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"Mom-my... Mooomm-mmyyyyy..."
Pam opened her eyes sleepily and smiled as she looked into the sweet face of her little boy, standing next to the bed in his footie pajamas, dragging his Heffalump blankie behind him. She reached over and tousled his hair.
"Hey, little man... what are you doing?"
"Mommy ‘wake?"
Pam looked over at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 5:01 AM. She groaned.
"No way, kiddo. It’s way too early. Still night-night."
"Nigh-nigh?"
"Yep."
"I come in?" J.D. perched his little chin on the edge of the mattress and looked at her with his big hazel eyes. He really did look exactly like Jim.
Pam reached out her arms. "Okay buddy, come here." She pulled him onto the bed, and he crawled over her and settled between her and Jim. He turned over and began poking at Jim’s nose.
"Daaaaaadd-dyyyyy..."
"Shhhh, J.D." Pam admonished, pulling his little hand away. "Don’t wake Daddy up. You have to be quiet. No talking."
"’Kay," he whispered. "Shhhhh..." He snuggled down and burrowed under the covers. Just as Pam had almost fallen asleep, he began to press his little feet into her stomach.
"Baby, what are you doing?" No response. He just continued to press his feet harder into her. "J.D., stop that!" He pressed harder and harder until it really began to hurt.
Pam’s eyes flew open and she looked around. The room was dark and quiet. The clock read 4:03. She could hear Jim breathing behind her, pressed up against her back, his arm over her waist and his hand resting on her rotund belly.
She smiled to herself. Lately, she had been having dreams about the little boy growing inside her. In each dream, he ranged in age from newborn to about 5 years old, and each time, he looked exactly like Jim. Not just a resemblance, but an exact facsimile, albeit much smaller. She chuckled at the thought of having her own mini-Jim.
She closed her eyes, and then she felt it again: that same pressure, the same pain. She groaned. She had been having Braxton-Hicks contractions for the last few weeks. They happened often, and they were annoying as hell.
She put her glasses on and got out of bed, stretching her back, and then quietly slipped out of the bedroom and padded downstairs to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher in the refrigerator, and then paced the living room, sipping her water slowly. Over the last few weeks, she had found that water and walking got rid of those obnoxious middle-of-the night contractions. But then another one hit. She set her water down and held onto the back of the couch, clutching her belly with her other hand. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. These were different from the other contractions she had been having. These ones actually hurt. And they were coming fast.
"Jim?" she called. No answer. "Jim!" She heard footsteps above her head, and Jim appeared at the top of the stairs, his hair disheveled, his eyes squinting in the bright light.
"What’s up?" he murmured sleepily, making his way down the stairs.
"Um… I think I’m having contractions," she said, her voice shaking. Jim’s eyes widened as he approached her. He reached out to place a hand protectively on her belly.
"You’re only 32 weeks… are you sure they’re not Braxton-Hicks?"
"Pretty sure… they really-" She suddenly sucked in a breath and clutched Jim’s hand, squeezing her eyes shut. "Ow, shit!" she whimpered.
Jim led her to the sofa and sat her down. He held her hand until the contraction ended. She opened her eyes to look into Jim’s face, which was pinched with concern.
"Okay Pam, just sit here. I’m going to call the doctor."
"It’s 4 AM!"
"Shit… okay, I’m calling the hospital. Just hang on."
He hurried to the kitchen grabbed the phone. He found the hospital’s number on the OB/GYN card they had hung on the refrigerator and dialed.
"Moses Taylor Hospital Emergency Room."
"Um, yeah, this is Jim, uh, I'm Jim Halpert. My wife, Pam is having contractions, and it’s 4 in the morning, so I can’t call her doctor, and she’s only 32 weeks, so should I call an ambulance, or just bring her in?"
"Whoa, slow down," said the voice on the other end. "She’s 32 weeks along?"
"Uh-huh."
"Is this her first baby?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. She’s probably having what are called Braxton-Hicks contractions, and they’re perfectly-"
"No!" Jim interrupted. "She’s been having Braxton-Hicks for a few weeks, but now she says that they really hurt, and they’re coming every five minutes." He looked out into the living room just in time to see Pam suck in her breath again and grab her stomach. He rushed to her and held her hand as she tried to breathe deeply.
"I see… how far away are you from here?"
"A few minutes."
"Okay, I want you to get her in the car and bring her here now. Pull up to the ambulance entrance and we’ll be waiting for her."
"Thank you!" Jim hung up and tossed the phone onto the couch.
"Alright. We’re going to the hospital. I’m just gonna change really quick."
"What?! I need to change too! I can’t go like this!" she said, gesturing to her outfit of a t-shirt and a pair of Jim’s boxers.
"Pam, we’re going to the hospital. No one’s going to care what you look like. Besides, you’ll be getting into a gown anyway."
Pam started to protest, but then decided that she just didn’t have the energy to haul herself upstairs. She nodded and lay back on the couch cushions with a shaky sigh.
"Okay. Just… hurry. Please."
Jim ran upstairs, taking two at a time. He threw on a pair of jeans and tugged a sweatshirt over his shirt. He grabbed his cell phone and wallet from the nightstand, and on the way out the door, he stopped by the dresser to grab a pair of his socks, a pair of Pam’s socks, and then snatched her Uggs from the closet.
He rushed back downstairs and sat next to Pam on the couch, pulling on his socks. She opened her eyes and let out a small laugh.
"That’s got to be some kind of a record."
He began to laugh with her, but then she gasped and clutched his hand again, screwing her eyes shut.
"Okay, okay, breathe. Just breathe," Jim said quietly. He sat, holding her hand and feeling absolutely helpless until the contraction ended. Pam let out a deep sigh and opened her eyes.
"Okay?"
Pam nodded.
Jim helped Pam get her socks and boots on her feet, and then helped her to stand up. They hurried to the front door, and Jim helped Pam with her coat before shoving his feet into his own shoes and putting his own coat on. He held her hand as he opened the door and grabbed the car keys from their hook on the coat closet door. He looked back at Pam, whose eyes were wide and brimming with tears.
"Jim… I’m scared," she whimpered. Jim leaned down to kiss her forehead.
"I know," he whispered. "Come on. Let’s go."
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Story Notes:
This deals with some heavy, scary stuff. There is, however, a lot of love and a little bit of fluff thrown in, and there IS a happy ending.
Disclaimer: I don't own a darn thing. I am not associated with "The Office" or anyone from "The Office"... although Angela Kinsey and I are both from Texas. Yeehaw!
Disclaimer: I don't own a darn thing. I am not associated with "The Office" or anyone from "The Office"... although Angela Kinsey and I are both from Texas. Yeehaw!
Author's Chapter Notes:
Summary - Pam dreams of her little boy, then wakes up to a nightmare.
Chapter End Notes:
