When Jim takes me home that night, we don't say much to each other for about fifteen minutes. I just shrug and smile (like, a lot of teeth, really dorky) and tell him our house is such a mess. He laughs awkwardly and nods in agreement, glancing at the single glass on our coffee table and the one envelope next to it.
"Yeah," he laughs. "Pig sty."
We both laugh and I rub my hands over my forearms like I'm cold -- but really, it has to be around eighty degrees in here -- and it feels vaguely like our first date. When we both just looked at each other and were so extremely happy, but you just don't say that stuff out loud, right? So you kind of sit there and both act like idiots, so over the moon, until the thoughts become the air between you and you both just know.
(That was our first date, I remember it really well, actually. We've both talked about it since, too. How neither of us wanted to be the couple that slept together on the first date, how I already kind of felt cheap for even asking him upstairs for some coffee. But he hadn't stayed. I just fell asleep against his shoulder and he shook me a little around two and said he was going home. It was one of the best nights of my life. One of the best naps, too.)
But anyway, that's almost what this feels like. Like... Well, my life just got a little more perfect so what should we do now?
He nods at the glass. It's even sitting on a coaster, because he knows that's my pet peeve. "Well, Pam, that glass isn't going to clean itself. And, god, the mail -- the bill I've already called about and paid -- just sitting there. Who are we? And we're bringing a kid into this hell hole..."
He bends down to scoop it up with a smirk on his face, but before he can I feel my throat close. I choke out the most unladylike, most feverishly excited grunt of a laugh and move toward him. He's standing between the coffee table and the couch, so I have to glance down and make sure I don't run into anything (I have a permanent blue bruise on my shin, sometimes both, pretty much). He smiles at me, recognizing completely, and his face melts with it and his eyes go soft. The image is perfect, so perfect that I want to wrap my arms around it and kiss it and just thank it. Just, god...
I'm kind of bouncing on my heels when I get to him, my elbows bent close to my sides and my hands in fists. I slowly unfold them and rest them on top of his shoulders so my fingers relax and dangle behind him, but as soon as my arms are gone from my side he bends to pick me up. And we stay like that for a minute or so, him just holding my whole body up in the air and against him so tightly, with my arms wrapped snugly around his neck.
It's just the best. He's just the best.
When he puts me down, he's laughing quietly and running a hand through his hair. On the second swipe, his hand stops on the flat of his forehead and the hair sticks up above it. He blows air out through his lips and his cheeks puff.
He licks his lips as I just shake my head. He says, "So. We're having a baby, Pam." I smile, the biggest smile possible because I knew he would say something like this eventually, and wow, we're only a few hours into this.
I can feel my eyes crease wearily as he reaches down, touching his forehead to mine and his fingertips to my neck as I whimper, "I know" so close to his lips. He doesn't kiss me, he just stays there with me and we alternate between laughing really quietly and just listening to each other breathe.
Eventually my arms feel strained and I realize how tightly I'm holding him. I kiss his lips lightly and look up at him as I drop onto the couch, and he follows me down. He eyes my stomach, but he doesn't know that I notice it. He breathes deeply, a big inhale and drops his head against my shoulder and we both just stare at the empty television screen.
I think of this baby, and this whole world in front of us that we were planning on surveying together, and suddenly there's more to it. Babies? They were just part of the agenda before. It's not like I was passive about it or anything. Actually, I've known I wanted to have Jim's children for a long time. He's just that way, you know? Like, I just see that part of him that needs to be a dad.
But in the past, with another man in my life, I guess having kids wasn't this huge passionate thing I see it as now. It was just, Maybe I should be a mother. Maybe I should try that, and I'm sure it would be wonderful.
With Jim... And we've talked about it, too... It's just different. And there's a small part of me somewhere deep inside that would just flicker with the thought of it, and positively glow thinking about having a baby to share with Jim one day. But this is so completely magnified, we just didn't expect it yet and it's suddenly here, and it's real. It's not the late night that we had when we first talked about this, months and months and months ago. When we were tipsy from champagne and kissing and he looked at me in the dark and said, "God, I hope you plan on letting me get you pregnant one day."
