Traditionally, childbirth was considered to be a traumatic event. Many years ago, women would take months off after the event in order to rest and recuperate. However, all that really changed in 2280 with the first rudimentary dermal regenerator. Almost 100 years later, I'm still impressed with the technology. Not only is the regenerator able to practically erase minor scrapes, burns, and superficial cuts; it's also able to instantaneously speed the regeneration of the tissues and retighten the muscles in the vagina post delivery. I'm reminded to be thankful of this technology this morning as I open my eyes this morning and begin to move with a minimal of pain and discomfort.
My movement, however, is halted by a large figure holding me in this small bed. It's funny how he and I always assume the same position in sleep. We can fall asleep in one position, but every morning I consistently wake up cradled against his body. His right arm drapes possessively under my breast and his nose nestles in the crook of my neck. It's been this way since our first night together on the Enterprise.
I smile in contentment as I'm reminded of yesterday's events. I feel a rustling as my husband draws my body closer to his. I feel his warm breath on my neck, "good morning," I whisper as my lean my head back to kiss him.
"Indeed," I hear before his lips claim my own.
I pull away with a silly grin plastered on my face, "Let's get the kitten and go home."
/
"Beverly, who in devil's name constructed this nefarious contraption? OW!" he retracts his hand immediately in pain.
I can't help but laugh at the scene before me as Jean Luc struggles to strap Saoirse into the car seat. I tap his shoulder lightly, "here, let me try." You can't blame him; the car seat is an unknowable device to even to seasoned parents.
"I think this piece goes in between her legs…" There, that looks right. Okay now, do her arms go though these pieces? Yes. Let's try that. "And I think her arms go through this and fit together like that! Got it!"
He looks a little sheepish once I get my head out of the car.
"Maybe we should contact the inventor of the car seat; perhaps they could make some modifications to the shield harmonics to give us an advantage against the Borg. Honestly, Beverly, does a child's seat have to be so complicated?"
I'm laughing at his consternation over a simple apparatus, "Oh Jean Luc. At least now we know how the darn thing works!" I move in to kiss his cheek, "let's get home!"
/
I don't think I've ever seen Jean Luc so focused on anything in his life. I wish that I had a holo camera to capture the image of him on the drive home. His hands clutch at the wheel with such fervour that his knuckles are turning white. We're completely alone on the road in the early morning, but he keeps checking the rear view and side mirrors. And, I don't think I've ever seen him drive so slowly.
I don't want him to know that I'm laughing at him, but I think eventually he figures it out, "Beverly, I'm focused. You're distracting me."
"Jean Luc, we're alone on the road. I think you can relax."
He shakes his head, "we can never be too careful. It's her first ride in the car and I'm nervous and I just want to be on the safe side! "
I reach across and touch his cheek, "and I love you for it."
/
The wooden stairs creak slightly as we silently take our daughter up to her room. We finally got the room just the way we wanted it the week before the birth. Robert gave us the Picard family crib that had been in the family for 5 generations. I love that Jean Luc's family has so many heirlooms and traditions. My family never really had any traditions or heirlooms that were passed down. The only real 'heirloom' that Nana's kept is a candle encased in a rudimentary wrought iron holder. She always has the candle lit and something about it always makes me a little uneasy.
I must say that when I first saw the crib I was taken aback; it is rather grandiose. It's quite large and made of a dark hewn cherry wood. What I loved about it though are all the ornate and meticulous carvings on either headboard. If you look at it closely you'll be able to pick out the shapes of majestic storks, intricately depicted flowers, little mice and ducklings, and there are even figures from children's fables.
We chose to paint the walls a cream yellow. We had no idea if we were having a boy or a girl. I smile when I think about how convinced Jean Luc and I were that we were having a little boy. I don't think Jean Luc is disappointed, though. I know by the way he's cradling her that she's the apple of his eye. I can see him as a fiercely protective father. I shake my head; I wonder how many arguments and slammed doors that might bring in a few years.
No.
No, this house will never be one of conflict and disgruntled teenagers. Not if we both can help it. This house will be filled with happiness, patience, understanding, and most of all, love.
I look down as I we step further into the room, grinning in recognition at the paint splatter that we have yet to remove. Do you want to know how that got there? My husband surprised me in a moment of boyish banter by painting my arm. I don't think I've ever heard of someone who is 47 years old pull such a juvenile and boyish stunt. I was so shocked! He was laughing so hard though, telling me that was payback for the cruel way I woke him up to tell him about the kitten here. I couldn't help but be amused. I tried to get him back, but I was too big to move as quickly as the situation mandated, so I just flung my paintbrush at him. I'm still continually surprised that this convivial, loving, spontaneous man is the same person I met on the Enterprise 8 years ago. Yes, he's still Jean Luc Picard, but he's happy and buoyant - that I know for sure.
I look on at my wonderful husband as he gently puts our daughter in her crib. She's still sound asleep as we look down on her, still not believing that she's real.
"Come," I whisper, "let's get some rest."