Naquadah Tipped Warheads & Banana Smoothies ~ Over 16s ~ 3 of 11
Details, disclaimers and Part One here
Part Two here
Dowload the mp3 podcast for this chapter by clicking (right click to save) here
June 7th 2007 - 22 weeks
The two weeks are busy. I tell Daniel everything I know and we compare notes on Down’s Syndrome. I don’t tell Cam… I don’t know why. I guess Cam is my friend, he’s a sweet guy and I’ve known him since flight school, but Daniel is different. Daniel and I have shared so many things; he really could be my brother. Or like the sister I never had… but don’t tell him that bit, hehe. Teal’c? Well, the Big Man is out on every mission going looking for you and although I’ve seen him to say ‘hi’ to, he’s so exhausted and preoccupied when I do, that I don’t think it’s fair to say anything until I get the results back.
Of course I also told Carolyn, and she was brilliant. She talked to every doctor friend she ever knew I think, and got me so much information.
She called me at home on the second week to say that a friend of hers from med school is now a consultant pediatrician and attached to a day care center near Denver for special needs kids and would I like to go visit? I say thanks but no thanks - I’m really busy after all. Dumb excuse.
Then I sit down and think.
The better you know your enemy….
I am now convinced that with a bit of learning on both sides I *could* be a mom to our child.
But. Could I be mom to a special needs kid?
Physically handicapped?
Mentally handicapped?
Both?
Could I handle the later development, the physical problems, and the lifelong neediness?
I know *you* would be brilliant. I’ve watched you. All the off-world kids think you’re fantastic. You seem to have a bond that helps you relate to them on their level, whatever that might be. Merin adored you, even Loran from P4X-347 hero-worshipped you.
I’ll admit it, Jack, I got real scared.
Screw it, it’s not any fault of the kid’s, I need to act my age. I call Carolyn back and tell her I’ve changed my mind, (what a shame I can’t blame it on PMS), and ask if I can bring Daniel?
Of course I haven’t actually asked him that, but when I do, he sounds, well, honored that I did. I wanted to hug him right there and then for being so supportive!
Carolyn calls back with a date and a time and of course I can bring Daniel.
We’re on for Operation Information.
June 8th 2007
Jack, the visit to the center was incredible!
The kids are amazing! Daniel and I got so many hugs from the kids and encouragement from their moms & dads and I came back with so many crayon sketches and paintings, Daniel is going to get me a bigger bulletin-board to pin them up. We got taken on a tour by a young teen with cerebral palsy that is as sharp as a tack and wants to be a doctor (Janet and her would have got on SO WELL) and about a dozen cheeky hangers-on, hehe.
I’ve heard people say they are humbled to meet special needs kids and they are right, so right. To think what they have to put up with on a daily basis makes our journeys through Life seem like a picnic. There was one Down’s boy, also named Daniel, (although he calls himself Dan because he thinks it’s ‘cooler’) he’d had 14 heart operations. 14! He thought that he and our Daniel having the same name was awesome and followed Daniel around all afternoon, they even swapped email addresses with his mom’s permission. Sylvie's on her own too. Dad took off when Dan was born (she was only 27 and wasn’t offered any screening tests) and she hasn’t had a penny in maintenance from him. Jack, she works a 12 hour nightshift at Costco when Daniel is asleep, (her mom sleeps at her house as a sitter) comes home and gets him to school, does a half shift at the local drugstore and then collects him and takes him swimming! When does the woman sleep?! When I discovered that she has a degree in biology from UCLA, I asked her if she resented Dan for changing her life plans so dramatically. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with store jobs at all, but she must have had plans when she was younger. Sylvie looks at me with astute eyes and informs that Dan *is* her life now, this is the way it was meant to be; she never thought of herself as a quitter. Dan is her son, she loves him and she’s proud of him and everyday he brings her joy.
And the warehouse guys at Costco make her crack up every night.
I needed Kleenex; she had some ready in her purse.
Maybe she gets that a lot.
Everyone was so friendly and informative, it felt like a team. No-one seemed surprised that we came to visit; they must get a few worried parents through. They did think that Daniel was ‘dad’, however. He didn’t seem to mind.