We laughed so hard and collapsed into each other that night -- lazy and drunk. I'm pretty sure the plan was sex but sometimes drunk Jim just gets distracted and starts a conversation instead. I tell him they're taking away his man card. He says he doesn't take advantage of naked, drunk women because his mother taught him better than that.
But he said that to me and after we laughed and pushed and pulled at each other, I said, "I'll have a few of your babies one day." He sighed and said a few sounded "so nice." We drifted off to sleep in our clothes, and when I woke up in the morning with the skirt of my dress bunched up around my waist and my legs tangled with him, our hangovers didn't let us budge. So we talked about having kids instead.
My toes curl. My stomach is flat -- I mean, as it has been anyway -- and I'm not nauseated or moody or anything. I had no inkling whatsoever about being pregnant when I woke up today, but suddenly I am, and when I look down at myself there's no visual clue anywhere. But now, I just know that I am, and already I cannot imagine a life without this.
It runs through my body again and I turn. His head floats up in surprise and I notice his eyes looking somewhat drowsy as my lips touch his. He responds immediately, his hands coming to spread out against my head. He delicately reaches for the elastic in my hair, and my curls are spilling out of my ponytail.
I jerk my head back and smile at him. "You haven't done that one in a while."
"Special occasions and all," he says, grinning and already coming back to my mouth. We kiss for a while before we end up horizontal on the couch and it's not long until we're making love one of my very favorite ways. I'm above him, elbows resting on the cushions with one hand in his hair at the top of his head. I'm so close to him, our stomachs touching and my head bowed against his, my ear against his cheek. He holds me in the loveliest way, with his arms around me and his wrists crossed at my neck, fingers barely touching the skin -- just enough to raise goosebumps and it feels amazing.
He's pushing into me and I close my eyes and sigh. We moan simultaneously and I part my lips and he's hitting something perfectly. I curl my chin down and turn my face so I can kiss him, and we just melt into each other over and over again. His hands fall apart and hold my shoulders as he thrusts. I shift so my face is directly above his, with his nose fitting into the right angle where my chin meets my neck. And we just fall into it.
This is what it's like it the beginning, when we just can't believe it and we're both too stupid to realize what we're heading into. We keep grinning at each other and we end up walking around naked or in our underwear a lot, because we just keep celebrating. And since my body isn't changing or doing anything crazy, we feel just irrationally happy for a while.
One day in the shower I notice a tummy on me, like a real little bubble and it freaks me out. Okay, so I'm actually pregnant. When Roy and I first started dating he used to say, "Come on, Pam, don't be shy about what you eat. I'm not into that kind of girl." It was actually really sweet; what kind of guy says that to a girl in high school? It was definitely his peak for nice things to say, but anyway, I remember I gained a little weight after that and was probably at the weight I'm at now standing in the shower. And I had the smallest gut back then. But now I have a small bump. God, a "baby bump." I'm dripping wet with one towel around my waist and one in my hair when I show Jim.
He just says, "hey" in a hushed voice. I look up at him, with my chin down and wonder how to show him. I can't just open my towel, because he's going to think this is something else, right?
Before I can decide, he does so for me. With a smirk, he gently grasps one part of the towel and slides it away when his lips meet my neck. My head falls backward and he stops. He sees the little bump and stares carefully, then lifts his eyes to me.
"I'm going to take a chance here," he says in a rough, low voice. "At the risk of sounding really horrible... This is new, right?" He puts a fingertip to the swell around my navel and bites his lip.
I let the towel fall off and I hold his wrists. "Definitely new." He lets out this beautiful, loose laugh that's so Jim that it could bring tears to my eyes. But sometimes happy just means you need to laugh because the happy is just all over you. So that's what we do, until we are short of breath and kissing in spite of it.
In my second trimester, I begin to grow so much quicker than I thought it would happen. Nine months is a long time, it should be a pretty gradual process. But I'm not really fitting into some of my clothes anymore, and it starts to get kind of annoying.
Jim falls onto the bed one night so he's carefully across my legs, with his hands on my stomach. I'm over the short bout of morning sickness I got into to, and he knows this, so -- for some reason -- bouncing onto the bed and landing like this is his new thing. Yeah, I don't know, either.
