Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x wife!reader x toddler!daughter
Warnings: fluff, domestic, light teasing, family dynamics.
Summary: Jack Abbot ends up flat on his stomach serving as a human canvas for his three year old daughter.
Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction and written solely for entertainment purposes.
more dad! fics: dad!pitt ; dad!abbot
Jack was flat on his stomach, completely at the mercy of his daughter. He wore only a pair of grey sweatpants, leaving his broad back completely bare.
Or rather, it had to be bare. Right now, it was a masterpiece in progress.
"Hold still, Daddy," the girl whispered, her fingers clutching a paintbrush like a magic wand. She smoothed a thick stroke of bright turquoise paint right over his left shoulder blade. "You need big wings."
Jack sighed, resting his cheek against his crossed forearms. A lazy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I'm holding as still as I can, bug. But that tickles."
"''tayyy stillll," she instructed, her tongue poking out in concentration.
Your man was the one who commanded trauma rooms and now he was reduced to a human canvas for a toddler.
"How’s the masterpiece coming along, my little artist?" you asked, stepping into the room and dropping to your knees beside them.
Your babygirl looked up, her cheeks smudged with skyblue paint. "Mommy! Look! Daddy’s a fairy. I need more pink... More pink, please?" She held up a completely empty messy plastic palette.
"You got it, sweetie," you said, reaching for the bottles of paint on the coffee table. You squirted a generous amount of pink onto her palette. "Hold on, bug. If we're doing a fairy, we have to do it right."
You reached over to the craft basket and pulled out a shaker jar of extra fine silver glitter.
Jack's head, slowly, turned toward you. His eyebrows climbed up his forehead, and he leveled you with a glare that said, Seriously?
"You..." he muttered. "Tell me you're not giving her the glitter."
"It's a crucial element of her artistic vision, Jack," you replied, trying to hide your grin.
"Glitter is so hard to wash off," he warned. "I'm going to be sweating silver in the ER tomorrow, for God's sake."
"Yay, shine wing!" the toddler cheered, completely ignoring her father's concerns. She held her tiny hands out, cupping them together.
You carefully shook a small pile of shiny silver dust into her palms. "Okay, bug. Very gently, put it onto Daddy's wings."
Jack took a deep breath and closed his eyes tight, shielding his face in his elbows. "I'm a grown man. I am a department head," he reminded the floorboards.
The toddler leaned over his back, took a deep breath, and let out a huge PFTH.
A cloud of silver glitter exploded through the air, settling beautifully over the wet, blue and pink paint... and over Jack’s hair.
Jack opened his eyes and slowly looked back over his shoulder.
His back was SHINING.
He gave you another look.
"Beautiful, an absolute vision" you choked out, biting your lower lip hard to keep from laughing out loud as your baby clapped her sticky hands together, proud of her work.
"I'm letting her have her fun now, but you're the one who has to help me scrub all this off in the shower later."
"Deal," you laughed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his cheek.
-
"You're a beautiful fairy, Daddy," she whispered after paiting his back with a little more of the pink paint, her voice dropping into a sweet tone. You recognized it, it was almost nap time.
"Yeah?" he asked softly. "You think I can fly now?"
His little girl nodded as she let out a yawn. "High the sky. To stars." Her eyelids fluttered but she shook her head stubbornly.
"Are you tired, bug?" you asked her softly.
"No, more," she mumbled, blinking against the sleepiness as she reached out a sticky hand toward the jar of glitter. "Needs..." She settled her little knees on either side of his spine, straddling his lower back, and took the jar from your hands. Her movements grew slower. Her arm hovered in the air, the jar tilting dangerously, before her hand finally came down to rest heavily on Jack’s body.
Then, she didn't collapse against him. Instead, she just stayed right there, sitting completely upright on his back like a tiny sleepy statue. Her chin slowly sank down to her chest, her breathing went deep and her grip on the glitter jar loosened as she drifted straight into dreamland, perfectly balanced.
Jack didn't move. "Is she... did she just fall asleep sitting up?" he whispered.
"She's out cold," you giggled quietly, leaning closer to look at her. Her head swayed slightly with her deep breaths, but her little legs remained locked on his waist, holding her upright in her sleep. "She’s like a little bear, oh my."
"A very creative bear," Jack murmured. He carefully reached one large hand behind his back, resting his palm flat against her small waist to keep her steady and secure. "I can't stay like this forever, as comfortable as my back apparently is."
"Don't move, I have to capture this," you whispered. You quickly grabbed your phone and snapped a photo.
"Help me out, baby," Jack groaned silently.
You moved in close, gently slipping your arms under your babygirl's arms and lifting her weight off his back. She let out a soft sigh but didn't wake up, immediately tucking her head into your neck.
With his back finally free, Jack carefully pushed himself up into a sitting position. He looked at his little girl, then felt the hardness of the paint drying on his back. "Please tell me we have a scrubbing brush in the bathroom."
Summary: Jack finds his pregnant wife asleep in the staff room, and a quiet moment together quickly becomes one of his favorite memories <3
Word count: 1k+
Warnings: fluff, pregnancy
A/N:
a cute little blurb to get back into writing xxx
English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.
Happy reading xxx
I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.
Jack realizes you've fallen asleep the second he nudges the staff room door open with his shoulder.
He's balancing two thick chocolate milkshakes in one hand, still cold enough that condensation has started running down the cups, the little peace offering he'd slipped out to grab during the first lull they'd had in hours. He'd remembered you mentioning, somewhere between a trauma activation and a consult, that the baby had decided chocolate milkshakes were the only thing that sounded edible today.
The room is quiet, almost eerily so compared to the constant noise outside.
You're curled sideways in one of the old chairs, knees tucked up as much as your growing belly allows, your cheek resting against your hand. The other hand is spread protectively across the gentle curve beneath your scrub top, like even asleep your body instinctively knows where to keep it. Your stethoscope hangs crookedly around your neck, one shoe is half kicked off, and there's a chart lying forgotten in your lap.
Jack stops in the doorway.
For just a second, he doesn't move.
His chest tightens with something so painfully tender it catches him completely off guard.
The shift has been relentless. Trauma after trauma. Endless consults. A waiting room that never seemed to shrink. Somewhere around nine that evening, the two of you had shared a granola bar because neither of you had managed a proper lunch, and even then you'd insisted he take the bigger half because, "You burn more calories chasing people."
You were carrying a baby, and yet, you'd still refused to slow down. Of course you'd crashed the second your body realized it finally could.
A smile tugs at his mouth before he can stop it.
Carefully, he sets both milkshakes on the table without making a sound. One of them has extra whipped cream because he knows you like it that way.
He shrugs off his jacket, planning to drape it over you before the air conditioning turns the room into a refrigerator.
Just as the fabric hovers above your shoulders, your eyelashes flutter open.
"...Did I fall asleep?" Your voice is thick with sleep, every word soft and slow, and Jack has to bite back another smile.
"Yeah sweeatheart. For..." He glances dramatically at his watch. "Approximately nine minutes."
Your face immediately crumples.
"Oh no."
"What?" He asks.
"I am so fired."
A quiet laugh slips out before he can stop it.
"No one is firing you because you took a nap. Besides, you are literally an attending."
"I'll fire myself."
"You don't have that authority, gorgeous."
Still smiling, he settles the jacket over your shoulders before crouching as much as he can beside your chair. Pregnancy has somehow managed to make one of the smartest, most capable physicians he knows simultaneously brilliant and completely ridiculous. You'd spent almost twelve straight hours on your feet, barely eaten anything beyond half a granola bar, carried a baby through every trauma activation the emergency department had thrown at you, and somehow the thing you were worried about was accidentally falling asleep for nine minutes.
"You've been on your feet all day," he says gently. "You've barely eaten, you've been carrying a human being this entire shift, and you closed your eyes for less than ten minutes. Nobody's judging you."
You blink at him, still unconvinced.
"...Still. It's not convenient."
He opens his mouth to reassure you again, but your expression suddenly shifts into horror.
"I drooled, didn't I? Omg please tell me, did I drool?"
Jack presses his lips together, doing a terrible job of hiding his amusement.
"...Maybe a little."
Your eyes widen dramatically.
"Oh my God. Did anyone see?" You asked.
"I'm kidding, baby, you didn't drool."
"Jack." You said with a stern voice and smacked his arm.
"That's not funny. You swear?"
"I swear."
You continue studying his face like you're trying to diagnose whether he's lying. Finally, you narrow your eyes.
"I don't believe you."
The words leave your mouth automatically, but the annoyance fades almost as quickly as it arrived. Your shoulders relax, and without really thinking about it, you push yourself to your feet. It's become instinct over the past few months, something your body does before your mind even catches up. The moment you're standing, you step into him, your hands finding the front of his scrub top and gently bunching the fabric beneath your fingers. Jack doesn't hesitate. His arms slip around you as naturally as breathing, steadying you before you can even lean your weight against him. You let out one long, weary breath and rest your forehead against the center of his chest, every bit of exhaustion from the day seeming to melt away the second he holds you.
"Love you..." you murmur quietly.
He doesn't answer. He simply wraps one arm around your shoulders while his other hand settles against your lower back, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles through your scrubs. You let out one long, weary breath that seems to carry every ounce of exhaustion from the day with it.
Jack rests his cheek lightly against your hair and closes his eyes, content to stand there for as long as you'll let him. Then something taps gently against his hand.
His fingers freeze.
His head lifts.
"...Was that—"
Another kick answers him, stronger this time, deliberate enough that there's no mistaking it.
Your sleepy smile appears almost instantly.
"Yeah."
The expression on Jack's face changes every single time he feels the baby move, and every single time it's exactly the same.
It's as though the rest of the world simply disappears.
His eyes soften first, then widen ever so slightly, the corners crinkling with quiet disbelief before the smallest, most genuine smile spreads across his face. It isn't the smile he gives patients or coworkers. It isn't the amused grin you get when the two of you are teasing each other. It's something far more vulnerable, something so full of wonder that it almost catches him off guard every time.
He's an emergency physician.
He's watched tiny hearts flicker across ultrasound screens and heard first cries echo through delivery rooms. Those moments never lose their magic.
But this?
This is different.
This is his child.
His hands.
Your stomach.
Your family.
