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AN: The saying goes – write what you know. I have had two babies, so I do know a thing or two about being pregnant and giving birth. Still, every pregnancy is different, especially one involving a partially Kryptonian baby! LOL! That said, I'd like to warn anyone who might be sensitive to reading about babies that I tried to make this realistic without crossing the "gross" line. What that means is that you won't have to sift through text about potentially gross labor moments, but that not everything goes as planned. I hate to "spoil" anything for my readers, but I didn't want anyone to read this who may have had some complications and feel I was being insensitive to their feelings. Having written one other birth situation similar to this and been accused of not placing a warning at the start, I didn't want to make that same mistake here. I went though two very scary deliveries, myself, with one child ending up in the NICU for a few days, so I certainly can understand the need for a warning. (Both of my kids are perfectly healthy now!) If you've read my other stories in this AU, you know that Eric is just fine, but angst sells fan fiction and can't be avoided. But I give you the warning just in case.

Thanks to htbthomas and mithah for all their help in everything. You guys are my personal cheerleaders. And to van-el for keeping me taped into the mind of a man dealing with a pregnant wife. I may know what it is to be pregnant, but I've never experienced from the flip side!

Age 24 – Generations

Forty weeks is a long time to wait for something to happen. It seems like such a very long time – as if you have plenty of time to plan for the event and make sure everything is ready and that you yourself are ready. But when it's a baby that you are waiting for, it's not nearly enough time. There is never enough time to get ready for a major change like having a baby. No matter how nicely the nursery is decorated or how many blankets you have or how well stocked your supply of diapers is, you will always want more time. No advice, no book, no amount of thinking through the possibilities of the future can prepare you for the sensation of holding your own child in your hands.

However, what forty weeks does do for you is make you appreciate how normal your wife was before she was pregnant. Kate always had quirks that I thought were slightly ridiculous. Don't we all? But I loved her, and those quirks came with her. But those quirks are nothing compared to the total lack of sanity that accompanies a pregnancy.

I should have realized right from the start that this was how it was going to go. Given her bizarre behavior surrounding just the fact that she was pregnant and how reluctant she had been to admit the fact should have been a sign to me. But I kept hoping that whatever odd behavior she was participating in would soon pass. Sometimes it did…and sometimes it didn't.

For one thing, there was the whole food obsession. Foods she had once enjoyed were now totally off limits, while other foods she had always hated were craved desperately. I brought home her favorite chicken salad one night as a surprise only to have her dart to the bathroom and throw up. Yet a few nights later she called me before I came home and insisted that I bring her some olives. Olives, of all things! She ate the whole jar in one sitting, which in turn made me want to get sick.

She claimed it was the salt that she craved, for she had also started frying up bacon to eat at every meal, but I knew better. There was no salt in candied apples, and yet she ate those like they were going out of style!. I guess it was the time of year. Every other vendor along the street was offering candied apples in the fall, and Kate happily bought her fair share, stating that she needed to try one from a new vendor every day.

I put up with it never saying a word, for I knew there wasn't anything she could say that would help me understand. I would never really understand, and for that I was thankful. However, I have to admit that my behavior wasn't completely sane either. The closer my tour drew near, the more nervous I became over having to leave her. If I had a dime for every time Kate glared at me and said, "We will be fine," I'd be a wealthy man indeed. She wasn't seeing it from my point of view and it was starting to anger me, so much so that I actually broke down one day and tried to put it in terms that she would understand.

It was one week before I was to leave and we were again fighting about the fact that I was worried and how unnecessary she felt it was when I laid it out for her. "Kate," I said with my hands on my hips, "are you aware that we have four fire extinguishers in the apartment? Four! We have less than a thousand square feet of space. And if a fire did happen, I could probably blow it out! Yet my worrying is unnecessary."

It had been the wrong thing to say. Her sharp gasp and gaping expression told me as much. Still, the point had been made. She was angry at me for a few hours after that. In fact, it wasn't until we were getting ready for bed that she let me apologize.

"I shouldn't have said it like that," I offered. "But I needed for you to try to understand where my worry comes from."

"I know where it comes from," she sighed. "And I know that my fear of fire is no different from your abandonment issues."

I frowned, not liking hearing it stated in such a way.

"So, I can accept your concern and I promise to stop telling you not to worry. Okay? But you're still going on your tour," she insisted.