Things are changing a lot. People know now and everyone's so excited for us. We're both excited, too, but it starts to feel like everyone around me is smiling a lot and I'm just getting fatter. I'm happy, moreso everyday (having a partner that makes it impossible to forget there's a baby on the way will do that). No clothes fits me for too long, it seems and when I'm moving into the third trimester, I lose all the crazy sexual drive and just start to feel like something you'd spot on a safari instead.
I groan loudly and survey the little room filled with baby clothes. It's adorable, and everything is painted in pastels and soft cottons and baby animals, and my exhausted spirit warms at the sight of it... But, Jesus, so much laundry to fold.
Jim wanders in with a sweatshirt and flannel pants on (it's February and we're busy disagreeing about the temperature most days) and brings me some iced tea. "Did you want lemon?"
I shake my head and take the glass from him. "Thank you. You're the best."
He nods and looks at the mess I seem to have backed myself into. "God, this kid has a lot of clothes. Kind of looks like you could dress it in a different outfit each day --"
"And he'd outgrow them before he got a chance to wear them all?" I finish, looking up at him around my cold glass. He smirks and points at me.
"Yes." Jim sits down next to me and lets his eyes wander over all of the little outfits, plush toys and baby accessories we have yet to figure out for sure. I place my hands on my belly, running them up and down slowly and try to read his face. He's smooth and sweet to me, and has been for all of these months, but there's something uneasy in him. I can feel it.
"You okay?"
He nods and reaches over to kiss me quick and sweet, smiling and radiant, so I let him have that. Jim shares with me and talks to me, so when he has something he wants to work out on his own, I try my best to let it go. I wonder if his worries are like mine, though.
Because, really, I must do a pretty good job faking it. But. I really have no idea what I'm doing. I keep folding all of these clothes and accepting gifts from baby showers and looking at the ultrasound pictures, picking out names, getting happy tears from time to time, but I can't fully comprehend that I'm going to have a baby yet. Which makes me feel like a terrible mother, so I'm trying to cover all of my bases... We both are. We talked about college funds, and holidays split between parents, good schools and daycare, parenting techniques, discipline. And I'm excited as I can possibly be to cuddle and love my little baby for the first time.
And just this thought makes me take a deep breath and clench my fists, just as to how much I truly want this, and how happy I am that it's happening now.
But I feel like I'm missing a piece. That I should be feeling just that much more prepared. That I should know what I'm getting into just a teensy bit more. Like I think I know, but I have no idea. It's frustrating. I feel like I'm a mother that's not in the club. This baby is real to me, and I love him so much (or her, we don't know!), but I feel like I still... just have no idea.
And, you know, that they might not let me take him or her home from the hospital because I have no idea what to do with one other than feed it. Change it. Cuddle with it and make funny noises at it, bathe it now and then.
"They're not going to let me take it home from the hospital, Jim," I warn him playfully, shaking my head and staring out at the sea of greens, blues and yellows. I echo my thoughts as I feel him smile down at me. "I don't know what to do with a baby besides change it and feed it and hold it and... make funny noises at it."
"Sounds sufficient," he says with a smile and reaches for one of the little outfits. He holds up the tiny Phillies jersey and smiles at me.
I smirk and shake my head. "I'm telling you. Really. I don't know."
He tosses the jersey back on the pile and mocks frustration. "Well then this was all a huge waste of money and time."
I beam at him and laugh a little, craning my neck and kneading my fingers over a tender spot where it meets my shoulder. "Kelly told me we're having a boy."
"Did she?" he asks, moving closer. He nudges my hand away and takes over. It feels wonderful.
My eyes close and I nod. "With disdain. She said there aren't any good boys names." We're quiet for a few minutes and I contemplate falling asleep, but I've recently decided the smartest thing to do is wear myself out during the day so I can fall asleep at night. Sleeping with something the size of a blue-ribbon competition pumpkin is surprisingly less comfortable than one would think. What a shock.
"What kind do you want?" I ask him this daily.
"One that looks like you." This is usually his answer.
"This hair on a baby is going to look like a Chuckie doll," I sigh and fall further into him. We both adjust so that I'm leaning across most of his lap and he's running his fingers through my hair. We look at each other with smiles on our faces, and I think we both know these are some of the last times that it'll be just the two of us. Where we can lie around on the floor on a weekend because we don't have anything else to do.