There isn't a medical explanation in the world capable of competing with the feeling of knowing that the tiny life beneath his palms belongs to the two of you. No matter how many kicks he's felt over the past months, every single one still leaves him looking like he's experiencing a miracle for the very first time.
Slowly, almost reverently, he spreads both hands around the gentle curve of your belly, his thumbs stroking absent circles over the fabric of your scrub top.
"Hey, little troublemaker," he murmurs, his voice dropping instinctively, as though your baby can already recognize it. "You keeping your mom awake again?"
Almost as if they've been waiting for him to ask, another determined kick presses firmly into the center of his palm.
You let out a sleepy laugh, shaking your head.
"I think that's a yes."
Jack's grin grows impossibly wider.
"Definitely my kid."
You pull back just enough to look up at him, eyebrows lifting.
"Excuse me?"
"They're already interrupting people."
A laugh escapes you before you roll your eyes.
"Well, can you tell your kid that they need to stop interrupting my bladder?"
He snorts, the sound escaping before he can stop it.
"...I'll make an appointment with them."
"Good," you reply with exaggerated seriousness. "Because I haven't slept through the night in weeks."
Jack nods thoughtfully, pretending to consider it like a genuine consultation.
"Mm. I'll see what I can do, but from what I'm hearing..." He glances down at your stomach with a small smile. "This patient seems pretty stubborn."
"They get that from you."
"I was going to say they inherited your attitude."
"My attitude?" You place a hand over your chest in mock offense. "I'm delightful."
He laughs, leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead before looking back at your stomach.
"I've got my hands full with the two of you already."
Another tiny kick answers him, and his smile only deepens.
new dad jack abbot who is just absolutely obsessed with newborn scrunches…like to the point he will fight/race reader to be the first one in front of the bassinet the second your baby moves or makes any noise.
those scrunches are HIS.
he’ll pick the baby up sooo gently, cooing at them as they make all the baby noises, and the second that baby scrunches up to stretch jack is a puddle on the floor. don’t even bother mopping it up cause it’s just gonna keep happening every time that baby wakes up.
the baby’s little legs curl up into their bottom, arms stiff and stretched out, back curved a little and the cheeks…good lord those chubby cheeks get all squished against their arms and their eyebrows raise. their tiny face gets red as their fists flail a little bit.
jack’s got the biggest smile on his face, so soft and warm for his mini me.
“biggggg stretchhhh”, jack will coo, eyebrows dancing in his hairline as he gasps softly when the baby finishes stretching and looks right at him.
“there, much better”, jack says softly, pulling his baby close and letting them rest against his shoulder; “yeah i know…feels so nice to stretch out, huh?”
reader just watches the entire thing unfold with nothing but love in their eyes. half ready to pounce on jack and not wanting to interrupt the moment. reader has no idea how many videos of that exact moment they have on their phone by now. at least a dozen.
when the baby reaches that stage in between three and four weeks old where they technically aren’t a newborn anymore, jack is distraught. his baby is growing up and he doesn’t like it. even more so when he goes to pick the baby up and they just…don’t scrunch.
instead their arms go all the way above their head, stretching out the same way jack would…like a full grown person. their tiny body is still a little arched, but not the same way it used to be. not in full scrunch, legs still dangling below their little body.
jack freezes, almost immediately. he just…stares…loses it. blinks once, then twice before a soft breath comes from his mouth, brows already furrowing before he can stop them.
“um excuse me bean, where the heck is your scrunch?”
his voice almost wavers. bean stares back at him, blinks once before chewing on their fist, unsure why jack’s still got them held out into the air. clearly the scrunch isn’t coming.
bean grunts in protest.
jack brings them close, cradling their tiny head and letting his lips brush against the soft downy hair on top of their head.
“can’t believe you lost your scrunch…when did you get so big?”, he whispers into their skin.
he inhales the new baby scent, which is thankfully—still fully in tact.
jack tells reader dramatically about the events when they emerge from the shower. hands waving in the air. he’s fully dissatisfied and appalled that bean dared to loose their scrunch. not when it was his favorite thing.
“it’s ok honey, now bean has the cute baby stretch”, reader assures him.
jack let’s put a noise that almost sounds like a grunt, but sighs anyways; “It is kinda cute…”
“see? it’s ok”, reader tells him, caressing his hand with their thumb; “we’ve got lots of videos too, jack.”
jack nods, eyes flicking over to look at bean who’s chilling in their bouncer chair. he points at them, eyes narrowed with a quiet humor that’s decorated with a slight seriousness; “you”, he says; “need to stop growing so fast.”
so yeah, he’s a little distraught and has a mini existential crisis…and maybe he watches those videos of every scrunch bean every did later that night in bed while reader is fast asleep next to him. maybe his eyes are a little glossy, sue him. that’s his baby.
a/n - ok i get rlly into births i actually think they're rlly fucking interesting, like just yesterday i learned about paravaginal births and??? why is that an option??? but dw it doesn't happen here. i had to include the miss congeniality easter egg, bc i started this yesterday (apr 25th) benjamin and shawn are my sister wives. samira doesn’t leave the pitt, she just leaves the day shift, obv. i had a lot of fun with this, and i hope you do too!!! time to find out if it's a ronan or isadora! phoebe or phoebo! <3
♡♡♡
Your nursery colors were green and yellow. It was calming, and neutral but not gray. There were little dragonflies embroidered into the curtains, and flowers on the rug, and vintage children's book art hanging on the walls. Jack kept his nephew’s first ever hockey stick leaning against the bookshelf, barely two feet long, determined to get your little baby out on the ice as soon as possible.
You liked it in there. It was nice. You could sit in the cushy armchair with your feet up, breeze blowing in through the open window, making the dragonflies fly. It was a right side better than suffocating on your back in a sweltering bed under the weight of your baby. And sometimes, on hard days, you looked over into the empty crib and pictured a little red haired infant, fast asleep under the galaxy mobile.
Jack often found you asleep in there. Sometimes he found you awake, and you would say, “Oh, hun, now that you’re here, mind folding these hand me downs we got from Dana?”
But not anymore. The nursery was done, painted, dried, decorated, and stocked with anything you could need. The cot in your room was set up, along with a cart of midnight postpartum essentials, of which you got a list from every childbearing woman in your life. You had pounds of frozen meals ready in the freezer. You had decided on names. You had deep cleaned and decluttered the entire apartment from head to toe. You were absolutely ready.
In every way but the physical, of course. Every appointment you had, it was firm, undilated cervix, sitting high, and perfectly healthy. You were incredibly grateful the baby was healthy, but by week forty, you would have been almost as grateful to hear any note of progress.
But nada. Zip. No action.
You tried to stay positive, to remind yourself how lucky you were to be making it to term. Hadn’t you seen dozens of preemies in your line of work, who needed extensive, invasive care or worse, who didn't make it at all?
No matter how guilty it made you feel, though, you couldn’t quite help the annoyance that crept into your brain more and more with each day you spent still pregnant. You were truly becoming the stereotype of the angry pregnant lady, waddling around with a scowl, complaining about sweat, and not being able to see your toes.
“I hate this,” you said, two days after your due date. “The baby is healthy, the baby is ready, I’m certainly ready, so what’s the fucking hold up?”
You had had your forty week check up just that past Wednesday, where Jill was too happy to report that your cervix was wide, thick, and hard as a rock.
“I’m sorry,” said Dana, looking up from her charts. “Sometimes the baby just comes on their own damn schedule. You better get used to that.”
You grunted, pulling at your scrubs. Dana’s lips quirked in sympathy.
“Why don’t you head home?” she said. “There’s only an hour left in the shift, and you can start your maternity leave at forty weeks, can’t you? I’m sure Gloria couldn’t fault you for that if she got a look at you.”
“No way,” you said, slamming your computer keys harshly. “Jack’s taking twelve months off when the baby comes, only three of those are paid, and I need to save.”
“You’re fine,” Dana dismissed. “Jack has spent the last decade and a half making doctor money, taking overtime, and never taking a day off. He buys the same t-shirts and jeans every few years, toiletries, food, and that’s pretty much it. I know that guy’s got savings.”
“Yeah, I know, but I still —” you cut yourself off with a sharp gasp.
Your muscles were tightening, cramping more than you’d ever felt before. Dana took off her glasses.
“Woah,” you said, as the pain spread from the front to your back. “That’s new.”
“Braxton hicks?” asked Dana cautiously.
You shook your head.
“I don’t think so,” you breathed, rubbing your belly. “No, this is — worse.”
Dana rolled her chair right up next to yours, swiveling you to be knee to knee. She had an excited glint in her eye.
“Do you think, possibly, it could be…?”
You tried not to smile too wide. The pain was worse than it had ever been, but you could still talk through it.
“I don’t know, maybe,” you said. “D’you think?”
“Why not?” she said. “Start timing them!”
You pulled out your phone, fingers shaking slightly in excitement.
“Sixty-two seconds,” you said when it was done. “It lasted sixty-two seconds.”
“Good start,” said Dana, patting your knee. “Keep track of ’em, and who knows. The betting board might be cleared by this time tomorrow.”
It took everything in you not to squeal from pure excitement. You rested your phone open next to your computer, trying to focus back on work. Your eyes frequently flicked over to it, checking the time. It was five, ten, fifteen minutes before anything else happened. The same clenching pain, spreading from front to back, rolled over you.
“Another minute,” you said happily to Dana when that too had passed. “Sixty-four seconds, that time.”
“Want anything, kid?” she asked. “Heating pads, tylenol?”
“No thanks,” you said. “They’re not too bad yet.”
By the third contraction, Jack was walking through the door.
“Jack!” you said loudly, attempting to jump up, getting halfway through the motion, and sitting back down. “Jackie, a contraction!”
His face changed instantly from warm fondness, to worried shock. He picked up his pace, hurrying around the partition to kneel in front of you. His eyes were wide.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “How long?”
“One minute, with fifteen in between,” you said, showing him your phone. “What do we do? Should I go home now?”
He took your phone, thinking.
“Why don’t I give you a ride,” he said finally. “You can shower and eat, in case this is the real thing. How’s that sound?”
You thought it sounded good, starving and grimy as you were, so you gave everyone your excited goodbyes, loaded into his car, and went home. It took some convincing to get Jack to leave you. You had to remind him that he was scheduled to work in about fifteen minutes, and Robby wouldn’t be happy if he wasn’t there for shift change, before he kissed you goodbye.