I wrapped my arms around her and said, "I'll make a deal with you. I'll stop talking about how much I don't want to go if you get rid of one of the fire extinguishers."

She thought about it a moment and then agreed.

However, there were still four extinguishers in the apartment when I left for England, and my fear of leaving her only grew in intensity. The moment we checked into our hotel in London, I called her to see how she was doing. I called her every day, sometimes twice a day, and at all random hours of the day. I didn't get much sleep, and I know she didn't either, for several of my calls came in the middle of the night for her.

I relaxed a little for the five days she joined me in Paris. She looked slightly different with a slight roundness to her tummy, but no one that saw her assumed she was pregnant. It was wonderful to have her with me in such a romantic city, but it didn't last long. The whole time she was there I kept dreading the day she would leave again to return home. When she did leave, I went with her to the airport and simply held her for a long time right there in the middle of the entrance to the concourse. We'd only been apart for less than two weeks, and facing nearly another four weeks before I saw her again was torture.

When the tour was over, the orchestra was scheduled to attend a reception in our honor. The plan was to give us one more day in Venice to see the sights as well as celebrate in the evening. I couldn't stand the wait. The extra day was pointless, in my opinion. So I told the Maestro that I was needed at home and then called in a favor from a certain family member. Given the time difference as well as the fact that Clark was so much faster than an airplane, I arrived home two days early.

It was night and Kate was curled up on her side in bed, asleep. She looked beautiful with her hair all splayed out across the pillow. I quietly slipped out of my sweater and jeans and climbed under the covers, gently sliding my hand around her as I drew her near. Kate screamed and bolted up and out of my reach.

"Kate! It's me!" I said, trying to calm her down.

Her wild eyes stared at me in the darkness. "Jason? What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

She groaned and collapsed against me, holding on to me tightly. "I wasn't expecting you until Sunday!"

"I know. I couldn't wait. I had to come home."

"How?"

"Clark," I said simply.

"I'm glad. I missed you."

"I missed you."

And then we were kissing. I wasn't sure which set of lips made the first move, but it didn't matter. Our mouths met and the world went away. Her heart was racing in her chest, as was mine. I pulled her against me, needing to feel her body flush against mine. But there was a complication - a bump that hadn't been so obvious the last time I had seen her. I pulled away from her to marvel at the swell of her abdomen.

"What do you think?" she asked, nervously biting at her bottom lip.

"I think… I think this is amazing," I said honestly.

"Not too fat?"

"You're not fat. You're pregnant." I stated for what would be the first of many times. "And you're beautiful." I kissed her. "And I want to make love to you."

She chuckled. "Don't I even get a 'Hello, darling. I'm home from Europe'?"

"Hello, darling," I mumbled against her mouth. "I'm home from Europe. Now, I'd like to make love to you." I broke away as a sudden thought popped into my mind. "Unless… we can't or we shouldn't," I said, touching her belly carefully.

She laughed full out at me now. "We can… and we should!"

That night had felt so normal, in spite of the fact that her body was now shaped differently. Everything else had been so normal and familiar that I had hoped this meant the majority of her unusual behavior had passed with her first trimester. To my disappointment, it hadn't. The oddities had, in fact, increased, starting with the unending debate of how large she was getting and if I still found her attractive. Of course I was still attracted to her, but no amount of persuasion seemed to do the trick unless we made love. I didn't have any complaints about that, though.

I did, however, have complaints about her inability to remember anything that I said to her. Her short-term memory seemed to be completely malfunctioning unless the information specifically concerned the baby. She could remember each and every detail she had read or that had spoken by the doctor, but she couldn't remember that I had said I would be late on Thursday night or that her regular ten o'clock appointment for Friday had been canceled. She even said, "I feel like I'm losing my mind!" I agreed with her one hundred percent, but I didn't dare say it out loud.

But Kate's main oddity started shortly after her second ultrasound. Seeing the baby so clearly was something I myself hadn't been prepared for, so I could only imagine how amazed Kate must have felt. After all, she had been feeling the baby move for a few weeks. Putting an actual face, no matter how blurry the image, to the life inside of her left us both a little speechless. But it was the announcement that the baby was a boy that caused all the commotion.