"Shut up," he says softly, hand pausing to rest on my forehead. He bends down and presses a kiss lightly onto my pouting lips and puts a hand on my belly.
I turn my face to all of the clothes. "I need to fold all of these." Neither of us move. I take a deep breath and place my hand directly below his. I can feel him watching me now.
"You're going to be such a good mom." He says this so quietly that his voice cracks in places. I can feel the smile in his voice like it's on my skin. I twist and look up at him behind me, and he smiles with cheeks that are almost pink and traces a circle through my shirt.
I flash him a small smile and look back over at the Phillies jersey. I think about Jim and a baby boy and that tiny t-shirt, and I wonder.
Other than a healthy baby and a happy family and smooth sailing, the one thing I want for the delivery is medication. Not in the made-for-TV movies "I want drugs!" kind of thing. Just... It just makes sense to have a plan in place, because if you think about the actual process of delivery? It's barbaric. Jim laughs at that word, but no -- he's the one that wouldn't watch the delivery videos with me on YouTube so he doesn't know. And it's not his... that the baby's -- well.
It doesn't happen the way I'd like it, too. When we get to the hospital, when it's really happening, it's in the evening and Jim is holding onto me like he's a little boy in a crowd afraid to get lost. The nurses all laugh and tell me that the place is packed and that our baby is going to share a birthday with half of the city soon, because there are so many laboring moms.
When I'm all situated and she tells me this then leaves, I pout a little up at Jim who's staring at mine and the baby's heartbeats.
"Well, that's unoriginal," I whine. "I'm holding this kid in until Tuesday. He's not going to be part of some sudden baby boom in Pennsylvania."
Jim scrunches his face at the monitor. "You think that's normal? How it just dips down like that all of a sudden?" He points at the screen and looks at me.
I hold my hands up in the air and shake my head. "Why would you say something like that? Why would you scare me like that?"
He shakes his head furiously and waves his hands in the air. "Well, I mean, obviously it's fine because she just looked at it and didn't say anything. It just... looks weird."
I brace my hand on my stomach and close my eyes tight. The pain is ridiculous. I mean, I can bear it at this point, but it hurts. Jim had been asleep for a while when it started, so I think he missed a lot, but these have been going on forever. They were only starting to get really painful when I finally asked my mom and Jim's parents to wake him up.
In the middle of it, I feel Jim get close to me and touch me really softly on the shoulders, his fingers finding my skin through the open side of the hospital gown. I lean my temple into his and he doesn't say anything, just lets me ride it out next to him. This is pretty much what we do for a few hours, and then I decide want something for it.
As soon as I look up at him and tell him I need something, Jim makes it his mission to figure it out. He nods and leaves the room and comes back to reassure me but I'm sweaty and short with him because it hurts so much, and it's not even nice in-between them anymore. I'm uncomfortable and it makes him agitated.
When someone else -- I don't even care, I can't keep their names straight at this point, because all I can think about is whatever's trying to kill me from the inside out -- walks in and looks pretty official, Jim starts to nod and smile and tells me that it's going to be fine and that I'm doing so good and all of these things, and I'm shaking my head back and forth and trying to figure out what the hell he's talking about and why nothing is numb yet when the nurse takes my face in her hands and smiles when she informs me, sternly and steadily, that there's no time for an epidural because I'm progressing too quickly, and do I feel like pushing?
Jim looks worried off to the side and I'm sitting there, sweating and disgusting, feeling like I have to go to the bathroom, and gritting my teeth together, feeling like I could cry. The nurse says it again and tries to get my attention but I'm not having it.
I look over at another nurse in the room. "Can I please have one?"
They both smile sympathetically and explain it again, and even though they're both being so kind, I really want to get this woman's hands off of my face because it's so hot in here and I'm the one having the baby, not her -- she looks like she's seventy. Just because it's been a hundred years since she's had a baby and there probably wasn't even epidurals around then and --
God. I groan and reach blindly for Jim's hand when another contraction hits. Jim's there instantly, and whispers things but I don't hear any of them. I know he's saying things that would normally calm me down and make me feel better, but that's as deep as it gets, because even Jim's gentle demeanor is no match for whatever is happening to my body right now.
