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May 10th, 2015, 1:10 AM — Mother’s Day
“Ha, aoooowwwww!” Monica screamed, clutching John’s hand, falling back into his protective embrace as her contraction, the strongest one yet, finally ended.
“Shuuuuu, hey baby its okay. It’s okay …” John whispered, brushing her sweat soaked hair out of her face, her head resting on his shoulder.
John knew this space well: sitting behind her, holding her in his arms while she gave birth. Their third baby in, he knew all the places that hurt most, that she was at her breaking point… That they were nearing the end of this eight hour ordeal.
In contrast, Monica was delirious and desperate. A ball of pain and emotion, she shook uncontrollably and hadn’t heard what her doctor had said moments before, ’Just one more big push…’ She’d shut out the world, almost everything, save the pain she couldn’t block and her husband’s soothing drawl.
“Noooo …. I can’t do anymore…. Please…” She begged, letting only him hear her.
“I know yar tired … And it hurts real bad, but I promise yar almost done, baby. I can see a little head.” He couldn’t help but smile.
She whimpered, catching her breath, her eyes meeting the kind blue orbs of her beloved, his tender gaze giving her strength.
“John…”
“Yar okay, my sweetheart I got you. I’m here and I got you. Yar not in this alone.” He soothed, feeling his words were in vain, wishing he could simply take this on for her and do all the hard, painful parts.
She winced, feeling the next contraction come on suddenly and stronger than before.
“Okay Monica, just one more good, big push…” Her doctor prompted.
She nodded, and began pushing without much effort, her body knowing what to do.
“Aaaaaaaaoooowwwww!!!” She couldn’t help but scream.
Monica could barely process the next few seconds: piercing, blinding pain, suddenly starting to dull as the baby started to screech. Her head swam, everything a blur. Everything seeming to move both in slow motion and at rapid pace. She fell back into John’s arms fully, barely able to process her ordeal, hearing the words, ‘It’s a girl!’ As John brushed her forehead with a kiss.
Her heart quickened at the announcement, her frantic shaking continuing uncontrolled. She gulped, her gaze zeroing in, her mind shutting everything out. She found herself just staring, not hearing or seeing anything else as the screeching newborn was quickly placed on her chest. The baby calmed almost instantly as her little head made contact with her mother’s skin, the sound of her heartbeat soothing her little soul, making her feel as though she were right back where she belonged.
Mrs. Doggett stared down at her daughter, her eyes locking with tiny brown orbs that looked just like hers. The child blinked, fussing, but was eager to try and look back, something that made Monica’s heart start to break. The new mother paused a beat, something in her snapping, hesitating at the sight. At the connection. And she simply started to sob.
……
3:15 AM
“T-thank you.” Monica hesitated, unsure what to say as the nurse lay her newborn daughter in her arms.
Mrs. Doggett felt herself stiffen as the baby’s squishy little body met her resistant embrace. She gazed up awkwardly at the young nurse, forcing a smile, not wanting her to notice how off she must have seemed, or how reluctant she was to take this child in her embrace. Her feelings were complex and not this woman’s business, or anyone’s business for that matter.
It’d been two hours since the baby’s birth and they were just now being brought back from delivery to rest and recover. Like before, the newborn settled easily into her arms, the familiar sound of her heart and voice lulling the child into a deeply comforted state. Monica gulped, gazing down at the tiny girl as the nurse stepped out, leaving them alone, a mix of awe and trepidation overwhelming her.
‘A girl…’ Her heart marveled, barely bringing the thought to consciousness.
Monica’s heart, even her whole soul, seemed to skip a beat at this very thought, at the sight and feel of her baby. Becoming a mom had been overwhelming in the first place, her little boys being the only blood relatives she’d ever known. But something about having a girl… It’d hit different from the very moment the ultrasound revealed the joyous news, different in a way that scared her … That almost made her frantic.
She was scared.
So scared that part of her had even held out hope, all the way through delivery, that the doctor might have been wrong, that her baby might still be a boy, a fourth Doggett brother. But here she was instead: a tiny, perfect little girl. Monica couldn’t deny that she was perfect. A thing of dreams. Just… Not her dreams.
Mrs. Doggett sighed, disappointed. Mostly in herself. She’d thought she’d gotten over this: the mix of extreme feelings that’d started when she’d first been told she was having a little girl. One day she was elated, that’d been the gut reaction, something she tried hard to remind herself of. Without thinking about it, she’d been thrilled by the idea of having a baby girl. John had certainly been over the moon, having wanted a daughter for a long time.
