[[[-IF5-P11.TXT-]]] ---------------- Island Fever 5: Family Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com M/F, F/F and a whole lot more ---------------- Chapter 11: "Uncertainty" ------------------------------------------- -*- Wednesday, March 23, 2016 -*- -*- Sandvika, Norway -*- "All I did was pull one little string and the whole shoulder of my shirt fell off." "And your shirt falling off is a bad thing?" I said in response to Kristanna, snuggling her in even closer to me upon the bed, tossing a leg over her lap from behind and linking our hands together at her stomach. She was making reference to an incident from last night with Pamela. My lips at Kristanna's ear, I then added, "I wanna be the one to pull it next time." "But then I'd have no shirt left!" Kristanna screeched in mock horror, before squinting her eyes and glaring at me watchfully. "I see where you're going with this, Jeremy." Soon, however, Kristanna smiled at our playful exchange, her teeth shining brightly as the afternoon sunlight peeked through the adjacent window. Kristanna was insanely attractive, her blonde hair a wavy cloud around her head, her blue eyes soft and kind. A shaft of golden sunlight crossed the smooth skin of Kristanna's face, and honest to God, I had never seen anything more stunning in my life. How was it possible for one woman to smell so good all the time? I had never been able to understand it. Simply put, day or night, nothing smelled better than being next to Kristanna. It was a conclusion that I had come to long ago. She smelled like... I closed my eyes and inhaled, trying to think. What was the secret mixture today? Honey? Vanilla? Lavender? Perhaps jasmine? Most of all, Kristanna smelled warm. Warm and inviting. I could wrap her up in my arms and, until the end of time, be perfectly, amazingly content. I felt a gentle tapping on my hand. "Jeremy?" When I turned, Kristanna was still smiling at me. "Hmmmmm?" "I'm having a really good time." "Me, too." That smile, all charming and radiant, was the best thing I had seen all day. Just nine days removed from giving birth, yet still struggling with the constant worry about having a premature baby and all of the health hazards that went along with it, Kristanna was nowhere near her regular self. She had not left the house since coming home from the hospital, except for taking Ariel to the pediatrician on Monday. Kristanna had been moody and depressed (and rightfully so) for the better part of a week, yet seemed to turn the corner later on Monday when we had the homecoming party for Ariel. Yesterday, of course, was my birthday, and Kristanna had found great joy in surprising me by helping my father show up unannounced (all the way from California), and essentially turning him into a present for me. Indeed, it was good to see Kristanna smile. She was still overly concerned about Ariel and her breathing condition, though every doctor and caregiver we had spoken to had told us there was no need to worry. Ariel's condition was quite common in premature infants and would fix itself over time. Still, there was no telling that to Kristanna. At the same time, however, Kristanna's quirky personality - plus that lovely and infectious smile - had been making a comeback of sorts in the past 24 to 48 hours. She still had a long way to go, but was definitely on the right track. Of course, hugging and doting on Kristanna - something I had been doing for the better part of the last hour as we relaxed in bed - greatly aided that cause as well. Ariel was snoozing beside us in her baby crib while Kaden, our son, was playing elsewhere in the mansion with Pamela and Piper. It had been a pretty uneventful Wednesday thus far. I took a deep breath, finding Kristanna's scent to be purely intoxicating. I nearly became lost in it. Her hands felt very soft and delicate as they clutched mine. Warm, velvety, with nails long enough to feel the gentle scratch. The color of her hair; a luscious, vibrant shade of gold, the waves curling around on themselves. Kristanna was beautiful! But I was suddenly yanked out of my mental reverie by the words, "Don't you?" I glanced at Kristanna, whose pretty blue eyes sparkled in amusement. "I'm sorry. Ummmmm... what?" "Did you even hear what I just said?" Kristanna asked, her voice low and husky. "Or were you too lost in la-la land?" I shrugged my shoulders in the most innocent way possible. "Oh," she returned with a smile. "I see how it's going to be then. Ignore me, huh? Ignore THIS." A finger under my chin, Kristanna tipped it up and brought her mouth in slowly, gently, inch by inch, until only millimeters separated our lips. Her eyes found mine and they easily held my gaze, as every nerve ending in my body was suddenly stretched to its absolute limit, waiting, anticipating, preparing... When our lips finally met, a surge of electricity went through me, hot and bright. Kristanna had the softest mouth in the whole, wide world - this much I knew - and I savored the feel of it. "My God, why do you taste so good?" I asked, not aware that I had actually posed the question out loud until Kristanna began chuckling in response to it. "It's so you'll keep kissing me," she explained. "My own personal secret! Is it working?" I responded by grabbing the back of Kristanna's neck and pulling her even closer to me. An instant later, though, she decided to completely shift her position, turning to face me and straddling my lap, and settling her weight down upon my thighs. I moaned as I slid both hands across the expanse of Kristanna's long, exquisite