The doctor walks in and I know that remember liking him at some point, but anyone who tells me I have to do this without drugs is someone I just can't... I mean, I did a lot of YouTube research.
At one point, when they're helping me position myself, I feel tears in my eyes and on my face and look up at Jim to tell him this.
"Babe," I say quietly, so only he can hear. He bows down and puts his ear in front of me so I can whimper for him again. "All of those videos..."
God help him, as terrified as he looks, I seem to have made him laugh. His eyebrows crease a little and he shakes his head. "Pam, don't think about those, sweetie. Babe, come on. Let's have a baby, right?"
I whine again and I feel like I should feel just a little embarrassed because I'm kind of on display again, which is uncomfortable, but I don't care because it hurts, it hurts, it hurts and I want this part to be over with. During the next hour, there are multiple times when I tell Jim that I can't do it and that it hurts and that it feels like I'm being ripped open, and the poor guy. He's so good to me. He just nods or shakes his head and tells me I'm almost there.
Everyone in the room is starting to pat my knees and give me a lot of encouragement, but the only person I care about is Jim. As hot and uncomfortable as I am, I have him pulled up close next to me, with his face on mine as I cry through everything. He talks in my ear and kisses my cheek and puts his soft fingers on my neck. He rocks with me when I push and he tells me he loves me so much and when the nurse counts to ten each time he doesn't count with her. He stays quiet with me and kisses my ear and holds my hand.
I'm not sure where we are in the process because the pain in combination with closing my eyes constantly has made me a little disoriented. And everyone's been saying "You're almost there!" for what feels like hours. But at one point, Jim stretches away from me to look down and there's a whoosh feeling and I'm empty. Jim feels jumpy and his hands are tighter on mine and then there's a cry and I know what that sound means.
I don't do anything but put my hands on my chest and fall against the stack of pillows behind me, crying differently now and looking up at the ceiling. I get up to look at Jim who's smiling this great, big Jim smile and shaking his head and looking over at me and touching my hands.
"You have a little boy," the doctor says, depositing this squirmy, messy, naked little thing on top of me and I instantly touch him everywhere as he screeches. Jim covers his own mouth with his hand and then reaches down to touch the baby's forehead, lightly, and doesn't know what to do with himself. I run my fingers over his face, and he looks so frustrated, that this happy laugh I've been hiding for hours bubbles up uncontrollably and I bite my fingernails.
"Jim, he's little," I whimper. He just nods and fists some of the gown over my thigh.
They take him away from me to clean him up and I'm sobbing now because I want him with me. It's over and it's just beginning and I want this little baby back. Jim says things in my ear that I start to understand more clearly as my body calms down, things like thanking me and telling me he loves me again and did you see him? and petting the back of my neck, smoothing the hair away from my face. After this, I listen to the sound of my baby crying behind us and open my eyes to smile at Jim. He looks terrified and beautiful and happy. He kisses me and I must be a mother now, because after everything that my body went through, my arms ache the most, waiting for my son.
I've been a low-key, down to Earth girl most of my life, I like to think. But Jim Halpert made me another brand of laid-back. He calmed my nerves and regularly relaxes me, soothes me. So this is why I feel like folding in on myself when I start crying right along with the baby one day.
"What's the matter?" Jim moves into the nursery sleepily and puts his arm around me. I shake my head sadly and rock the baby a bit more profoundly. He kisses my cheeks and eases his hands around the child. I glance up to see his raw, teary face being kissed by his dad and settled into his arms. I feel useless and heavy and full of sleep looking at Jim, effectively calming this kid. I thought his lungs were going to collapse from all the crying. Or explode.
"Did he eat?" The good thing about having to give up breastfeeding is that Jim can now wake up and help out with feeding, too. So I hand the bottle over to him. It still makes me sad, though. "Go to bed, 'kay?" He smiles at me before he yawns and positions the kid for feeding.
I'm drained, and crying myself to sleep takes about five minutes before I'm out. I wake up when he's back in bed with me and wrapped his long arms around my torso. His lips find my neck and he holds still.
"I love you," he says quietly. He hugs me tighter. "Thanks for having my baby."
I sigh, big and heavy and turn in his arms. "Do you mean that?" slips out before I can catch it.