Personally, I was thrilled. I wasn't quite sure of myself around babies. Knowing that we were having a boy eased some of my worries. I would have been happy with a girl, but I wasn't going to lie about it and say that I didn't feel more comfortable with a boy. The appropriate thing would have been to say, "I just want a healthy baby," which was true. But honestly, from the start I was hoping for a boy simply because I thought it would be an easier adjustment.

As happy as Kate was about it, it sent her into what I soon dubbed the name game. It would have happened with a girl, too, so at least I knew her craziness wasn't brought on by having a boy rather than a girl. A baby girl would need a name just as much as a boy, but right now it was only boy names that she was interested in. For the next four months – what turned out to be the rest of her pregnancy – right up until the baby was born – Kate played her name game with me.

"How about Joshua?" she asked.

"That's nice," I replied.

"No, too biblical," she countered. "Which rules out Michael, Luke, Matthew, Paul, Peter—"

"I'm not naming my son Peter," I demanded. Having a father named Richard had taught me a few things about what not to name a child.

Or she would ask, "How about Albert?"

"It's okay."

"No," she said, once again disagreeing with herself. "He'd be called Al and I don't really like the sound of Al White."

I didn't either, so I didn't argue.

"What about Lionel?"

"Sounds fine to me."

"No, Lex Luthor's father was named Lionel."

Well, we obviously couldn't have that.

"How about Elliott?"

"Elliott's good."

"No, it makes me think of that kid in E.T."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Extra Terrestrial?"

"Oh." She had a point.

After a few weeks of this, I started suggesting my own. "How about Fred?"

"Too Flintstone-y."

"Harry?"

"As in Potter?"

"Bob?"

"Too simple."

"Olaf?"

"Be serious."

How could anyone be serious with her finding fault with every name suggested – even the ones she suggested on her own? It went on like this for months.

"Tobias?"

"Sure, if we call him Toby."

"No, I don't like Toby."

Then she suggested, "Alastar?"

"Fine." I wasn't sold on the name, but by that point I was ready to agree to anything to get her to stop. I had no such luck.

"No, too formal."

I did have a few I disagreed with though. "Darius?"

"No, it makes me think of someone's rear end."

"Hayden?"

"Do you want him to be a target for bullies?"

"Bailey?"

"It sounds like a dog's name."

"Sean?"

I didn't have any problem with Sean. To my ultimate surprise, Kate didn't have any problem with it either. And so for nearly an entire week the baby was going to be named Sean. That was until we got a birth announcement in the mail from one of Kate's friends stating that she had named her baby Sean. Kate couldn't name our baby the same thing that her friend named her baby, of course. And so the name game agonizingly continued.

On top of all this, I had to deal with a wife with swollen feet who would send me out first thing in the morning for pizza. Every time she would promise me it would be the last time, and then she would send me out the next morning for Lo Mein. I spent my birthday shopping for baby furniture. She promised me it would be fun and that she needed my opinion, but once you've seen half a dozen cribs, they all look the same. Ultimately, we got a crib that was made of dark wood that Kate liked.

I didn't get much sleep at night because Kate was constantly cold and used me as her personal warming device. She said it was because the baby craved sunlight, and at night, when the sun was down, the baby needed extra warmth. I couldn't much argue with that, so I would oblige her and hold her all night long. And then, of course, there were the false labor pains that only seemed to happen at night. She would jump up and I would immediately bolt awake, at which point she would make me feel how hard her tummy was until it cleared and stopped and she could fall back asleep. As time passed, those startling moments grew in frequency and my ability to fall back asleep lessened.

"Eric," she said out of the blue one morning.

"Who?"

"Eric. Eric White."

I tested the name for myself and found that I liked it. She patted her stomach and repeated the name. "I think he likes it," she said.

I waited a whole week for her to find fault with the name before taking my mother's suggestion and getting a rattle engraved. Mom told me that it would be a wonderful gift and that Kate would love me for it. Dad had given her a Tiffany's rattle just before I was born. She showed me a picture of myself as a baby holding this oversized silver toy in my chubby hand. I couldn't remember the thing, but seeing how sentimental Mom was getting over the photo I figured an engraved rattle was something Kate would find charming. To my delight, she did, and I was kissed quite soundly for my thoughtfulness.

