Chapter 4: Baby Be Mine
Porch Time: Come Together
Crickets stitched their steady
rhythm into the warm July evening along the creek behind Mark and Kimmy’s back
porch. Fireflies blinked on and off like tiny, wandering stars while the soft
glow from the porch lights spilled out over the wooden boards. Mark and Allan
sat in the rockers, their chairs creaking in lazy counterpoint as they sipped
wine, while Kimmy and Sally sat close together on the porch sofa, knees almost
touching.
Sally held the First-Time
Parents book open in her lap, one finger marking a page, while Kimmy was
mid-story, her hands moving as she talked.
“So the first few weeks,” Kimmy
was saying, “I thought I had the flu. I mean, I was tired, a little nauseous,
but I kept telling myself it was just stress. Then one morning…” She laughed
softly. “Let’s just say Mark figured it out before I did.”
Sally shook her head with a
half-smile. “I swear, nobody tells you how weird your own body gets.”
From the driveway, headlights
swept across the trees and up over the porch rail.
“Pizza’s here,” Mark said, already
pushing himself up. “I’ll get it.”
As he disappeared down the steps,
Sally leaned closer and lowered her voice a little. “So how long were you sick
in the mornings? Because this… this is the pits.”
Kimmy tilted her head, thinking,
then laughed. “Oh wow… I’d almost blocked that out. Maybe a little more than a
month? Mark was so worried every time I got sick. Honestly, sometimes I think
this pregnancy has been harder on him than it’s been on me.”
She giggled, and Sally joined her.
“Allan’s the same way,” Sally
said. “If it were up to men, there wouldn’t be any newborns at all. They’d
cancel the whole project at the first sign of nausea.”
They were still laughing when Mark
came back up the steps with two pizza boxes balanced in his arms. He looked at
Allan, who just shrugged innocently.
Mark set the boxes down and
glanced at Kimmy, who was still smiling. “I don’t even want to know,” he said.
“You girls want Diet Coke or something?”
They settled around the fire pit,
the smell of pizza mixing with the faint scent of summer grass and smoke from
the small flames. Plates were filled, slices folded, and for a while the
conversation stayed easy—work stories, the trip, little complaints about sore
backs and restless sleep.
Between bites, Allan asked, “So…
you guys got names picked out yet?”
Kimmy squeezed Mark’s arm and
looked at him before answering. “We both have short lists, but neither of us
feels really set on one, right, honey?”
Mark nodded. “We’re… circling. How
about you two, Sal? Morning sickness still being a jerk?”
Sally rolled her eyes. “Yep. I’ll
feel totally fine and then suddenly—uh oh—and off I go.”
Allan made a face as he reached
for another slice. “What did you do when Kimmy was going through that, dude?”
Mark slipped his arm around
Kimmy’s shoulders. “Honestly? Just tried to be there. There’s not much you can do.
I know it sounds cliché, but… yeah, it’s awful for you girls. But watching the
woman you love be uncomfortable and not being able to fix it? That’s the worst
part.”
Allan nodded quickly. “Right? I’ve
tried to explain that to Sally. See, honey?”
Sally just smiled and bumped his
shoulder with hers.
Later, after the last crusts were
tossed and Allan and Sally had headed home, Kimmy started gathering plates.
“Don’t do that,” Mark said gently.
“Relax. I’ve got it. And then… I want to talk to you.”
Kimmy paused, then smiled to
herself. I could do it, she thought, but he’s really trying. She
let him take over and went back to the sofa.
Mark finished tidying up, then
came back out with another glass of wine and a fresh Diet Coke. He sat beside
her, but for a moment he just looked out toward the moonlit trees, quiet in
that way Kimmy had come to recognize.
She slipped her arm through his.
“Tell me, baby. What’s on your mind?”
He sighed softly. “I know we
haven’t picked a name yet, but…”
Her eyes brightened immediately.
“Do you have one you feel strongly about? Which one? Why?”
He took a breath, and she could
see something swelling up behind his eyes.
“Oh, tell me,” she said softly.
“I’m here. It’s okay.”
He took a sip of wine, steadying
himself. “You know I’m a romantic at heart…”
She kissed his cheek. “One of the
many things I adore about you. Go on.”
“You remember that day we took the
walk in the woods,” he said slowly, “and…”
Her smile turned tender. “And I
whispered I was pregnant? How could I forget? What does that have to do with a
name?”
“Do you remember why I
wanted that walk?” he asked. “What started it for me?”
She sat up a little straighter,
searching her memory, then her eyes softened. “Oh… Brad’s email.”
He nodded, rubbing at his eyes.
“Yeah. He missed it. His chance. But we…” His voice caught for just a second.
“Sorry.”
She pulled him close. “No. I know.
But we didn’t. Look at us… still.”
Then it clicked. Her eyes widened,
and a smile spread across her face. “Oh… that’s a great idea. I love it.”
He blinked at her. “But I haven’t
even—”
She laughed softly. “I know you
too well. I can read your mind.”
He shook his head with a small
smile. “Okay, Miss Mind Reader. What am I thinking?”
“Brad,” she said simply.
His heart skipped. She always
gets me, he thought. He nodded. “It just feels… right. And even if nobody
else really gets it… every time we look at our son—our son,” he said, smiling
at the words, “or call his name, it’s a little reminder that we didn’t miss our
chance.”
She took his face in both hands
and kissed him deeply, the kind of kiss that carries gratitude and promise all
at once. When she pulled back, both their eyes were wet.
“It’s the perfect name,” she said.
“For the best reason.”
He wrapped his arm around her, and
she snuggled into his side as they looked out over the creek. The water
shimmered in the moonlight, and for just a moment it felt like the night itself
was leaning in to listen—like the creek bubbled a little louder and the moon
shone a little brighter, quietly welcoming someone new into their world.
It’s Time: Let Me Hold Your
Hand
The heat of the August morning
outside was softened by the steady hush of the air conditioning. It whispered
across the room, lifting a few strands of Kimmy’s hair and brushing them across
her forehead as Mark lay beside her, watching her sleep. She shifted, restless,
and let out a small sigh.
