Title: The Pregnancy of Margaret Houlihan
Chapter: 4
Note: So, I am well-versed in the medical/surgical world, but you'll have to excuse any historical inaccuracy, as I know very little about medicine in the 1950's. This is the last full chapter, but there will be a short epilogue to tie this thing together. Enjoy!
It had been four hot, long, casualty-free days. Already having spent the morning hitting golf balls from the helipad and the afternoon drinking gin and playing a rousing game of tackle-chess, BJ had rounded up a group to play poker after dinner. As they assembled in the Officer's Club, Hawkeye tossed a deck of cards toward Father Mulkahy, who was still doing his absolute best to avoid direct eye contact. Hawkeye guessed that he considered both himself and Margaret spiritual lost causes, which for his part was fine. Still, he wished the priest would say something to break the ice. And, speaking of Margaret, he thought… where was she?
"Anyone seen Major Houlihan?" he asked.
Nurse Abel set a tray-full of lukewarm beer down on the center of the table. "I knocked on her door and she said not to come in because she has some kind of stomach flu."
Hawkeye and BJ exchanged a look.
"I'll say a prayer for a speedy recovery," Father Mulkahy said as he dealt the cards.
"Hopefully it's just a 24-hour bug," Nurse Abel added. "She's leaving for Tokyo to see Donald in the morning."
Colonel Potter pulled a pocketknife out and started opening the beer bottles. "She's looked sick for a few days already. I'm sure some R & R will do her a world of good."
Hawkeye took a swig of beer, set it back down, and stood. "I'm gonna go check on her."
"Better not get the rest of my unit sick, Captain," Potter said.
"I don't think you have anything to worry about, Sir," he replied as he left the table. When out of earshot, he added, "I doubt she's contagious."
He crossed the compound and stopped at Margaret's door, knocking lightly.
"Come in at your own risk," came her voice.
"I think I'll take my chances," Hawkeye said as he pulled open the door.
Inside, Margaret sat at the boudoir with a bucket in her lap and a full glass of water sitting on the table in front of her.
"Hi," he said. "You look terrible."
In response, she threw up into the bucket, shoulders shaking.
Hawkeye crouched down next to her and pulled her hair back as she vomited again. He touched her forehead, which felt moist and warm under his fingertips. "How long has this been going on?" he asked, handing her the glass of water.
She took it, drank a sip, and immediately threw up again.
He held her hair until she was done and then set her emesis-filled bucket down on the floor. Turning her chair toward him, he pulled her bottom eyelids down one at a time and examined her mucous membranes. She seemed to sway a little in the chair.
"We need to get some fluid into you." He held her wrist and counted her heart rate.
She waved her hand in the air in dismissal and stood up, "I just need to sleep."
He caught her before she fell. "Your mucous membranes are dry, your pulse is fast, and you feel feverish. This is called dehydration, Margaret." He wrapped her arm around his neck and directed her toward the door, opening it with his hip. "Either you let me fix this now, or I'll wait until you're unconscious and drag you to post-op by your cute little feet."
"You think my feet are cute?"
"They're definitely cuter than my feet."
The two moved slowly toward the surgical tent, Margaret leaning heavily on Hawkeye. When they got to the doors, she stumbled momentarily and he easily lifted her off her feet and carried her into post-op. Setting her gently down on the nearest bed, he started gathering supplies from the cabinets. "Where do you nurses keep the saline?" he asked, looking through the bins.
"There's Lactated Ringers in the warmer," she answered in a small voice.
He flipped the door open and grabbed a glass bottle, "That'll work." Sitting down in a chair next to Margaret's bed, he wrapped a tourniquet around her arm and pressed his fingers lightly into her skin, searching for a vein.
"Do you need me to get one of nurses to start that for you, Doctor?" she asked with a weak smile.
He rolled his eyes, "Gimme a break, starting an IV is like riding a bike. This, I can do. It's all the other stuff I'm not so sure about."
She winced as the needle punctured her skin. "What other stuff?"