The last bit of craziness came at the very end of the pregnancy. Kate had been consumed with fear that the baby would be born early and had been very careful not to do anything too strenuous that might bring on premature labor. That was up until she made it to her due date. Once we were home free and the doctor said that the baby could be born any time now, Kate was almost like a workaholic. All the hesitation and worry she had placed on making sure the baby wouldn't arrive early was channeled into her growing frustration over why the baby was so late! I wanted to tell her to make up her mind, but I knew that would only get me in trouble, so I held my tongue.

Then, late one night in mid-April, it happened. She went to bed before me complaining of being too tired to hold her eyes open. I joined her a short while later only to find that she was still awake. She said she was restless and tense and needed to move, which she did. She must have crawled in and out of the bed half a dozen times before she admitted to me that she really felt weird.

"Describe weird," I pressed.

"Uncomfortable."

That wasn't anything new. She'd been uncomfortable for months. "How do you mean?"

"I mean that I feel pressure. Here," she indicated the lower section of her round belly.

"Pressure – as in a contraction?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know if you're having contractions?"

"Not really. It could be, but I don't know."

I growled at her. "Kate, either it's a contraction or it's not. How can you not know?"

"Because I've never had a baby before, Mr. Smarty Pants! I don't know what it feels like. All I've felt so far are false labor pains."

It was a valid point. "Do these feel worse? I mean, wouldn't real labor feel worse than false labor?"

"I don't know. It doesn't really hurt, it just feels… different."

She wasn't being very helpful, but what could I do about it. Truth was, there wasn't anything either of us could do but wait to see what happened. So we waited, and she paced, and I fidgeted. We both tried to sleep, and I was nearly there when I felt her grab my arm and heard her wince in pain.

"Okay, that officially hurt," she declared somewhat nonchalantly.

"So, this is it?"

"I think so."

The nervous energy I felt flood my body sent my heart racing. I hopped out of the bed and started gathering up the things Kate had set aside to take to the hospital.

"Wait!" she called to me. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take you to the hospital." Wasn't that obvious?

"Not yet. We should wait a while."

"Wait?" I said, slightly horrified. "You're having a baby!"

"It's going to take a while. I should stay here until the contractions get a little stronger."

"But you need to see a doctor," I argued.

"They will want to give me drugs and I don't want that. It's safer if I stay here."

I sat down on the bed next to her, anxiety pulsing through my veins. "Kate, I don't know what I'm doing."

"That makes two of us."

"You should be at the hospital."

"Not yet."

My head fell forward. "This isn't safe. What if something goes wrong?"

"Trust me on this, Jason." She squeezed my hand and smiled at me. There was a sense of calm and peace in her eyes that I couldn't ignore.

"Okay. We can wait. But not too long."

Not too long turned into four hours. Kate's ability to calmly breathe through a contraction was gone along with my ability to wait another minute. Ignoring her continual protests that if she saw the doctor too soon he would give her drugs, I carried her to the car and drove her to the hospital. Once she was checked in and given a room, I started to feel much better. They hooked her up to all sorts of monitors that would keep track of the baby's heart rate as well as Kate's contractions. I had been listening to both of their hearts for hours now, and it was a relief that I didn't have to rely on my own senses to determine if there was any danger.

"You're about six centimeters dilated," the doctor announced in an obnoxiously happy voice.

Kate, on the other hand, looked miserable. "Only six? You've got to be kidding?"

The doctor smiled. "This is your first baby. It can take a while. We can give you something that would help speed things up, if you'd like."

"NO!" we said in unison, getting an odd look from not only the doctor, but also the two nurses in the room.

"I don't want any drugs," Kate insisted.

"Okay," the doctor said with a shrug. "Just know that if you want some pain relief, we have options that won't hurt the baby."

"I don't want any drugs," Kate repeated.

The next several hours were some of the longest of my life. As Kate's pain increased, so did my own apprehension and fear. What if it was too much for her? Was it normal for it to hurt that much? It seemed to me that it was taking much longer than it should. And there was nothing I could do to make things better. All I could do was sit and hold Kate's hand and listen to her cry and gasp and groan. I hated it, and I doubted that Kate liked it any better than I did.

My mom and dad showed up at around eight in the morning, followed shortly afterwards by Kate's parents. Clark had told me a while back that when the time came, he would be close, but that he wouldn't be in the hospital with us. He felt his presence would make mom uncomfortable, and he didn't want to add stress. So, I knew that he wouldn't be arriving until after the baby was born. Each of our parents offered a smile and told us that everything Kate was going through was normal. Kate's dad tried to convince her to get an epidural, but she wouldn't listen to him.