“I can’t get comfortable,” she
murmured.
Mark frowned in that helpless,
loving way he always did. “I wish I could help, honey,” he said softly, sliding
his hand to her lower back and beginning a slow, careful massage.
“Ooooh… yes… right there,” she
whispered. “That helps.”
Her breathing evened out again,
and within a few minutes she seemed to drift back to sleep. Mark waited, not
wanting to move too soon, then carefully tried to slip out from under her arm
for his morning coffee-and-puzzle run.
Her hand found his shirt
instantly.
“Baby…” she said, eyes still
closed, “…can you get me a frozen coffee today? I’m just so overheated.”
“Your wish is my command, my
sweet,” he replied, brushing a kiss across her hair. Her mouth curved into a
sleepy smile, and that, more than anything, made Mark smile too.
At Wawa, Mark tapped the order
into the screen and grabbed his own coffee. As he paid, he saw Allan’s truck
pull in and lifted his cup in greeting through the window. Allan joined him by
the coffee station.
“You order something special?”
Allan asked.
Mark held up the slip. “Frozen
coffee for the little momma. She’s so hot and uncomfortable. Wish I could do
more.”
Allan nodded. “Sally’s starting to
show, and we think the morning sickness might finally be easing up.”
They traded a few updates, clinked
cups, and headed their separate ways.
Mark found Kimmy stretched out on
the sofa when he got home, her feet propped on pillows. She brightened when she
saw him.
“Oh, that looks so yummy,” she
said, holding out both hands. “And my puzzle—yay… gimme gimme.”
He paused just long enough to
tease her, and she extended her hands even farther. “Don’t tease,” she pouted.
“Sorry,” he laughed, handing
everything over. “You’re just so, so adorable.” He leaned down and kissed her
forehead.
The next day, Mark stopped at the
mailbox on his way in from the grocery store. Mostly bills and junk
mail—nothing exciting. He walked inside and called out, “Back, honey. I’m
putting the groceries away… need anything?”
The reply came, but it sounded…
off.
“Mark…”
He didn’t hesitate. He set the
bags down and hurried down the hall.
Kimmy was sitting on the edge of
the bed, both hands braced against the mattress.
“Baby…” he said, instantly
worried. “What… what is it?”
She gave a small, tense smile.
“Might be happening.”
His heart jumped. “What might be—”
She took a breath. “The baby…
might be coming.”
It hit him all at once.
“Oh. Oh! Okay—okay—I’ll get the
bag—no, the groceries—no, let’s go—wait, are you okay? Where’s your bag?”
Kimmy laughed softly. “Slow down,
honey. He’s not coming this second. Put the groceries away. I’ll text Sally and
she can meet us, and—oooooh…” She leaned back, eyes closing.
Mark was at her side instantly,
taking her hand. “Can I do anything?”
She checked her watch, breathing
carefully. “About ten minutes apart. We’re good. Go… do the groceries. Then
we’ll head out.”
Mark dashed away. Kimmy picked up
her phone.
Sally’s reply came almost
immediately: On my way.
Kimmy smiled to herself. Sally
will be good for Mark… she thought, shaking her head with a fond little
smile. Men.
They sat together in the hospital
exam room, Mark holding Kimmy’s hand like it was the only solid thing in the
world. The doctor came in, smiling gently.
“Okay… sorry, but it’s not time.”
Kimmy’s face fell. “But I felt—”
The doctor nodded. “Those are
Braxton Hicks. They can feel very real. The good news…” He paused, letting the
moment build just enough. “…it probably won’t be long. Maybe within the week.”
Mark turned to Kimmy. She was
already smiling.
He leaned his forehead against
hers. The doctor added, “I’m sure we’ll see you soon. We’ll take good care of
you and your baby.”
Out in the waiting area, Sally was
standing, anxious. “What… what’s happening?”
Kimmy apologized, and Mark
explained.
“Lesson learned,” Sally said.
“I’ll have to explain to Allan. He was a nervous wreck when I told him I was
coming.”
Mark patted her shoulder. “We’ll
be there for you guys. We’ll be pros by then, right honey?”
Kimmy smiled. “Take me home,
baby.”
Three days later, they were on the
porch, splitting one of Mark’s famous grilled cheeses, when Kimmy’s eyes
suddenly went wide.
Mark noticed instantly.
Her expression was half surprise,
half wonder—and then she cried softly, “Ooooh… wow, that hurts.”
He was up in a heartbeat, helping
her to her feet. “Here we go,” he said, guiding her inside. Her bag was already
waiting by the door.
By the time the nurse checked her,
the contractions were close and steady.
“I think you’re about there,” the
nurse said. “Ready to do this?”
“Yes,” Kimmy said between breaths.
“Let’s go.”
When the nurse left, Kimmy turned
to Mark and took his hand.
“Listen to me,” she said, giving
him that look—the one that meant business.
He leaned in. “Yes, baby. More ice
chips?”
“When he comes in… do not—do
NOT—let him do a C-section. I can do this naturally.”
Mark’s eyes widened. “But baby,
he’s the doctor…”
“No, Mark. No C-section. Don’t let
him.” Another contraction hit and she leaned back, breathing hard.
Mark nodded, half terrified, half
in awe. Please don’t let him say C-section…
The doctor and nurse came in. The
nurse encouraged Kimmy to push.
On the third one, the doctor said
calmly, “Look up here—you can see the crown of his head.”
Mark looked. His breath caught.
He turned to Kimmy. “Can you see,
honey—”
And then—
“Whoa!” the doctor said.
Mark turned back just in time to
see the doctor holding their son. “Came out like a shot,” he said with a grin.
“Congratulations. You have a beautiful baby boy.”
A tear slid down Kimmy’s cheek.
Mark kissed her forehead. “You were amazing. So brave… and so beautiful.”
Moments later, the nurse brought
over a bundled blanket, a tiny face peeking out.