His eyes open wider, and I see the alarm clock behind him telling me it's almost four. "What does that mean?"
I press my forehead into his chin and curl up. "Am I doing okay?"
I know that the late night combined with getting no sleep lately, and general achy feeling everywhere makes me ask him that, and makes me tear up, too.
"He's crazy about you." He sighs and shifts, pulling me closer. "We've had him for, like, two weeks and I already know -- Pam, we have to have more of these."
I smile at that thought. He's such a good daddy and husband that I can't imagine not having more, just to see him do it all. And he makes me feel better again. Other than the little guy asleep down the hall, Jim is the only person I want to think I'm doing well. He starts to kiss me, and it's so light and perfect that it nearly eases me to sleep. His breathing next to my ear does that instead.
There's nearly a year of waking up every three hours to feed our little chunk, and then he's started to sleep through the night and do us some favors. Jim and I start getting full nights and soak it up, wondering how we got so lucky, until he's about a year and a half and starting up some old habits. It's only a few nights before Jim makes me laugh by sitting him down to give him a "serious talking to." I'm pouring juice, adding a little water, and stuffing diapers in the bag when I hear Jim tell him, "Really, nothing goes on late at night. It's dull. And the screaming? What's that about?"
When I walk into the living room, I'm not sure if he's reaching for me or the cup, but his face lights up and he smiles big like Jim always does. Jim's face nearly breaks in half with his own matching grin and he bounces him on his knee.
"Who's that, huh?"
I grin and look at my little boy, like a clone of his daddy, and poke his little belly.
"You're a chub," I say happily, and take him from Jim. The baby reaches out and takes the cup from me, blinking as he fits his mouth around for a drink. I press a kiss onto the top of his head and trail my fingers down his back as I watch him with his juice.
"I told him if he keeps it up, he's going to have to get a job and help out around here," Jim jokes, winking at me. "Because I was sure I was going to lose my job the other day. How many years being bored to tears at Dunder-Mifflin, and my kid is what ultimately makes me fall asleep in a morning meeting..." Jim tsks and sighs, picks up some toys and throws them in the box in the corner. "I'm going to put you on the curb, man. See who wants you." I laugh when Jim bends down to give him a big, smacking kiss and the baby looks up at Jim and squeaks out a giggle.
"He's in a good mood today," I notice.
Jim contemplates this while he holds a stuffed dog in his hand. "He missed you."
I smile. "Two hours shopping. I'm sure." I rest my cheek on top of his head.
"No, like, he went over to your picture and smiled, did that jumping thing you love. Went nuts saying your name."
I pick up my head and watch Jim run the water for dishes. "No, he didn't! Really?"
"Yeah," he calls. "It was cute."
There's a clunk when the baby drops the empty cup on the ground and looks up at me instantly. He puts on his best face of concern, shouts, "Uh-oh!" and picks it up and hands it to me.
I thank him and he claps his hands before he rests his hand on my stomach and leans into me. I think he's falling asleep until I peer down and notice he's wide awake, just leaning his head against me and watching his fingers flex. He starts to get heavy and slow-breathing against me. I hug him close, which startles him. He looks up at me, sleepy-eyed and blinks.
Everything warms my heart in that moment, because he looks so much like Jim and looks like he could just collapse with sleep. Jim is in the kitchen washing the dishes as he sings something that I should tease him for. And this poor kid is suddenly so tired that he falls asleep looking up at me, with his chin on my chest. It takes a full two minutes to get Jim's attention so he can take a picture.
We both chuckle quietly about it, and Jim gets distracted and starts looking over the rest of the pictures on the camera. I rock him side to side and hold him.
"Should we get another one of you?" I say softly, brushing some of his blonde hair away from his face. He's just the best. A few years ago, I didn't know how I would ever do something like this, ever figure it out. And now, I can't let the two of them away from me for too long because they're my life. My perfect, little life and they made me a mom, and it's the best thing I've ever done with myself.
When I ask my sleeping baby this question, I look up to see Jim smiling at me, raising his eyebrows with soft eyes, like, Should we?
I just smile, and duck my head.
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Disclaimer: Nothing's mine, it's all theirs.
yanana is the author of 39 other stories.
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