legs, only stopping where her denim shorts ended. Indeed, this woman was something else. "Why is it that I always feel so much at home, sitting in your lap?" Kristanna asked with a grin. Instead of answering, I simply gazed into her eyes, and watched the bright blue suddenly turn dark with desire. I moved in until we were literally breathing the same air. "You are so gorgeous," I gently whispered, and that was apparently all that was needed. Kristanna took my face into her hands and mashed our mouths together in a scorching kiss that quickly stole all the breath from my lungs. Sensations seemed to blend together at that point. I knew that Kristanna's hands were on me, felt them skim along my shoulders, down my back, and across my hips, but it seemed like they were everywhere at once. Kristanna was melding her lips and mouth with mine, her tongue pushing against my own. All of the sensations mixed together were super hot and wet, thrillingly erotic, and I wanted them to last for hours. But when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a little, mitten-covered hand reach high into the air, followed by the sound of a faint, sleepy cry, this make-out session was all but over. Ariel was awake and like the attentive, awesome mother that she was, Kristanna was already on the case. "Arielllll..." Kristanna swooned at our daughter, sitting on the edge of the bed and over her crib. Just like that, Kristanna was focused on Ariel. And rightfully so. "Why you awake, little princess? You just went to sleep an hour ago." Kristanna made a funny face at her and added, "It isn't time for you to wake up! Oh, but Mommy is glad you're awake." "Does she need changing?" I asked, obviously referring to her diaper, as I slid over to get a good vantage point. In her pink pajama jumper suit, with the matching beanie hat, mittens and socks, Ariel's eyes were closed, her legs up and criss-crossed, and her arms were flailing about. "No, she doesn't need changing," Kristanna informed me, before inhaling sharply. "Yawning? Are you yawning, Ariel? Oh... let it all out, honey. Let it out! Stretch those arms and legs, yawn, yawn, yawn! Yeah, that's it, honey. Deep breath. Mommy likes seeing those deep breaths." "Hi," I offered, leaning down close and smiling at her. "Looks like you don't know whether you want to wake up or go back to sleep." Being born four weeks premature, Ariel was so incredibly small and fragile. She was so tiny! Active and seemingly full of energy, albeit short bursts of it, Ariel really was our miracle baby. "Ariel..." Kristanna grinned, and then the infant opened her eyes. "Oh, Ariel. Do you want to play with Jackson and Kaylee again, like last night? Oh, I know what you want! You want to see Grandpa Dale again! You want him to hold you? Yeah, you liked it when Grandpa Dale was holding you." Kristanna glanced at me. "Where is your dad, Jeremy?" "He went out for lunch with Amy and Dani Grace," I said. "Wants to spend time with all of his grandchildren." "Oh, is the light too bright?" Kristanna said to Ariel, who was now squinting her eyes. "Hmmmmm, Mommy loves you!" She reached down and began to tickle Ariel's cheek with the back of her index finger. "I love you! Give me a smile. Give me a big 'ol SMILE! I love you. I love you. I love you!" Kristanna laughed as Ariel opened her eyes wide, and seemed to focus on her. "Hi, honey. Good afternoon! Are you Mommy's little angel? Yes, you are! You ARE." Kristanna suddenly growled and glanced skyward for a moment, then turned and, biting her lip, smiled at me. I had my left hand wrapped around one of her ankles, my right busily massaging her foot. She had been complaining of a slight tingling sensation in her right foot since giving birth. That, along with the fact both of her ankles were swollen, Kristanna fully appreciated a good foot massage. The doctor diagnosed her with a slight case of edema, a common postpartum ailment in new mothers caused by fluid and blood retention. It should cure itself in a few weeks. "Hmmmmm," she groaned at me. "Foot massage..." Still, Kristanna turned her focus to Ariel and leaned over, splaying feathery kisses along her forehead and face. I continued working my magic upon Kristanna's foot, as well as her ankle, as she swooned, "You look like you want to go back to sleep, Ariel. Yeah, it's not time for you to wake up yet. No way you're hungry yet! Close your eyes, cutie pie, and take a nap. Yeah, you're so tired. Mommy wishes she could nap with you, too." Instead, Ariel simply lay in her crib, not upset or fussy, but her arms and legs squirming about. Indeed, she looked really tired and groggy. I ended the foot and ankle massage, only to slide in close behind Kristanna and pull her toward me with an embrace. I nuzzled my face upon her neck and kissed her there, then sent a trail of kisses to her shoulder and down her right arm. She was in no physical shape for anything sexual quite yet - not for a long time - but that certainly did not mean I could not serenade her with unending affection and kisses. "You're such a good mother," I whispered at her. "I know this past week has been overwhelming to you, sweetheart. You have been tired, irritable, afraid, full of anxiety, but it will all pass. You're the best mom Ariel could possibly have. Soon, before you and I know it, Ariel will be as wild and as energetic - not to mention as happy - as Kaden is. Ariel will be running around the house, and it will be impossible for us to keep up with her. Kaden gets all of those attributes from you. So will Ariel. You're a great mom, sweetheart, and