Rifiuto: Non Mirena

Week Thirty-Nine

She released a slow breath, before allowing Tim to help her down from the exam table. "Is there any particular reason why I haven't been dilating, Jeanne? Is that... normal?"

The doctor gave Ziva a small smile. "In first time mothers it's perfectly normal for there to be no change at first. You're at three percent effacement and you said that you've started feeling Braxton Hicks- more than in the previous weeks, which is good. You're in prodromal labor, which is basically preparing your cervix for birth." She reached over, gently lifting Ziva's chin. "Hey, don't get so discouraged. It's common for first time mothers to start prodromal labor days or even weeks before they actually go into full labor. And if they stop, don't fret, just go about your day and try not to focus on them. Okay?" Ziva nodded. "Spend some time with your husband and enjoy it, because before you know it, your little one will be here. Now go home and get some rest, and don't focus on the Braxton Hicks, okay? You hear me?"

"I hear you."

When they got home, she grabbed his wrist, tugging him upstairs. "Bath, now." Twenty minutes later, Ziva was settled between his legs, resting back against his chest, watching as he gently rubbed her belly. Amal kicked against his father's hands, and Tim sighed, pressing a kiss to her head.

"You heard Jeanne, sweetheart, you're in prodromal labor- that's good. You've been going through Braxton Hicks for the last couple weeks or so, that means your body's getting ready-"

"I know. I just-" She sighed, closing her eyes briefly as she laid her head against his chest. "I want to hold him and kiss him and..."

Tim sighed, reaching up and gently brushing a strand of hair off her forehead. "I know you do, honey, I do too. But look at it this way- Amal isn't ready to come out into the world yet. He wants to spend just a little more time in your womb, where he's safe and protected and loved. That's all. He just wants to spend a little more time in his Ima's belly- and he might be just as scared as you are about the birth."

She turned at her husband's whisper, raising an eyebrow. "I am not scared of giving birth, Timothy."

He mirrored her raised eyebrow, and she sighed, lowering her gaze to the scar on his chest. "Okay, I'm scared. But can you blame me?"

"No. You have every right to be."

Without a word, she reached up, caressing his cheek. "You wonderful man. What did I ever do to deserve you?" The kiss was soft, gentle-

She pulled away, hissing softly. "Ziva?" She held up a hand, taking a deep breath.

"Just Braxton. That's all."

"You're sure?" She nodded, giving him a tiny smile.

Once they got out of the tub and dressed, they returned downstairs, where Ziva settled on the makeshift bed, watching as Tim started a fire to ward off the chill in the house. She slipped into his arms as he joined her, resting her head on his chest. Tim's hands moved down to caress her belly, and she sighed. So Jeanne had told her that her labor was progressing slowly- but, at least she was in labor, prodromal though it was. Finally.

"What are you thinking about?" She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. A moment passed, before she bit her lip.

"Just... thinking about our little Amal. Who he's going to look like, what color his eyes are going to be... if he's going to be as rambunctious outside my womb as he is in-"

"Oh, that's definite." Tim replied, stroking his fingers over her belly slowly. The baby kicked, as if disagreeing with his father, and both Tim and Ziva laughed.

"He certainly seems to have a mind of his own, doesn't he, our son?"

"Just like his mother." Ziva grinned, meeting his gaze. Gently, he reached up, caressing her cheek. "I hope he's a spitfire, an absolute and complete spitfire, just like the woman I married."

"You would really want Amal to be just like me, Tim? Reacting exactly the same way I do to things and driving you completely and totally up the hall?" Her husband chuckled, reaching up and taking her face in his hands.

"Absolutely, in every way possible."

Ziva screwed up her mouth, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "Well that doesn't work at all, Timothy."

"Why not?"

"Because, ahuva, I want our little Amal to be like you. With that... beautiful logic you possess and that... thoughtful personality of yours. My Savta always said that... the water in the man you love, must calm the fire in yourself, and that... when the two combine... air is the result. The... perfect balance between fire and water... that any child created by fire and water will be born of air, and thereby be... be the perfect balance of both his parents." Tim smiled softly at her, pressing a kiss to each of her palms. "Silly David superstition, of course, but... but a part of me can't help wondering if that's true."

Her husband chuckled softly, nipping gently at her thumb. "We'll find out in a week."

She nodded, smiling softly. "Yes, we will." She whispered, leaning up and capturing his mouth in a soft kiss. He pulled back when she nipped gently, playfully, at his bottom lip. He chuckled, tugging her closer and kissing her lightly. The kiss soon turned deep, and she reached down, sliding her fingers through his as they rested on her stomach. When they finally broke the kiss, Ziva nudged her nose against his, meeting her husband's gaze. "If I wasn't thirty-weeks, I'd have you take me here and now."

He shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Give it a few weeks, sweetheart. We'll be back to making love before you know it."