AN: This is the first of a two (probably three) part little story. It can certainly be read alone, but it's much better following "A Shower for Jessica."
As really should appear on many of these stories, and my apologies for forgetting sometimes, there's a trigger warning for discussion of infant/pregnancy loss.
I own nothing from Murder, She Wrote.
I hope you enjoy! If you do enjoy, please do let me know.
111
The weather was awful. The snowstorm had been called a storm, a blizzard, and even a white-out. The reports of the storm got worse as the day went on and the storm seemed to intensify.
The weather reports were full of something almost akin to hysteria. Jessica couldn't explain it, exactly, since none of the reporters were actually hysterical, but she could practically feel the energy through the television and the radio.
It made her whole-body tense and, when her body tensed, the contractions were sharper and more common than they seemed to be when she relaxed, so she'd come up to the nursery to do the tasks that she needed to do and to avoid focusing on the storm.
The contractions were false contractions. Dr. Wilder and Seth had both agreed on that, though they'd explained them to her in various ways. They were like training wheels for contractions—that was the first explanation she'd been given when, feeling the first one, she'd panicked that it was far too early for their baby girl to come. She'd been nearly beside herself, before Seth could get her calm enough to understand that the baby wasn't coming. She was simply in training.
And that was how Dr. Wilder had explained it. She was in training. Her body knew what it was supposed to do on a primal level. She was a woman, after all, and something deep inside of her knew exactly what she had to do to bring their daughter into the world. Still, like anyone and anything, before a big performance, her body needed a bit of practice. It needed to warm up for the event, just like she would have warmed up for any physically demanding activity. And bringing their daughter into the world, after all, was going to be one of the most demanding physical activities that she'd ever done.
Jessica really didn't mind the contractions all that much, though they were becoming more bothersome than before. They changed, she assumed, as her body moved closer and closer toward the actual event.
As of very recently, they were becoming much more demanding of her attention. They seemed to come more often and with a bit more "oomph" to them than they had once had.
As one hit her, Jessica stopped her work. She sat back—leaned back, actually—and ran her hand over her belly. She closed her eyes, drew in a breath, and focused on letting it out slowly and calmly. If she could control her breathing, she'd been told, it would make everything much easier. So far, she was finding that to be the case.
More than anything, though, she noticed that what made the contractions much less bothersome was closing her eyes, rubbing her belly, and actively focusing on the moment. Rather than accentuating any discomfort she was feeling, which she would have imagined would be the case with such a practice, she found that she could draw her attention away from the discomfort and more in the direction of something that served her a bit more.
The tightening she felt was her body preparing to move her daughter into the world. She focused on that. The pain that would surely come in much greater waves—and, she was certain, would be much greater than any she'd ever suffered before—was unpleasant, but necessary. This was her sacrifice to give her daughter a life all her own.
She must endure whatever was coming—because, even if she could imagine, she also found that she felt entirely unable to imagine—as one of her first great acts of love for her daughter. The first, perhaps, being that she had carried her thus far.
Of course, everyone had told Jessica how much she would hate pregnancy. They had told her how horrible their experiences were. They had spoken to her of misery and suffering—and an absolute desperation for it to end.
None of them, she was sure—not a single one—would have believed that she had treasured every second of her pregnancy. Even the unpleasant moments, she had treasured. Every moment and every experience was necessary. Each of them helped bring her daughter this far. Everything meant that she was growing—it meant that she was living.
Jessica blew out her breath as the pain passed. This one was sharper. It had lasted, she thought, a little longer than some of the others.
"You're really putting me through my paces, aren't you?" Jessica said with a laugh, rubbing circles around her belly. She pressed around and found her daughter's bottom—or, at least, what she thought was her daughter's bottom from Seth's frequent anatomy lessons as they lounged in the bed together and enjoyed playing with the baby as much as they really could.
Feeling her body relax again, Jessica changed her position once more. She was sitting on the floor—something that everyone told her she wouldn't be able to do, but which she did quite well. The getting up from the floor wasn't always the most graceful activity that she'd ever been involved in, but she and her daughter made do. She was an expert, by now, on what furniture would support her weight—thanks to the fact that Seth had bolted nearly everything into a stud for safety, he said—and she didn't mind crawling around the nursery to pull herself up.