our kids will want to emulate you. Kaden already does." "And all of the worry and fright I feel for Ariel being born four weeks early," Kristanna squeaked, "will be a distant memory?" I nodded my head at her as, a tear streaming down her face, she ended, "I sure hope that's the case." "We have nothing to worry about," I insisted. "Ariel will be fine, Krissy. She will grow up perfectly healthy." "Oh, you're so pretty," Kristanna said to Ariel, running her hand along the side of her body. "Yeah, those eyelids are heavy, aren't they? Go back to sleep, honey." When Ariel closed her eyes, and Kristanna had the biggest smile ever as she tightened the swaddle of the baby blanket. "You know what I want to see?" Kristanna then said softly, moving back upon the bed and allowing Ariel some space. "Two things, actually. Two things I want to see. One of them, dear Jeremy, I want you to get Devvy pregnant." "Devon?" I countered, stifling a laugh. "While I say that Devon would be a wonderful mother, she has certainly made no indication that she actually wants to become pregnant quite yet. You know Devon's story, Krissy. She likes being the nanny for the family. Devon thinks that if she were to get pregnant and have her own child, she could no longer be the nanny. The family nanny. You know, able to watch any of the kids on a moment's notice, so you and the others can have a quick reprieve, a break, from round-the-clock mom duties." "I know Devvy's story full well," Kristanna advised me. "It still doesn't take away from the fact that I want you to get her pregnant. Devvy is being way too unselfish, which she always is. She always puts others ahead of herself. I know for a fact that she badly wants her very own children." "When Devon is ready and tells me," I promised Kristanna, "she and I will work toward having a baby. Of course, it may happen at any time - you and I did not plan, or go out of our way, for you to get pregnant with either Kaden or Ariel. But when she is ready, I'll be ready." Kristanna smiled at me. "You're pretty amazing, Jeremy. Having just one child and raising him or her is incredibly tough work. Kaden comes along, then Piper a few months later. Dani Grace is born, then boom, boom, boom, boom. Jackson and Kaylee are born three days apart, Ariel arrives a month later, and then of course we have Scarlett's baby, Dylan, due in less than two weeks. That's seven children for you, Jeremy, in a little more than a year and a half. And you're ready to proceed with Devon whenever she wants. Most men could not handle the type of life you lead. Yet somehow you do it, making individual time for each of your children on a daily basis. You make time for each of your wives, never make any of us feel left out, put out, in the cold. None of it seems to overwhelm or overburden you, either. You take everything in stride." I shrugged my shoulders and held both hands out. "I don't really have a choice, do I? I married seven women, knowing full well all of them wanted to become mothers one day. Some more than others. I knew what I was getting into. It would not be right of me to hold any of you back from parenthood. It is tough work, yes, but things are made easier because all of us work together really well as a team. Case in point, Kaden is with Pamela right now. She volunteered to watch Kaden so you and I could have some _alone time_. Right?" "I said there was two things I wanted," Kristanna reminded me. "One was Devvy to get pregnant. You know what the other is, Jeremy? I want you to get Pamela pregnant again, too." "Pamela?" I retorted. "Sweetheart, Pamela went through that nasty bout of Postpartum Depression after Piper was born. She struggled with the weight gain, her self-image, for many months, had trouble eating and sleeping, did not like for anyone other than herself to watch Piper. Pamela has even said that Piper is enough for her. She does not want to get pregnant, risk going through all of that aftermath again. It nearly tore her apart." Kristanna frowned. "But Pamela is such a great mommy! She adores Piper, and Piper adores her. They are so cute together! I think it would be a sheer crime if Piper was Pamela's only child. She at least needs to have a boy!" "And what if the Postpartum Depression returns? It is not something Pamela can control herself, make go away on a moment's notice, honey. It's like a bad virus." "I would not let Pamela get down and depressed like that again," Kristanna insisted. "Neither would you, Jeremy, or the other girls, too. We would keep an eye on Pamela, have her back. Just like all of you have been looking out for me, since the very moment we were told that Ariel had to be induced and born as soon as possible. Everyone, especially you, Jeremy, has been looking out for me." "Yet you've had an incredibly difficult week..." "It would have been an impossible week without the constant love and support from you and the others," she told me. "I'm not saying you have to go and get Pamela pregnant, Jeremy. She needs to agree to it first, and be on board 100 percent. I just need to talk to her about it some more. Not to coerce or sway her opinion selfishly toward mine, you know. Just... she loves Piper so much. Pamela is a great mommy. It would make me so happy if she had another child. I know down-deep, it would make Pamela happy, too. And I promise to be there for her, if any of those symptoms pop up again. I promise to be there for her regardless, because I love her so much." "Pamela once told me that she wanted to have four or five children," Kristanna added. "Now, all