You almost relished in the ache as you started your shower, positioning your phone right outside the door. You were so desperate for this pregnancy to end, you could work through the pain. As you were rinsing conditioner from your hair, another contraction started to hit. But as you reached through the glass door to document it, you saw that the timer read twenty minutes and counting.
Twenty minutes. The contractions had gone from fifteen minutes apart, to twenty. That wasn’t that unusual, was it? Things could be irregular in the beginning, but it would even out, right? But as you heated up some pasta for dinner, the increments between episodes became longer and longer. When a whole hour had passed without one, you knew it had been a false start.
Your heart was sinking as you texted Jack.
Contractions slowed down :( I don’t think it’s happening
His bubble popped up almost immediately.
I’m sorry honey. Want me to bring you waffles from Rosie’s in the morning?
You smiled.
You know me too well
You went to bed that night disappointed, but determined. You were starting to second guess your assessment that the cramps weren’t braxton hicks, but whatever they were, it was a first. It meant progression.
The next day at work you did some home remedy research. Castor oil was a no go, for obvious reasons, but there were still plenty of non medicinal measures that couldn’t hurt to try.
“Spicy foods, curb walking, uphill sprints,” Javadi read over your shoulder as you showed the list to Robby. “Dates, raspberry leaf tea…”
“You don’t really think any of these work, do you?” said Robby skeptically.
You glared at him.
“Until you have to start wearing adult diapers because you pee a little every time you bend down, kindly keep your opinions to yourself, Michael,” you said, and Javadi tried to stifle her snort. “That just cost you lunch. I require one extra hot jalfrezi with chicken.”
He didn’t dare argue, just snapped his mouth shut and went to make the order with his tail between his legs.
After your eye watering meal, one bite of which had Robby red as a tomato and wheezing into a straight mug of creamer, you decided to take a trip outside. You took Victoria with you, partly because the possibility of falling down and not being able to get back up was high, but also because the terror in her eyes every time you wobbled was slightly amusing.
You walked along the curb in the ambulance bay for as long as you could justify being away from the hub. By the end of it, you were panting, exhausted, and didn’t feel any closer to labor. You huffed and puffed your way slowly back inside, Javadi trailing awkwardly behind you.
“Any luck?” asked Dana.
You could only shake your sweaty head.
“Not yet,” you said, texting Jack, “but you never know.”
Please get dates!!!
A few hours later, when he was awake, he responded.
The fruit?
You rolled your eyes.
Obviously the fruit
He sent you back a thumbs up.
No one was convinced at the efficacy of your little tricks, but they all wished you luck as you waddled out to Jack’s truck. You could tell, as you updated him, that Jack had doubts of his own, but he was smart enough to stay silent while you munched on your dates.
“They’ll work,” you said. “They have to.”
Sure enough, later that night as you bounced on your yoga ball, you felt a now familiar sensation at the base of your belly.
“Fucking finally!” you said to no one in particular, perhaps Romeo where he lay snoozing on the couch.
You called Jack, and he answered on the second ring.
“What’s up?”
“Tell Robby he’s an idiot,” you said smugly. “Guess what I’m having right now?”
“A contraction?” he said. “Really?”
“Really,” you said. “It’s only the first one, but I just wanted to let you know to keep your phone close.”
But it seemed you sounded the alarms a bit too soon. The same contractions, now two minutes long, still fifteen apart, kept you up until one in the morning. They were helped by some nasty heartburn, no doubt from your ambitious spice level at lunch, but soon enough, they began to subside.
You groaned as you texted Jack.
Don’t say anything to Robby, the contractions have stopped >:(
He’s still an idiot though
At the very least, you had the day off. The last thing anyone needed was you, forty weeks pregnant, and running on five hours of sleep. By the time you woke up, Jack was beside you, snuffling snores.
The third night you felt contractions coming on, you were hardly as excited. You had Jack time them, but, as you expected, they fizzled out around midnight.
Each night, around seven or eight, contractions would start. Then, like clockwork, between the hours of twelve and one, they stopped. You wanted to pop a pill and go to bed, not bothered tracking something that was surely temporary, but Jack insisted.
“You never know when it could be the real deal!”
But it wasn’t the real deal, night after night. You were a zombie at work, snappy and grouchy, so much so that by the time you were forty weeks and five days, you were kicked out.
“You’re gonna regret this, Dana,” you growled as Jack pulled you towards the parking lot. “You’re gonna rue the day!”
With your newfound freedom away from the hospital, you kept up with your activities. Though, not the spicy food. That you’d learned your lesson from. Your days were filled with curb walking, dates, and teas. At least two hours a day you sat on your ball and pumped. You had even had sex every night, though it was hardly sexy. You couldn’t really move, so Jack had to prop up your hips with two pillows. It was helped, however, by Jack himself. You’d never seen the man so insatiable as when you were pregnant.
By the time you made it to your forty-one week appointment, you were itching for progress. You kept your fingers crossed tightly, hoping against hope as Jill performed her exam.
“You’re about one centimeter dilated,” said Jill apologetically.
You let out a helpless cry. Jack rubbed your shoulders.
“It’s still an improvement,” he reminded you.
“And you’ve softened a bit,” said Jill. “Most importantly, you’ve still got a good amount of amniotic fluid, so baby’s okay. I would like to do an NST, just because you’re past due. I’d also just like to offer you induction. It is typically recommended at this point—”
“No thank you,” you said firmly. “I’ve only heard horror stories, uterine ruptures, infection, hemorrhage —”
“I know you know how unlikely those things are, so I won’t tell you,” said Jill gently. “I figured you would say that, but how do you feel about a membrane sweep?”
“Great, amazing, do it now,” you said, and she chuckled.
The membrane sweep was certainly uncomfortable, but not exactly painful. Once it was over, you were strapped in for an NST and Jill tried to reassure you.
“It’ll probably be any day now,” she said. “Hopefully things will progress quickly from here, but if they don’t there are things you can do to help.”
“Curb walking? Spicy foods? Sex? Dates? Yeah, we’ve done them all,” you sighed. “Just tell me — how do I tell the difference between prodromal contractions and real contractions?”
Jill looked regretful.
“Oftentimes, you can’t,” she said. “You just have to keep monitoring, and wait for them to get closer together.”
All in all, it was a blue sort of afternoon. Even a big cookie from your favorite bakery wasn’t able to cheer you up. Upon returning home, you draped yourself over Jack on the couch. He practiced his braiding on you while you watched Law & Order, snacking on dates. You were beginning to become sick of them.
As planned, contractions started rolling in around nine. At first, they were average, easily breathed through. Then, they started to pick up. Not in duration, but in severity. Jack pulled your new braids away from your face as you hunched in on yourself, tense and unfortunately moist.
“Honey?” he asked. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“Bad,” you gasped. “Worse.”
“Okay,” he said, stroking your forehead. “Do you want to sit on your ball?”
You managed a nod, so he helped transfer you over to the blue ball. You started moaning, rolling your hips in great circles while he clutched your hands from his seat on the coffee table. As the clock struck half past one, he dared to speak.
“You know, if it’s this bad,” he said quietly, “maybe —”
“Don’t say it,” you snarled. “Don’t even think it.”
You were past the point of foolish hope. Without at five hours of clear, worsening contractions that reached five minutes apart, you weren’t even considering it a possibility. It wasn’t feasible to prepare every single time.
You were proven right, at nearly three in the morning, when the contractions once again quieted down. You could tell that Jack was struggling. The pain in his eyes was hard to ignore as he watched you curl in on yourself in agony. Hopeless, was the word, and it wasn’t helped by his being a doctor.
“Seven days,” he whispered into your hair as you drifted in and out of sleep. “Can’t be more than seven days.”
It definitely felt like more. You were becoming nocturnal, kept awake by contractions that never led anywhere, and sleeping it off well into the afternoon. It was like being back on night shift, but instead of patients, you got debilitating cramps and sweating.
It appeared that the membrane sweep really hadn’t helped, at the next appointment only three days later. You were still only one measly centimeter dilated. You cried all the way home out of pure exhaustion.
Jack did everything he could to try and help. He drew warm baths, gave foot rubs, always had the kettle ready for a hot water belt. But even food was becoming uninteresting to you, with nausea and fatigue plaguing you most of your waking hours.
You tried to stay positive when you started losing the mucus plug, even more so when it appeared bloody. You called Jack into the bathroom and shoved your dirty underwear in his face.
“The bloody show?” you said.
“I think so,” he replied.
It was exciting. You tried to let it be exciting. But some part of you must have known deep down that it wasn’t the time quite yet, and the days crept on. Jack finally decided to start his sabbatical when parting in the evening coincided with your cramps. He couldn’t stand to leave you folded over the kitchen table, swaying side to side in a futile attempt to work through the pain.
He had you drinking protein shakes and walking in circles around the apartment, just to get the bare minimum out of the way so you could spend the rest of the time sleeping. You were more like a zombie than a person at that point. You would wake, but you were never alert. You went through the motions, the routines, but without Jack, you wouldn’t have been any more active than a garden snail.
“Jill, you gotta give me something,” you said at your next appointment, just one day before the forty-two week mark.
You looked horrible. Bags under your bloodshot eyes, unwashed hair, barely able to stay upright for exhaustion. Jack wasn’t great either, mostly from pure stress at watching you being put through the wringer. He looked at Jill imploringly. She sighed sympathetically.
“Unfortunately, I believe the only thing I can offer at this point is Pitocin,” she said. “In fact, I think I need to highly recommend it.”
You leaned back against Jack. He swept your hair back and rubbed your shoulders.
“Do you think you’d be open to that now?” he said in a hushed tone.
You huffed weakly.
“I don’t know,” you said. “I — I don’t like it, but I can’t spend another day like this, I really can’t.”
Jack buried his nose in the crown of your head, trying not to lose it.
“How about this,” said Jill delicately. “We make an appointment for tomorrow evening, give you guys the whole day, and if nothing happens, you come in. You’re almost three centimeters, you have made progress this past week, which means the drip probably won’t do anything drastic. We need to speed you along. How does that sound?”
You weren’t ecstatic, but you agreed. You knew it would be dangerous for both you and the baby to stay stagnant for much longer. Still, it wasn’t exactly what you imagined as you ate your last meal in the afternoon the next day. You expected to wake excitedly in the night, and rush to the hospital. That period of “I think this is it” extending into “this is really happening right now.” All elements of surprise were zapped out of your trip to the ward. You weren’t excited, more morose, as you stared gloomily out of the window.