"Raising a kid, for starters." He made eye contact with her briefly before turning to hang the glass bottle on the pole. Flicking it gently, it started to flow. "There you go; you'll be good as new before seeing Donald tomorrow. I added some promethazine for the nausea, but it'll make you sleepy."
She exhaled and leaned back against the pillow. "Thanks. I'll need to be in tip-top shape to have that conversation."
"What are you going to tell him?"
She shook her head. "I don't know yet."
Hawkeye grabbed a pillow off a nearby bed and settled into the chair, shifting uncomfortably.
"Hawk, you don't have to stay here. I'll be fine."
"What kind of doctor would I be if I left a patient in post-op alone?" He moved the chair closer to the bed and propped his feet up on the edge. "Besides, I have to switch that bottle over and hang a new one in twenty minutes."
"I am completely capable of doing that myself, Captain."
"Hush, Margaret," he said, closing his eyes, "I'm trying to sleep."
A few minutes went by before either spoke again.
"Hawkeye?"
"Yeah?" he replied without opening his eyes.
"I… I thought about that thing we talked about a few weeks ago."
He opened his eyes and looked at her, "And?"
"I think I'd like to go to Crabapple Cove. If your dad will have me." She rolled onto her side to face him.
He grinned, "I'll clear it with him as soon as Radar can get him on the phone." He pulled the blanket further up, covering her shoulders.
"And Hawkeye?"
"Yeah?"
"I think you'll be a fine father."
He chuckled. "Well, we'll see about that."
She nodded and closed her eyes again. It wasn't long before her breathing was even and she was lightly snoring. A few minutes later, Hawkeye stood and grabbed the second bottle of fluid, easily switching it out and settling back into the chair.
This is how BJ found them a few hours later. Margaret, asleep in a hospital bed, Hawkeye nestled awkwardly in the chair next to her. BJ shook him lightly.
He rubbed his eyes and glanced at Margaret, still sleeping.
"You want me to sit with her for a while?" BJ asked.
He shook his head, "What time is it?"
"Zero-one hundred hours."
"Who won?"
"Mulkahy."
"Figures." He lifted the blanket carefully off Margaret, searching for her wrist. Finding it, he counted her pulse for a few seconds. "Heart rate is better," he squinted at her face in the dim light, "Mucous membranes are moist again."
"Dehydration?"
He nodded, "She's been sick for a couple days. Grab me a gauze pad and I'll pull this IV out."
BJ leaned over and grabbed gauze and tape from a nearby drawer. "Peg was pretty sick for a few weeks when she was pregnant with Erin. I think she lost about fifteen pounds during her first trimester."
Margaret didn't even flinch as Hawkeye pulled the catheter out of her arm and taped a small piece of gauze in place.
"Hopefully this will be the end of it," he said. "I'm gonna carry her back to bed. It'll probably be much more comfortable than post-op." He wrapped the blanket tighter around her sleeping form and lifted her out of the bed before adding, "And fewer questions."
"When are you gonna tell Colonel Potter?" BJ moved a rolling tray out of Hawkeye's way as he walked.
Margaret stirred slightly and laid her head on his shoulder, "After she gets back from Tokyo." He shifted her weight and crossed the room toward the door. "It'll be weird not having her around to yell at me anymore."
BJ held the door open and both men exited the tent into the night. "I hope her family takes it easy on her."
"She's going to Crabapple Cove to stay with my dad," Hawkeye said.
"Oh really?"
"Don't give me that look."
"You can't even see my look. It's pitch black out here!"
"I don't have to see your face to see your face." Hawkeye grunted as he stopped in front of Margaret's tent and let BJ open the door for them. "It's the obvious choice."
"What makes Crabapple Cove the obvious choice?" He pulled the covers down on Margaret's bed and stepped back to let Hawkeye lay her down.
"I won't be there to take care of her, but at least my dad can. It's his grandchild." He pulled the blankets back up and Margaret nestled down into the pillow without waking up. "Goodnight, sleeping beauty."
The two men exited Margaret's tent and made their way back toward The Swamp.
"I have to say, I'm impressed, Hawk. You've really stepped up."