of a sudden, it is one. Not because she lost interest in being a parent, mind you, but Pamela doesn't want to run the risk of going through PPD again because it was so terrible last time. Well, this time, it won't get anywhere near as bad for her. I won't let it. You won't let it, Jeremy. Neither will the others." Kristanna paused, then shook her head. "It will be a crying shame, at least in my eyes, if Pamela doesn't have a second baby. And I don't want her to regret only having one 20 years from now." "You're going through Postpartum Depression yourself right now," I informed Kristanna. "But for a totally different reason than Pamela did. You're worried. You're worried about the breathing condition that Ariel has. You're worried that because Ariel was premature, there may be problems in the future. How many times have I, or one of the others, come across you upset, even crying this past week?" Kristanna pouted and sniffed her nose, but then nodded. "Would be a lot worse without all that love and support. Besides, I'm a worrier. I always have been. I know this will pass, though. Things will get better. Aside from the little hiccup with her breathing - which the doctors tell us not to worry about - Ariel is perfectly healthy. Lots of premature babies born at 35 weeks turn out to be perfectly fine. It's not like she was born at 28, 29 weeks, and had to spend the first month or two of her life in the NICU. Ariel was home with us the same week." Kristanna nodded yet again. "Hmmmmm, she will be fine. She already is." Kristanna leaned over toward Ariel and inspected her. "Ariel, look at you... you're sleeping again. Such a pretty girl! Did you just want to wake up and say hello to me and Daddy real quick, then go right back to bed? Oh, you are so precious. Mommy loves you!" "Daddy loves you too," I added, glancing at our daughter. Still seated in front of me, Kristanna grasped my right hand, lazily kissed the knuckles, then tucked it up against her chest. "I am really, really comfortable," she told me, her voice a little dreamy. Kristanna tilted her head upon my shoulder and sighed. "Your idea of just sitting and relaxing together in bed this afternoon was awesome." "I'm content to stay here until dinner-time," I said. "It is up to you, sweetheart. I'm game for whatever." Suddenly, there was a gentle series of knocks upon the door to our bedroom. When both of us turned toward it, I instinctively broke out into a wide, far-reaching smile. Lindsay reluctantly peeked around the doorway, then grinned herself and took a step into the room. "Am I interrupting anything?" Lindsay wore black jeans and a snug-fitting white tank top, with a red cardigan tossed over top, that made the color of her eyes simply pop. Waves of blonde hair cascading around her shoulders, Lindsay held a small, colorful bouquet of flowers in one hand, which she promptly extended toward Kristanna with a bright, friendly smile. "Hi," she said softly. "These are for you." "Hi," Kristanna replied, a grin crossing her face. "Come on in, sweetie. You could never interrupt us. And thank you." But then Lindsay stepped aside, and in rumbled Kaden, my 19-month-old son with Kristanna. He immediately rushed over and dove toward the big, comfortable chair, then picked up a magazine and opened it to a totally random page. "What, Kaden?" Kristanna laughed at the toddler. "You going to read Aunt Trish's fitness magazine?" "I was downstairs playing with Pamela, Kaden and Piper, as Kaylee took her nap, and Kaden wanted to see the two of you," Lindsay told us. She gave the small bouquet of flowers to Kristanna and added, "I volunteered to walk him up here." "You been behaving, Kaden?" Kristanna asked, but our son just looked at her with wide eyes. "No? I didn't think so. Oh, and thank you again, Lindsay. These are beautiful!" Kaden then squealed and grinned, and began to thumb through the pages of the magazine. "You didn't want to see me or Mommy, Kaden," I told him with a chuckle. "You just wanted to come here, sit in my chair, and read a magazine. You're such an old man." "Is Ariel sleeping?" Lindsay asked, glancing her way. "Yeah," Kristanna nodded. "Who is that?" I asked Kaden, pointing toward Ariel. "Kaden, who is that? Is that your baby sister? Can you say her name? What's her name, Kaden? Say... Ariel. Ariel!" "Airy," he mumbled. "Good job!" I encouraged him. "Do you love Ariel, Kaden?" Kristanna asked him, and he nodded his head. "Yeah, you do. You love your baby sister, don't you? Guess what, bucko? Baby sister loves you, too!" She then tilted her head from side to side, saying, "Oh, you look so cute and cuddly, Kaden! Come give Mommy a hug!" With the flowers safely on the nightstand, Kaden bolted out of the chair and literally flung himself at us. I caught him mid-air, but quickly handed him off to Kristanna so she could hug and kiss on him. She began to tickle him, though, which sent him into a fit of hysterical, toddler rage. "Where's Daddy at?" Lindsay asked Kaden, and he promptly pointed at Kristanna. "No! That's not Daddy, that's Mommy! Where's Daddy at? Come on, where is he?" When Kaden pointed at me, Lindsay gave him a high-five. "You got it!" "You're so cute and cuddly!" Kristanna exclaimed at Kaden. "How come you're so cute and cuddly? Oh, all Mommy wants to do anymore is smooch and cuddle with you!" She then motioned toward Lindsay. "You love Lindsay too. Don't you, Kaden? Yeah, you do. We all love Lindsay. She's such a nice girl." Kristanna reached out and grasped hands with her precious wife. "You and Trish ready for your doctor