But I did.
Later on the drive back, he tried to get me to talk about how I now felt about having a potentially disabled baby, but I found it difficult to talk to him. I love Daniel, I really do, but not in *that* way. I think he wanted to tell Teal’c, or for me to tell him, but I couldn’t. Not yet. I felt mean asking Daniel to keep such a secret. That wasn’t fair on his generous nature. I apologized as I got out of his vehicle for any rudeness, feigning that I had a lot to think about. No feigning actually; I did. He was fine.
That night I sat up in bed, surrounded by a sea of wiring schematics, all carefully arranged so that I wasn’t looking at them and thought about our child.
I can do this. I may be an older mom, but I’m still in good shape physically and I have financial security, thank heavens. I might even move to Denver to be near the center. The school was fantastic: the IT suite could be the envy of any college, the gym hall superb and the teachers highly qualified and committed.
If I do move to Denver, it could be the end of my existing commitment to the SGC, but possibly not to the Air Force. I reckon I have some leverage with my contributions over the years, whadyathink?
Ah, screw ‘em.
If they don’t want me, I bet the University of Colorado would.
June 9th 2007
I guess I need to tell you about the amnio.
Maybe you’ve seen documentaries on TV?
Well, it was way worse.
Daniel drove me to the hospital and didn’t say a word when I bit his head off for... well, breathing. I was prepped for ages before Mary Lucy appeared to repeat the risks and obtain consent. Then she disappeared again. Daniel came with me while I wheeled to a procedure suite, but then was shown to the waiting room before I was asked to lie down on an exam table while people I didn’t know repeatedly requested my name, age and address.
I was nearly ready to hightail it outta Dodge.
Prof M-L appeared again (any references to Glinda, the Good Witch of the North are sadly mistaken) and asked to me lie flat and relax.
HAHAHAHAHA!!
She might as well have asked me to fly the Daedalus through a Stargate!
Anyway, they gave me something. Something nice and warm that they assured me would not harm the baby but made everything seem... woolly.
They wheeled me through.
Then the needle. As in hugegreatbighonkin’ needle.
Crap.
They could probably hear me swallowing on Abydos. The ascended Abydos.
Prof M-L performed a sonogram and then in goes the needle. And yes, it hurt. They take out the required sample of amniotic fluid; that’s bits of our baby down that canula!
Ten minutes. All done.
I have to rest on the trolley for two hours and then I get to move to an actual bed. Since it’s late, I have to stay the night so the dudes in white can keep an eye on me and my pee. Daniel gives me a kiss on the forehead, promises to be back the next day with chocolate and leaves.
I worry about miscarriage for at least 3.25 minutes before the wooliness engulfs my brain once more, and I sleep.
The next two weeks are - ‘difficult’ is the best euphemism I can think of. Landry is running out of excuses to keep me around and I’m fielding queries from my colleagues at Area 51 and Washington several times a day. I can’t sleep very well. I still feel sick, although I’m not barfing quite so much. One day I wake up and I’m definitely having a termination if the baby is disabled and the next day I wake up hating myself for being such an evil bitch for thinking that.
I had to hit the wall at some point, right?
I was 15 weeks.
It had been a tough day.
Scratch that; it had been a tough week.
Not only had we received a lead from Vala of all people (remember her? How could you forget her!) that the Ori were being particularly pesky in her neighborhood, but SG3 had received more intel about you that was phony. Teal’c and Daniel were off-world and I had been working with Siler and Felger on what we were calling an anti-prior device (APD). I’m ashamed to say, I hadn’t eaten very much. (I realized later that Siler had been trying to tempt me with food all day). His nagging eventually got to me so I promised to follow him to the mess for dinner. I got as far as the lab door when the world seemed to tilt and spin in a way that I know it shouldn’t, what with all the PhDs in Physics and all. Making it over to the far side of the corridor in a kind of upright manner, my legs then go completely. I hear Siler shouting for a med. team and then I briefly see Landry and Harriman (is the man *ever* off duty?) hovering over Siler’s right shoulder. I must have passed out for a while but when I came to, Siler had been replaced with Landry. I figure out I’m sitting upright and I check out my lap to see if I’ve vomited. No. *Phew* But Landry is fuzzy around the edges and I feel very hot.
