebrow. "You are not damaged, Timothy. You have amnesia. There are certain things you can't remember due to the accident, but they're coming back." He hmm-ed softly as she reached over and caressed his cheek, her thumb moving over his cheekbone. "You just need to give it time, sweetheart. Don't push it. Your memories will return when they want to." She then kissed his cheek before leaning over to look at the updated page of Amal's book.

Thirty-two Weeks!

I have only eight weeks left in Ima's tummy!

"Soon we won't be recording this anymore. Soon we'll be recording how much he weighs and... his first steps and his first teeth and his first word-" She sighed, reaching down and rubbing her belly. "Soon he'll be in our arms and not my stomach." She bit her lip. "Tim, I... I'm scared."

He turned to her. "About what? You have nothing to be scared of-"

"Of the birth, but... I think more of the labor. I mean, is it going to hurt?" She looked down at her stomach. "I... I know it's going to hurt, but... but what happens during the contractions, and during the dilation and... and the crowning? What happens when he starts moving into my birth canal? Will I feel it? And how big is he? What if I have to have a c-section because I can't push him out, because I'm not big enough? I don't want a c-section, Tim. I want to have our son vaginally, naturally."

"Shh, hush, Ziva. You're working yourself up over nothing."

"It's not nothing, Tim, it's the birth of our baby!"

He rested a finger to her lips, before getting up and helping her to her feet. Once she was settled on the mattress, he turned the TV on and moved to the DVR. "I saw these advertised last night, and so I recorded them both this morning. They're...documentaries on what happens in the womb and... how a baby is born. I know it's probably way out of line, recording them," He joined her on the mattress, turning to her. "But I figured," He shrugged. "I don't know, that maybe it would help calm your nerves."

"You... you recorded them? For... for me?" He nodded.

"Anything I can do to help." She smiled softly, quickly covering her face as her hormones got the better of her.

"Oh, Tim..." She reached over, catching his mouth in a soft kiss. "Toda." Then, she shifted, moving to settle between his legs. He reached behind him, grabbing one of the pillows and placing it behind her before taking the throw Abby had given them and draping it over them before pressing play. The first documentary went into great detail about what exactly happened during conception and pregnancy, and how the mother's body responded to the stresses of everything from weight gain to frequent urination and labor pain.

But it was the second documentary, that mainly focused on the last two months of pregnancy, then the labor and birth, that caught Ziva's attention. She absentmindedly rubbed her belly, feeling Amal kick hard against her hand. She tilted her head back, looking up at him. "Timothy," He met her gaze. "would you please get control of your son? He's trying to break my ribs this time."

Tim chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her head before reaching down and gently stroking the sensitive skin of her belly. "Since is he my son?"

She turned to him. "Tim, that's not funny." He bit his lip, realizing he'd crossed a line, even though he'd meant it in jest, not in hurt. He knew Ziva's reaction was more due to the day he'd come out of the coma and been informed that he had a wife and son on the way.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I wasn't thinking." She met his gaze, seeing the guilt in his eyes, and gently reached up, thumbing his bottom lip.

"It's okay. I know you didn't mean to hurt me, it just..." She stopped when he nodded in understanding. Their lips met in a soft kiss, and she nudged her nose against his before settling back down. He returned to rubbing her belly, and Ziva sighed softly, as the kicking began to slow.

"He's completely relaxed now." She glanced up at him. "I think we both know who's going to be up at night rocking him to sleep after he's born." A soft grin tugged at her lips, and Tim rolled his eyes.