appointments today, honey? What time are they again? Three-thirty and four?" "Yes," Lindsay nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the bed with us. "Both Jackson and Kaylee were born more than five weeks ago. I want a clean bill of health for Trish and I, obviously, first and foremost, but I also want the doctor to..." Lindsay glanced at Kaden, reminding herself that he (and his impressionable ears) was in the bedroom with us. "You want him to clear you and Trish," Kristanna offered. "Yes." Kristanna snickered. "If that happens, you and Trish won't even make it out of the doctor's parking lot." Lindsay chuckled as well. "Probably not. My little car is gonna be rockin' back and forth." What Kristanna and Lindsay were referring to was the hope that, just shy of six weeks after giving birth to Jackson and Kaylee, respectively, the doctor would deem Trish and Lindsay healthy enough to return to normal sexual activity. It had been a long time coming for both of them, but especially Lindsay. She had been antsy this past week, and badly wanted to get back into the swing of things. Plus, there was the ongoing situation with her sister. If the doctor gave her the clearance she so desperately wanted, would Lindsay go to bed and actually have sex with Alison tonight? Honestly, it would not surprise me one bit if she did. "I hope the doctor gives you both the news you want to hear," Kristanna told her. "I just wish I could join in on the fun afterward." She offered a highly exaggerated pout and concluded, "No fun for me for a good four or five weeks." "How about a make-out session?" Lindsay suggested. "You can't go all the way, obviously, but we could have a make-out session between me, you and Trish after dinner tonight. You know... lots of kissing and hugging, and touching." I raised a finger. "Ummmmm. I want in on that, too." Kristanna gave me a playful shove upon the shoulder. "Shut up, Jeremy! No one asked you." "Wow," I returned with mock sadness. "So cold." "We'll see," Kristanna promised Lindsay. "Why don't you come go on a walk with me right now?" Lindsay suggested to Kristanna, standing up from the bed and extending a hand toward her. "Kaden can come too if he wants. It would probably do you some good, Krissy, to get up, move around a bit, get some blood flowing in your legs." "I was kind of here with Jeremy," Kristanna responded, seeming hesitant. Clearly, Kristanna did not want to hurt my feelings after I just suggested moments ago that she and I could stay here in bed until dinner-time. "I don't want to skip out on Jeremy, Lindsay, and..." "Go with Lindsay," I insisted, cutting her words off. "Put your coats on, take a walk around the farm... smell the fresh air." I rubbed Kristanna's kneecap. "Would be good for you." "Are you sure?" "Positive," I nodded. Kristanna accepted Lindsay's hand, but turned to look at Kaden. "You want to go on a walk with me and Aunt Lindsay? We could go to the stables and see your favorite horse, Blakken. Would you like that, Kaden? You want to go and say hello to Blakken?" Suddenly very interested (not to mention excited), Kaden nodded his head quite vigorously and hopped off of the bed. He absolutely _loved_ to go to the horse stables. He was jumping around, anxious to see his favorite horse. "What about you, Jeremy?" Lindsay wondered. "You all go have your fun," I told her, motioning toward the nearby baby crib with my head. "I'll stay here with the little chick. Ariel and I always have riveting conversations." Kristanna cracked a fake smile. "You sure, Jeremy? I mean, we were having such a nice time..." "Go," I insisted. "Just go. It will be good for you." Kristanna, who was standing up now, leaned over and pecked my lips with a kiss. Lindsay followed suit, but the kiss she gave me was much deeper and more thorough. It only made sense, as Kristanna and I had been kissing for the past hour. "We love you," Lindsay grinned, waving her hand at me. As I hugged on and said a temporary good-bye to Kaden, I pointed at Lindsay. "You and Trish be careful going to the doctor later. And I love you too, Lindsay. I love you as well, Krissy." I turned toward Kaden and bounced him in my arms, ending, "And I especially love you!" A moment later, I was left alone in the bedroom with Ariel. I had so many priorities in life at the moment, several of them high on my list, but the most important one to me was simply getting Kristanna back to her usual, everyday self. That was what the past hour or so had been about for me. Snuggling and kissing with her here in bed, sharing sweet, idle chat; just getting the opportunity to see that smile. That spellbinding, purely angelic smile.... Ariel being born four weeks premature was one thing, but the fact that the doctor and nurses took her away from us a mere 60 seconds after she exited the womb had really stuck with Kristanna, and cut her emotionally. Oh, we both knew that Ariel needed to go to the NICU to be checked and then monitored for any health issues. Still, it was not easy to let her go so easily, and then not get any updates for hours. Kristanna felt absolutely miserable once Ariel was born. Not able to hold Ariel, or spend time with her, she felt helpless, sad, guilty, anxious, angry and completely traumatized by the entire birth experience. We did not even get to even see her at all for well over five hours. "I don't even feel as if Ariel is our baby," Kristanna told me in a moment of weakness, shortly after we got to visit her in the NICU for the first time later that same morning. "It seems as if she is the hospital's