Rifiuto: Non Mirena

Week Thirty-Eight

"Ziva, honey, you've cleaned every inch of this house, there's nothing more you can do." She sighed, turning to him.

"We just... I want everything ready for when he comes." Tim made his way to his wife, taking her in his arms.

"Everything is ready. There's nothing more we can do but enjoy these last two weeks together before he arrives."

"But-"

He rested a finger against her lips. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a shower. That might help relax you." She nodded, heading upstairs. An hour later, after she stepped out of the shower and pulled on a pair of underwear before settling on the bed with a book, Tim entered, the phone in hand. "Your mother's on the phone, wants to talk to you."

Once he was gone, Ziva settled the phone between her ear and shoulder. "Hi, Ima."

"How are you doing, sweetheart?"

Ziva sighed. I'm the size of a house, I'm pretty sure my feet and ankles have melded together, my joints are so loose I feel like a paper Halloween decoration held together with tacks, my breasts are nearly four times their normal size and leaking, I have to pee every five minutes, I may be dilating but haven't moved from two centimeters in a week, and I'm exhausted. How do you think I'm doing? "I'm fine."

She swallowed, hearing the familiar tone of her mother's voice. "Zivaleh." A sigh escaped her throat.

"I'm sick of being pregnant, Ima. I know, that's a horrible thing to think, let alone say, but I just want him out. I want him out and in my arms and... and my labor isn't starting... I mean, I'm dilating, sure, but I'm only two centimeters... I'm terrified of giving birth. I mean, how painful is it going to get and how big is he? He can't be that big, right, I mean, I wasn't that big, when I was born, was I? And you weren't that big when you were pregnant with me, were you? And Jeanne said that if I go into labor, it could take weeks because this is my first..."

"Ziva, ahuva, slow down. Okay? Take a deep breath and try to relax."

"I can't relax, Ima! I can't get comfortable enough to relax, because my son has taken over my body!" Rivka chuckled softly. "It's not funny, Ima!"

"Where's Timothy, ahuva?"

"He's downstairs, why?"

"Can you go get him?" Her daughter sighed, pushing herself up. By the time she got to the landing, Tim was coming out of the kitchen, a cup of coffee and a cup of tea in his hands.

"Something wrong?" Ziva shook her head, holding the phone away and covering the mouthpiece.

"Join me?" He chuckled softly.

Once they returned to the bedroom, Ziva settled back on the bed and put the phone on speaker. Tim joined her, pressing a kiss to her head. "Everything okay, Ima?" Rivka chuckled.

"Would you please try to get my daughter to calm down, Tim? I think she's having a panic attack."

Her husband raised an eyebrow. "For some reason that doesn't surprise me in the slightest." Ziva frowned, moving until she was sitting between his legs. She then tugged on his hands, relaxing when he began stroking her stomach. "Now, are you feeling at least a little calmer, sweetheart?" His wife nodded.

"Yes. It always calms me down when you rub my belly, and I think it calms Amal down too, even though it seems to rile him up more than anything." Tim chuckled, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

"I was the same way when I was pregnant with you, Zivaleh. The only thing that seemed to relax me was your father's touch. Right up until you were born." Ziva furrowed a brow.

"Ima, when was I born? I... I mean.. at what week?" Rivka was silent for a moment. She sighed.

"You were my first, Ziva. And a first-time mother usually goes into labor later. You were born at forty-one weeks. Which is the complete opposite of Talia, who was born at the end of forty-two weeks. She needed a little more time than you did. Which, really doesn't surprise me, since-"

"She's late for everything." Ziva finished, and Tim chuckled softly. "I swear, that girl's going to be late for her own funeral when she dies." She hissed as Amal kicked hard against his father's hand.

"My grandson still as rambunctious?"

"He never stopped, Ima." Ziva replied. "He gets really excited when both Tim and I rub my belly. It's like we're playing with him."

"Well, in a sense, you are. Or at least Amal sees it that way."

Her daughter sighed softly. "Ima, is it... strange that I like it when Tim rubs my stomach?"

"Strange?" She glanced over her shoulder; Tim rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut.

"I mean... is it... horrible that... that I've liked the feel of his hands on me during my pregnancy? I... I like it when he touches me. I... I feel loved, I guess. It could just be my hormones-"

"Zivaleh, pregnancy is... it heightens everything for a woman. And I mean everything. So the slightest touch can seem... exceedingly erotic during pregnancy." Rivka sighed. "No, it's not strange. It's part of the process if anything."

"Oh." Ziva swallowed. "You'll be down here, after Amal is born, right, Ima? You'll come down to visit? You and Abba and... and Tali and Malachi?"

"We wouldn't miss meeting our grandson for the world, Zivaleh."

"Now, do you feel better?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now spend some time with your husband and enjoy these last two weeks or so, okay?"

"Okay, Ima." Once Rivka hung up, Ziva turned back to her husband. "Tim, did I seem... scabber-brained during that phone call?" He stared at her for a few minutes, before,

"Scatter-brained?"

"Yes, scatter-brained." He opened his mouth and then closed it again, shaking his head.

"Not at all, sweetheart."

She smiled softly at him. Good choice, ahuva.