But after a while, she’d not been able to deny that she felt very conflicted. She was mortified, and confused by that at first: she was a loving, dedicated mother. At least she thought so. But then she’d begun to think about her own mothers, and all became clear to her: Mama, the adoptive mother who’d broken her heart. And of course, her biological mom, who she’d not dared to name even in the recesses of her mind. Her identity and motives were a mystery, but Monica longed for her presence in a way she could not explain. Even now as a grown mother of three. And she couldn’t shake it.
Her history with both women gave her pause, leaving her to wonder how she could possibly have a healthy relationship with a daughter. How there could be a world where she didn’t hurt, or fail this baby. Monica understood the idea of generational patterns repeating. She saw it with her adoptive father and his father. With her husband and his sons… It was powerful, and real, and in her case a dark, sad road. The notion had left her intuitive side feeling tremendously panicked. How could she possibly keep from avoiding the patterns she had… let alone ones she knew nothing about?
It’d be hard enough with all the knowledge in the world but how was she to do it when she didn’t know who’s legacy this child carried? Who’s legacy she carried. It’d been easier with her boys in this way. While she’d left her imprint on their very being, they were John’s sons: they carried his essence and his legacy… An easier pill to swallow for a woman who was trying hard to just simply be a Doggett and nothing more.
But this baby, by her very presence, conjured up more painful questions. Ones Monica knew she’d not be able to avoid forever. Once she’d figured all this out, she’d done her best to try to move forward and try to psych herself up about her little girl. She’d prepared her boys for having a baby sister. She’d bought cute little clothes.
She’d picked out a name she loved…
Even following that, Monica found herself stuck in a vicious cycle: excitement, fear, determination, and so on and so on. Now, with the child in her arms, and no answers to speak of, fear crept in, and along with it tremendous sadness she could not reconcile or reason away, the child in her arms reminding her of her broken pieces and more than anything, the longing for the woman who was not there.
The baby blinked, gnawing on her fist, trying hard to stare up at her, just as she had moments after her birth. Monica would not allow herself to burst into tears again. She’d not known exactly why she’d done that when the baby’d been placed on her chest. It’d been awful and embarrassing and so heartbreaking. Agent Reyes felt tremendous guilt for her own feelings, for the fact that she didn’t feel she could emotionally bare the weight of mothering and loving this little girl.
But now it was done. She was here and there was no turning back. Or at least, there shouldn’t have been. The newborn sighed as she tried hard, her eyes still straining to catch a glimpse of her mommy. Monica’s heart swooned, all the way in the other direction at the sound of the baby’s breath, at this little one’s apparent interest in her, finding herself captivated.
‘She loves me… Without any hesitation.’ She realized, amazed. Humbled. Ashamed. Monica gulped, swallowing fresh tears.
“You have my eyes.” She whispered, marveling over this too.
The baby didn’t just ‘have her eyes’ the baby looked just like her, like her baby picture.… And Monica found it chilling. She studied the girl, tears welling in her own orbs, wondering who else’s eyes she shared. Who else she looked just like. Baby girl Doggett looked up at her, eyeing her calmly, her eyes finally adjusting more as Monica held her just a tad closer without thinking about it.
‘She knows your voice too.’ Something inside reminded. ‘Just like her brothers did… Just like you knew your mother’s…”
Monica choked, torn as she gazed down at the lovely little person she’d just brought into the world, unable to help but finally ask herself what’d been buried in her heart the entire time she’d carried this baby, ‘Was my mom torn over me?’
She’d always wondered what this night looked like for her own mother: the night they’d met and parted. She didn’t know anything about her or the circumstances. Not who she was, or where she was from, or if she (the baby) had been wanted or not… Even so, Monica’d thought of this very moment thousands of times… Of her mother holding her close, trying hard to envelop her in a lifetime of love before making an impossible choice… The only choice she had.
She’d never know, of course, if that imagining were true. If she’d had other choices, or if she’d met nothing to her mother at all. But deep in her soul, Monica could feel the woman who’d given her life, and had always been able to. That bond had not been broken. Somewhere out there some stranger loved her beyond imagining, and kept the image of her, the spitting image of this tiny newborn girl, written on her heart.
“I just… I don’t want to hurt you.” She whispered. “I’m so scared I’m going to break your heart too…” She finally admitted, confessing to the child who knew no different, and just gazed up at her best she could, like she was obsessed.