baby..." I went through my own range of emotions while Ariel was in the NICU, but I coped and handled them much better than Kristanna did. Still, it was difficult for me as well. I had no control over what was happening to Ariel in the NICU. I felt helpless, powerless; there was nothing I could do to make a difference, or help Ariel get stronger. It was downright painful, and I often wondered if there was anything I could have done differently to prevent a premature birth. Kristanna was a nervous wreck the first night Ariel was actually home, and away from the hospital. She was fearful that Ariel would stop breathing since she was out of the incubator and off of the monitors. Me? I looked at it a different way. I trusted that Ariel was only allowed to go home with us once the hospital staff was confident that she could cope and thrive outside of their care. That, and the doctors constantly told us not to worry about her breathing condition. It was normal, and would go away over time. But the thought - the fear - still nagged at the back of my mind. Ultimately, Kristanna's mental struggles with everything that had transpired could be over in six weeks, six months or maybe even six years. There was no timetable. I was not forcing or coercing her in a certain direction, but I was definitely trying to nudge. I was trying to make sure that she ate a healthy diet and got exercise (thank you, Lindsay, for offering to go on a walk with her). If Kristanna wanted to cry or become emotional, I would allow her to do so. If she wanted to talk and simply vent her feelings, I would drop whatever I was doing and listen to everything she had to say. Or if Kristanna wanted to relax in bed and simply cuddle, and share sweet kisses, I could do that too. Oh yes, I could... Whatever it took to make her feel better. But things seemed to be looking up. Ariel had been home since Saturday, and aside from three occasions we knew of where she stopped breathing in her sleep for upwards of 10 seconds, only to resume on her own without assistance (that was her ailment), there had been nothing else to worry about. Ariel appeared healthy, alert and attentive when awake. She came along a bit early, indeed, but really seemed no different than Piper, Dani Grace and Kaylee did when they were a week old. All of them were my precious, adorable daughters. "You okay over there, chick?" I said to Ariel, who was still snoozing in her crib. Yet at the same time, as was often the case when I watched Ariel sleep, my eyes were fixated on her torso. Was that tummy rising and falling ever so softly? Yes, it was. Good. That meant she was breathing. If not, I would have up to 10 seconds of intense panic. It was not fun. I checked my cell phone. I had ignored its constant beeping and buzzing during all of the time that I was with Kristanna earlier. The other ladies in my life had a way of continually bombarding me with random text messages whenever I was not with them. Today, of course, was no exception. Amy sent me a photograph of my father holding a happy and smiling Dani Grace which, of course, made me smile as well. Apparently the three of them took a trip to the botanical garden after their lunch date, or _Botanisk Hage og Museum_, a haven of green in the downtown heart of Oslo. "jeremy i need a muffin, find me one" was a text message I got from Scarlett, followed six minutes later by, "i dont care who you have to kill, just get me their muffin". "im sitting here nomming my apples and i keep dropping them on myself like an idiot xD" (a nugget from Alison) "This Powderpuff Girls show Piper likes to watch is so incredibly deep." (Pamela) "Today’s workout effort rendered obsolete by the dark chocolate sea salt caramel left in the kitchen..." (Trish) And several more from Scarlett, clearly in a playful mood. "IM DYING", "OF HUNGER", "DONT IGNORE ME BITCH". 20 minutes later, she ended with, "OMG PANTS THAT FITTTTTTTT!!!". Not to mention, a really good text from Devon. "JEREMY! Shopping over here in Hovik, I just saw something in the window of the lingerie store. It was stunning, sexy, cute, adorable and beautiful. And hot! I was going to buy it for you, until I realized it was my very own REFLECTION!" A new text, sent as I was reading the others, from Lindsay. "im eating your sausage tonight". Well, that sounded promising... Chuckling and shaking my head, I set my cell phone down and exhaled deeply. I led a pretty cool life. And I was surrounded by some very special, amazing people. * * * "What happened to you?" Pamela jerked her head up and a singe of embarrassment flashed across her cheeks. She quickly used a towel to wipe away what appeared to be a splattering of pureed blueberries all over her front, including her face and even in her hair. Piper squealed and banged her hands on the snack tray in front of her. I quickly put two and two together, knowing this was not good for Pamela. Clearly, Piper had chucked her blueberry meal all over her poor mother. "She's a bit grumpy and upset," Pamela offered. "And apparently not in the mood to keep her food down." "You okay, honey?" I asked Piper, leaning down to give our 15-month-old daughter a kiss on the crown of her head. When Piper extended her arms toward me, I took her out of the high chair and held her close. At the same time, I looked at Pamela. I felt sympathy for her. The blueberries were everywhere. "You don't look so good," I told my beloved wife, smoothing Piper's fluffy hair down over her forehead. "Oh, I'll be fine," Pamela said, her tone softening a bit as Piper smiled up at me. Was