Lying entranced
by your troubled life
within as without your arms
I am once again
Scholarly.
Studying a way
that is not mine.
Proof of evolution's
variegation.
You have a stack of books on the nightstand in your apartment so tall that it's about to tip over. You have a stack of books on the nightstand in his apartment that's getting ready to do the same. You know you are exceptionally good at certain things. You're aware of your scientific brilliance, your ability to write best-selling novels, and your skill as a lover. He has lauded your mind, read every word of your books, and has told you that making love with you has been the most astounding experience of his life. He encourages you constantly and he has for a long time.
Even so, you are unsure how to be a mother. You have conquered the fears of love and commitment, but motherhood can still unsettle you sometimes. The memories of your own mother are not always pleasant. In fact, there are many moments you don't even allow yourself to remember, moments you have buried because even the good times brought you pain with their absence.
You keep buying these books on childbirth and parenting because you want to know. You need to know what is going to happen to your body. You need to know how to prepare your mind. You need to know how to raise a child successfully. And so you read. You read on his sofa as he watches hockey on television and yells at the screen. You read on your own sofa as he does the same, finally convincing you with his famous charm smile that the father of your child deserved to read an early draft of your next novel. You read during your lunch break at work when he's too busy to eat with you. (He is not too busy, however, to call and remind you to actually take a lunch break.) You read in the bathtub at night and then read some more in bed before you go to sleep. You are trying to memorize every word because you need to know how to do this. You need to know how to become the mother that both you and he lost too soon, so you study.
When you feel overwhelmed, he knows, though you don't always tell him. He noticed your silence during dinner tonight. He commented on it as you cleaned up his kitchen together.
"You're quiet tonight, Bones. What's the matter?"
"Nothing, Booth. I am simply experiencing more fatigue than I am used to. I don't like it."
"You sure that's all it is? That you're tired?"
You're quiet for a moment. You know that once, you would have brushed away his concern and told him you were fine. He wouldn't have believed you, but he would have let it drop, knowing not to push you. But you have grown. You are braver now. You lost your imperviousness as soon as you walked through the door of his bedroom six months ago.
"I suppose it is more than fatigue, yes. I'm just unsure."
At this, his eyes grow and his mouth opens a bit. You recognize this as panic.
You rush to clarify.
"No, Booth, not about having this baby or the status of our relationship. I am just unsure sometimes that I will know how to be a good mother. I just don't want to fail our child. Even though I don't fully understand how this is possible, I already feel such love for this baby and I just don't know. . ."
Before you could finish, he steps toward you and embraces you, kissing your neck.
He whispers in your ear, "I know this is scary sometimes, but you will be such a good mom, Bones. I know you will. And that won't be because you studied; it'll be because you're you. Our baby is so lucky to have you for her mother."
He moves his hands up to cradle your face and you look into his eyes, nodding your acceptance of his words.
Her. You are having a daughter. The week after you found out your child's sex, a package arrived at Booth's apartment. He let you open it, saying it was the baby's first gift. Booth and Parker had ordered the baby a pink onesie with the Flyer's logo on the front. You felt no need to lecture the two Booths on the fact that pink is only considered a feminine color because society dictates that this is so. Instead, you laughed and hugged these two people who have become your family.
Remembering this moment, you silently remind yourself that you have a family now, a family you made yourself. You have studied evolution, but there was no way you could have studied or prepared for this kind. Your curiosity led you to study Booth, so you know by now there are things you can prepare for and other things for which you certainly cannot.
You used to wonder about his work as a sniper. And then one day you went to a funeral and afterward he told you about a time he died a little. You could recall Angela's words about touch, so you placed your hand on his arm. When he put his hand on top of yours, you were overwhelmed by a desire to heal his wounds, even though you weren't sure what they looked like, how many he kept hidden, or even how to heal your own.
You used to want to know about his girlfriends. You've had a lot of awkward moments in your life, but going to his apartment and seeing him standing there with his shirt open was one you remember so clearly. Things got worse when Tessa appeared, wearing so little. You remembered the black lace of her bra and bought one similar the next time you went shopping alone. You were unaware that it was the blond lawyer who influenced your purchase, but it didn't matter. The bra just stayed in your drawer with the tags left on it. You didn't want to wear it for a man who wasn't Booth, but by the time you figured this out there was a line.
You used to try to imagine Booth with Parker, before milkshakes and science projects and the two of them in your pool. You stood outside the diner once as Booth sat with a cocky teenage boy and tried to tell him what it really meant to be a father. When you decided you wanted a child, you only wanted Booth's. This is why the matter was dropped after a coma and a refusal on the steps of the Hoover.
You have studied Booth for years and now you know him better than you know anyone else in the world, even the dead and their bones.
But tonight you decide you don't want to be a scholar so you ignore your books. You choose to trust that since there is more than one kind of family, there is also more than one kind of mother.