Jack was clearly excited, under the surface. He gripped your leg tightly on the drive, other hand tapping anxiously on the steering wheel. He tried not to show it, though, for you.
“I know this isn’t what you had in mind,” he said as he pulled you out of the car. “But just remember, we’re meeting our baby soon. Right? And then all the pain can be over.”
You took a heavy breath. He loaded up with all the bags. That was at least one good thing about having a planned birth; you could prepare.
“I don’t know,” you said in a glum voice, taking glum steps towards the glum side entrance. “I know he has to come out at some point, but it doesn’t feel real. I think I’ve stopped allowing myself to accept it, after all the false starts.”
You had gone right back to referring to the baby as “he” the past few weeks. Jack didn’t want to talk too much about it, just settled in resolutely to being a boy dad. You had stopped believing in another possibility as well, but it didn’t really bum you out the way it did him.
Jack pressed a kiss to your plump cheek.
“I know,” he said. “But try to believe it, baby. He’ll be in your arms before you know it.”
You grumbled while he let you through the familiar door.
“He better come out fat.”
Jack smiled.
“Yeah? How come?”
“Because he’s gotten so much extra time!” you exclaimed. “He better have been using that to get me some chunky baby rolls.”
Jack just chuckled as the two of you made your slow, painful way through the entrance to the ER. You figured you’d be better to cut through to the staff elevator rather than go in through the civilian entrance up on the OB floor, and you might as well say a quick hello-goodbye to the sorry plebs stuck working.
Indeed, you received quite the strong reaction from the hub as you toddled up.
“Look who it is!” said Dana, immediately encircling you in her arms. “Mom and Dad!”
You snorted as the others gathered round, fussing.
“Look how big you are!
“Can you believe today’s the day?”
“Think pink! Baby Princess is almost here!”
Princess squished your belly carefully, looking intense. After a while, she nodded smugly.
“That’s at least an eight-pounder,” she said happily. “Just like I predicted!”
“Well I should think so,” you said. “Two extra weeks of stealing my nutrients should do that.”
Robby stepped forward, looking exhausted, but he offered you a polite cheek kiss anyways.
“Looking stunning as always, Nurse Abbot,” he said, with a hint of jest in his tone. “The glow is overpowering!”
You fixed him with an unamused stare, and at least a week’s worth of sleep gunk in the corners of your eyes.
“Do you want something from me, Robinavitch?”
“Of course not,” he chided.
“What’s your bet?” you asked suspiciously. “Are you counting on me holding out for another three days or something?”
“Oh, no, no one expected you to go this long,” he said. “However, if the baby comes out with your hair, nine pounds, and a boy, I’ll be very happy.”
You rolled your eyes, and Jack started ushering you away from the mob.
“Goodbye Robby, I hope you lose!” you called behind you.
“Good luck!” said Dana.
“You can do it!” said Mel.
“Bring us a baby girl!” said Princess.
You could only wave halfheartedly as the elevator doors closed.
It was easy to be playfully annoyed at Robby downstairs, or sassy in the car, but the second you stepped into your reserved room, your delivery room, the panic took over. There was a large bed, and a convertible chair for Jack to sleep on, just like you pictured. But they wasted no time in hooking you up to a CEFM, and within the hour, a nurse had shoved a suppository up your vagina. You didn’t feel much like laughing at anything.
“And that’s —”
“Dinoprostone,” the nurse answered your boyfriend, while you tried to adjust. “0.3 milligrams. We’ll start the Pitocin in an hour or two.”
You let out a sigh as she left, pulling at your gown. You weren’t happy. Sitting there, sans underwear, on a Chux pad, waiting with anticipation for what would probably be the most painful, agonizing experience of your life, you felt the walls closing in a bit.
You glanced at the clock above the door. It was almost eight o’clock. Robby and Dana were probably just leaving, and Shen and Samira would be taking over. You soured at the thought that they’d probably be cozy in bed again before you had your baby. Hell, the way things had been going so far, you wouldn’t be surprised if you were barely five centimeters by that point.
“You wanna watch a movie, honey?” Jack asked quietly, watching your sullen face.
You rolled your head to the side so you could see his, though it looked much sweeter. You stroked a hand over his scruff.
“Yeah,” you said forlornly. “Miss Congeniality?”
He nodded diligently and extracted his laptop from one of the bags, setting it up in record time. To both of your surprise, you promptly opened your arms for him to join you on the bed. He did so, moving carefully so as to not upset your gown, or your monitor, or you. You weren’t at the point where you were cursing him or hated the sight of his face. In fact, you quite liked him at that moment. Better to take advantage of it before things progressed and he got the luteal phase side of you.
“I love you,” you said.
He sounded a little taken aback in his reply.
“I love you too, baby.”
You fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt.
“I just needed to remind us both, before I start hating you,” you explained.
“Of course,” he said.
You sat in the quiet for a while, half watching the movie you knew like the back of your hand. Within a few minutes, Jack’s gentle touch and steady breaths coaxed your eyes closed. On the brink of sleep, only one thing nowadays could really bring you back.
“Contraction,” you mumbled, as Gracie threw Matthews into a headlock.
“Do you want to move?” he asked.
“No,” you breathed, letting the now familiar discomfort wash over you. “Just stay.”
“Okay,” he said, pecking your forehead. “I’m right here. You know who else is here for you?”
“Who?”
“Benjamin Bratt,” he said. “Benjamin won’t let you down.”
You hummed, a hint of a smile on your lips as you forced your eyes open. Benjamin Bratt was your lifelong celebrity crush, and your friends had wasted no time pointing out some similarities between him and the father of your child when you’d revealed it.
“Of course he won’t,” you said, stroking a finger down his face on the screen.
As the usual contractions passed, you couldn’t help but feel a bit foolishly disappointed. Some small illogical part of you hoped that the prostaglandins would be enough of a push for your body to ramp it up on its own; but the pains were no different than they had been all week.
At a quarter to ten, Jill came in and checked you.
“Just about three centimeters dilated,” she said, to your agitation, “but about ninety percent effaced, so, progress.”
You huffed. Even your TV husband couldn’t distract you from the fact that you weren’t getting anywhere, no matter the positive spin Jill tried to pull. She didn’t seem to want to mention that you were also “just about three centimeters” the last time she saw you, over twenty-four hours previous.
“So now you start the drip?” you asked, and Jack squeezed your hand.
“Yes, now we start,” she said, while a nurse prepared the bag to hang. “Just a low dose, and then if nothing happens, we can gradually increase it. Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” you said, through gritted teeth.
She provided you with a peanut ball to put between your legs and then you were left in wait. Jack rubbed your back and instructed your deep breathing, while you tried to focus on the screen and not the pain.
To your brief respite, the pitocin didn’t intensify the contractions the way you expected them to. After an hour of absolutely zero action, Jill upped the dosage. Still, while they grew closer together, they felt no different. You could breathe through them quite well, and even talk if you felt determined. Maybe you had a high threshold, maybe you were desensitized after all the sleepless nights, maybe it was a bit of both, but what ended up nagging you the most was the hunger.
“Jackie,” you whispered between contractions, around midnight.
“What, baby?” he whispered back, though you were alone in the dark room.
“Can you go get me a soft pretzel?”
He stopped sponging your sweaty forehead, eyes narrowed in amusement.
“A soft pretzel?”
You nodded innocently.
“With plenty yellow mustard, please.”
He rang the washcloth out over the basin, looking half humorous, half distressed.
“Honey, I don’t think —”
“And a hotdog!” you interjected, eyes going wide. “Just get one of every condiment, actually. And I’m picturing a soft serve in a hat. Chocolate vanilla swirl. Okay?”
He wiped his damp hands off on a clean towel and cradled your face.
“Sweetheart, I will get you all of that and more,” he said earnestly, “just as soon as this baby’s outta you.”
“Oh, okay,” you sniffed. “So you don’t love me anymore. I get it.”
It was such a ridiculous notion, he couldn’t help laughing. You tried to smile back, but your face was suddenly crumpled in discomfort as another contraction hit you. Jack checked his watch, then the monitor.
“Five minutes,” he said desperately. “They’re getting closer together, honey. We’re moving.”
“They’re fine,” you hissed. “They’re only, like, double the pain of a bad period. It’s no big deal.”
Jack sent you a look you couldn’t see.
“Your periods get this bad?” he asked in horror. “Even half this bad? How do you get anything done?”
You couldn’t answer, just shook your head, as if to say what are you gonna do?
There wasn’t much, but damn it if Jack wasn’t going to try.
“You wanna try some massages?” he asked. “Some from lamaze class?”
You shook your head again.
“Okay… how about the birthing comb Perlah gave you?”
You didn’t immediately dismiss it, so he quickly dug into the bag and pulled it out. You opened your hand and he lined the teeth up with the crease of your palm. You squeezed hard. He watched you closely.
You took some deep breaths, massaging the bamboo tines into your tissue. Jack allowed himself some breaths as well, seeing the line between your brows soften a bit. He’d never dare complain after the weeks you’d had, but his brain felt a bit like a wrung out sponge. He could deal with sleep deprivation, he almost thrived on sleep deprivation, but seeing you, in agony, so exhausted you could barely eat a full meal? That was wearing down on him.
“Wait, what time is it?” you said suddenly. “Is it past midnight?”
Jack glanced at his wrist again.
“Closer to one,” he said, “why?”
Your lips turned down a bit.
“Nothing,” you sighed. “It’s just that… Ronan is a Scorpio.”
Jack glanced at his phone with befuddlement.
“Is that bad?” he asked. “Wait, aren’t I a Scorpio?”
“Yes,” you said. “Which is fine, it’s great, but now you’re both Scorpios. Scorpio men.”
He waited for you to explain, but you didn’t, so he just gave you a confused apology kiss.
When the contractions got to be three minutes apart, Jill came in to have a look.
“How are we holding up?” she asked, snapping on gloves, while Jack helped you place your feet in the stirrups. “Contractions manageable?”
“Oh, yeah, they’re great,” you deadpanned. “I’m loving how they’re basically back to back now. Real fun.”