“Here you go. Meet your son.”
Mark’s arm was around Kimmy as she
took him.
“Well hello there, little man,”
she whispered. “I’m your Mommy… and this is your Daddy.”
Mark’s heart felt like it might
burst right out of his chest.
Kimmy swayed gently with Brad, the
reality of motherhood washing over her in waves. A few minutes later, she
noticed Mark’s head resting against the side of the bed.
He’d passed out cold.
The nurse chuckled. “Not uncommon.
You’d think he had the baby.”
Kimmy laughed softly. “It probably
was harder on him than me. He’s very protective.”
The nurse smiled. “I don’t see
many husbands like that. You’re very lucky.”
Kimmy reached down and smoothed
Mark’s hair, then looked back at her son.
“I’m doubly lucky,” she thought.
“I have both of my boys.”
Baby Routines: Here Comes The Sun
The nurse wheeled Kimmy down the
long, polished hallway as Mark walked alongside, carrying her backpack and the
small carry-on they’d packed and repacked twice before the baby arrived.
Kimmy’s arms were wrapped around the bundle in her lap, and she kept looking
down at Brad as if she might forget, for just a second, that he was really
there. Every few steps she glanced up over her shoulder at Mark, and every time
their eyes met, he felt something inside him shift and grow.
He thought, I thought I knew
what happiness was when we started our life together… but this is something
else entirely.
Kimmy, as always, seemed to read
his thoughts without a word being said. Warmth spread through her chest and the
phrase kept echoing in her mind like a soft refrain: My two boys… my two
boys.
Mark pulled the car around and
helped Kimmy out of the wheelchair. The August air was warm and heavy, but the
world felt strangely hushed, like it was holding its breath. Kimmy carefully
settled Brad into the car seat in the back, her movements slow and reverent, as
if the moment might break if she rushed it. Mark held the door while she
climbed in beside him, and then he drove—carefully, deliberately—taking his new
family home.
The rest of the day passed in a
gentle blur. They took turns standing over the small white bassinet in the
corner of the living room, just watching Brad sleep. Kimmy dozed on Mark’s lap
for a while, the afternoon light slanting in through the windows, and twice she
woke to feed the baby. Mark watched from the doorway of “their room” as Kimmy
rocked the baby slowly, the house quiet except for the soft creak of the rocker
and the faint hum of summer outside as Brad enjoyed his breast milk
feeding.
By 8:30, Kimmy had reached the end
of her day. “I’m sorry, baby, I am so tired,” she said, her voice soft and
apologetic.
“I’ll come with you and watch TV
in the bedroom if you don’t mind,” Mark replied. “I’d rather be with you.”
Kimmy smiled. “You don’t have to
do that…” she began, then finished more quietly, “…but I’d like that.”
Mark took her hand and they walked
slowly into the bedroom. Kimmy slipped back into the shirt and smiled. “Hello,
old friend… it feels good to be wrapped inside you again.”
Mark kissed her forehead. “Welcome
home, honey.” As he climbed into bed he added, “I’ve got the bottles ready, and
I’ve got this. Do not get up when the baby wakes—I’ve got this.”
Kimmy smiled sleepily. “You know
I’m here if you need me… if he won’t settle.”
Mark patted her hand. “My son and
I—we’ve got a thing going already. We need some guy time. No girls allowed.”
Kimmy giggled and thought, This
man… as she drifted off.
Mark turned the TV on low and put
his arm around Kimmy, who was already asleep. When the soft cry came over the
monitor, he turned it off quickly before it could wake her. He shuffled into
Brad’s room and found the little one squirming, feet kicking.
“Hey, buddy… hungry? Daddy’s got
just the thing. No, not grilled cheese—you’ll have to wait a couple years for
that.” He smiled as he picked Brad up and felt the tiny hands clutch at his
shirt.
In the kitchen, under the soft
glow of the light, Mark prepared the bottle, then rocked Brad gently in the
back bedroom. He hummed without realizing he was doing it. Brad took the bottle
with wide, curious eyes, and one small hand slipped free of the blanket and
wrapped around Mark’s finger.
Mark felt his heart nearly burst.
“You’ve got your Mommy’s bright eyes, you know that?” he whispered.
Within minutes, Brad was asleep
again. Mark laid him back in the crib and stood there for a long moment, just
watching, letting the weight—and the wonder—of fatherhood settle into him.
When he climbed back into bed,
Kimmy snuggled close and murmured, “All good?” Before he could answer, she was
asleep again.
The sunlight woke Mark the next
morning, and he was immediately aware that he was alone in bed. He checked the
living room, then heard the soft creak of floorboards in the back bedroom. He
stopped in the doorway.
Kimmy, still in the shirt, was
feeding Brad. The room was washed in early morning light. She looked up and
mouthed, “Come here,” nodding toward the baby. Brad was clutching her finger
with one hand and the shirt with the other.
“See?” she whispered, her eyes
misting.
Mark stood behind her and stroked
her hair while she finished feeding him. When she laid Brad back in the crib,
Mark tucked the little white blanket with the clowns and balloons around him.
They stood there quietly, just
looking.
“Off to get your coffee and a
puzzle,” Mark whispered. “Back soon.”
Kimmy grabbed him and turned him
around, wrapped her arms around his neck rose on her toes, and kissed him
softly. “I love you so, so much. You know that, right?”
Mark smiled. “That’ll get you
coffee, puzzle, and a cinnamon roll, missy.”
Kimmy giggled, then glanced back
to make sure the baby was still asleep.
The week passed in a haze of
feedings, naps, diaper changes, and standing in doorways just watching their
newborn. Mark took over the house, even tried making spaghetti. Kimmy declared
it “good.”
“Not really,” Mark said, smiling,
“but you’re sweet to say that.”
At the end of the week, they took
Brad for his first checkup. The doctor smiled at the screen. “Two and a half
pounds up and two inches already. Excellent numbers. Any questions?”
Kimmy shook her head. “We’re
good.”
Back home, Brad slept again, and
Mark picked up the monitor and nodded toward the porch. “Porch for a bit?”