Seth would come and get her up, of course, any time she asked him, but she preferred to do as much on her own as she could.
She wanted to prove to herself and, if she was being honest, to Seth, that she could handle nearly anything.
Seth didn't demand that of her, of course, and she knew that deep down, but she still felt some kind of need to prove it.
She was a hardheaded thing—as Seth would say. She didn't fight him on that fact.
Know thyself.
Changing her position again, Jessica went back to work on her self-assigned task. She was unfolding and refolding, rearranging, and reordering. She was sorting and creating baskets and boxes—items for this room, items for that room, items for the hospital bag.
The baby was due in a little over a week and a half. Jessica was sure that was why the contractions were becoming more pronounced and more common. The big event was on the proverbial horizon, and her body needed to get as much training in as it possibly could.
Seth said that it would probably be three weeks, and possibly even longer, before the baby actually came. Dr. Wilder seemed inclined to agree with him. Still, out of an abundance of caution, Seth said, they would go in a about a week and a half, and they would take a room in an inn that was not far from the hospital in Augusta. They would have something of a vacation, together, until the baby was ready to come. He thought they would get there too early, and they'd be there a while, but it was worth it to be prepared. Still, Seth and Dr. Wilder both reminded Jessica that babies tended to come late, especially when mother's bodies weren't yet prepared.
But Jessica's body certainly seemed to want to be prepared.
"Oh…" Jessica said, when she felt another of the contractions start after a little while of working peacefully at her task. She changed her position, slightly, again to give herself more room. Of course, she really had no more room than before, and the rational side of her knew that, but something irrational in her seemed to raise its head each time the tightening started. "OK…oh…here we go again…"
She closed her eyes and, once more, did her best to focus on the kinds of thoughts that just made everything seem better. Everything seemed necessary and tolerable, if she could make herself simply remember why everything was happening.
Soon, they would be bringing home their little girl. Soon, everything she'd folded and refolded, sorted and rearranged, and designated to baskets and boxes would be needed. Soon, she would enter the ranks of all the women before her who had given birth, and she would be a mother—not just in the way that Seth often tried to remind her that she was a mother.
Soon, they would place her daughter in her arms and, for the first time, Jessica would see her perfect little face. She would hear her cries, and she would soothe them—as her mother.
There would be pain bringing the little one into the world—Jessica had heard enough horror stories, at this point, to have kept her busy for months writing them all down—but it would be worth it when she held her. Jessica could sense that. It would all be worth it. There was nothing—nothing—that she could imagine, that couldn't be worth having her daughter in her arms.
There would be long nights. She'd heard about those. She'd go so long without sleeping that she'd feel as if she may not survive. She'd heard horror stories of delirium and sleep deprivation. Someone recounted that a relative or someone they knew had once gone entirely mad from so many sleepless nights with her newborn.
Jessica focused on the fact that those nights would be spent feeding her baby. They would be spent tending to her, changing diapers, bathing her. Those nights would be spent pacing the floor, rocking a little one who didn't want to give in to sleep.
Jessica had paced the floor a thousand times with nothing to keep her company in those dark, quiet hours except her grief. She could still recall—with a pain like razors and rubbing alcohol poured directly into her heart—the excruciatingly long walk from her bathroom to the backyard. She could recall the barely-there weight of the bundles in her arms—hardly any weight at all and, yet, so heavy that her arms and her heart could barely bear the load. She could recall holding a pillow over her own mouth and nose, so that she wouldn't wake Frank with cries she couldn't hold back any longer, because she would never hear her babies cry—she would only hear the soul-sucking silence of their absence.
Jessica knew that everyone told her that she was wrong, and that she would change her mind when she was the mother of a newborn, but she was certain that she would welcome sleepless nights dedicated to caring for their baby girl.
As the contraction passed, Jessica peeled off the top layer of what she was wearing—a cardigan that she'd fastened over a tunic—and half considered shrugging her way out of the stirrup pants she was wearing under the tunic. It suddenly felt a great deal warmer in the room, and she wondered if Seth was fooling with the heat inside, as a way to respond to the cold outside.
There was no need to go shedding all of her clothing. Soon, Seth would come to collect her. They would head to the airport to pick up Grady for Christmas. It was Christmas Eve, and Grady planned to be there in plenty of time for supper.