my presence alone enough help to bring that smile to her face? "I'm pretty sure Piper is getting a new tooth. It always causes her to be cranky." "I'm keeping an eye on Ariel in the bedroom, so I can only stay here for a few moments," I told Pamela as I tossed Piper into the air and caught her. Piper squealed with delight as I flung her up and effortlessly caught her again. Suddenly, she was bopping me on the shoulder with a big, slobbery grin. "I just came down here to get a snack." "You mind some company in the bedroom?" Pamela asked, motioning toward her clothing. Poor Pamela. "I really need to change. So does Piper. It's all over her, too." "I'll grab me a quick bite to eat here while you take Piper off to the bedroom and get changed," were my words. "I will also stay behind and clean up the mess, provided you go there quick and keep an eye on Ariel for me. Deal?" "Deal," Pamela nodded, kissing me (I did not care about the blueberry disaster) as I handed Piper off to her. After I planted a kiss on Piper's forehead, Pamela turned and whisked her off toward the master bedroom. First, I concentrated on the food stains upon the high chair and the kitchen table. It was not a quick clean-up. Then, I tossed all of the remnants into the nearby trash can. I fixed a simple sandwich for myself - ham and cheese, nothing too fancy - and hungrily snarfed it down. Finally, I took care of the dishes in the sink. When I made my return to the bedroom, I noticed that the washroom door was open and Piper was seated on the floor inside, all happy and giggles. She had a new dress on, with her little butterfly hair clips dangling precariously. I also heard water running, so after checking on Ariel (mainly that she was breathing, of course), I went into the washroom and found Pamela on her knees, hunched over the bathtub, giving her blueberry-decorated hair a rinse under the faucet. I could not help but to smile at the sight. Not only was Pamela was on her knees bent over, but she had gotten rid of her top, too, and only a white bra concealed her breasts from my view. I stood there silently for several seconds, admiring her, before finally offering with a playful, teasing grin, "Piper should lose her lunch on you more often." "Shut up, Jeremy!" Pamela angrily snapped back. Piper giggled at the outburst as I laughed. Then, I swept Piper up into my arms and took her over to the bed. Her arms and legs were flailing when I sat down and perched her on my lap. When I tickled her stomach with my hand, Piper cackled loudly and tried to protect herself. "How old are you?" I asked Piper, who blurted out a sound in response. "One. Yeah! What does the doggie say?" She continued to look up at me, and finally made a sound. "What does the horsey say?" No answer this time, unfortunately. "What does the rabbit say? The bunny?" Piper giggled wildly at that question for some reason. "What does the cat say?" More baby talk! "What does the cow say? MOOOOO!" Piper smacked my chest with her hands. "What does the chicken say?" She then became really animated and tossed her arms about wildly. "Yeah, cluck-cluck. What does the owl say?" To her credit, those brown eyes went wide as saucers. "What does the squirrel say? Chuck-a-chuck-chuck-chuck!" Piper erupted at my poor attempt of squirrel language. Shifting gears, I then asked, "Can you say... Krissy?" "Twisty!" she responded. "Good job! Can you say... Amy?" "Me-me!" "Can you say... mama?" "Mama!" "Can you say... dada?" "Mama!" "No, silly!" I laughed at her. "Not mama. Say... dada." "Dada!" she roared at me. After a few more moments of give-and-take with Piper, I looked up and noticed that Pamela had decided to grace us with her presence. Dressed in a pair of cropped blue jeans and a white fisherman's sweater, Pamela's blonde hair was still wet and looked stringy while standing at the entrance to the washroom, but she was furiously running a thick brush through it. At the same time, there was a big smile upon her face as she watched me interact with Piper. Pamela took just as much pride in me as a father that I did in her as a mother, and it was a pretty awesome thing. "Mama!" Piper blurted out and, before I knew it, she hopped down from my lap and ran over to her mother. Pamela picked her up and spun her around like a helicopter blade three times, barraging her with kisses in the process. Piper really seemed to like running her fingers throughout her mother's long, wet hair. "You want to play with your blocks, sweet P? Yeah, let's go play with your alphabet blocks." I shot a quick glance over toward Ariel - still sleeping - then found myself utterly transfixed and captivated by the sight of Pamela and Piper together, stacking a series of plastic toy blocks in the corner. I had so much respect and admiration for my amazing bride. How could a woman, who spent 12 years as an exotic dancer in Baltimore, suddenly morph into this very sweet and innocent, loving, nurturing wife and mother? Despite her past - hell, despite my past - at the end of the day, Pamela and I were always together. What more could I possibly ask for than that? "What does that say, honey?" Pamela spoke to our daughter, having stacked a series of five alphabetical blocks that read, from top to bottom, _PIPER_. The little toddler did not seem to care, though, knocking over the blocks with her right hand and then laughing about it afterward. "Oh!" Pamela then exclaimed, grinning. "It said... Piper!" Pamela hugged her close, adding, "You knocked over my blocks! How could you do that to me? Your very own name!" "Have you given