Kimmy brought Coke Zeros and sat
close. Mark took a breath. “I want to have an honest talk, okay?”
Kimmy nodded. “Sure, baby.”
“I remember reading about the baby
blues… talk to me. And don’t tell me what I want to hear. We promised when we
were on the Columbia River—no secrets.”
Kimmy smiled softly. “I promise
you….I’m very happy. And I’m feeling
stronger every day. I can feel myself
healing…you know, down there” and she blushed. And every time I look at him, I
just glow inside thinking… we did that.”
Mark smiled, “He has your eyes you
know. Just melts my heart every time
when he looks up at me.”
Kimmy smiled and clinked her glass
to his. “We did good, right?” Mark leaned his forehead in, and let out a
relieved sigh. Kimmy put her hand on the
back of his head and smiled inside.
She sat up and said, “What would
you say to asking Allan and Sally over tomorrow or the next day?”
Mark had a concerned half smile,
“You sure you’re up for it?”
Kimmy “I’d like to see them, I
miss Sally and I want to see how they’re doing.
Can I call them?”
They invited Allan and Sally over
the next night. When they arrived, Kimmy proudly led them to the baby’s room.
Sally’s eyes filled. “He’s adorable.”
Allan squeezed Mark’s shoulder.
“Wow, Dude.” They headed back out to the
porch and Mark brought out four wine glasses and two bottles, one red and one
white. Sally spoke first, “You
guys….just….I don’t know what to say, he’s so…so…” And Allan took her hand and said, “…he’s so
you two, really. He’s got your eyes
Kimmy, but there’s no question that’s your son Dude.”
Kimmy and Mark smiled and Kimmy
put her arm through Mark’s.
On the porch, wine glasses caught
the last light of day as they talked about babies, exhaustion, and how life
changes when you’re not looking. And as
the sun settled and the creek reflected the last gold of evening, it felt like
their world had quietly, perfectly expanded.
Baby Milestones: Never Grow Up
Brad’s bright blue eyes darted
from one side of the car to the other, taking in this strange new world through
the window as Kimmy snugged the car seat straps over his shoulders and clicked
them into place. He squirmed, then went still, studying her face like it held
the answer to a very important question.
“Well, little man,” Kimmy said
softly, leaning close, “ready for your first big outing? We’re going to the
grocery store. And Daddy’s coming with us.”
Mark leaned over the front seat,
pointing at Brad with mock seriousness. “Ready to rock and roll, buddy?”
Brad’s mouth opened into something
that might not quite have been a smile—but was close enough to make both of
them melt.
Kimmy’s heart did that familiar,
almost-painful swell. My two boys, she thought, and had to blink it away
before it turned into tears.
“I’m tellin’ you,” Mark said as he
started the engine and eased down the driveway, “us boys, we’ve got a
connection.”
“In your dreams,” Kimmy teased,
tickling Brad gently under his chin. The baby answered with a soft, breathy
giggle.
Mark glanced in the rearview
mirror and murmured, “Of course you’re okay back there,” smiling to himself as
the house disappeared behind them.
At the store, Mark pushed the cart
while Kimmy carried the list, Brad snug in the sling against her chest. They
moved like a well-rehearsed team—Kimmy calling out items, Mark stacking them
carefully. Halfway down Aisle 8, Kimmy stopped short, crossed her arms, and
just stared at the cart.
“Really?” she said, biting back a
laugh.
Mark looked at her, then at his
shirt, then leaned closer to Brad and made a ridiculous face. “What? Something
on my shirt? In my teeth?”
“No, Mr. Coach Love,” Kimmy said,
shaking her head. “Look at your basket.”
He turned, genuinely puzzled.
“What?”
She tilted her head toward the
cart with that look again expression he knew so well.
Mark broke into a grin. “Oh, you
mean the proper way real shoppers do it? Canned goods in front and
bottom, paper products in the seat, breakables like chips and eggs on top and
at the back, frozen neatly stacked in the middle.”
He lifted his hands like a proud
artist unveiling a masterpiece. “Doesn’t everyone do this?”
Kimmy laughed out loud. Brad’s
head jerked up at the sound, his eyes locking on her face.
She looked down and smoothed his
wispy hair. “Don’t you listen to your Daddy. He’s just… very special
sometimes.”
Brad seemed to recognize the word Daddy
and turned toward Mark. Mark puffed up proudly and gestured at the cart. “One
day, buddy, you’ll do it just like this.”
Back home, Brad sat in his swing,
gently rocking, holding his own bottle with fierce concentration while Mark and
Kimmy moved around the kitchen in an easy rhythm, putting groceries away.
Mark paused, watching his son. “I
swear… he’s taking all this in. When he starts talking, he’s going to have
about sixty-two thousand questions.”
Kimmy snorted. “The real question
is whether you’ll make him raise his hand first.”
She giggled as she stacked frozen
food, then turned and nearly bumped into Mark. He was standing right behind
her, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.
“What?” she asked, still laughing.
“You,” he said, shaking his head.
The laughter faded into something
softer as she stepped closer. “What about me, baby?”
“We’ve been together almost five
years,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen you beautiful, adorable, breathtaking… and
I would’ve bet, not that I ever bet on anything…..” Kimmy rolled her eyes, “….there
was no way on God’s green earth you could get any more adorable.”
She blushed, looping her arms
around his neck. “Is there a ‘but’ coming?”
“Oh, absolutely,” he said, leaning
in. “Because here you are—somehow even cuter, even more beautiful. I don’t
think in the history of the world anyone has pulled that off. No one is luckier
than me.”
He nodded toward Brad, who was
finishing his bottle with heavy eyelids. “And you, little man… you are going to
have the hottest mom in class someday.”
Kimmy’s look told him everything
he needed to know: I’m yours. I’m happy. I’m home.
Later that afternoon, Kimmy stood
by the bassinet and called softly, “Mark… come look.”
He walked over and stopped short.