“Well,” she said, looking sorry, “you’re still only almost five centimeters, and we’d like you to be closer to seven.”
You guffawed.
“Of course I am,” you croaked, rubbing your tired eyes. “Not even five, almost five, for fuck’s sake.”
“We are moving, hun, just slowly,” she said, patting your knee. “We’re going to break the waters now, though, and things should pick up after that.”
You nodded flatly, unconvinced, at that point, that anything could possibly speed things up. It was mildly uncomfortable as Jill stuck the amnihook up to your sore cervix, but a second later, you felt a small pop and a sudden gush of fluid. You craned your head up to peer over your bump.
“Is that it?” you asked. “It’s broken?”
“That was it,” said Jill, handing the soiled hook and pads off to a nurse. “Now, you’ll probably continue to leak as the baby moves, so we’ll keep this Chux here under you, and don’t be surprised if things pick up quick. Most times mothers start pushing within hours of the amniotomy.”
“Bet I’m an exception to the rule,” you muttered darkly.
However, despite your pessimistic attitude, things did pick up. Quickly, and painfully. In comparison, the early labor felt like child’s play once you had experienced the stabbing sensation that trapped you now. You watched the sunrise from the window, bent at a ninety degree angle with your arms on the sill. You were no longer cracking jokes; you let out rhythmic moans, while Jack squeezed your hips together.
“Let it out,” he said quietly. “You’re doing so good. So, so good, baby.”
You still clutched the comb in your hands, but any effect it had had earlier was now lost. You were slick with sweat and shaking. As the contraction leveled out, you took great, heaving breaths.
“I think I’m gonna puke,” you breathed, and Jack jumped up.
He guided you back to the bed so your weak knees could collapse, and held a bag up to your mouth. You spit into it, that familiar metallic taste flooding your tongue as you prepared. It was mostly bile that came up as you retched, with no food left in your rumbling stomach. When you were done, you sat back on your bum and braced your arms in front of you.
“I’m never… doing… this again,” you panted.
“Okay, love,” said Jack, adjusting your hair where he had tied it back the first time you’d vomited. “You never have to.”
Did he want more kids? Yes. But more importantly, he wanted you happy and safe. If you said you were done, you were done. Besides, he’d be lying if he said he would be up to seeing you in this much pain again. He kissed your warm cheek.
“I need the epidural,” you said. “Can we get that?”
Jack had never moved faster in his life. Once Jill was free, and you were back in position, she checked you.
“Seven centimeters,” she said. “Very good.”
“Yes,” you gasped. “Thank you universe.”
Jack all but crushed your hand between his.
“She was wondering about the epidural —”
“Certainly,” said Jill. “We can absolutely get anesthesiology in here, but I should remind you, it could very possibly slow down your progression. Is that a trade you’d be willing to make?”
They both looked at you. You felt about ready to cry. You were finally getting somewhere, would an epidural be setting you up for another twelve hours?
But in the end, you knew, you wouldn’t be able to get through birth without a couple hours of good sleep under your belt. So, you agreed to see the doctor.
It was definitely the right choice, you thought, once the drugs kicked in. Feeling the numbness spread through you was like going to sleep after a double, or sinking into a hot bath in winter time. The relief was palpable.
“Oh my god,” you moaned. “Oh my god, I had forgotten what it was like to not have contractions.”
Jack was relieved too, watching you munch on ice chips, eyes closed.
“You should get some sleep,” he said, stroking your forehead between your eyes. “You need rest.”
“So do you,” you said. “Hey — have you taken your leg off at all since we’ve been here?”
He thought. He had been far too preoccupied with you to notice the dull ache radiating up his right knee. He shrugged, but you were already back to your sass, however sluggishly.
“It’s almost been twenty-four hours, Jack Abbot,” you reprimanded. “Take it off and get in bed.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said lovingly.
He had to admit, it was a relief in its own right, removing the leg and the socks. He hadn’t even realized how much it had been bothering him, but you had always been on top of those things, the things he let fall to the back burner. Just like how he reminded you to eat on stressful days, or prepared hot water bottles when you were on your period. You looked out for each other.
Pulling his other shoe off, he carefully crawled into bed next to you, engulfing you in his arms. You weren’t sure how long you slept. All you knew was that upon waking, Jill was between your legs for a check.
As she covered you back up with the blanket, she could barely contain her smile.
“Ten centimeters. Are you ready to have a baby?”
♡♡♡
You’d thought, somehow, foolishly, that the pushing would be easy compared to the weeks of torture. Especially with the epidural keeping you almost completely numb, how could it be worse?
But now you were approaching your third hour of pushing, and they still couldn’t even see the baby’s head. The pain was barely an afterthought, but every upper muscle in your body was tense and tight from repeated use, and you were running out of energy.
You had Jack holding up one leg, a nurse holding the other, and a third person out of sight was wiping your forehead. You had had to ask, or scream at, someone to remove the ticking clock from above the door. Your eyes kept drifting towards it, and your heart filled with more and more despair as the minutes slid by.
“C’mon, honey, one more push,” Jack was chanting next to you, holding your thigh flush against your chest. “One more, you can do it!”
You fell back against him with a harsh cry as the contraction subsided. Perspiration was dripping down your flushed face, and you were panting like you’d just finished a sprint.
“I can’t,” you gasped. “I can’t do this any more. It’s not working.”
“The baby is moving,” said Jill from the other side of your bump. “They’re taking their time, but you’re doing really, really well, okay? Keep going, we should be seeing a head soon.”
“Did you hear that?” said Jack soothingly. “It’ll be over soon. You’re so close.”
You felt so close to slipping into sleep, and yet possibly less comfortable than you ever had been before. You felt your eyes beginning to sting. Maybe it was a good sign; throughout everything, you still hadn’t shed a tear. Could the cracks in your exterior mean this was almost at an end? Or were you really ready to give up?
“Here comes the next contraction,” said Jill. “Ready?”
“Big breath,” said Nurse Marta. “Chin to chest — good…”
You bared down with all your might, and the pressure was building.
“Hard, hard hard hard!” said Jill. “Good job, mom! I can just barely glimpse the head.”
Jack pressed a flurry of kisses to your knee, and if your eyes were open you would have seen his already beginning to tear.
“Oh my god,” you muttered as that contraction too passed.
“Can I see?” he asked cautiously. “The head, can I try to see?”
“We lost sight when she relaxed,” said Jill, eyes glued to the monitor. “But on the next contraction, we should begin to crown.”
“Okay,” he said breathlessly. “Okay, one more, and we find out who wins, Robby or Princess, right?”
“Better be Princess,” you grumbled.
You ran a limp hand over Jack’s curls.
“You’ll catch him, right?” you said. “When he comes out?”
“Yeah, baby, of course, I’ll be right there,” he said. “I promise. I mean, I love Jill, but —”
You almost laughed, or got as close to it as you possibly could with how winded you were. Jill spoke up, smirking slightly herself.
“Okay, about twenty seconds to the next contraction,” she said. “And I need you to really push hard, okay? Hard as you can.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?”
“Alright,” she chuckled, “ready? Go.”
You pushed, and pushed, and pushed. All the blood rushed to your head, and your grip in Jack’s hair only tightened, accidentally bumping his chin against your knee, but he didn’t say anything. It was kind of funny — you were usually in a very different place when you did that.
“You’re so good, you’re so so good, honey,” Jack muttered quickly, unable to keep himself from peering over to watch. “Good, good, you’re so strong, you” — his breath stuttered — “I see the head! Oh, it’s red, the hair — Ronan —”
You let out a strangled sort of sound, half laugh, half cry.
“We’re crowning, I’m gonna need you to stop pushing,” said Jill. “Okay, stop pushing, and breathe, alright? Pant, deep and fast —”
You began to feel a bit lightheaded as you followed her instructions.
“Okay, now push again — good — and relax.”
You groaned, arms shaking and jumping all over the place. Hesitantly, you removed a hand from Jack’s hair.
“Can I feel?”
“Of course,” said Jill. She took your trembling hand and guided it down. “Feel the hair?”
That was it. That was the little push those tears needed to begin leaking from your eyes. It was the most bizarre feeling, not being able to sense touch against your own legs, but knowing that the head you felt was part of you this second. And the next, it would be separate. A whole little human.
“There’s a lot, huh?” said Jack in a wavery voice.
“Jack, if you want to catch, now’s the time,” said Jill, holding out a packet of sterile gloves. “You ready?”
He snapped them on in record time, though was reluctant to leave your immediate side.
“I’m right here,” he said, both for you and for him. “I’m still here next to you.”
“I know,” you said, taking up the hand of the nurse that replaced him.
“Push, mama, push,” Jill chanted from over Jack’s shoulder, watching carefully as he cradled the emerging head.
“You’re doing amazing!” said Jack, fully crying now. “Keep going!”
You did. By the end of the minute, the head was all the way out.
“I see him, I see him!” said Jack frantically. “He’s coming! One more push, just one!”
“Tell me what’s happening, okay?” you asked. “I wanna know.”
“Okay, honey.”
Your nurses pushed you up. It was time for the final contraction. Or, what would hopefully be the final contraction.
“Push!”
You put all your remaining strength behind that last push, tears now joined in the sweat running down your cheeks.
“Here come the shoulders,” said Jack. “Good job! Okay, great job, honey, they’re coming — okay, one, and — c’mon, Ronan, you can do it — c’mon — okay, yes! Yes, yes, yes, so good, okay, and the little arms, and the belly, and —”
There was a sudden release of pressure, and almost immediately, a sharp, strong cry rent the air. You were sobbing in earnest now, but still Jack held onto your baby while they wailed. You couldn’t see them, but you could see his face, transfixed, unmoving. You didn’t like the look. Worry began to creep in.
“What?” you asked wetly. “What’s wrong? Is he okay?”
“It’s” — Jack’s breath caught in his throat — “it’s a girl! It’s a baby girl.”
Your anxiety cleared, and you sighed in relief, a full body shudder as he gingerly lifted the little baby, your daughter, to your chest. Your eyes were as wide as his were, staring in awe at the little creature on your bosom.
“Hi,” you whispered, while Jill rubbed her vigorously with a cloth. “Hi, baby. You’re here.”
Jack, now gloveless, and hysterical, wrapped his arms around the both of you. Her whole tiny head was covered in sticky but unmistakable dark red hair. And it seemed Santos was right — she did have her dad’s nose. His everything, really.