There was nothing left to be done in the nursery, Seth insisted, but Jessica still felt driven to be there. She felt driven to get things ready. Even though Seth couldn't see how much there was to be done, she simply felt there was more than she'd ever manage to get done.
She had to get things ready for the baby, and she constantly felt that one thing or another needed to be cleaned, straightened, or rearranged to make it better for the baby's arrival.
Seth couldn't see it, but he wasn't going to argue with her, either. She got annoyed with him when he made comments about her "going to play" in the nursery, but she didn't argue it too much. After all, Seth simply didn't understand, and she didn't have time to make him understand. She had too much to do.
"Jess…" Seth called, coming up the stairs. "Jess? Are you up here?"
"You didn't see me come down, Seth," Jessica called back.
The nursery door opened and Seth peeked his head in.
"You're in a surly mood," he commented.
Jessica realized, immediately, that she was in a bit of a less-than-pleasant mood. She felt it, even as she thought about it, in her facial muscles. She made an active effort to relax her face. She sighed.
"I'm sorry," she said.
Seth laughed quietly.
"It's nothing but a thing, Jess," Seth said. "You're expected to be a bit surly, every now and again. Are you stuck?"
She felt tension rise up in her again.
"No," she said. "I can get up whenever I please, Seth."
"Oh—well—excuse me for asking," Seth said, raising his eyebrows at her.
Jessica growled and then sighed.
"I'm sorry, Seth…but…it's just so hot in here. Did you change the thermostat?"
"Not since the last time you had a fit about it," Seth said.
"I didn't have a fit," Jessica responded.
"My apologies," Seth said. "Must have just looked like a fit from where I was standing. It was probably a rational conversation from your particular position."
Jessica closed her eyes and drew in a breath.
"It's hot in here," she said.
"It's not hot, Jess," Seth said.
"Seth, it's burning up!"
Seth laughed quietly.
"It's barely warmer than it is outside, and it's freezing outside, Jess."
"Did you come up here because you needed something?" Jess asked.
"Clearly, I didn't come for the pleasant conversation," Seth said.
He was amused. He was enjoying himself. He wasn't truly mad or irritated at all.
And, very irrationally, she knew, Jessica felt almost irritated enough to be able to chew nails, as the saying went.
"Seth…"
"Now—don't go getting too upset," Seth said. "He's fine and everything's fine, but…I just talked to Grady."
Jessica felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She felt her throat tighten a little. She knew but, still, she needed to hear it.
"He's not coming," she said.
"He's grounded," Seth said. "His flight never even took off."
"Thank goodness, if the weather's that bad," Jessica said, knowing it was true, even if she felt like her heart was breaking.
"It's for the best," Seth said. "When all this clears, they'll give him a ticket."
"He'll miss Christmas," Jessica said.
Seth frowned and nodded.
"He missed Thanksgiving," Jessica said, not that Seth wasn't fully aware of that.
"I'm sorry, Jess," Seth said, sincerely.
Suddenly, Jessica didn't feel surly at all. She felt very much like she wished that Seth was holding her in his arms. His expression changed, and she wondered if, somehow, he knew what she was thinking. Of course, she knew that he couldn't possibly really know, but sometimes she felt that he could.
"Come on, Woman," Seth said. "Let's go get some tea or…something she might like. It's not the end of the world. Grady'll be here as soon as the weather clears."
"Christmas always just seems a little—I don't know, Seth—empty?"
"You had your heart set on it," he said. "But we'll have our own wonderful Christmas, you'll see. And, then, we'll have another Christmas when he gets here. I promise. It's not the lack of Christmas, Jess. It's the promise of two Christmases."
She smiled.
"You always do make me feel better, Seth," Jessica said.
When the next squeezing pain hit her, it hit her with a force that she wasn't expecting and surprised her. Jessica called out before she was able to stop herself, and she changed her position to allow herself the "space" that she kept feeling that she was searching for when the pains hit.
"What's the matter, Jessica?" Seth asked, loudly and a little sharply.
Unfortunately, he kept asking her that, and he was making it very hard for her to close her eyes, breathe the way she'd gotten used to breathing, and focus on the thoughts that she'd come to depend on.