"Can't you talk some sense into her, Jason?" he pleaded with me.

"I'm sorry. I agree with her on this one," I forced myself to say to him. The truth was, I agreed with him. She'd been in pain now for so long that I, too, wanted her to take the medicine and get some relief. Yet I couldn't bring myself to say that to her. She'd come so far, and I knew that if she saw any sign of retreat from me that it would anger her and potentially make things worse.

So, I stayed by her side through the whole thing, literally and figuratively. When the time came for her to push, she grabbed my hand and squeezed so hard that her fingernails actually left a mark. I was impressed by her strength as well as worried by how much pain her body must be in to garner that kind of ability.

"You're almost there, Mrs. White," the doctor said. "Just a few more pushes and this baby will be born!"

Every ounce of Kate's strength was focused on those last few pushes. I could see the determination in her face. I could feel it though the vice-like grip she had on my hand. Every inch of her body was tense as she used all her energy to bring our baby into the world.

I could do nothing but stare in wonder as the tiny miracle that was our son came into view. I had thought that I would find the experience too graphic to watch, but in reality, I couldn't pull my eyes away from him. He was so tiny and his limbs looked awkward as he made his first movements. His head was covered in dark, curly hair that was matted to his crown. His skin was pink and healthy looking. He was perfect, and my heart nearly burst from the indescribable emotion I felt.

They laid him on Kate's stomach and started to clean him off. A repeating, amazed sigh of "Oh my gosh – oh my gosh," fell from her lips as she made her own appraisal of the infant. At a loss for words, I only reached out to hesitantly touch him and validate the reality of the moment.

And then everything changed. The mood in the room suddenly shifted as the nurse picked up the baby and whisked him over to the examination table that had been brought a short while ago. The other nurses in the room crowded around him so that he was blocked from our sight.

"What is it?" Kate said, taking my hand.

The hushed voices of the nurses sliced through me like a knife.

"He's not crying."

"He needs air."

"He should be breathing."

"Call the NICU."

"Jason?" Kate's panicked voice drew my attention. "Why isn't he crying?"

My own breath hitched as I said, "He isn't breathing."

"What? What?" she said hysterically.

"Let's get a respirator," one nurse said.

"And we need to start and IV," another said.

Every fiber of my being told me to move and to move fast. Without any explanation to anyone in the room, I darted to the window and threw open the curtains. "Get him into the sunlight!" I ordered.

The nurse looked at me as if I was insane, but I repeated my demand. "NOW!" I barked.

When they didn't move, I pushed them aside and pulled the table the few inches necessary to place the baby directly into the path of the sunlight pouring into the room.

"MR. WHITE!" the doctor shouted at me, but I ignored him.

"Come on, little guy," I said softly to the infant. "Feel it."

To my utter relief, as well as everyone else in the room, the silence that had filled the space of a few seconds was shattered by the piercing wail of a baby. The doctor shoved me backwards and began examining the baby. I willingly let him, knowing that everything would be all right now. I didn't know how I knew it, but I did. Realizing how scared Kate must be, I took her hand and tried to calm her down.

It wasn't until she had Eric wrapped up in her arms that she allowed herself to relax at all. Tears fell quietly down her face and she cradled him and kissed his little face. "Is he okay?" she asked me, but it was the doctor who answered her.

"He seems perfectly fine now," he assured her. "Sometimes babies just need a little help getting started."

I kissed her hair and enjoyed the sight of her holding the baby. She was more beautiful than I had ever seen her, in spite of how tired I knew she must be. The baby in her arms wiggled and opened his eyes for the first time. Kate gasped and told me to come and see.

"Blue," she said tenderly.

"Most babies have blue eyes," the nurse said.

We shared a knowing glance between the two of us and then fixed our eyes once again on our son. The doctor gave Kate some instructions and the nurse told us she would be back in a little while to take the baby for his official checkup. And then we were left alone.

We sat in silence for a long while, neither one of us knowing what to say. There were no words to describe the moment. Was there any way to articulate a feeling so intense and personal as this? I didn't think so, which is why I opted to just look at him. I knew I had a goofy sort of grin on my face, but it couldn't be helped.

"It's a little overwhelming, isn't it?" Kate said in a hushed voice.

