Months four and five

Week 14

First interesting new development in our gravidity situation: I eat as much as she does. More so, actually. That odd old chap Mr. Hopper says it's called "mate's sympathy" and it's "perfectly normal". Perfectly normal, my bloody arse... I feel sick, I get dizzy spells and I really have started to notice my pants leave a mark around my waist these days, which means I'm ballooning as if I were the one carrying and not Emma. Not to mention the other day when I had a relentless desire to eat that cold creamy cloying substance called Ice Cream... Vanilla flavored. With strawberry syrup.

I am bloody pleased Blackbeard's no longer alive; I'd never, ever hear the end of this.

Emma's still a bit sick at times, but it's become far less damaging and I believe she's really starting to enjoy her condition. She smiles a lot; which is bloody wonderful. Her skin looks unblemished and her hair is shiny and bright and softer than usual, which is saying a lot. She's a glorious old creature, my wife...

While walking around town doing random errands two day's back, she suddenly stopped and gasped and smiled... again. She looked at me and reached out for my good hand. "Here, feel this!" she laughed aloud as she let my hand to her now very visible bulge... And I caught my breath when I felt the little one move. Like a thrust right into my hand. I won't deny I enjoyed the feeling. When it stopped we just held each other in contentment.

It's hard to believe we all come from the same source; when it happens to you, it's a completely different experience.

Week 16

Another one of them ultrasound sessions! This time I was far less emotional or at least I managed to keep the tears down to a minimum.

I barely managed, actually.

Swan and I had been making lists of possible names, both for a young lady as well as for a healthy young son. Either way, we'd be pleased and welcoming. As a name for little lass we truly loved Amelia or Beatrice; but after the ultrasound, we settled for Liam, my late brother's name. Apparently, amidst that sea of blotchy blacks and whites, the doctor could easily make out the gender of our child and had determined we are to birth a son.

It's soothing, spending afternoons in the quiet of our home, watching something on the television (I've truly become accustomed to that eerie old contraption), with me curled up on a couch, Emma curled up on me and Henry curled up on Emma. I normally take a swig or two from my flask and once I allowed Emma to have a sip, only to have Henry shout us both into kingdom come. Apparently, expectant women are not supposed to imbibe. All new to me, I had been witness to my share of fairly tough whisky-drinking babes as I was growing up, me being one of them, but still, if this is how things are done in this realm, then so be it.

Week 18

Henry, conniving little lad! Love him. Really do.

Emma and I had gone off for what she called a "Lamaze weekend" just off the edge of Storybrooke. Basically what it boiled down to was a weekend at an inn full of expectant ladies and their husbands being trained in the ways of labor. Odd; In the Enchanted forest, women curl up on a bed, push before a midwife and lo and behold, we have an infant. I don't know what additional circumstances surround the moment of birth in this realm, but this was not something I would have ever thought of. The other blokes seemed nice enough and I was a wee bit shocked to find myself enthralled in conversations that would have otherwise made my pirate's skin crawl; but being here now sort of made everyone equals, it seems. This is my reality now.

Bloody hell... if word of my activities gets out to Smee, the crew will rise in mutiny.

Upon returning, Henry had spiced up quite a pleasant surprise for us both. He, David and Mary Margaret had basically invaded our home and transformed our television room into a nursery. No problem there, the screen had been transferred to our chambers, so I was fine with that arrangement (did I mention I am addicted to that contraption and maybe to that thing Henry called X-Box?). Not to mention the three of them had actually revamped the place with such mastery and artistry it brought tears to Swan's eyes and a smile to my face. Whatever makes her happy makes me glad as well. There was a crib at the corner and it astounded me to think that not long from now I'd peer into it to see a young son look back at me from under the sheets.

I will not go into further detail regarding the décor or I will most certainly feel like an old wife.

Must be said as well: The babe kicks around like a sailor adrift in the sea. And Emma looks tremendous by now; really bulged... and beautiful. More so every day.

Footnote:

Must take a day off with David and get drunk. Maybe get in a fight? And perhaps take Grumpy the dwarf along for the melee; that will be fun.

Week 20

Finally made out a shape in that shagging ultrasound thing and it's rather nice to see the babe! Still can't make out who he will look like, though. Maybe the image will clear itself up later?

Emma cries over anything. When I say anything, I mean, anything.

I brought flowers... she cried.

I took Henry to school... she cried.

I picked him up... she cried.

We installed a fish tank at home... she cried.

I washed the dishes... she cried.

She remembered an old song by some musical group named Bon Jovi... she cried.

We watched a movie called Bambi... she was downright disconsolate for at least four hours. (I have to say the hunting death of the stag got me as well, but nothing like this).

Honestly, I would not have her any other way. Her melancholy is a marvelous excuse to embrace and console her, something I never grow weary of. Hmm, she might be using it as an excuse to feel me up and given the fact that from this point on there will be no lovemaking for the next six months, I'd better find ways to let out all sorts of carnal, libidinous desires without cheating or making it look like I am feeling lustful.

We get our final hot date this evening... I remind myself day in and day out just how much this will be worth the effort. I'd better, or her father will indeed make sure I wind up a pathetic old eunuch working the mines with the seven dwarfs.

Nothing I can't handle... I went back in time with the woman, I suppose a few months of deprivation won't kill me.

I suppose.