Brad was asleep, clutching the corner of the white clown-and-balloon blanket,
pressing it to his mouth.
Mark laughed under his breath.
“Now who does that remind you of?”
Kimmy tilted her head. “I don’t
know… who?”
“Oh, come on,” he said gently.
“Nearly every night since that first river cruise, when you put on my—your—shirt…
you do that exact same thing.”
Her eyes lit with recognition. “I
do, don’t I?”
“Exactly,” he said, rubbing slow
circles on her back. “Unbelievable.”
An hour later, Kimmy dozed on the
sofa under a light throw when Mark heard Brad gurgling. He stepped into the
room just in time to see Brad roll from his back onto his tummy, eyes wide like
he’d just discovered fire.
“Wow!” Mark blurted.
Kimmy startled awake. “What?
What’s wrong?”
“He—he—” Mark pointed. “He did
that.”
Kimmy hurried over. “Why is he on
his belly? They said he should sleep on his back!”
“I didn’t do it,” Mark said
quickly. “He did.”
Her eyes widened—and then
sparkled. “You mean he rolled over?”
She gently put Brad back on his
back. The baby made a tiny face that said Excuse me? and with a wiggle
and a twist, rolled right back onto his tummy.
Kimmy clapped softly. “Oh, what a
big boy you are.”
Brad seemed very pleased with
himself.
Mark put an arm around Kimmy’s
shoulders as the cool breeze drifted through the house, both of them standing
there, watching their little boy—feeling, in their bones, that something had
shifted again. That he was growing. That time was moving. That their world was,
quietly and beautifully, getting bigger.
Alright… let’s let this one
breathe and glow a little. I’ll keep your structure, your beats, your
heart—just fill in the light, the quiet, and the emotional texture so it lives
on the page the way you’re seeing it.
Merry Christmas Baby
There had been something truly
different about putting up the tree this year—both Kimmy and Mark felt it the
moment they carried the boxes in from the closet. The ritual was the same: the
soft music in the background, the familiar teasing, the easy rhythm of moving
around each other in a space they knew by heart. The romance hadn’t gone
anywhere, and neither had the playfulness. But the presence of the baby
sleeping in the bassinet nearby seemed to hush the room in the gentlest way, as
if the house itself were aware it was holding something precious.
Kimmy stood on her toes and
carefully placed the Alaska ornament in the center of the tree, just where she
always did. Then she added the three Disney ornaments in a gentle arc around
it—the one with Mickey and Minnie holding baby Mickey sitting proudly at the
top of the trio. She stepped back, head tilted, studying the balance.
“Let me plug in the tree,” Mark
said.
He took two steps… then walked
right past the outlet.
Kimmy caught it out of the corner
of her eye and felt that familiar flutter in her chest—the little skip her
heart always did when she realized he was about to do that thing. Over
the years she’d learned it was rare for a truly special moment to pass without
him quietly turning it into something unforgettable. And even—even—when
she knew it was coming, it still got her every time.
Mark came back into the living
room slowly, a small white box tucked behind his back.
Kimmy felt the emotion rise before
she could stop it. “What did you do?” she asked, half-laughing, half-bracing
herself.
Mark put on his most innocent
face. “Who… me? Did I do something?” He kept the box hidden and rocked back on
his heels like he was trying not to smile.
“Stop,” she giggled. “Don’t tease
me.” She held out her hands anyway, already smiling too big.
Mark extended both arms—one hand
empty, the other holding the box. “You know by now how this works,” he said.
“Pick one.”
Kimmy cocked her head. “But
there’s only—”
He sighed in exaggerated
frustration. “Woman… pick one hand or the other,” he said, grinning. “C’mon. I
know you know which one is the right one.”
She hesitated, eyes darting
between his hands, then thought, He’d want to surprise me with the box last.
She pointed to his empty hand.
Mark beamed. He took her hand,
pulled her close, and kissed her softly. “Right choice, baby. Now… here.”
Her hands trembled just a little
as he placed the box in them. Every time he did this, it hit her right in the
heart—unexpected, even when she was expecting it. She lifted the lid.
Inside was a ceramic Christmas
ornament. Across the top, in soft gold script, it read: Baby’s First
Christmas. In the little photo frame was the picture Allan and Sally had
taken of the three of them the day they met Brad for the first time.
Kimmy gasped—and then she was
crying, openly, without trying to stop it. The weight of the moment, the
picture, the words… all of it crashed over her at once. Mark’s eyes filled too,
and he had to clear his throat before he could speak.
“The perfect ornament for the
first Christmas we three share together,” he said quietly. “Right?”
Kimmy pulled him into her harder
than he’d ever felt her pull him before. When they should have separated, she
didn’t. She just stayed there, crying against his shoulder, all she could
manage between breaths was, “Oh… oh…”
When she finally pulled back, she
went up on her toes and kissed him—deep, long, and full of everything words
couldn’t say. When they parted, she rested her forehead against his as he
leaned down to her.
“So,” Mark said softly, emotion
still in his voice, “I guess you like it?”
She laughed through her tears.
“You… how do you always do this?”
His eyes grew serious, deep in
that way she knew so well. “You know how. Kimmy, I love you so much. As much as
you think I do, that barely scratches the surface. And that little man…” He
hooked his thumb toward the bassinet where Brad slept. “…we did that together.
Nothing could be more perfect.”
She wrapped herself around him
again.
After a moment, Mark said gently,
“Okay… where does this one go? Pick the perfect spot.”
Kimmy stepped back, studied the
tree, then moved the original Mickey and Minnie just a little farther apart.
She nudged the baby Mickey up one branch… and placed the Baby’s First
Christmas ornament dead center.
She stepped back and beamed.
“Right?”
Mark stepped in behind her, put
his arm around her, and nodded.
Two days before Christmas, they
packed up Brad and headed over to Allan and Sally’s for an early dinner. The
smell of steaks on the grill drifted across the back porch, and the boys had a
glass of wine while the girls settled in.
“Still off the wine, honey?” Sally
asked.