"That doesn't even begin to cover it," I replied.

"He looks like you," she observed.

She was right. He did look like me. But I thought there was something about his nose that reminded me of Kate. "He has your nose though."

"Nope," she said with a laugh. "That's all you, Jason. Those genes of yours are too strong."

"Honey," I groaned.

"Hey, I happen to think you are very handsome," she smiled. "I'm ecstatic that he looks like you."

I kissed her lips. "I love you." I kissed her again. "I can't even tell you how much I love you." And then I kissed the baby's tiny forehead. "I love you, too, little guy."

"Eric," Kate said.

"Eric," I repeated.

A soft rap on the door broke the moment. We looked to see the door crack open and my mother's face peek through. "Can we come in?"

Leave it to my ever-impatient mother to want to be the first one to see the baby. I stood up and was prepared to tell them to give us a few minutes, but Kate signaled them all to come in. One by one they each held the baby and fussed over him, as grandparents should. Every single one of them commented on how much the baby looked like me, which made me blush and feel a bit guilty for it.

My mom and Kate's stepmother also fussed over Kate. How was she feeling and what she should expect from here on out. Kate's father made mention of how much this moment would have meant to her real mother, which brought on a whole new set of tears. The comment drove home the fact that Clark wasn't there, and out of instinct my eyes met Dad's. I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was, only he seemed very angry about it.

After a short visit, I ushered everyone out of the room, insisting that Kate be allowed to get some rest. They all agreed with me and said their goodbyes, making promises to return tomorrow. While Mom chatted with Kate's parents about having them stay over for a few days, Dad pulled me to the side for a private conversation.

"So, where is he?"

I didn't need any help understanding who "he" was. "I don't know, but he said he'd come by when it wouldn't be uncomfortable for Mom."

Dad rolled his eyes. "That's ridiculous. The whole thing makes Lois uncomfortable and he knows it."

"What did you expect him to do?" I asked.

"I expected him to be here," he said harshly.

"And he will be," I said slowly.

Dad shook his head. "I don't know how you trust him, Jason."

Before I could respond, Mom pulled Dad over to her to tell him what had been arranged for the rest of the week.

I did trust Clark, but at the same time I understood Dad's own distrust of him. And even though I trusted him, I had begun to wonder where he was. I hadn't even caught a glimpse of him since the whole thing had started. I refused to believe that he would miss this, regardless of what else might have happened in the world today. Kate even asked if he had come by while she was asleep, so I knew that she, too, felt his absence.

It wasn't until late that evening while Kate was asleep when I stepped out to go get something to drink that I saw him. He was standing off to the side of the hallway, looking as if he were hiding from something. His face lit up in a smile when he saw me.

"What are you doing out here?" I asked as I approached him.

His smile faded. "I just came to see the baby."

"You'd have a better view if you came into the room."

"I didn't want to wake them up."

"It's fine. Kate told me to make sure you got to see the baby. She will understand."

He frowned. "I know she had a rough time."

His concern was genuine, and I couldn't scold him for it. "Kate's fine. She's doing great. So's the baby. We had a little scare at the start, but he's doing really great now."

"I know," he smiled again.

"So, why don't you come in and see them?"

He hesitated. "It just feels…" He shook his head. "I don't want to intrude."

My head fell backwards as I groaned. "You wouldn't be intruding. My God!" I kept my voice low, but intense as I looked at him directly. "Don't pull this on me today. I can't deal with it. Not today. How many times have I heard you say how much you regret that you weren't there when I was born? Well, this is your grandson and today is the day he was born. Now, are you going to go in and see him or stay out here and miss holding your grandson on the day he was born?"

He blinked, and then nodded. "You're right. I do want to see him."

"Good," I smiled, "because I'd be royally ticked off at you if you didn't."

I led him into the room, but he stopped just inside the door. We'd placed the hospital bassinette that Eric slept in over by the window. I went to him and gently picked him up.

"He's already responding to sunlight," I said, walking over to Clark. "We've kept him over there for most of the day now. The nurses think we're nuts." I stood in front of Clark and held the baby up slightly. "Clark Kent, meet Eric Jonathan White. Eric, this is your grandfather."

"Jonathan?" Clark said in surprise.

"Kate's grandpa was named Jonathan. When I told her your dad was Jonathan, too, we agreed that it would be a good name to use."