“Isadora,” Jack said reverently through his tears. “You’re perfect.”
“You got your girl,” you said to Jack, eyes not parting from your Izzy for one second.
“Everyone’s gonna freak,” he said, stroking her head.
It wasn’t until later, with the cord clamped and cut, the placenta delivered, and the postpartum room moved into, you realized.
“Wait,” you said, watching Isadora curl sleepily into her father’s bare chest. “I just remembered something.”
“Way to go, Izzy,” he said. “First hour on earth, and you’re already beating Uncle Robby’s ass, huh? Atta girl. Just wait til you play him at hockey. He sucks.”
Your eyes, which had never fully dried, were beginning to tear up again. You knew it was to be expected with your hormones out of whack, but he was just holding her, for christ’s sake.
“C’mere,” you said lazily, beckoning him towards your bed. “You wanna call him up? Gloat in his face? I kinda do.”
“Nah,” said Jack calmly, settling in at your side. “I think for now it should just be me and my girls.”
You were sent home the next day, with an appointment for Izzy in the books and relatively minimal soreness, considering. Izzy was quickly proving herself to be a good eater, and a good sleeper.
“There we go, honey,” Jack cooed at her, setting her down in your arms. “All fed, all burped, all changed.”
He perched on the arm of your nursing chair. For once, it was exactly as you pictured. The breeze through the open window making the dragonflies fly, Jack by your side, and a little red haired baby resting in the green and yellow nursery.
little blurb: imagining jack abbot with a toddler that has discovered a new game called “decorate daddy’s prosthetic while he’s asleep” (despite you, her mother’s, best efforts) but she is always so proud of herself, so he just leaves it.
“lookin’ extra sparkly today,” robby remarked, nodding to jack’s prosthetic, which he was currently adjusting.
abbot quirked a brow before he looked down, sighing in realization. “yeah, i fell asleep on the couch yesterday and ellie gave me a makeover.”
the makeover in question consisted of scattered stickers of varying themes that covered his prosthetic. from this angle, robby could see a few golden stars, some pink hearts, and a turtle.
“you know, they’re just stickers,” he pointed out. “you could take them off.”
jack’s face twisted in disgust. “what? i’m keeping them forever, fuck off.”
hey! i was wondering if you could please do a jack x wife!reader where they have a toddler daughter and while jack is alone with her in the park or the beach someone mistakes her for his grandchild and then he gets really insecure, reader finds out through the daughter and comforts him
Today you and Jack decided to take your four year old daughter, Aria, to the park for a family day.
Jack had worked more than normal this week and you felt he just needed a day to get out of the house and enjoy a good day outside.
“Who’s excited for the park?” you ask, looking in the rear view mirror at your daughter.
Small eyes identical to Jack’s look at you with excitement.
“Meeee! I want to go to the slide with daddy! And then the swings!” she rambles on with a smile.
“Don’t worry baby,” you smile back at her “you’ll get to do all of that.”
Jack enterwines your hands and brings it up to place a gentle kiss as his eyes stay focused on the road.
“I’m glad to have you both to myself for the day.”
You squeeze his hand briefly “We’re glad to have you too J. You deserve a break.”
He smiles as he thinks of the relaxing day ahead of him with his girls.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
The walk from the parking lot to one of the open field areas is a good twenty minute walk.
Jack has a cooler bag of drinks and snacks while you carry Aria and a bag of her things she may need and some toys.
Once you guys find a decently shaded spot with a few people, Jack lays down a light blanket and sets everyone’s stuff down.
You set Aria down and look through your bag.
“Shit” you mutter quietly, still rummaging in the bag.
Jack looks up from his seated position on the blanket as he grabs some water from the cooler.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“I forgot the sunscreen in the car.”
He nods “Well, we’ll just play mostly in the shade. It’s okay.”
You look at your husband with the classic ‘are you serious’ face.
Jack Abbot,” you start “you and your daughter are the most sunburn prone duo on the planet. If you want to risk it with never ending teasing from Robby, go for it. But our daughter is not leaving here looking like a tomato and in pain.”
He chuckles at the tomato reference “Okay sweetheart, be safe and hurry back.”
You run your hand through his grey curls as you pass him.
“Will do, J.”
—---
As Jack waits for you to get back, he has his full attention on Aria as she tells him about the Bluey episode she watched that morning.
“You know I was sitting there with you silly” he laughs as he tickles her side gently.
She erupts in giggles as he continues and attacks her face with kisses.
“You and your granddaughter are adorable” a voice says from the walking path a little bit in front of him.
His eyes furrow a bit as he looks up at the older woman walking her dog.
“I’m sorry?”
Did he hear her right?
She points at Aria with a smile “Your granddaughter,” she says again “she’s just a cute little thing.”
Jack forces a smile at the words.
“She’s actually my daughter.” he corrects politely
He sees the exact moment when the woman realizes.
“Oh my! I am so sorry hun, I-I didn’t mean anything by it. I just assumed th– I’m so sorry. You and your daughter have a great day.”
She waves briefly before continuing on her way down the path. Once she’s out of sight, the smile Jack had been faking falls immediately.
Granddaughter? Did he really look that old?
He was nearing fifty in a few years and you were a good eighteen years younger than him.
Did people think you were his daughter?
Did people make comments like that to you?
Were you upset about things like that? That he was so much older?
Would you prefer someone younger?
“Daddy!”
A small body falls into his lap, pulling him from his downward spiral of thoughts. He plasters a convincing smile as he goes back to playing with Aria.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
You hurried to the car as quickly as you could and hurried back. You see Jack tossing a foam ball back and forth with Ari. She giggles as it bounces out of her hands and to the side.
She sees you first.
“Mama!” she squeals as she runs towards your legs.
You pick her up and kiss her cheek “Hey baby. Were you playing with daddy while I was gone?”
“Yes yes yes!” she cheers while clapping her hands.
You laugh as you set her down on the blanket.
“Okay sunscreen time for you both.”
You look towards Jack and see him looking ahead with a slight frown.
“Babe, everything okay?” you ask softly
You see him immediately give a half smile that’s not convincing.
“Yeah honey, I’m good.”
He’s definitely acting weird.
You raise an eyebrow “You sure, J?”
He nods as he sits Ari in his lap.
“Alright” he says “lets get some sunscreen on our little monster” he attacks her with tickles.
You can’t help but smile at them but you’re still not convinced Jack’s okay.
You let it go for now but you’ll get him to tell you what’s wrong in a little while.
—---
You guys have had a great time spending the day entertaining one another with Aria.
After finishing the lunch you had packed for everyone, Jack wipes his hands off.
“M’gonna find the bathroom. I’ll be back sweetheart.”
“Kay, be careful” you say as he walks past you.
While he’s gone you talk to Ari.
“Are you having a good day with mama and daddy today?” You smile
Ari grins big, looking more and more like her dad every day.
“Yes!”
“Good, baby.”
You go to grab your drink when her little voice speaks up.
“Daddy sad.”
You face her quickly with furrowed brows.
Huh?
“What baby? Why’s daddy sad?”
Maybe she saw what had happened.
You pick her up and hold her in your lap.
Ari leans the side of her head against your chest and gets comfortable.
“What happened baby?”
She looks around and then points at something.
You look and see an older lady with a dog walking.
“Who’s that?” You ask gently
Ari snuggles closer to you.
“Her and doggy said hi.”
“They talked to you and daddy?”
Aria nods against your chest.
Bingo.
What the hell happened when you left earlier?
Jack comes back a few minutes later.
“Alright Abbot girls, do we want to make our way home soon? Maybe get someeee ice cream on the way?” He says in a silly voice to Aria.
“Ice cream daddy!” she claps in excitement.
“Okay baby, we will soon.” he grins at her
You set her down in front of you where some of her toys are.
“J,” you say quietly
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
You grab his hand “Are you gonna tell me what happened earlier?”
He noticeably stiffens at your question and shakes his head briefly.
“Nothing happened?” you press.
“So,” you turn to look for the lady “that woman over there didn’t come over and talk to you and Ari?”
He follows where your finger points and you see his fists clench and unclench.
“Baby, please… tell me what happened?” you plea.
He takes a deep breath.
“When you went to the car, she was walking by and said… something.”
You look at him silently waiting for him to continue.
“She uh, thought I was Ari’s grandfather.”
You tilt your head in confusion.
“She thought Ari was your granddaughter?”
He nods not making eye contact with you.
“Well J, we know that’s not true. So what’s the matter baby?”
“It… it just made me think. Does everyone see it that way?” he shrugs “Do I look that old? Do you think I look too old? Would you want someon—“
“Jack Abbot don’t you dare finish that question.”
His face looks defeated.
“But would you?”
With wide eyes you reassure him “Jack, I would never.”
Your heart breaks at how the interaction upset him.
“Jack listen, I understand where those insecurities can come about but babe…” you pause briefly
“there is no one else on this earth I want more than you. I chose you because you’re funny, you’re considerate, a gentleman, mature, passionate, and talented. You’re also so fucking handsome. Incredibly hot.” you wink
“But most importantly, I chose someone who would make not only the most amazing husband but also the most amazing father to our kids. And I'm not always the best at choosing things, we know this” you laugh softly
“but I couldn’t have chosen someone better for those roles than you. You’re it babe and you’re stuck with me and Aria forever. Ari also doesn’t care about your age, she just loves her dad.”
“Isnt that right, Ari?” you look at your daughter whose attention is being held by the toys in front of her.
You gently pick her up and set her in your lap.
“Where’s daddy?” you ask as you hold her.
She points at Jack with a smile.
“Tell me something you love about daddy.”
She giggles as you blow raspberries against her cheek.
Jack can’t help but grin at his two favorite girls.
“He plays with me and he, he kisses my boo boos and and he’s nice to you. I love daddy.” she rambles.
You look at Jack with a raised eyebrow as if to say ‘see, I told you’.
His eyes water at his daughter’s words.
“I love you too, sweet girl.”
Ari starts to move in your lap and reaches her arms out to Jack.
“Daddy! Hold meee!”
Jack reaches over and takes her from you.
She immediately wraps her arms around his neck, squishing her cheek against his. The action grounds him, melting away the remaining insecurities from earlier.
The sight melts your heart.
You grab your phone and snap a quick picture.