People are staring.
Spin, tilt, spin.
Crap.
Siler is asking if I’m okay. For crying out loud, Sergeant! What do you think?!
It seems to take an age for Carolyn to turn up but when she does, she and her team are well prepared. I’m persuaded onto a gurney and wheeled with considerable care into the infirmary where I’m asked if would like to be lifted onto a bed.
No way! So I sit upright to a tilting universe and have to lie down again.
What a wuss. Thus, I am lifted onto the bed and keep my mouth shut.
Much later, in fact a Narcan drip and a hot meal later, Siler and Harriman turn up with a bunch of flowers Harriman can’t see over and a bag full of Siler’s favorite candies. An orderly bustles off with the flowers while Siler digs into the candy bag and we all stare at each other.
“I’m pregnant!” I announce, rather too loudly.
“We guessed,” said Siler, his mouth full of Peanut Butter M&M’s. A piece of red coating arcs neatly from his mouth and lands on my starched white bed sheets.
“Oh,” I nod and regard the shiny carapace leaching crimson onto the virgin linen.
Harriman cleared his throat even though I don’t think it needed clearing. “If there’s anything we can do to help...” he hesitates.
“Thanks.”
And I weep a little. The guys shift a little uncomfortably but they don’t start pressing the call button like demented idiots or make their excuses and leave. I get it under control in a minute, whereupon some Hershey Kisses are thrust under my nose. It breaks the moment. I begin gigging then, which makes Walter grin with relief and Sly to smile with E-number stained lips. As I unwrap a Kiss, I explain that I’m waiting on test results and that it’s been a tough few weeks.
I don’t have to say who the father is.
I know that they know.
And I’m okay with that.
My catharsis is dry and welcome. As is the sleep after the guys have gone, promising discretion and to keep looking for ‘GJ’. Did you know they called you GJ?
At that time, privacy and promises were all I could ask for.
And the test results.
That arrived the next morning.
June 10th 2007
Just as I finish tucking into bacon and waffles and feeling better than I have done for days, I see Carolyn marching purposefully toward me clutching a Large Brown Envelope.
Crap.
“I just had them faxed,” she explains.
“I haven’t read them,” she clarifies.
“Would you like me to?” she queries.
“Nghhhh…..ummmmm” I acknowledge.
She takes it as a yes, and deposits the envelope containing my future on the patient courtesy trolley bearing the remains of breakfast and proceeds to yank the privacy curtains around the bed.
I can’t help but HATE that innocuous manila packet with all my heart.
Carolyn snatches up the envelope, plunks her ass down on the same seat Harriman used the previous day and slides the papers out.
I fiddle with a piece of Formica that is working its way loose from the trolley. She’s reading quickly; I’m watching her eyes flick to and fro, her mouth expressionless. Her brows wrinkle at some point and my heart begins to pound - my baby is sick… I knew it, my baby is sick! Screw the doctors! Screw the AF! I will take myself off and have the child where no-one can get at me and us.
The Formica breaks off into my twisted fingers.
Carolyn looks up at this and hitches closer to me. “You need to read this for yourself, I think,” and thrusts the faxes in front of me. Suddenly, I can’t see a thing. Then I can make out a few words here and there; my name, Prof Lucy’s name and credentials. There’s a page full of boxes that resembles a résumé - I’m not applying for a damn job! I shake my head and turn my face away, and then Carolyn grabs my wrist.
“No, Sam, it’s okay, look, the baby is fine! There are no genetic indicators or contra-indicators that you are carrying anything other than a healthy child; no Downs, no Spina Bifida, no sex chromosomal anomalies, the Naquadah hasn’t affected the fetus; it’s all here.”
My hands are shaking as I try to read the medical jargon again. “Really?” Desperate for continual reassurance or what? Carolyn is nodding and smiling, and I swear her eyes are moist.
