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Sep. 18th, 2006 07:40 pmUltimately, it's a pretty damn isolating thing, watching Beth in labor. There's only so much he can do: time things for as long as that's necessary, but it's pretty obvious when it's time to throw away the watch and book and forget about everything else and just be there. He's spent his time alternating between four things: standing by Beth's side, sitting by Beth's side, feeding her ice chips and wiping her brow, and fetching whatever Hero and Elaine tell him to fetch.
It's been a while but it's not tiring or any of that shit and Hero keeps giving him these glances that are meant to be reassuring. He's been on two trips to the bar for more towels and one for more ice and one for coffee for himself and for Hero and, to his surprise, Elaine, who was always a beer-and-stew kind of woman. She probably drank coffee when she was watching over him after he got back from Mars, but he doesn't remember that at all. Not even a little bit. He wonders if, later, Beth will feel the same way about this night: will she remember it? Even though he gave her unlimited cursing rights, she hasn't sworn at him a whole hell of a lot and he's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Everything he knows points to the evidence that she can be as stoic as anyone, and if now's the time for that for her, well, he's all right with whatever.
The whole time, there's just been one mantra repeating in his mind, though he hasn't said it aloud at all: please be all right, Beth; please be all right, Beth Junior. If they were on Mars with Doc, this whole thing would probably be going so differently. At least that's what he thinks; he's never helped out at a birth before other than the birth of an idea or some shit like that, and if it was anyone except Beth, he wouldn't be hanging around for this one either. It's not the discomfort and it's not the liquid and the blood and the tears and the sweating: it's the fact that despite the standing by Beth's side and sitting by Beth's side and feeding her ice chips and wiping her brow and fetching whatever Hero and Elaine tell him to fetch, he feels pretty fucking useless.
But this is Beth: this is the woman he loves. This is the woman who motivates him to get up in the morning and heal and eat and work out and get dressed and put one damn foot in front of the other, no matter how pointless things seem sometimes, and fuck, she's having a baby. Not his baby, but not just any baby. Her baby and, if he wants to skew it to suit himself, their baby. Theirs because Junior's got his nanobots and that... counts for something. In the darkest hours of the night when he's doubted every fucking thing about himself and what he's doing and why, he remembers that and it makes him feel like there's something to be damn proud of, damn glad for.
For a guy who never wanted kids, it's a hell of a thing to have spent nine months wishing this kid was his -- knowing there's not a damn thing he could do about it -- and then to realize fuck that, it doesn't matter: he loves this baby. He loves her. He never thought he could, but he does, and she isn't even born yet. He can hardly fucking imagine what it's going to be like when he sees her for the first time, so he doesn't try to imagine it. He can't. There's nothing in his life to prepare him for that moment, whenever it's finally ready to happen.
Beth squeezes his hand damn hard and it pulls him out of his brain and back into the room just in time to hear Hero telling Beth to push, push, push, for Christ's sake, push hard, mamacita, push like you mean it, Santa Madre.
He swallows hard; Beth's face is screwed into a look of intense concentration, her eyes nearly closed, her jaw clenched, a grimace on her face, a silent cry on her lips. For the first time in hours, he squeezes her hand back just as hard as she's squeezing his. Be all right, Beth; be all right, Beth Junior. I can't fucking wait to meet you, little girl, little baby, who went and stole my heart one night when I wasn't looking... just like your mom did.
I love you both so damn much.
He thinks he might just cry.
It's been a while but it's not tiring or any of that shit and Hero keeps giving him these glances that are meant to be reassuring. He's been on two trips to the bar for more towels and one for more ice and one for coffee for himself and for Hero and, to his surprise, Elaine, who was always a beer-and-stew kind of woman. She probably drank coffee when she was watching over him after he got back from Mars, but he doesn't remember that at all. Not even a little bit. He wonders if, later, Beth will feel the same way about this night: will she remember it? Even though he gave her unlimited cursing rights, she hasn't sworn at him a whole hell of a lot and he's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Everything he knows points to the evidence that she can be as stoic as anyone, and if now's the time for that for her, well, he's all right with whatever.
The whole time, there's just been one mantra repeating in his mind, though he hasn't said it aloud at all: please be all right, Beth; please be all right, Beth Junior. If they were on Mars with Doc, this whole thing would probably be going so differently. At least that's what he thinks; he's never helped out at a birth before other than the birth of an idea or some shit like that, and if it was anyone except Beth, he wouldn't be hanging around for this one either. It's not the discomfort and it's not the liquid and the blood and the tears and the sweating: it's the fact that despite the standing by Beth's side and sitting by Beth's side and feeding her ice chips and wiping her brow and fetching whatever Hero and Elaine tell him to fetch, he feels pretty fucking useless.
But this is Beth: this is the woman he loves. This is the woman who motivates him to get up in the morning and heal and eat and work out and get dressed and put one damn foot in front of the other, no matter how pointless things seem sometimes, and fuck, she's having a baby. Not his baby, but not just any baby. Her baby and, if he wants to skew it to suit himself, their baby. Theirs because Junior's got his nanobots and that... counts for something. In the darkest hours of the night when he's doubted every fucking thing about himself and what he's doing and why, he remembers that and it makes him feel like there's something to be damn proud of, damn glad for.
For a guy who never wanted kids, it's a hell of a thing to have spent nine months wishing this kid was his -- knowing there's not a damn thing he could do about it -- and then to realize fuck that, it doesn't matter: he loves this baby. He loves her. He never thought he could, but he does, and she isn't even born yet. He can hardly fucking imagine what it's going to be like when he sees her for the first time, so he doesn't try to imagine it. He can't. There's nothing in his life to prepare him for that moment, whenever it's finally ready to happen.
Beth squeezes his hand damn hard and it pulls him out of his brain and back into the room just in time to hear Hero telling Beth to push, push, push, for Christ's sake, push hard, mamacita, push like you mean it, Santa Madre.
He swallows hard; Beth's face is screwed into a look of intense concentration, her eyes nearly closed, her jaw clenched, a grimace on her face, a silent cry on her lips. For the first time in hours, he squeezes her hand back just as hard as she's squeezing his. Be all right, Beth; be all right, Beth Junior. I can't fucking wait to meet you, little girl, little baby, who went and stole my heart one night when I wasn't looking... just like your mom did.
I love you both so damn much.
He thinks he might just cry.