“As long as I’m breastfeeding, I
think it’s best. Probably another couple months.”
“Coke Zero then?” Sally called
over her shoulder.
“Yes, please.”
They sat around the table
finishing dinner while Brad swung quietly in his seat, clutching his clown
blanket and staring wide-eyed at the twinkling lights on Allan and Sally’s
tree.
“He’s such a good baby,” Allan
said. “Is he always like this?”
Kimmy smiled proudly. “Always. He
only fusses when one of us is too slow getting his milk ready.”
“Or if he’s tired of the swing or
the bassinet,” Mark added. “He’s very opinionated—like his… well, let’s say he
takes after one of his parents.”
Everyone laughed, and Kimmy
blushed.
“So,” Sally said, “you said you
had something special you wanted to show us. What is it?”
Kimmy reached into her purse and
pulled out something wrapped in tissue paper. “Well, you know how my husband
can be…”
Mark raised his hands in mock
surrender.
“…in only the best and most
romantic of ways,” Kimmy finished.
“You make life tough for us
regular guys,” Allan said, clapping Mark on the shoulder.
Sally’s eyes were already anxious.
“Oh honey… what did he do this time?”
Kimmy revealed the ornament.
Sally’s eyes filled instantly. Allan leaned forward. “Dude… that’s the picture
we took…”
“It is,” Mark said. “And it was
perfect for the first Christmas. I wanted something that wouldn’t just matter
this year—but every year.”
Sally hugged Kimmy. “Can I hold
it? That’s so… so special.”
“And,” Mark said, pulling out a
small piece of paper, “here’s the company I ordered it from. When your little
one comes along…” He pointed to Sally’s belly. “…I’ll take a picture of you
three, and we’ll get you one just like it.”
Allan pulled him into a big bear
hug. “You are the best, dude.”
Brad chose that moment to protest
being ignored with a small whimper.
Kimmy checked her watch. “Uh oh…
feeding time. Can I use your—”
“Use Allan’s chair,” Sally said.
“It’s comfortable.”
Kimmy settled in, pulled the
blanket over her shoulder, and soon Brad was happily occupied.
After he fell asleep, the four of
them spent another hour trading stories—about newborns, and exhaustion, and how
life changes… and somehow doesn’t. It just gets better.
When Mark and Kimmy got home, Mark
carefully carried Brad into the back bedroom and tucked him in with his
favorite clown blanket. He headed toward their room where the bathroom light
was on.
“I’ll be ready in a minute, baby,”
Mark called softly.
“No hurry, honey. I’m waiting…”
There was something in her tone—something different—but Mark couldn’t quite
place it.
He turned off the light and
crossed the room by moonlight. When he went to pull back the covers, he
stopped.
The shirt was laid across the foot
of the bed.
He looked up. Kimmy was leaning
against the pillows, wearing that wicked, familiar smile. She patted the pillow
beside her.
“Early Christmas present, baby…”
And right on cue, the moon slipped
behind the clouds, leaving Mark and Kimmy with their own private, perfect
moment.
Gifts of Love
A light snow dusted the parking
lot of the mall, the kind that didn’t quite stick but made everything look
softer, quieter—like Christmas was leaning in and whispering, I’m almost
here. Mark wrestled with the stroller at the back of the car while Kimmy
carefully lifted Brad from his car seat. Brad’s arms waved in wide, curious
circles as he took in the strange new world of concrete, cold air, and blinking
lights.
“You okay back there, baby?” Kimmy
asked, smiling down at him as she shut the door.
Mark tried a fourth bar on the
stubborn, folded stroller and then stepped back, hands on his hips, studying it
as if it might suddenly decide to cooperate out of guilt.
Kimmy laughed, handed Brad to
Mark, and said, “Here… let me.”
“I’ve tried all of the—oh.”
She barely touched one latch, and
the stroller sprang open like it had been waiting for her all along.
Mark stared. “I swear… I know
I tried that.”
Kimmy took Brad back, smirked, and
said sweetly, “I know you did, honey. It’s okay. Momma knows best.” She buckled
Brad in while he happily batted at the little hanging rattle, laughing at the
tiny bells. Then she started walking toward the entrance.
“You coming, baby?” she called
over her shoulder.
Mark could have sworn he heard the
two of them giggle together as he shoved his hands into his pockets and jogged
to catch up.
For the next half hour, they
barely shopped at all. Mostly, they just watched Brad—his bright eyes, so much
like Kimmy’s, reflecting the lights, the ornaments, the giant wreaths, the
glittering displays. Every new color earned a little gasp, every moving
decoration a wide-eyed stare.
When they rounded the corner and
saw Santa’s setup, Mark opened his mouth to say something and then stopped.
Kimmy gasped softly. “Oh yes…
come on, honey. Picture with Santa!”
Mark smiled, already knowing he’d
lost this battle before it began.
They waited their turn, and soon
Brad was perched on Santa’s lap, staring in solemn wonder at the red suit and
white beard. The elf waved a jingly toy. Brad ignored it. The elf tried again.
Brad turned his head slowly, as if just now noticing this strange creature, and
broke into a huge grin.
“Click!” the photographer said
triumphantly. “I got it!”
Mark scooped Brad up, thanked
Santa, who leaned in and said quietly, “Handsome little man. Well behaved, too.
I hope he gets everything he wants.” He handed Mark a candy cane with a wink.
At the counter, Kimmy leaned in,
eyes wide. “Oh… look, honey.”
“That’s so us,” Mark said softly.
“He so has your smile,”
Kimmy said, then looked closer. Mark
touched her arm “But the eyes… those are yours baby….mine. Those eyes steal the picture. I know that
look way too well.”
Kimmy clutched the package like it
was the most precious gift in the world.
Christmas morning arrived quietly.
Pale light crept through the trees, and Mark was in the middle of a strange
dream about playing a drum when he felt a steady tapping on his chest. He
opened one eye and found Kimmy’s bright eyes inches from his face.
“Hi,” she whispered. “You awake?”
