Months six and seven

Week 21

I cannot stress enough just how lovely the Swan looks like this. Maybe it's just me... or the fact that her bosom's grown to proportions even I could not have fathomed. I cannot help myself and I am glad I have this log to relieve myself with; having no other male (who is neither a pirate nor the son or father of my wife) to talk to does complicate my existence a tad... I have a hard time keeping my gaze steady on hers with a bosom like that! I try not to judge myself too harshly over my desires... I am male, hot-blooded (quite) and still desperately in love with my wife, can I be blamed for a little lust? Images of her in the Enchanted Forest wearing that dress with a tight bodice make my blood boil, especially if I apply it to these days' context. Bleeding hell... And the Swan's not making it any easier on me. For some reason (the doctor told us it was something called "hormones", which I'm yet to learn about), she's sort of a wanton these days. We find a way to get it done without actually doing it, if you get the gist... but she surprises even me, and that's saying a lot.

Still, there's something awfully endearing about her entire state... Makes me want to be holding her all the time.

She complained about waking up in the middle of the night with terrible cramps on her left leg. It was a sleepless night for both of us; her, on one side, eating an apple salad and myself on the other, holding her ankle in my hook and keeping her aching leg up while I rubbed the strain away with my good hand. Hooks do come in handy, I suppose.

It is, of course, needless to say who it was that made the apple salad for her.

As for young Liam Jones, I am pleased to say he is now roughly the size of a carrot, is perfectly healthy as far as we know and seems to be an apt swashbuckler, much like his father. He should also turn out a handsome little lad, now with a mother as lovely as Emma Swan and well, a dashing, devilishly handsome man such as I. Emma claims he's probably a martial arts expert... he has given her a bit of a hard time. He also gets that from me: Can't stress enough how proud I am.

Week 24

I have to say I do love the technology of this realm! It's taking me a while to become used to it; I suppose my brain is still somewhat primitive in many ways. That's what Henry says, anyway. But he's one bloody hell of a teacher when it comes to this sort of rubbish. He was fairly keen on me showing him how to navigate... really navigate, using the stars, the sun and the wind. So he told me how to use a GPS. Bloody thing... I swear calculus is easier than that infernal gadget. But I got the gist. I can now walk through Storybrooke with some bloody machine telling me where to turn left or right to get to my own home. Splendid.

However, when it comes to our situation, I have to say that using what Emma called an iPod was a jolly great idea. She believes young Liam's hearing is developed enough, so she uses that little thing to play music. I can't understand how an entire orchestra can fit into that puny thing; I don't care how many times I'm told of this, the only way I can wrap my mind around this whole thing, is that only magic can achieve this... maybe technology is the word for magic in this realm.

I'm getting off track, my apologies.

Anyways, she plays this thing called Mozart. Pleasant enough, I suppose... Takes the little contraption and places it on her belly for the babe to listen to the mellowing music whenever the wee rascal's up to his paddling antics, in order to settle his exhilaration.

I'm usually the one to nod off first.

Week 26

Very well. This is suddenly becoming very real, now.

The little one's nearly a foot long. He seems to be doing fine; we had some very different kind of ultrasound this time, a far better quality one; they called it 4D. I have no words to describe this accurately, even on paper, so I'll take my time to do so to the best of my ability:

I had always thought of child birth as a spur of the moment thing, not quite the process I've been learning of as Swan and I began to experience it. Can't blame me for my ignorance, now, I am without fault if I was born in 1764 and in another realm, then, am I not? But I do learn keenly... and while I had never before imagined exactly how a babe would settle inside a mother's womb, well... seeing it with my own eyes has painted quite a colorful picture of that particularity. Liam blinks, suckles, yawns, licks his little chops, scratches his face, smiles... does everything a newborn would do, except... well, he's still unborn. There are no words in any language known to man that would sufficiently convey how terribly emotional that makes me feel upon looking at my unborn son. But it also instills a certain degree of uncertainty and disquietude... What sort of father can a man with a hook for a hand and a past as black as night be for such a wondrous little being of light? The son of Princess Emma Swan, daughter of Snow White and Charming, the savior... and Pirate Captain Hook?

Not two nights ago I broke down entirely. Only Emma was there, bless her soul, I don't think I had gotten as bad as that since my brother tragically passed. But much like I hold her when goes off her own bend, she held me. "You're a good man, Killian, you will be an excellent father", she said. I don't know if it was her voice, her touch, or the fact that she said "I love you" right after that. I know she does, but Swan's never been one to openly express and convey her feelings. I care not... words are words and I feel her love for me day in and day out. All the same, hearing it is always a nice thing

Won't deny I am flustered... But I know now that, as long as I am with her, I can do and be anything. Even a good man.

Footnote: Must go on another drunken binge with my mate Charming. Although I am quite sure that, given his status as father of two and my current state of affairs, we'd likely wind up drinking milk instead of Rum.

Week 28

At the doctor's again this week. Emma complained she was having a nasty cramp around her right hip. I had told her that given she carried a child almost the size of a watermelon might have something to do with it. The doctor said it was caused by her hip expanding. "Great, after he's born I'll have the body of a walrus." I chuckled... she didn't find it the least bit amusing so that day I had lunch by myself.

My Swan's getting terribly quirky: everything is starting to ache and she complained that her ankles were swollen. I keep telling her to sit still and keep her feet up as much as possible; gravidity, no matter in which realm, is a serious matter. But how does one keep Emma Swan still? Her back, her head, her feet, her breasts, her fingers! I kid you not, her bloody fingers ache! She puts them in hot water every night to relieve the pain. I swear it hurts me to see her hurting so. Still, there I am, rubbing, soothing, cooking, cleaning... I have become a bloody housewife! But given a choice to return to being the cutthroat fear of the seven seas and being with my love, I'd still choose this a thousand times over. This is home.

She did tell me that Henry had never quite given her such hardship during his gestation; but then, Henry was the son of Baelfire, a good lad in every sense of the word. I do hope Liam takes after his mother in that sense and that none of my discrepant traits rub off on him.