Clark looked down at the sleeping infant with wonder. "Oh, Jason. He's so beautiful."

I couldn't help but smile proudly. "You want to hold him?"

Clark reacted as if I'd asked him if pigs could fly. "I um… I um…"

I laughed. "Come on. Take him."

"I've never held a newborn baby before," he admitted.

"Me neither," I chuckled. "First time for everything, huh?"

Carefully, I placed the baby in Clark's arms, still finding it comical that he actually seemed afraid of the harmless infant. "He's so tiny!" he marveled. "It doesn't feel like he weighs anything."

"Eight pounds, ten ounces," Kate said, taking us both by surprise. "Twenty-two inches long. Trust me, he's big enough."

"I'm sorry if we woke you up," Clark said.

"Don't worry about it," Kate assured him. "I'm going to be waking up every few hours anyway to feed him."

The baby squirmed and Clark tensed up. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Nope," I said. "He heard Kate's voice. We've noticed that sunlight and Kate's voice seem to grab his attention."

Clark just stared down at Eric for a good long while, taking in all of his delicate features one by one. "He looks like you," he noted.

"I've heard that a lot today," I muttered.

"From all the pictures I've seen… I wish…" Clark let the sentence go unfinished. He looked up at me, and I understood what it was he was trying to say. Seeing Eric only confirmed for him how much he had missed when I was born. And now that I had experienced becoming a father for myself, I was keenly aware of just how much he regretted not being there when I was little. I couldn't imagine not having the chance to hold my little son, and I knew that the tears forming in Clark's eyes were not just for the joy he felt for Eric, but for the sadness he felt for me as well.

"He's perfect," Clark said, looking over at Kate, and then to me. "I'm so happy for you."

"Well, Kate did all the work," I said, trying to lighten the moment.

His eyes darted from Eric, over to Kate, then to me, and back to the baby. The smile on Clark's face brightened when Eric opened his eyes for a moment. "So amazing," he murmured.

He held Eric a few more minutes until the baby started to fuss and demand some dinner. Tenderly, Clark passed the baby to Kate. Eric instantly curled into her arms, as if he knew from touch alone that his mother was now holding him. I followed Clark out of the room to give Kate and Eric the privacy they needed.

We hadn't even taken five steps down the hall when Clark swirled around and pulled me to him. The movement was so fast it startled me. He held me tight against him, his fingers pressing into my back, his arms squeezing me as if he couldn't hold me close enough. He didn't move at all. He just stood there, still as stone, and held me. I could count on my hands the number of times he had hugged me, but never had it felt like this. Every other time, I had assumed he was doing it because I needed or wanted to be hugged. This time, I knew it was for him. He was a father who just needed to hold his son. For the first time, I clearly understood what that meant.

"I love you so much, Jason," he said.

"I love you, too, Dad." I repeated. It wasn't the first time I had said it to him. That had happened when I told him Kate was pregnant, but I hadn't said it since then. I was surprised at how easily the words came to me now.

He pulled away to smile down at me. "I'm so happy for you."

"Thanks. But no more of this 'I don't want to interfere' garbage, okay?"

"You got it." His smile brightened. "I should let you get back to your family."

"It's your family, too, you know."

He seemed taken aback by the comment, as if he'd never considered it that way. "Thank you, Jason."

"Oh no!" The sudden cry came from Kate.

"I better go see what's up," I said to him as I opened the door to Kate's room. "I'll call you when we're home, okay?" He nodded, and I went in to see what was bothering Kate. "What's wrong?" I asked her.

Her face was distraught. "We can't call him Eric!"

"What do you mean we can't call him Eric?" I whined.

"The Little Mermaid!"

"What about it?"

"Eric was her prince!"

I blinked in utter confusion at her. "So?"

"He'll be teased!"

She was serious about this. She was going to change his name solely on the fact that some fictional character shared his name. It was insanity – plain and simple insanity! And here I had hoped that the madness that had infected my wife would end once the baby was born. This was proof that my hopes had been dashed.

"Kate, who cares?" I laughed out loud at her. "You are never going to find a name with absolutely no connections whatsoever. I like the name Eric. We picked Eric. We told everyone that his name was Eric. I even got the damn rattle thingy engraved with Eric! His name is going to stay Eric!"

She sniffed and looked down at the baby. "Okay. If you say so."