Jack, I can’t tell you how I felt then. I remember sobbing and sobbing until Carolyn eased the paper from where I clutched it against my chest (I guess I was making it soggy) and then climbed onto the bed and held me in away that I’m sure they don’t teach in med school and I was so grateful and hugged her and she hugged back and I cried lots more.
After my tears were spent, she tucked me in, acknowledged my stuttered request to ask Teal’c and Daniel to come see me after they returned, turned the lights down low in the infirmary and I slept again.
When I awoke, Dr D and Mr. T were sitting beside my bed reading ‘Archeology Today’ and ‘National Enquirer’ respectively.
I spill. Everything.
Well, maybe not everything. I leave out the part with the Guinness cocktails *g*
Daniel is obviously relieved that I’ve shared the news with Teal’c (I really wasn’t being fair on Dan, asking him to keep such a confidence, was I?). The big man doesn’t even bat an eyelid, but then, I knew he wouldn’t. He listens attentively, nodding at appropriate moments and when I get to the results bit, he does something he has never done before.
He holds my hand.
All right, it looks as though a giant turtle is squatting on my wrist, but his delicate touch surprises me. I look at him and he looks at me and if I didn’t already know that he would rip apart anyone who hurt me with his bare hands, it was confirmed then.
Carolyn keeps me in for another night and the next morning as I’m toweling myself off after my shower, I catch a glimpse of my side-on reflection in the bathroom mirror.
I’m showing. There’s no doubt.
A gentle swelling just below my navel.
I drop the towel and start palming my lower torso, stroking the skin and feeling the growth. The skin is wet and smooth and yet I feel an intensification of this development and suddenly want to be huge... as big as a house, wearing the largest maternity smock that clothing stores can supply and I have to be transported everywhere by a MALP.
I also want sex. Really badly. Too bad Gold Jack is at home in my nightstand drawer.
Instead I opt for securing my release from the infirmary’s care and going straight to Landry for permission to return to Area 51.
Where I am now.
So Jack, you’re all caught up.
I’m now twenty two weeks pregnant; over half way through.
Whadyathink of it so far?
Miss you, Jack O’Neill,
Samantha Mary Carter
xxxxxxxxxxxx
Part Two here
Dowload the mp3 podcast for this chapter by clicking (right click to save) here
June 7th 2007 - 22 weeks
The two weeks are busy. I tell Daniel everything I know and we compare notes on Down’s Syndrome. I don’t tell Cam… I don’t know why. I guess Cam is my friend, he’s a sweet guy and I’ve known him since flight school, but Daniel is different. Daniel and I have shared so many things; he really could be my brother. Or like the sister I never had… but don’t tell him that bit, hehe. Teal’c? Well, the Big Man is out on every mission going looking for you and although I’ve seen him to say ‘hi’ to, he’s so exhausted and preoccupied when I do, that I don’t think it’s fair to say anything until I get the results back.
Of course I also told Carolyn, and she was brilliant. She talked to every doctor friend she ever knew I think, and got me so much information.
She called me at home on the second week to say that a friend of hers from med school is now a consultant pediatrician and attached to a day care center near Denver for special needs kids and would I like to go visit? I say thanks but no thanks - I’m really busy after all. Dumb excuse.
Then I sit down and think.
The better you know your enemy….
I am now convinced that with a bit of learning on both sides I *could* be a mom to our child.
But. Could I be mom to a special needs kid?
Physically handicapped?
Mentally handicapped?
Both?
Could I handle the later development, the physical problems, and the lifelong neediness?
I know *you* would be brilliant. I’ve watched you. All the off-world kids think you’re fantastic. You seem to have a bond that helps you relate to them on their level, whatever that might be. Merin adored you, even Loran from P4X-347 hero-worshipped you.
I’ll admit it, Jack, I got real scared.
Screw it, it’s not any fault of the kid’s, I need to act my age. I call Carolyn back and tell her I’ve changed my mind, (what a shame I can’t blame it on PMS), and ask if I can bring Daniel?
Of course I haven’t actually asked him that, but when I do, he sounds, well, honored that I did. I wanted to hug him right there and then for being so supportive!
Carolyn calls back with a date and a time and of course I can bring Daniel.