"I am just as much to blame as she is for this mess," he said. "Maybe even more so. I could have stopped it at any point, but… my brain chose not to intervene."
"I hate it when that happens."
"BJ, your brain doesn't seem to have that same problem."
"Not here, at least."
Hawkeye chuckled. "Spoken like a true married gentleman." He clapped BJ on the back. "The least I can do is try to make this less difficult for her." Pushing the door open to their tent, he pulled his boots off and fell into bed. "Besides, there's nothing I can do to soften the blow from Lt. Colonel Penobscott."
"That's a battle she has to fight on her own."
Five days later…
"Open your mouth and say 'Haaaa-llelujah I'm alive,'" Hawkeye said, as he pushed a young soldier's tongue down with a tongue depressor and peered into his throat. "You're lucky the medics found you so quickly. A little more blood in your trachea and you'd be singing at the Pearly Gates."
"Captain Pierce!" Radar came bursting into Post-Op.
"Over here, Corporal." He waved with one arm and with the other he pressed the bell of his stethoscope to the marine's chest and listened.
"I got your-."
"Give me just a second, Radar," he shushed, "All I can hear of his upper lobes is your voice."
"Sorry, Sir, but I-."
"Clear as day," Hawkeye said, wrapping the stethoscope around his neck and securing the dressing on the man's chest. "Not this day because it's fairly cloudy, but any other day with sparkling clear-."
"Captain Pierce!" Radar shouted, "I finally got your dad on the telephone!"
Hawkeye stopped talking and jumped up, "Radar, why didn't you say that?"
"I tried to!"
"BJ!" he yelled across the room, "Take over for me, my dad's on the phone!" He walked briskly through the tent and pushed open the door, jogging toward the office.
Colonel Potter was signing a pile of supply requests for ICOR when he heard the outer door open. Figuring it was Radar returning, he neatly stacked the completed pages together and moved toward the door. If his clerk was busy, he would just leave the pile on the desk. When he looked through the window, however, he saw it was Hawkeye on the phone.
"Dad, it's so good to hear your voice," he was saying.
There was something in his Chief Surgeon's tone that made him pause briefly. He had a sneaking suspicion—probably related to his many years as a Colonel—that something had been going on the last few weeks. It wasn't that he chose to ignore it; he just figured that when his comrades were ready to talk about it, they would come to him.
"I have to ask you something. A big something, actually." Hawkeye said.
The Colonel briefly considered going back to his desk and out of hearing range, but was stopped by Hawkeye's sudden admission.
"I'm just going to say it, Dad. I'm thirty-years-old and this is the most difficult thing I've ever said out loud." He seemed to take a deep breath. "I got… one of the nurses pregnant and I'm hoping you'll let her come stay with you until I'm out."
Potter sucked in a breath. A momentary flash of anger waved through him and he moved closer to the door, ready to push it open and howl at his stupid, thoughtless Doctor… until he saw Hawkeye through the window. He was leaning back in the chair with his eyes closed, listening into the phone, looking quite miserable.
"Dad, I'm a doctor, but I don't think I need to explain how it…" He let out a breath. "I don't know yet. This is as far as we have gotten." He paused, listening. "I… it's a little more complicated than that. I can't marry her because… well… for starters, she's married to someone else."
Hawk pulled the phone back from his ear and Potter could hear the shouting from his place behind the door. A sudden realization dawned on him; Hawkeye and Major Houlihan's trip behind enemy lines ten weeks ago, Radar's damn rabbit, her sudden illness and trip to Tokyo….
"Thanks, dad." Hawkeye was running a hand through his hair. "You don't have to be done yelling at me, but I appreciate the help." He leaned forward onto Radar's desk. "Love you too." He hung up the phone and let out a long breath. After a minute, without turning, said, "You can come out now, but I think I've had enough stern 'talking-to's' for one day, Colonel."
He pushed open the door and walked through it. "Sorry for eavesdropping, son."
"Sorry for giving you such good material." He leaned back in the chair and turned to face his superior officer. "And sorry for not coming to you sooner. Telling you was going to be as hard as telling my dad. I'm kind of glad I killed two birds with one stone."