Monica choked barely allowing herself to consider the new thought that crossed her mind in that moment: ‘What if you missed her… What if you realized you were being given away? What if that’s why it all hurts so much?’
She knew that was a ridiculous notion, but in that moment the idea was too raw, too real not to consider.
‘She knows me… She’s fully conscious. And so connected already…’ She thought, knowing in her heart she’d been this way too.
The newborn blinked, looking up at her lovingly. ‘Would you willingly part with her now?’ Something inside questioned, pushing for an answer.
Monica choked, imagining her and her own mother in a bed just like this, in the same position, pondering this very same question. And with that, she began to cry again. She cradled the baby’s head, a single tear falling on her. She swept it away quickly, wondering briefly if her mother had cried on her, if she’d kissed her. If she’d held her at all.
Baby girl Doggett blinked up at her, her eyes growing heavy with sleep, unconcerned with her mother’s swinging pendulum of emotions. Monica leaned down, locking eyes with the child, unable to stand the idea of allowing herself to become cold with her, as her adoptive mother had become with her, or god forbid, parting with her as her natural mother had.
‘You were just a little baby. And so is she.’ A voice inside reminded, urging her. ‘It’s okay to open your heart… Just like John has with the boys…’
Monica held the baby closer, rocking her as she tried hard to calm herself down, as hormones started to do their job, bonding her irrevocably to this baby whether she liked it or not… Just as they had with her and her natural mother.
“No baby.” She whispered, promising the baby. “There’s no going back…”
The baby fussed, calming when Monica rocked her.
“Shuuu. Nothing’s your fault, baby. Mommy loves you…. She just. You’ll have to bare with me while I learn how to do this with you. Mommy didn’t have much of a mommy so… This girl stuff its new but, we can do it together.” She swallowed hard, explaining it as simply as she could.
‘How?’ She thought, ‘Could my mother have done this? What was she going through that she had to do this?’
Monica had pondered this thousands of times from the tender age of eight, considering it most heavily during the big milestones of her life: her eighteenth birthday, moving home to America, joining the FBI academy … Watching Scully have to make that choice. For a while, she thought the William affair gave her a more ‘adult’ understanding of her own mother’s decision, that was at least until she had her first baby… That theory went to hell the minute she felt Adam move inside her for the first time. And now with this baby, she was at an even greater loss, the proximity between her and her mother and this child too close.
As if they were all there together, facing this choice again.
It wasn’t a choice. It shouldn’t have been. For Monica it couldn’t be, no matter how triggered she was.
“My baby.” She whispered, part of her heart not knowing if she spoke to the child or her young self. “No, no your my baby, I love you and I can’t give you up or push you away. I don’t know how, but I’m going to make sure you have all the love you could ever need. I’ll do right by you and love you like you deserved to be loved. I promise.” She choked, leaning down, kissing the girl’s forehead once, then twice.
The baby cooed, her eyes meeting her mother’s once again. Monica giggled despite her tears, falling in love, resting her forehead against the girl’s… Her heart filling with peace, knowing that one day she’d long to hold this squishy, perfect little person like this again, to be taken back to the night they met.
John returned in that moment. He paused, standing in the doorway of the hospital room, watching as Monica sat in bed, whispering to their brand new baby. His heart skipped a beat, taking her in.
‘My.’ He thought. ‘How’s she so pretty after all a that?’
It’d been a hard labor, just like the first two, albeit a bit faster this time, it being her third time. Monica sat in bed, smiling bright, her hair in a messy bun, rocking their baby, almost as if nothing had happened. Or at least, it seemed that way to him. He beamed at the sight of his wife, unable to help but marvel at how radiant and strong she was. Despite the pain, despite the mess of feelings she couldn’t hide from him.
She was perfect.
She’d been a mess on and off since they found out the baby was a girl. It’d started with just being very overly emotional, then seriously doubtful. He knew the score. He’d been no different about having a boy… At first. It’d taken him a long time to realize that his younger son’s fates weren’t tied to their brother’s … That it was okay to love a whole new little family with all his heart and soul and not be afraid every moment. To not make comparisons to the past.
He knew his wife would come to that point, and was ready to do everything he could to get her there. But it would be a long, hard road. She’d cried so hard when the baby was born, something that surprised even him. Everyone else thought it was the pain she was in. Maybe that was part of it. But John knew the truth she wouldn’t confess to him: part of her was terrified of raising a girl, fearing she’d repeat either of her mother’s patterns.