She half-growled at him as the pain finally subsided, after it seemed like he'd repeated his question a thousand times and had come to his knees to hover over her on the floor.
"Could you back up, please, Seth?" Jessica asked. "I just—need a little more air."
"Jess…what's going on? Talk to me."
"Nothing," Jessica said.
"Excuse me, Woman, but that didn't look like nothing to me."
"It's just the practice," Jessica said.
"Practice?"
"You know—the—the practice contractions, Seth. The warm-up or whatever."
She tried to read his expression. There was something there—something that wasn't quite calm—but she couldn't read exactly what it was. Of course, Seth had a great deal of practice at obscuring his expressions until he was ready to say what was on his mind.
"Uh huh—and—uh—how long has this practice been going on?" Seth asked.
"You know, Seth," Jessica said. "Since—you first told me that it was practice."
"Right," Seth said. He reached a hand over and probed at Jessica's belly. She resisted the unexpected urge to push him off. She was still tense. She could feel it throughout her body. She reminded herself that she liked Seth's touch, and she willed herself to relax. His probing, though, felt a bit more like a doctor's touch than the tender gesture of a husband. "Jess—the practice…it's always the same?"
"No," Jessica said. "It's been changing as we get closer."
"Today?" Seth asked.
Jessica felt something inside her chest seem to tighten and twist.
"Yes," she said. "Today—I've been…a little tense. Thinking about Grady, I guess, and…they've been…"
"Stronger?" Seth interrupted.
"And sharper," she breathed out.
"Jess—the practice contractions shouldn't hurt," Seth said. "Not really. They may be uncomfortable, yes, and every woman's pain tolerance is different, but…yours is quite high, and it has been for all the time that I've known you. At most, they'd be a bit of a nuisance to you. That was a little more of a nuisance, am I right?"
"Seth…" Jessica said, feeling the blood almost feel like it was running out of her face.
"Are they getting closer together, Jess? More common?"
She barely nodded.
"Seth…"
He put on a smile that she could recognize was a bit forced, but she still welcomed it.
"Don't you go getting worked up, Jess," Seth said. "All of this is perfectly normal and natural. Happens every day. Come on—you think I can help you get up, or are you hell bent on doing it yourself?"
Jessica nodded and reached for him, and Seth helped her up. He practically wrestled her to her feet, but she knew it was still a smoother job than she would have done, on her own, at the moment. As soon as she was on her feet, though, another of the pains hit her—this one was sharp and she reached for him, only to find that he was already holding her.
"Steady," he said. He laughed nervously. "I've got you. I'm right here, and I've got you."
"Seth…" Jessica breathed out.
When he felt she was steady enough to not need to hold onto him so much, he pushed her away from him enough to rub her cheek.
"It's OK, Jessica," he said. "We're going to have an exciting Christmas after all. That's all."
"We have to leave for the hospital," Jessica said.
"We're not making it anywhere," Seth said. He laughed nervously again. "The best-case scenario would be that she came in the car. The worst-case would be we all died in a ditch somewhere, because we ran off the road. We're snowed-in, Jess."
"That means…"
"We're about to have our baby girl right here, the old-fashioned way," Seth said. "The good news is, her old man's done this a time or two."
Jessica felt a wave of relief. She'd known that, of course, but some part of her had panicked and pushed it out of her mind. Hearing it brought it back to her. She felt herself relax a bit more.
"Are you OK with that?" She asked.
She wasn't sure that she entirely believed his smile, but she was completely thankful that he chose to offer it to her.
"She didn't give me a chance to say otherwise," Seth teased. He pressed a kiss to Jessica's forehead. "Hardheaded, like her mama. It's all going to be fine. Look around here, really quickly. What's your favorite little blanket and…and something for her to wear."
Jessica gestured to what she'd put in the pile for her bag. Seth retrieved it. He put it in her hands.
"There, now," he said. "You hold onto that. You've been pretty visual throughout this whole pregnancy. You might appreciate having it close-by, just to look at from time to time. Some women do. Now—come on. I'm going to…change the sheets on the bed, put that liner on that I brought home, just in case, and get you settled. Then, I'm going to wash up and get ready."
"What do I do?" Jessica asked.
Seth laughed and started to guide her out of the room.
"You just hang tight and get ready, Woman. You'll be plenty busy, soon enough."