"How is Margaret doing?" he asked, moving toward Hawkeye and perching on the edge of the desk, arms folded.
"A little worse than me," he answered. "She's the one that wants to be here and because of me, her army career is over."
"It takes two to tango, so they say."
"So they do." Hawkeye slouched a little more and leaned his chin on his fist. He looked exhausted.
"What I don't understand is how this happened."
Hawkeye raised his eyebrows.
Potter waved a hand in the air and added, "Well I know how that happens, but how did it happen to two medical professionals?"
Just then, Radar poked his head into the office. "Sirs, Major Houlihan is back from Tokyo." He looked at Hawkeye, "I just… thought you might want to know."
"Bring her in here, Radar."
"Yes, Sir."
"Oh, this should be fun," Hawkeye said.
The Colonel unfolded his arms. "Might as well get it over with, Son," he said softly.
Moments later, Margaret appeared, trailing Radar. Seeing Colonel Potter and Hawkeye sitting at Radar's desk, she groaned.
"You guessed it. The jig is up," Hawkeye said with a faux grin.
Colonel Potter shoved off the desk and pushed open the door to his office, holding it for them. "Come on, you two. Have a seat." He walked around his desk and sat. Margaret and Hawkeye followed suit. "I guess I should start with 'congratulations.'"
"Thank you, Sir," she said, not looking up.
"When were you going to tell me, Major?"
"After I told Donald, Sir."
"Stop this 'Sir' stuff." He leaned forward, entwining his fingers and setting his hands on the desk. "How did it go with Lt. Colonel Penobscott?"
"As good as could be expected," she replied, briefly making eye contact with Colonel Potter. "I may have… left out a few things."
Hawkeye, for his part, was leaning forward on his elbows, not taking his eyes off Margaret.
"The pregnancy, I assume?"
"I decided he didn't need to know that part."
"Probably better that way," Colonel Potter said. "The last thing we need is for him to show up and retaliate. Not even Pierce deserves that." He put on his glasses and picked up a pen. "I'll have to start the dismissal paperwork. We sure are going to miss you."
She nodded, eyes glistening. Wiping them with her fingertips, she said, "The feeling is mutual, Sir."
"Make sure you let us know how everything goes. Send some pictures."
She nodded. "I will, Sir."
"I'm sure the two of you have a lot to talk about. Dismissed." He pulled a sheet of paper out as Margaret and Hawkeye stood.
Hawkeye held the door open for her and she exited through it, still wiping her eyes. As they stepped out into the darkness, neither said anything. They walked side-by-side through the compound wordlessly, slowing their steps as they neared Margaret's tent.
"Well," said Hawkeye quietly, "This is you. Goodnight, Margaret." He gave her a small smile and turned toward The Swamp.
Margaret pushed open the door, holding it for a second. "Hawkeye?"
"Yeah?" He turned to face her, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders to keep out the chill.
"Will you… stay with me tonight?"
"Margaret, what will people say?" He chuckled at her expression. "I guess that doesn't much matter now, does it?" Following her inside, Hawkeye took off his jacket and hung it on a crooked nail by the door. Sitting down lightly on the bed, he started undoing the laces on his boots.
She shrugged off her jacket and pulled out pajamas. "I'd ask you to turn around, but I guess that doesn't matter much either."
"If it matters to you, I'll turn around," he said, averting his eyes. He heard her rustling around as he pulled down the covers and situated himself in her bed.
A few seconds later, he heard her open and close a drawer. "You can look now." She brushed out her blonde hair and tied it into a knot at the top of her head.
Hawkeye held the blanket up as she got into bed next to him and stretched herself out, legs brushing his. Not really knowing what to do next, he laid his head down on his arm and covered both of them up. She switched off the light and fluffed the pillow.
Their bodies were pressed together in the small bed and he could see the rise and fall of her chest. Realizing suddenly that he was staring at her chest, he turned his face into her hair. This was another mistake, as her hair seemed to smell like flowers, rain, and the sea-salt air of Crabapple Cove. He exhaled loudly.