“Wait… what?” he mumbled. “Is Brad
up? What time is it?”
“I’ll tell you what time it is,
mister,” she said, throwing her arms up. “It’s Christmas time.
Presents!”
The shirt slid dangerously low off
her shoulder. Mark grinned. “Hey… do that again.”
She tugged it back up, laughing.
“Stop. Well… okay, you’re allowed.” She kissed him quickly. Then the words
tumbled out in a rush. “But seriously—presents! Should we wake him? It’s almost
feeding time, he should know how big this is—no, we should do hot chocolate
first—no, the tree—wait, did you hear that—”
Mark laughed. “You… slow down. You
are adorable. No, we don’t wake him. Yes, you make the hot chocolate. I’ll do
the tree. And yes, he never misses a meal.”
Kimmy whooped and skipped down the
hallway, shirt tails flying. Mark watched her, smiling so hard it almost hurt
and thought, that girl
Kimmy glanced up with a smile,
“Christmas….PRESENTS….our little man…what a day” and she grinned.
“Yes baby,” Mark said, “but
remember….we agreed. The Egypt trip
money is due next month so we agreed, one gift each….right…we agreed.”
Kimmy nodded, “I know….but Brad
has presents” and she tickled his chin bringing a little giggle. “Don’t you buddy, you want your presents…yes
you do.”
Mark started, “But he
won’t….” Kimmy pouted playfully, “He
most certainly will know each and every one is for him and he WILL be so
happy. Don’t rain on baby’s first
Christmas morning.”
Mark surrendered, “How could I
forget who the “boss of Christmas is?”
Yes ma’am!”
They settled in front of the tree
with Brad in his swing between them. Bows and ribbons fascinated him. Kimmy
gently rescued one from his mouth. “No, honey.”
Mark pointed. “Did you see that
pout? That’s yours. You do that.”
“I never—” Kimmy crossed her arms,
then laughed. “Okay… maybe sometimes.”
They kissed, and Brad watched them
like this was the most interesting show he’d ever seen.
Mark pulled out a package. “Little
surprise for the little man.”
Kimmy stared. “What did you do?”
“You open it.”
She did—and squealed. “A baby
jockey outfit! Oh, our little jockey!”
“Seemed appropriate,” Mark said
innocently.
“Like you only look at races sometimes,”
she teased, wagging a finger.
Then it was Mark’s turn. A new
navy sports jacket. He blinked. “But I have—”
“You’ve had that one since before
we met,” Kimmy said. “Time for Daddy to have a new one.”
He kissed her. “I’ll wear it for
our anniversary.”
Finally, he handed her a small
flat package. Inside was an envelope.
“A full day at the spa?” she
gasped. “Oh, that’s wonderful!”
“And… Allan and I got one for
Sally too.”
Kimmy covered her mouth, then
hugged him. “You did it again.”
Kimmy started to stand, “Let me
put this little man to bed.” She paused
standing over Mark and gently pulled the shirt down lower and lower off her
shoulders and smiled. “I’ll meet you….”
And she nodded down the hall way. The
tree lights sparkled. The parade played softly. And their little house, with
its quiet breaths and new heartbeats, felt fuller than it ever had before.
Through the Dark
The week after Christmas had
always felt like a gentle echo of the holiday for Mark and Kimmy, a soft
afterglow that lingered because their anniversary sat right there beside their
favorite season. This year, though, it felt even more special—quieter, fuller,
richer somehow.
Kimmy stepped inside, shrugging
out of her coat. “No… those boys…” She shook her head with that knowing little
smile. “I don’t know how, but they’ve got this bond already. You should see
Brad’s eyes when he looks at his daddy.”
Sally hugged her. “Come in. Sit. I
want to hear all about this plan you mentioned. Is it for your anniversary?”
Kimmy nodded, and soon they were
side by side on the sofa, mugs of coffee warming their hands while Kimmy laid
out her idea in excited, half-whispered detail.
Sally studied her grinning.
“Honey, I’m not just saying this, but you do look great. I don’t think
you need to—”
Kimmy shook her head firmly. “No.
And I know how Mark feels, I’m not worried about that. But I want a dress that
really, really knocks his socks off. You know how he is about our
anniversary—he loves it when we go out and people turn their heads. I want something
that’s… over the top.”
Sally’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I am all
in for an all-day dress hunt. Do you have some ideas?”
Kimmy laughed and blushed. “I do,
but… I don’t know. I need you to tell me if this is way too much.” She
pulled out her phone and started scrolling.
Sally leaned in. “Oh wow… oh yes…
oh my, you would be stunning in that.” And just like that, the plan began to
take shape.
Later that afternoon, Kimmy was
feeding Brad, who had discovered her hair and was happily tangling his tiny
fingers in it, when Mark came in with his laptop tucked under his arm. Kimmy
looked up and smiled. “What are you up to?”
Mark tried—and failed—to hide his
grin. “Just watching some races, honey. Um… tomorrow Allan and I are having
lunch.”
Kimmy’s eyes narrowed just a
touch. “Just lunch?”
“Oh baby, don’t give me that look.
You can call him—guy talk.”
Kimmy smiled and looked down at
Brad. “You see that? That’s when your daddy is up to something. And here’s a
secret—it’s always good.” Brad’s eyes brightened as if he completely
understood.
Allan took one look at Mark’s
expression as they walked into the mall and laughed. “Can I guess?”
Mark blinked. “What? Sorry—forming
my plan.”
“I said, can I guess?” Allan
repeated. “You’re predictable, but somehow you always surprise everyone anyway.
We’re headed to the jewelry store—that’s the easy part. Anniversary week, and
you lined us up to watch Brad. What I don’t know is what you’re actually
looking for.”
Mark clapped him on the back.
“Follow me. I looked it up and put in an order. Hoping they’ve got it ready.”
The next morning, Mark closed the
door softly behind him, two cups of Wawa coffee and the newspaper tucked under
his arm. Kimmy sat cross-legged on the sofa with a finger to her lips. “He just
went down,” she whispered.
