Rifiuto: Non Mirena

Week Thirty-Three

"I'm done being pregnant! I want him out, and I want him out now!"

Both Tim and Sarah winced as Ziva slammed her mug on the counter. She took a deep breath, leaning against it, struggling to control her temper.

It's not Amal's fault, and it's not Tim's or yours. It's your hormones that are causing this, remember? And Tim... he's been wonderful, doing everything he can to fulfill your every wish... just take a deep breath and relax and help him focus on remembering. He's getting better- still not where you know he wants to be, but he is getting better.

"Ziva, sweetheart," She swallowed, feeling Tim rest a hand on her back when he reached her. "Take a deep breath and relax, okay?"

She snorted. "I would take a deep breath, Timothy, if I could! But thanks to your son," She turned to face her husband, laying her hands on her stomach. "This is making it hard for me to breathe!" She stopped, seeing the guilt in his eyes and sighed. "I... I'm sorry, ahuva. I just... I guess I'm just... frustrated. I'm tired of being pregnant and I want him out of me and in my arms..." She choked on a sob. "I don't mean to snap, I swear, I don't-"

"I know, sweetheart." She curled into his side, resting her head on his chest. He slid his arms around her waist, brushing a kiss to her head. "I'm just as anxious as you are to meet him."

Ziva sniffled, pulling away. "I don't what's wrong with me. For the last two days I've been snapping and crying and-"

"You're pregnant, Ziva. That's all." He replied, reaching up and gently brushing the tears off her cheeks. She pressed a firm kiss to his palm, before joining Sarah at the table.

"Look at it this way, Ziva. You only have seven weeks left, and then Amal will be here." She nodded at Sarah's declaration, accepting the fresh tea Tim set in front of her with a smile. Sarah had stopped by after breakfast that morning, intent on spending some time with her sister-in-law before the baby came. The two women had been chatting happily when the Israeli had gotten up, and promptly had her meltdown. "He hasn't dropped yet, has he?"

Ziva shook her head, rubbing her belly. "No."

"I think most babies tend to drop about now, but labor doesn't start for another few weeks. So he could have dropped."

The Israeli screwed up her mouth, making a face at her sister-in-law. "If he'd dropped, I'd be breathing easier. And need to use the bathroom more." Sarah chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"Well, when he does, then you can just focus on getting ready for him- and focus on each other. You know, date nights and shared baths and late night massages." Ziva blushed. "And if you ever need anything-"

"We will call." She replied, getting up as they saw Sarah out. "You'll be there for the birth right? Taking photos and... and video?" The younger woman grinned.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Ziva." She then kissed them both and left. After shutting the door behind her, Ziva turned to her husband, hands on her hips.

"You know, Sarit's right."

"About what?"

"About a bath. I could really use one. But only if you join me." He chuckled.

"Let me go start it."

Thirty minutes later, he looked up as Ziva came into the bathroom. She'd already removed the sweats she wore and was pulling the shirt she had on over her head. He shut the water off, checking it, a quick grin flashing across his face. Ziva looked up at him. "What? What is this look?" She asked, wagging her finger in his direction. Tim shook his head.

"Just... admiring the beautiful woman before me." His wife snorted.

"Beautiful? Seriously, Tim? I am big and growing bigger by the minute, I'm puffy, my feet and hands have swelled and I have this... bulge sticking out in front of me. The last thing I am is beautiful."

"You're pregnant, with our son. And that... that is beautiful." Ziva couldn't keep the small smile from tugging at her lips.

Once they'd settled in the bath, Ziva tucked against Tim's chest, she tugged on his hands, resting them on her belly. "He may be head down, but he's still very active." She winced as Amal kicked her, and they watched in silence as her stomach moved. "He is definitely going to be a track star." She hissed softly. "Oh, that hurt." A grunt escaped her throat as she laid her head back against his shoulder. "It's more painful now- when he kicks or punches against me. It hurts."

"It's because the skin is thinning over your stomach."

"So soon... soon we may be able to see his tiny feet and hands." She looked up at him, grinning. He chuckled softly.

"Maybe."

They soon fell into silence; Ziva watched as Tim's long slender fingers gently skimmed over the stretching skin. The baby kicked hard in response to his father's touch; for a good five minutes, he stretched and kicked and morphed his mother's already changing belly, putting on a show for his parents, and responding eagerly when they talked.

At one point, Ziva chuckled dryly. "He is going to be so much fun to push out of my body." Tim rolled his eyes, briefly stopping. "He really doesn't like it when you stop, Tim." The baby kicked hard again, and the agent chuckled, starting up again. Ziva sighed, relaxing at her husband's touch. "Do you like it when Daddy rubs my tummy, Amal? Hmm? Cause then you know that he's still here with us?" She looked up at her husband, her next words meant for him and him alone. "Daddy will always be here. He may not remember us, but he will always be here."