"Would you just relax?" she said dryly.
"I'm trying, Margaret, but your hair smells good enough to eat and I have a difficult enough time keeping myself together when we're not pressed together."
She snorted. "Goodnight, Hawkeye."
He smiled. "Goodnight, Margaret."
Six weeks later…
Margaret knocked lightly on the door of The Swamp. She tugged at her jacket, now noticeably tight around the middle and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear nervously.
"It's open," came Hawkeye's voice.
She walked through the door to find Hawkeye and BJ playing a game of chess. They both looked up and smiled.
"Hey, you all packed?" Hawkeye asked.
"Peg and Erin are all set to meet you at the airport."
"I'm excited to spend a little time with them before flying to Maine," she said, leaning against the support beam.
"Peg is excited to meet you," BJ said, moving his Queen and taking one of Hawkeye's rooks. "Hey, is that a Pinard?"
She held up the wooden, horn-shaped object and nodded. "Nurse Abel brought it back for me from Tokyo." She turned toward Hawkeye. "I thought maybe you'd like to… listen to the baby's heartbeat before I leave?"
Hawkeye stood and took the pinard from Margaret's hand, examining it carefully. "I haven't seen one of these since medical school." Putting it to his lips and using it as a megaphone, he yelled, "Might as well give it a whirl."
Margaret rolled her eyes and sat down on his bed, leaning back against the pillow. After situating herself, she pulled her t-shirt up over her abdomen, which was now slightly rounded and obviously pregnant.
Hawkeye placed his palm gently on her belly. They made eye contact for a few seconds before he started to feel around with both hands, looking for the baby's back. After a few seconds of intense concentration, he placed the wide end of the instrument flush against her abdomen and the narrow end to his ear.
"I'll leave you two alone for a minute," BJ said. "See you in the Officer's Club in ten, Hawk."
Hawkeye nodded, still focusing on the task at hand. Margaret, for her part, tried to lie completely still.
A minute went by before Hawkeye whispered, "I hear it." He paused for a minute, listening intently. "I hear it! There's really something in there thumping happily away. I wonder if it even knows there's a war going on out here!"
Margaret smiled and ran a hand through his dark mop of hair, thumb stopping to massage his temple lightly.
He listened for another minute before straightening up and handing her the pinard. "You'll have to thank the nurses from me," he said.
She handed it back. "Keep it here. Maybe you'll get some use out of it if another stray pregnant woman comes along."
He nodded and set it down on the bedside table. Turning back toward her, he pushed himself up and sat on the edge, moving her legs over. "My dad is all ready to meet you at the airport in Maine. He already has a crib set up in my old room."
She smiled. "It's incredibly nice of him to let me stay."
"Don't let him take the Myrna Loy poster down, it's been on my wall since I was fifteen."
"That's just what a baby needs on his wall," she said with amusement.
"Or her wall."
"Or her wall."
They sat silently for a few seconds before Margaret pulled her t-shirt back down over her abdomen and sat up.
Hawkeye reached up and placed a hand on her cheek. "I guess this is goodbye for a while. You know, I am really terrible at goodbyes. I hate them. I hate that you're leaving and taking my baby with you. I hate that my dad is going to meet him before I do."
"Or her."
He nodded. "Or her."
She gave him a small smile. "You just concentrate on staying away from enemy fire and we'll figure everything else out when you get back."
He moved his hand to the back of her head and pulled her face closer, resting his forehead against hers. "I feel like this is the part where I should tell you that I love you and can't wait until I see you again."
She shook her head. "I've seen what happens to relationships during a war." Looking up at him, she offered a small smile. "Look at Trapper, Frank, and even Donald and I! Cheaters, every one."
"Are you worried about me, or you?" he asked, dropping his hand and meeting her eyes.
"Me… you… I'm being realistic. War gets lonely, Hawkeye. You know this just as well as I do."
"What about BJ, Colonel Potter, and Henry Blake," he said. "Successful, happy marriages, every one."
"And even they are tempted at times." She swung her legs around him and stood. "You're just going to have be okay with a 'maybe' at this point, Captain." She turned and took a step toward the door.