Mark kissed the top of her head
and handed over her morning treasures. “Here you go, my lady,” he said with a
small bow.
Kimmy giggled. “Stop… okay… do it
again and I’ll grant you three wishes.”
Mark bowed again. “I’ll make a
list.”
She opened the paper, and Mark
half-turned. “You remember I’ve got my checkup and blood results this morning,
right?”
Kimmy nodded. “I remember. I’ll
have lunch ready when you get home.”
The doctor’s office always smelled
like medicine and problems. Even though Mark had already seen his numbers
online, a nervous energy sat in his chest.
Dr. Lopez came in smiling. “How
are we doing today? And how’s the little man—congratulations.”
Mark smiled. “He’s great. Just…
something else. Thanks for asking.”
The doctor checked his blood
pressure and frowned slightly. “A little high, but that’s not too unusual. Did
you see your numbers?”
“Yeah… they looked okay to me,
right?”
Dr. Lopez paused just a beat too
long. “Well, your calcium is a bit high.”
Mark frowned. “I don’t really
drink much milk, so I don’t—”
The doctor smiled gently. “No, not
that. Are you okay staying a little longer? I’d like to run one more test. I
promise it won’t take long.”
Mark nodded, uneasy. “Is… is
something wrong?”
“Not to worry,” Dr. Lopez said
kindly. “If it’s anything, it’s nothing serious.”
At home, Kimmy swayed gently with
Brad while stirring the chili on the stove. “Just where is your daddy?”
she murmured, a trace of nerves in her voice. “What do you think he’s doing?
Planning some big surprise for Mommy?” She smiled.
The door opened. “Home, baby.”
The tone was just… a fraction off.
Kimmy felt it immediately. Mark came around the corner, smiling a little more
brightly as he kissed Brad’s head and then hers. “Hello, little man.”
Kimmy told herself she was
imagining things. “Okay… it’s just my hormones,” she thought.
“Let me put him down and we’ll
eat, okay?” she said, heading down the hall.
When she came back, Mark was
sitting at the table, laptop open, bowls still empty.
He smiled. The kind of smile she
knew too well—the one that tried to pretend everything was fine.
She stopped. Her hands came
together in front of her. “It’s okay, honey. Here, sit down,” Mark said
quickly.
Her hands trembled as she sat. She
saw the screen: WebMD.
“Oh no, baby… no… no,” she
whispered. “What did the doctor tell you?” Tears filled her eyes.
Mark took a breath, and that was
all it took. The tears came.
“Please…” she said, clutching his
arm.
“It’s going to be okay, baby. Let
me show you.”
“Going to be okay?” she
sobbed. “What does that mean?”
He rested his forehead against
hers. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to scare you. Just… let me explain.”
He turned the laptop. “Ever heard
of the parathyroid?”
She shook her head.
“Me either,” he said gently,
pointing to his neck. He explained—four tiny glands, calcium levels, one of
them likely misbehaving.
Kimmy’s tears slid quietly down
her cheeks. “Okay… but what does that mean?”
“Well… there’s good news and bad
news.”
Her breath caught. “Bad news?”
“If I did nothing, it could get
worse. Lead to complications.”
She shook her head immediately.
“So we’re not doing nothing.”
“No. That means I need surgery.”
“No… no, baby, please…” she
whispered.
“It’s outpatient. Less than an
hour,” he said, pulling her into his arms. He played the video. “I scheduled it
for three weeks from now.”
She swallowed hard and nodded,
trying to be brave. “We’ll take care of you. You promise you’re telling me
everything?”
“No secrets. We promised. I’ll be
home by lunchtime. Next day, good to go to Wawa for your coffee and puzzle.”
She climbed into his lap, resting
her head on his shoulder. The tears now were different—still worry, but
threaded with relief.
“Don’t ever be sorry if you’re
going to be okay,” she whispered. “Just… don’t ever tell me it won’t be.”
“Okay,” he said softly.
The next two days carried both
excitement and a quiet edge of concern. Brad seemed a little fussier, but
whenever one of them held him and he clutched his clown blanket, the world
settled again.
That evening, as Mark stood with
two ties against his new jacket, he called, “So which dress are you wearing
tonight?”
No answer.
“Honey? What color? I’m trying to
pick a tie.”
The door opened, and Mark forgot
how to breathe.
Kimmy stood in the doorway, framed
by light, in a sleek black dress—bare shoulders, deep neckline, the gold heart
at her throat, a slit climbing her leg. “Sally helped me pick it,” she said
softly. “Is it okay?”
He just stared.
“Too much?” she asked, suddenly
unsure.
He crossed the room in two steps,
his eyes saying everything. “Stunning. Just… wow.” He wrapped his arms around
her. “How is it that you are with me?”
She leaned in and whispered,
“Because I choose you. Only you.”
When they came into the living
room, Allan’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God. Dude—look at your wife.”
Sally beamed. “I told you it would
be perfect. Mark, what do you think?”
He took Kimmy’s hands. “This… this
is my wife.”
Dinner passed easily, full of talk
about Brad and smiles and small laughs. Mark kept the diagnosis tucked away for
another day. When the plates were cleared, he nodded toward the terrace.
“Our place,” he said.
Kimmy leaned into him. “We always
find the terrace. Everywhere we go.”
He reached into his jacket. She
felt it before she saw it.
Mark paused, “Do you know what a
peridot is baby?”
Kimmy shook her head, knowing
inside something very special was coming.
“Neither did I,” Mark started, and
he slowly lifted the lid of the box.
“It’s the birthstone for anyone born in the month of August.”
Kimmy went breathless and managed
before she could see inside the box, “Brad’s birth month.” Mark opened the box wide, “Yes…it is.” The light bounced off the bracelet which was
a dozen small diamonds, six on each side of a glistening emerald green
stone.
“Oh….oh Mark honey.” Kimmy softly
said as she reached for it, small tears streaming down her cheeks.
A gust of wind rattled the
plastic, heaters flickered—but they were lost in their own world, together,
through the dark.
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