“Anytime you feel down about this again,” you show him the picture you had just taken
Jacks kids flinching when he come near them. Everyone in the Pitt witnesses this happen more then once so it can’t be a coincidence. Finally robby consults him like. “Dude. Why do your kids flinch when you get to close.” And obviously Jack is like “WHAT?!?!” And so he goes over to his oldest daughter, stands right I front of her and she flinches. Bringing up her hands close to her body as if ready for impact. Jack is SHOCKED, and sad. And confused. So with a heavy heart he asked “why did you do that 🥺” and his daughter simply states. “I thought you were going to tickle me.”
Summary: You bring your daughter into the ER with an increased fever, and she manages to convince herself that Dr. Jack Abbot is her dada.
Series Link
Lovergirlnote: I had this idea on my mind for a while, and I had to get it out! Let me know what we're thinking. Are we feeling this?
Chapter I: A Case of the Mistaken Daddy
You walk into the daycare and greet the receptionist, Connie, at the front desk.
“How’s she doing?” You ask, concern lacing your voice.
“She’s a little down. She’s been throwing up and mostly lying around,” Connie explains, sympathy coloring her tone. This was one of the things that you enjoyed most about this daycare. They actually cared about the kids and valued them like they were their own. It wasn’t easy for you when you had to go back to work and put Nova into daycare. It’d been just the two of you for the first year of her life.
Your parents and friends were great at helping you take care of her, especially since she was your first child. But you didn’t want to burden them with the responsibility of taking care of Nova when she was your daughter. Plus, it’d be pretty demanding trying to drive Nova out to your parents’ house early in the morning and then picking her up after work.
No, you were an adult now, which meant you had to make adult decisions. You were thorough with your search for a daycare for your little girl. You’d seen enough horror stories to know that you needed to be careful about where you sent your baby.
You landed on Miss Sunshine’s.
A daycare run by a woman named Ms. Berta Jones. The woman is the literal embodiment of sunshine and safety. You’d brought Nova along with you to meet the woman and her staff. Within five minutes of meeting Ms. Jones, Nova was sitting in the woman’s lap like she’d known her for ages.
It also helped that Miss Sunshine’s would be teaching Nova things like her ABCs, numbers, and other things all before she reached Pre-K. It was a done deal for you, and the price wasn’t bad either.
You had left work early to pick up Nova after you got a call that she was throwing up. You follow behind Connie as you spot Nova lying on her little cot. It breaks your heart to see your baby so down.
You walk over and kneel in front of her, “Hi, Nova baby. I heard you aren’t feeling so good.”
Nova pouts at you, big tears filling her small eyes, “Mama.”
She reaches up for you, and you immediately take her into your arms. In return, she wraps her limbs around you and stuffs her face into your neck. You run a soothing hand up and down her back while whispering gentle words to her. Connie walks up and hands you Nova’s bag before smiling softly at the little girl, “I hope you feel better, Nova. We’ll be right here when you get back, okay?”
Nova gives her a weak smile in return, along with a small ‘mhm.”
Outside, you strap Nova inside her booster seat before starting the drive to her pediatrician. You spare fleeting glances back to her in the mirror to continue to monitor her condition. The anxiety inside you spikes up more at the helpless look on her face. Pulling into the parking lot, you carry Nova inside the doctor’s office before walking up to the front desk.
Amanda, the receptionist, whom you’d grown fond of, smiles softly at you and Nova. “Oh dear, I was so worried when you called to make an appointment for Nova. Dr. Ashmore is just wrapping up with a client. She’ll be ready for you two soon.”
“Thanks, Amanda,” you reply before going to take a seat.
You look down at Nova as she plays with the necklace around your neck. “Hey lovebug, you wanna play games on my phone while we wait?”
Nova shakes her head. You know that she has to be feeling awful if she declines to see your phone. The fact only makes the nerves in your stomach worse. It’s only a few moments later that you’re called back by one of the nurses. You clutch Nova tighter to yourself as you walk to the back. The nurse gets all of Nova’s vitals.
She places the thermostat in Nova’s mouth before waiting to hear the beep. You watch intensely as she holds the numbers up to her face and frowns.
“What? Is there something wrong?” You ask.
The nurse gives you a tense smile, “It appears that Nova’s temperature is at 108. That’s a very concerning temperature. I know that this is going to sound scary, but I need you to take Nova to the Emergency Room right now, okay? I know someone there, and I’ll call to let them know that you’re on your way and you need to be seen immediately.”
You feel lightheaded for a second. The words ‘108’ and ‘Emergency Room’ all send your blood pressure skyrocketing, but you know that you can’t panic in front of Nova. She’s probably scared enough as it is.
You nod at the nurse, and you know that she can blatantly tell how scared you are.
She grabs your hand, “It’s going to be okay. They have some of the best doctors on staff there. When you make it to the front desk, ask for Dana Evans. She’s going to get you seen quickly, okay?”
“Okay, thank you.”
You carry Nova to the car and strap her in again. You drive a bit quicker than when you initially came to the doctor’s office, but still at an appropriate speed to not get pulled over. You try to keep things as calm as possible for Nova by talking with her.
You watch as her face crumples and tears fill her eyes, “Mama..”
“It’s okay, baby. We’re almost there. Just one second.”
You recognize the distinct sound of Nova throwing up before she fully starts to cry. Luckily for you, you pull into the PTMC parking lot before moving to the back to grab Nova. Fortunately, she managed to throw up mostly on the floor and less on her clothes. You take a wipe and run it across her chubby face before wrapping her in your arms.
When you walk through the doors, it’s clear that you’re a very concerned mother in need of help. You spot a blonde lady standing at the desk, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Dana Evans. My daughter is sick, and her nurse said she had a temp of 108 and she just threw up.”
You ramble through the words, light tears pricking at your eyes, before the woman places her hand over yours.
“Hey, breathe with me, honey. You’re okay. I’m Dana. Nancy called and said you’d be on your way. I have the room open for you already. Let’s get you and little Miss all settled.” You walk behind Dana while continuing to soothe Nova, who’s looking around the hospital in curiosity.
Dana is thorough in making sure that you and Nova are comfortable. She’s checking Nova’s vitals all while talking sweetly to her. “What’s your name, Princess?”
Nova smiles shyly, “Nova.”
“Nova. That’s a really pretty name. How old are you?”
Nova holds up one finger, to which Dana smiles, “One year old. Wow, you’re a big girl!”
The door opens, and possibly the most attractive man that you’ve ever seen in your life walks into the room. A girl in similar scrubs walks in behind him.
Dana looks at you, “This is Dr. Abbot. He’s one of our best. This is Dr. Samira Mohan. They’re both going to make sure that you’re taken care of today.” She gives Jack and Samira your name before handing them the chart. She gives you and Nova one last smile before exiting the room.
Jack looks at the chart before looking back at you, “Can you walk me through what’s going on?”
You take a deep breath, “Her daycare called me today and said that she’d been throwing up. I picked her up and took her to her pediatrician, and they said she was running a fever of 108, and we needed to get Nova here immediately. She also threw up on the way here.”
Jack nods before looking over at Nova, “Hi there, sweetie. I’m Dr. Abbot, can I take a look to see what’s wrong?”
Nova looks at the man in awe, but doesn’t appear to be put off by him at all. Jack takes this as a sign and starts to listen to her heartbeat. Nova watches him the whole time in pure curiosity. Jack catches her inquisitive stare before smiling at her. In response, Nova turns her head shyly.
He checks her temperature again before frowning, “We need to get her temperature down. Dr. Mohan, can you get me an IV-pack set up? She’s a bit dehydrated, and I want to get fluids in her. Also, bring me some Tylenol.”
Dr. Mohan nods before leaving the room.
Jack spares a glance over in your direction and can sense the worry oozing from you.
“First one?” He questions.
You lift your eyebrows in surprise, “Is it that obvious?”
He nods before chuckling softly, “I’ve been a doctor for a long time, and I can spot the difference at this point, but I can assure you, I’ll do my best to take care of her.”
“Thank you, Dr. Abbot.” You respond, sparing a soft smile at the man. There’s a quick moment of fluttering in Jack’s chest as you smile at him. He admits to himself that you’re really pretty.
He shakes his head before looking back in Nova’s direction, “What’s your favorite color, sweetie?”
“Ink,” Nova responds. Jack knows that she means ‘pink.’ He’d always found that the beginning stage, when kids were still learning to pronounce words very enduring. He asks her a few more simple questions as she answers shyly. He can tell that she still doesn’t feel well, and it makes his heart clench in ways that he’s not comfortable acknowledging right now.
Soon, Samira arrives back in the room with the IV pack. You pale at the sight of the needle before looking back down at Nova. You grab her stuffed bunny, Bun Bun, from her bag before handing it to her. “Hey, Nova, look, here’s Bun Bun. He’s going to sit right here with you and be so strong for you, okay?”
Nova looks at you with wide eyes before hugging Bun Bun to her chest. Jack grabs the needle from Samira before scooting closer to Nova. He and Nova both make eye contact as his gaze softens, “Okay, sweet girl, just a slight pinch and you’ll feel better.”
Nova looks at Jack like she understands what he’s saying. It makes his heart clench even more to know that the needle will be pricking her skin. Much to yours and Samira’s amusement, Jack starts to make a funny face at Nova before sliding the IV in her arm.
She flinches at the quick stab before the fat tears start welling in her eyes. Her bottom lip starts to jut out before she lets out a sob. Jack rationalizes that he’d do anything in his power to never see the little girl cry again.
You rub your hand along Nova’s curls while pressing gentle kisses to her forehead and whispering in her ear. Jack looks down at the little girl, “I’m really sorry about that, Nova. How about I bring you a special treat later for being such a big girl?”
The tears in Nova’s eyes slow down, and she nods her head at Jack. Soon, her little eyes get droopy as the medicine begins to take effect. Her long lashes droop over her chubby cheeks as she lets out small breaths. In that moment, Jack believes that she looks like the cutest kid in the world.
He looks back at you, “We’ll be back to check on her later. I’d be comfortable with keeping her here for a few hours, just till we’re sure that her fever has broken.”
“Okay, thank you so much, Dr. Abbot,” you respond, before looking over in Samira’s direction, “Thank you as well, Dr. Mohan.”