He stood and grabbed her wrist, stopping her abruptly. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him. "And you're just going to have to be okay with a goodbye kiss, Major." Placing a hand behind her head, he pressed their lips together. Her eyes fluttered closed and he felt her arms wrap lazily around his neck, body melting into his. A few seconds later, he pulled back and let her go.
"Well," she said, momentarily unsteady on her feet. "I never said that part didn't work."
"You just keep that in mind when you're in Crabapple Cove getting wooed by lonely, attractive young men… back from the war… looking for-."
Margaret rolled her eyes. "I will be a little too busy to worry about the men of Maine, Pierce."
He chuckled. "Thank goodness for small favors. Come on, Hot Lips," he said with a grin, throwing an arm around her. "I do believe we have a going-away party to attend."
The Officer's Club was decorated with the traditional medical supplies; packing gauze as crepe paper, one-piece infant outfits hung with Allis Clamps, and latex glove balloons. By 21:00, the punch had been spiked with gin and half the camp was dancing to music played by Father Mulkahy on the piano. By the time the jeep pulled up to take Margaret to Seoul, she had been thoroughly hugged and cried on by the entire unit. Misty eyed, they waved goodbye as the jeep pulled away from the 4077, under the sign that read "Best Care Anywhere."
Twenty weeks later…
"Hawkeye!"
Radar burst through the door to Post-op and looked around. The OR had been buzzing a few hours ago and now Recovery was in business. Doctors and nurses bustled from bed to bed, checking wounds and taking blood pressures. Across the room, Hawkeye was sitting at a patient's bedside, adjusting a large bandage wrapped around his leg.
"Hawkeye!" he called louder.
The Captain turned and, seeing Radar's expression, leapt off the bed. "Is it my dad?" he yelled back, crossing the room in a couple strides.
Radar nodded excitedly. "He's on the phone! All the way from Crabapple Cove! Says it's important."
BJ, sitting on a nearby bed listening to a sleeping man's heart rate, took his stethoscope out of his ears. "Did Margaret have the baby?" he asked.
Hawkeye pushed open the door and hurried out. "Could be, it's about that time!"
BJ shoved his stethoscope in the pocket of his lab coat and followed Hawkeye out of Post-Op, matching him stride for stride.
When they got to the office, Colonel Potter was already there, looking giddy. He held the phone out to Hawkeye, who took it without haste.
"Dad!" he said excitedly. Listening for a minute, he covered the mouthpiece and relayed the message, "Everything went great, every one is healthy… It's a boy?! It's a boy!" His eyes misted over and he choked back a happy sob as BJ thumped him on the back. "She delivered this morning at eight in the morning… my dad was on call and got to catch him!"
Hawkeye put a finger in his ear as everyone in the room talked animatedly and hugged one another.
"How is she doing? Can I talk to her?" He paused for a moment, before, "Margaret! It's so good to hear your voice!" His own voice sounded thick with emotion. "How are we doing? You're the one that just delivered a baby!" He 'uh-huh'ed' a few times before covering the mouth piece again, "She's tired, but doing great… looking forward to getting out of the hospital." He uncovered the speaker. "Did you decide on a name?" He was quiet for a moment, listening to the answer and nodding. "Benjamin Franklin Pierce." A single tear ran down his face and wiped it away with his sleeve. "No, no! Of course that's fine. I've never been so happy. I just wish I was there."
The men in the room exchanged knowing glances. Colonel Potter held out a cigar and Hawkeye plucked it out of his hand.
"Yeah, I miss you too. Tell Benny I can't wait to meet him. And don't grow too much without me!" He rolled the cigar between his thumb and forefinger. "Goodbye, Margaret." Hanging up the phone gently, he leaned backward against the desk. With a smile, he held the cigar up. "Well, everyone, I'm a dad!" Colonel Potter, BJ, and Radar encircled him, clapping him on the back and giving him long, heavy hugs.
As Hawkeye settled back and smoked his celebratory cigar, he felt overjoyed and completely terrified of what lay ahead.