We’re on for Operation Information.
June 8th 2007
Jack, the visit to the center was incredible!
The kids are amazing! Daniel and I got so many hugs from the kids and encouragement from their moms & dads and I came back with so many crayon sketches and paintings, Daniel is going to get me a bigger bulletin-board to pin them up. We got taken on a tour by a young teen with cerebral palsy that is as sharp as a tack and wants to be a doctor (Janet and her would have got on SO WELL) and about a dozen cheeky hangers-on, hehe.
I’ve heard people say they are humbled to meet special needs kids and they are right, so right. To think what they have to put up with on a daily basis makes our journeys through Life seem like a picnic. There was one Down’s boy, also named Daniel, (although he calls himself Dan because he thinks it’s ‘cooler’) he’d had 14 heart operations. 14! He thought that he and our Daniel having the same name was awesome and followed Daniel around all afternoon, they even swapped email addresses with his mom’s permission. Sylvie's on her own too. Dad took off when Dan was born (she was only 27 and wasn’t offered any screening tests) and she hasn’t had a penny in maintenance from him. Jack, she works a 12 hour nightshift at Costco when Daniel is asleep, (her mom sleeps at her house as a sitter) comes home and gets him to school, does a half shift at the local drugstore and then collects him and takes him swimming! When does the woman sleep?! When I discovered that she has a degree in biology from UCLA, I asked her if she resented Dan for changing her life plans so dramatically. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with store jobs at all, but she must have had plans when she was younger. Sylvie looks at me with astute eyes and informs that Dan *is* her life now, this is the way it was meant to be; she never thought of herself as a quitter. Dan is her son, she loves him and she’s proud of him and everyday he brings her joy.
And the warehouse guys at Costco make her crack up every night.
I needed Kleenex; she had some ready in her purse.
Maybe she gets that a lot.
Everyone was so friendly and informative, it felt like a team. No-one seemed surprised that we came to visit; they must get a few worried parents through. They did think that Daniel was ‘dad’, however. He didn’t seem to mind.
But I did.
Later on the drive back, he tried to get me to talk about how I now felt about having a potentially disabled baby, but I found it difficult to talk to him. I love Daniel, I really do, but not in *that* way. I think he wanted to tell Teal’c, or for me to tell him, but I couldn’t. Not yet. I felt mean asking Daniel to keep such a secret. That wasn’t fair on his generous nature. I apologized as I got out of his vehicle for any rudeness, feigning that I had a lot to think about. No feigning actually; I did. He was fine.
That night I sat up in bed, surrounded by a sea of wiring schematics, all carefully arranged so that I wasn’t looking at them and thought about our child.
I can do this. I may be an older mom, but I’m still in good shape physically and I have financial security, thank heavens. I might even move to Denver to be near the center. The school was fantastic: the IT suite could be the envy of any college, the gym hall superb and the teachers highly qualified and committed.
If I do move to Denver, it could be the end of my existing commitment to the SGC, but possibly not to the Air Force. I reckon I have some leverage with my contributions over the years, whadyathink?
Ah, screw ‘em.
If they don’t want me, I bet the University of Colorado would.
June 9th 2007
I guess I need to tell you about the amnio.
Maybe you’ve seen documentaries on TV?
Well, it was way worse.
Daniel drove me to the hospital and didn’t say a word when I bit his head off for... well, breathing. I was prepped for ages before Mary Lucy appeared to repeat the risks and obtain consent. Then she disappeared again. Daniel came with me while I wheeled to a procedure suite, but then was shown to the waiting room before I was asked to lie down on an exam table while people I didn’t know repeatedly requested my name, age and address.
I was nearly ready to hightail it outta Dodge.
Prof M-L appeared again (any references to Glinda, the Good Witch of the North are sadly mistaken) and asked to me lie flat and relax.
HAHAHAHAHA!!
She might as well have asked me to fly the Daedalus through a Stargate!
Anyway, they gave me something. Something nice and warm that they assured me would not harm the baby but made everything seem... woolly.
They wheeled me through.
Then the needle. As in hugegreatbighonkin’ needle.