His gaze drifted to the little bundle in her arms and he somehow found himself overwhelmed by the fact that he was a father once again. Part of him would be forever mired in his loss. New sons had brought him new life, but this birth had changed his perspective and tugged on his heart strings differently. He smiled, still unnoticed, immensely enjoying his wife and their new baby from a distance. He drank them in, feeling protective and in love in a slightly different way than ever before, realizing he was absolutely smitten at the sight of his girls.
John was the picture of a perfect boy dad. He’d been made to be one. It was in his attitude, in the way he carried himself… In how he passed down what he knew… And how he’d made all three of his sons his best friends. But he’d also not been the guy who’d been dead set on sons… He’d been open to, if not wanted a daughter for a long time, and found himself overly sentimental about finally getting one.
‘That.’ He thought, his heart skipping a beat as he watched the baby, able, from his perspective to just see the top of her tiny head. ‘Is my little princess.’
This baby was tinier than her big brothers had been, and was her mother’s mini me, a fact that made his heart smile. If he’d had a wish for his future daughter, that’d been it: that she be her beautiful mama’s mini me. And this baby certainly was.
“My girls?” He asked softly, finally announcing himself.
Monica smiled up at him, her eyes shining, her grin making his heart spin.
‘Oh my God I love her so much.…’ He thought, the feeling so overwhelming he could almost feel himself flying.
“Hi daddy.” Mrs. Doggett whispered, casting her feelings aside, glad he was there. “Come and sit with us.”
He beamed, tired, but too happy to care, and made his way over to the bed. She moved over a little and he got on the bed next to her, taking her in his embrace. He placed his hand under hers, to where they both held the baby’s head, their fingers practically intertwining as they cupped her little head in their joint grasp. They exchanged glances, searching each other’s eyes before sharing a quick kiss.
Monica’s heart sighed. Doubtful or not, this was where her confidence lay: in John’s smile… In his embrace. This was what her adoptive mother hadn’t taken advantage of, her husband’s willingness to help her through.
‘I can do this.’ She thought. ‘If he’s with me, I can do this.’
“She’s so tiny. She looks just like her mommy.” He gushed with pride.
John smiled, running his fingers through his daughter’s wisps of dark hair, his Monica’s hair. Adam had his color of hair down to the strand, Luke had been a tad blonder, favoring Barbara, and Ethan a tad darker favoring Monica just slightly … But this baby had her mother’s beautiful dark hair .… Down to the strand. What there was of it anyway.
“She could still be baby blue eyes like the boys. Like you.” She offered hopefully.
“No. Those little brown eyes have me wrapped around her little fingers. So does her mommy’s smile.” He beamed, looking right at her. “Sweetheart, she’s perfect.”
“Hi Olivia.” She smiled, biting her lip, eyeing John for confirmation, something inside her eager to name this baby despite her angst. “Daddy thinks your perfect.”
They’d gone back and forth on the name, but Olivia had been the main contender for a long time now. It’d survived the elimination of several other names they’d liked: Julie, Julietta, Emma, Sophia…
“Hi Olivia, my princess.”
“Hi Livvie.” Monica squealed, her excitement surprising her.
“Livvie?” He smiled. “That what you gonna call her?”
Monica smiled, almost humming as she nodded. “Its been on my heart, John.”
She blinked, relieved at the thought. Something about this had been on her heart. She didn’t know why, and she wouldn’t for a long time, but the child’s name was a joy to her heart.
“I love it.” He agreed.
“Princess?” She questioned.
“My little princess, absolutely.” He confirmed, pausing as he watched her.
“What John?” She asked, picking up on his concern.
He sighed, smiling, thinking a beat before replying. “Thank you.”
“Hmmmmm?”
“Thank you so much far… Far doin’ this. For your love… For a full, beautiful family… Our boys, our sweet baby girl… I’d have never been able ta do it without ya my sweetheart: to heal … And ta love our boys so fully, without fear.” He smiled bittersweetly. “I promise I’ll be here every step a the way ta help you and our baby Livvie get there too. You’ll never be alone in this my sweetheart.”
Monica paused, her heart skipping a beat, something inside her realizing that’s what her mother hadn’t had: she’d been all alone.
“Oh John.” She gushed, touched he always knew what was on her heart, and how to make things right. He didn’t even have to say it.
Monica beamed, rocking the baby gently as he leaned over, kissing her deeply, promising to help heal her heart too.