Jack and Samira both nod and give you a smile before exiting the room to take on other cases and check on their patients. Samira turns to Jack, “You were really good in there with her. She was totally comfortable with you.”
Jack shrugs, “Years of experience, kid. You pick up a few things along the way.”
Samira smiles before walking off in the other direction. Jack saddles up to the front desk next to Dana, who shoots him a glance, “How’s our little lady doing in there?”
“She’s good. She went to sleep. I’m gonna keep her and her mom here for a few hours to monitor her fever.”
Dana nods while typing on the computer, “Sounds good. I’ll have Emma check in on them.”
Jack turns his head sharply, “No, that’s fine. I got it.”
Dana eyes him suspiciously, “Okay then. I didn’t realize you had such a strong attachment to children.” Jack clocks the teasing tone in her voice and rolls his eyes before leaving the desk.
Dana chuckles under her breath as she watches Jack leave.
As suspected, Jack gets caught up in numerous cases, but he gets Emma to give him updates on you and Nova when he has a free second. When he finally has a second, he immediately darts in the direction of the room where you and Nova are.
You have Bun Bun in your hands, and you’re doing a deep voice while moving the stuffed animal around. Nova is laughing and squealing in delight as you make the stuffed rabbit give her kisses.
“I see someone’s feeling a lot better,” Jack comments, stepping into the room.
Nova lights up at seeing Jack walk into the room, a wide grin overtaking her chubby face.
“Dada!”
You and Jack both pause in surprise. You’re holding Bun Bun in the air with your eyes widened. Jack closes and opens his mouth a few times before looking at you.
You give him a sheepish look before turning to Nova, “Hey..Dr. Abbot isn’t Dada. He’s just the nice doctor who’s helping you.”
You try to get your little girl to nod along with you in agreement, but she frowns at you before looking back at Jack. Nova smiles once again, “Dada.”
You sigh before looking at Jack, “I’m so sorry. She doesn’t typically even say that.”
Jack recollects himself before smiling at you, “It’s fine. Happens all the time.”
Which is definitely a big fat lie. There are definitely no kids in the ER who are calling him Dada. In fact, Jack has to admit that in all of his twenty-something years of being a doctor, this is a new experience for him. He walks closer to the bed and sits down to check over Nova.
She looks a lot better than when she was first admitted. Jack notes the color that’s come back into her brown skin, along with how much more lively that she is now. He also clocks the look of admiration that she’s shooting him.
He smiles down at her, “You feeling all better, Nova? Let’s check your temperature. Say aahh..”
Nova lets out a loud ‘aahh’ before clasping her lips around the thermometer. Jack waits for the sound of the beep before turning it in his direction. He smiles at the results before looking at you, “Her temp’s dropped down significantly. It seems like she’s taking the meds really well. I’m going ot get you two discharged, and I recommend switching between giving her Tylenol and Tamiflu. I’ll put in a prescription for you to pick up. What pharmacy do you use?”
“CVS,” you reply.
Jack nods, “Okay, I’d also recommend keeping her at home for a few days and keeping her hydrated. Start her off with small meals like soups and crackers before upgrading to bigger meals. If any other symptoms persist, bring her back here immediately, okay? You can even ask for me.”
Your surprised eyes meet Jack’s again, “That’s a really generous offer. Thank you so much for everything, Dr. Abbot.”
You hold his gaze for a couple of seconds before Nova starts making small sounds as she plays with Bun Bun. Jack smiles at Nova, who holds the stuffed rabbit up to Jack, “Bun Bun.”
Jack nods, “Yeah, I can see that. He’s really cute.”
Nova smiles at the praise before holding Bun Bun out to Jack, “Dada.”
It’s only when she looks between Jack and Bun Bun that you both recognize that she’s introducing Jack as “Dada” to Bun Bun. Good lord.
Jack plays it cool. He gently removes the needle from Nova’s arm as he places a pink Band-Aid over the sore. She doesn’t even seem to mind it all. She takes it all like a big girl and smiles at Jack or “Dada” as she has so intensely insisted upon.
You’re about to pick Nova up from the bed when she turns away from you. She turns to Jack as she looks up at him with wide, expectant eyes and pouty lips. You try again to pick the little girl up, but she begins to whine and reaches for Jack again.
The tears are back again, “Dada..”
Jack looks over at you, to which you give him a rather helpless look. He scratches the back of his neck, “I’m fine with holding her until we get to the front desk. Plus, it’ll make it easier while you fill out the discharge papers.”
Truthfully, he doesn’t fully come out and say that Nova’s pulling at his heartstrings.
You nod, biting your lip softly, “Okay, I’m really sorry again, Dr. Abbot. I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but she seems to like you a lot.”
Jack waves you off, even though he’s dying to hold Nova and he’s literally bursting at the seams at her cuteness. Nova lifts her arms, and Jack gladly scoops her up. He takes Bun Bun in his hand and lowers his voice, “Hi, Nova, you were such a brave girl today.”
Nova laughs and curls her small body into Jack’s once more. He can’t deny that he likes how natural it all feels, especially with how you’re smiling at him and Nova. He gently bounces the little girl in his arms as she wraps her own arms around his neck. He can even hear her softly whispering “Dada” into his shoulder, and she holds Bun Bun.
Jack hopes not to draw too much attention to the three of you, but as usual, luck’s not on his side. It appears that everybody and they mama decided that this exact moment was the moment that they all needed to be at the desk.
Simultaneously, everyone turns their heads to look at the three of you. Jack has to admit, you all do look like a cohesive family unit. He doesn’t even want to begin to acknowledge what he feels when he thinks about it.
Robby eyes the little girl in Jack’s arms before shooting him a questioning look. Jack shakes his head in response.
Dana’s obviously amused by the situation as she smirks at Jack, “Well, it seems like our little lady has taken a liking to you. You feeling better, sweetie?”
Nova lifts her head and catches all of the adults staring up at her. She curls herself into Jack’s arms and looks up at him, “Dada.”
A wave of silence overtakes the group as they all hear Nova calling Jack “Dada.” Jack doesn’t move to correct Nova, but in his honest defense, how would he?
Was he just supposed to chastise the little girl and break her heart?
Nope, he’ll be Dada for the time being. He’s sure that she’ll forget all about Jack once she leaves the ER. A bitter nagging settles in his stomach at the thought of her forgetting him.
Mel, never one to read the room, looks between you, Jack, and Nova. “I didn’t know you had a kid, Dr. Abbot.”
“He doesn’t,” You chime in, signing the discharge papers and glancing at Jack and Nova.
You smile softly at him, “Nova’s just taken a liking to him, hence the nickname.”
Jack takes the opportunity to sit Nova on the counter and holds her steady. She kicks her chubby legs back and forth as she babbles and waves Bun Bun around. Jack listens intently, even though he doesn’t have a clue what she’s talking bout.
“Hey sweetie, you want a sticker?” Dana asks, pulling out the sticker sheet.
Nova smiles and claps in excitement as Dana places a big pink smiley face on her t-shirt. She looks at you and Jack in excitement, “Mama! Dada! Look!”
You gasp in surprise and smile, “Oh my Nova girl, look at that. You were such a big girl today. That means we can go and watch all the Bluey that you want!”
Nova gasps and looks at Jack, “Dada! Bluey!”
Jack smiles, even though he has no clue who Bluey is. “That’s great, kiddo! You be good for mommy, okay?” Nova nods with a wide smile. Jack’s heart melts even more at the little girl.
You hand the discharge papers to Dana before scooping Nova up in your arms. You press a kiss against her chubby cheek, which causes her to giggle. You glance at Jack, “Thank you again for everything, Dr. Abbot. We really appreciate it.” You glance down at Nova, “Nova, tell Dr. Abbot bye-bye.”
Nova looks at you like you’re speaking Spanish before turning her gaze back to Jack. It seems like it only takes her brain about two seconds to comprehend that she’s leaving “Dada” behind.
Almost instantly, the tears start welling up in her eyes as her pout increases. Everyone at the desk watches with bated breath until the little girl begins sobbing hysterically and reaching out for Jack.
“Dadaa..” Nova cries, big tears rolling down her cheeks.
You try your best to soothe Nova by presenting Bun Bun to her. It only seems to make her cry harder for Jack. You give everyone a sheepish smile before turning to leave the ED. You always knew that your baby would be dramatic, and if there’s an award for Best Child Actress in Motion Picture Drama, your daughter was hands down sweeping that award.
It breaks Jack’s heart to see Nova crying out so helplessly for him, so he takes a step in your direction.
“Hey, what if I carry her out to the car for you? I mean, you’ve had a long day, and maybe this’ll make the transition easier for her,” He suggests.
You give him a tired nod before passing Nova off to him. Almost immediately, Nova’s tears dry up, and she smiles at Jack while draping her arms around his shoulder, “Hi, Dada.”
“Hi, Nova,” He says with a chuckle.
He rocks her in his arms as you both walk out of the ED towards your car.
At the front desk, everyone turns to look at each other.
“That was weird, right? We can all agree that the whole scenario was weird,” Trinity comments, to which everyone hums in agreement. But it’s the Pitt, everything’s always weird there.
Outside, Nova has managed to fall asleep once again on Jack’s shoulder. Her tiny breaths tickle Jack’s neck, but he doesn’t mind. He’s holding Bun Bun in his hand after he started to droop from Nova’s. You open your car door before reaching for Nova. Jack passes her and watches carefully as you strap her in.
To any outsider, it would truly just look like you and Jack were a married couple with your daughter. They’d never be able to guess that Jack had just met you and Nova only hours before.
You close the door gently and turn back to face Jack, “Thank you. I know that I’ve said it like a million times, but I really do appreciate all of your help tonight. I was really nervous about Nova.”
“It’s no problem at all. Nova seems like a really great kid, and I can tell that you’re an amazing mom,” Jack comments.
You smile and rock on your heels nervously. It’s not every day that a super sexy silver fox doctor is complimenting your parenting skills. You realize that you’re staring and snap out of the daze, “It was really nice meeting you, Dr. Abbot. The world needs more compassionate doctors like you.”
“Jack..” He corrects softly.
You give him a look of confusion, to which he clarifies, “You can call me Jack.”
“Okay, see you around, Jack.”
He smiles at you one last time before watching you and Nova drive off.
Yep, he needs the day off after this. Secretly, his heart yearns to see you and Nova again.