Crap.
They could probably hear me swallowing on Abydos. The ascended Abydos.
Prof M-L performed a sonogram and then in goes the needle. And yes, it hurt. They take out the required sample of amniotic fluid; that’s bits of our baby down that canula!
Ten minutes. All done.
I have to rest on the trolley for two hours and then I get to move to an actual bed. Since it’s late, I have to stay the night so the dudes in white can keep an eye on me and my pee. Daniel gives me a kiss on the forehead, promises to be back the next day with chocolate and leaves.
I worry about miscarriage for at least 3.25 minutes before the wooliness engulfs my brain once more, and I sleep.
The next two weeks are - ‘difficult’ is the best euphemism I can think of. Landry is running out of excuses to keep me around and I’m fielding queries from my colleagues at Area 51 and Washington several times a day. I can’t sleep very well. I still feel sick, although I’m not barfing quite so much. One day I wake up and I’m definitely having a termination if the baby is disabled and the next day I wake up hating myself for being such an evil bitch for thinking that.
I had to hit the wall at some point, right?
I was 15 weeks.
It had been a tough day.
Scratch that; it had been a tough week.
Not only had we received a lead from Vala of all people (remember her? How could you forget her!) that the Ori were being particularly pesky in her neighborhood, but SG3 had received more intel about you that was phony. Teal’c and Daniel were off-world and I had been working with Siler and Felger on what we were calling an anti-prior device (APD). I’m ashamed to say, I hadn’t eaten very much. (I realized later that Siler had been trying to tempt me with food all day). His nagging eventually got to me so I promised to follow him to the mess for dinner. I got as far as the lab door when the world seemed to tilt and spin in a way that I know it shouldn’t, what with all the PhDs in Physics and all. Making it over to the far side of the corridor in a kind of upright manner, my legs then go completely. I hear Siler shouting for a med. team and then I briefly see Landry and Harriman (is the man *ever* off duty?) hovering over Siler’s right shoulder. I must have passed out for a while but when I came to, Siler had been replaced with Landry. I figure out I’m sitting upright and I check out my lap to see if I’ve vomited. No. *Phew* But Landry is fuzzy around the edges and I feel very hot.
People are staring.
Spin, tilt, spin.
Crap.
Siler is asking if I’m okay. For crying out loud, Sergeant! What do you think?!
It seems to take an age for Carolyn to turn up but when she does, she and her team are well prepared. I’m persuaded onto a gurney and wheeled with considerable care into the infirmary where I’m asked if would like to be lifted onto a bed.
No way! So I sit upright to a tilting universe and have to lie down again.
What a wuss. Thus, I am lifted onto the bed and keep my mouth shut.
Much later, in fact a Narcan drip and a hot meal later, Siler and Harriman turn up with a bunch of flowers Harriman can’t see over and a bag full of Siler’s favorite candies. An orderly bustles off with the flowers while Siler digs into the candy bag and we all stare at each other.
“I’m pregnant!” I announce, rather too loudly.
“We guessed,” said Siler, his mouth full of Peanut Butter M&M’s. A piece of red coating arcs neatly from his mouth and lands on my starched white bed sheets.
“Oh,” I nod and regard the shiny carapace leaching crimson onto the virgin linen.
Harriman cleared his throat even though I don’t think it needed clearing. “If there’s anything we can do to help...” he hesitates.
“Thanks.”
And I weep a little. The guys shift a little uncomfortably but they don’t start pressing the call button like demented idiots or make their excuses and leave. I get it under control in a minute, whereupon some Hershey Kisses are thrust under my nose. It breaks the moment. I begin gigging then, which makes Walter grin with relief and Sly to smile with E-number stained lips. As I unwrap a Kiss, I explain that I’m waiting on test results and that it’s been a tough few weeks.
I don’t have to say who the father is.
I know that they know.
And I’m okay with that.
My catharsis is dry and welcome. As is the sleep after the guys have gone, promising discretion and to keep looking for ‘GJ’. Did you know they called you GJ?
At that time, privacy and promises were all I could ask for.
And the test results.
That arrived the next morning.
June 10th 2007
Just as I finish tucking into bacon and waffles and feeling better than I have done for days, I see Carolyn marching purposefully toward me clutching a Large Brown Envelope.
Crap.
“I just had them faxed,” she explains.
“I haven’t read them,” she clarifies.
“Would you like me to?” she queries.
“Nghhhh…..ummmmm” I acknowledge.
She takes it as a yes, and deposits the envelope containing my future on the patient courtesy trolley bearing the remains of breakfast and proceeds to yank the privacy curtains around the bed.
I can’t help but HATE that innocuous manila packet with all my heart.
Carolyn snatches up the envelope, plunks her ass down on the same seat Harriman used the previous day and slides the papers out.
I fiddle with a piece of Formica that is working its way loose from the trolley. She’s reading quickly; I’m watching her eyes flick to and fro, her mouth expressionless. Her brows wrinkle at some point and my heart begins to pound - my baby is sick… I knew it, my baby is sick! Screw the doctors! Screw the AF! I will take myself off and have the child where no-one can get at me and us.
The Formica breaks off into my twisted fingers.
Carolyn looks up at this and hitches closer to me. “You need to read this for yourself, I think,” and thrusts the faxes in front of me. Suddenly, I can’t see a thing. Then I can make out a few words here and there; my name, Prof Lucy’s name and credentials. There’s a page full of boxes that resembles a résumé - I’m not applying for a damn job! I shake my head and turn my face away, and then Carolyn grabs my wrist.
“No, Sam, it’s okay, look, the baby is fine! There are no genetic indicators or contra-indicators that you are carrying anything other than a healthy child; no Downs, no Spina Bifida, no sex chromosomal anomalies, the Naquadah hasn’t affected the fetus; it’s all here.”
My hands are shaking as I try to read the medical jargon again. “Really?” Desperate for continual reassurance or what? Carolyn is nodding and smiling, and I swear her eyes are moist.
Jack, I can’t tell you how I felt then. I remember sobbing and sobbing until Carolyn eased the paper from where I clutched it against my chest (I guess I was making it soggy) and then climbed onto the bed and held me in away that I’m sure they don’t teach in med school and I was so grateful and hugged her and she hugged back and I cried lots more.
After my tears were spent, she tucked me in, acknowledged my stuttered request to ask Teal’c and Daniel to come see me after they returned, turned the lights down low in the infirmary and I slept again.
When I awoke, Dr D and Mr. T were sitting beside my bed reading ‘Archeology Today’ and ‘National Enquirer’ respectively.
I spill. Everything.
Well, maybe not everything. I leave out the part with the Guinness cocktails *g*
Daniel is obviously relieved that I’ve shared the news with Teal’c (I really wasn’t being fair on Dan, asking him to keep such a confidence, was I?). The big man doesn’t even bat an eyelid, but then, I knew he wouldn’t. He listens attentively, nodding at appropriate moments and when I get to the results bit, he does something he has never done before.
He holds my hand.
All right, it looks as though a giant turtle is squatting on my wrist, but his delicate touch surprises me. I look at him and he looks at me and if I didn’t already know that he would rip apart anyone who hurt me with his bare hands, it was confirmed then.
Carolyn keeps me in for another night and the next morning as I’m toweling myself off after my shower, I catch a glimpse of my side-on reflection in the bathroom mirror.
I’m showing. There’s no doubt.
A gentle swelling just below my navel.
I drop the towel and start palming my lower torso, stroking the skin and feeling the growth. The skin is wet and smooth and yet I feel an intensification of this development and suddenly want to be huge... as big as a house, wearing the largest maternity smock that clothing stores can supply and I have to be transported everywhere by a MALP.
I also want sex. Really badly. Too bad Gold Jack is at home in my nightstand drawer.
Instead I opt for securing my release from the infirmary’s care and going straight to Landry for permission to return to Area 51.
Where I am now.
So Jack, you’re all caught up.
I’m now twenty two weeks pregnant; over half way through.
Whadyathink of it so far?
Miss you, Jack O’Neill,
Samantha Mary Carter
xxxxxxxxxxxx