any more thought to having a second child?" Oh wow. Did I really just ask Pamela that? Kristanna put that thought in my mind earlier and, just watching Pamela with Piper now, I spouted the question off with no prior thought. Pamela immediately went from laughter to tense silence. The idea of having another child had been a very delicate subject to discuss with her in the past. Suddenly, I wished that Kristanna was here, because she would give me good backup. Pamela went through several months of Postpartum Depression after Piper was born. It was not a character flaw on her part, nor did it mean that she was not looking forward to parenthood. It was simply an unfortunate complication, a side effect, of giving birth. Many women deal with it, some much better than others. Often misunderstood, Postpartum Depression is an illness, not a choice, or a weakness. Pamela struggled mightily with extreme mood swings, crying spells, difficulty eating, weight gain and, worst of all, feelings of hopelessness. With treatment from her regular doctor, a specialized psychiatrist, and the loving support of our family, Pamela was eventually able to dig herself out of those doldrums and return to her normal self, while also becoming an excellent mother for Piper in the process. But Pamela had also sworn off the idea of ever having another child. Not because she did not want to be a parent again, mind you, but simply due to the fear that those symptoms of Postpartum Depression would return. It had been the darkest time of her whole, entire life. "Have a second child?" Pamela finally said to me, her face full of shock, her eyes big. It certainly was a question out of left field from me. Suddenly upset, Pamela shook her head repeatedly. "No. No. We've talked about this before." If not for the sound of Piper in a joyful mood, singing, the atmosphere here in the bedroom would be eerie, disturbing. It was something that was not common around here. "I'm just asking the question," I responded in a gentle tone, perhaps in self-defense. My God, why did I have to blurt that out? I did not even think about it beforehand. Why couldn't Kristanna be here with me now? She was better at talking about this particular topic with Pamela than I was. "Did Krissy put you up to this?" I moaned and hung my head low. Kristanna had been lobbying for Pamela to become pregnant again for well over a year now. But Pamela wanted no part of it. She did not want to run the risk of what happened last time repeating itself again. "Krissy mentioned it," I said, which caused Pamela to sigh in anger and frustration. "I kind of happen to agree with her. You love Piper so much, honey. She loves you. You're an excellent mother. Why wouldn't you want to have another baby? At one point, didn't you want four or five children? You told me that you used to dream about that as a teen-ager. Now all you want is one? We are better prepared, Pamela, as a family, to take care of and handle anything that happens to you. We have been through it before. We are... going through it now, for Christ's sake, with Krissy. We know what to expect, how to deal with it. Last time, we did not know how to deal with it at first. And you have so many people who..." "How can you guarantee that everything will be okay?" Pamela interjected, cutting my words off in mid-sentence. "Good God, Jeremy, you don't even know half of what I went through after Piper was born. You have no idea of some of the ideas and thoughts I had in my mind. It was very scary, and I do not want to go through that again." "Tell me of those thoughts," I simply requested. "You know that I have always been here for you, Pamela." Distraught, she shook her head again. "You have six kids, Jeremy. Soon to be seven with Scarlett's baby due in a few weeks. Why ask me? If you want to have another, ask Trish. Ask Lindsay. Lindsay will have ten babies with you if you let her. Why ask me?" "Because I want to have another child with YOU," I answered, to which she growled like an animal. "Wouldn't you like to have a boy? A true brother for Piper? Not a half-brother like Kaden or Jackson, but a true brother. Or even a sister for her? Just think of two little Pipers running around the house, causing all sorts of trouble..." Pamela was crying now. "STOP IT, Jeremy!" But suddenly, I was upset too. "And what about these... thoughts, that you speak of? What thoughts did you have that you never told me?" Actually, I was angry now. And Pamela knew it. She could hear it in my voice. "I was there for you every step of the way, Pamela. You... you held back from me? I have never held anything back from you." Pamela's mouth dropped open, but then she stood up with a kicking and screaming Piper in her arms. "We are NOT having this discussion right now, Jeremy!" Pamela wiped at her influx of tears with a fist as Piper was still upset, having witnessed her parents engage in an argument. "You are NOT going to try and guilt me into anything! STOP being so fu... FLIPPING selfish! Everyone wants me to get pregnant again, yet no one seems to ask - OR EVEN CARE - about my thoughts on the subject! No. No way. Go get Lindsay pregnant ten more times if you have the urge to do so! NOT ME!" "I don't get you..." I said, fighting the frustration and trying to sound calm as I took a step toward her. But it was no use. Piper wailed out at the top of her lungs as Pamela took her and brushed past me, abruptly leaving the bedroom. I stood there in the sordid aftermath, trying to figure out how our conversation had gotten derailed so badly. Did I actually just make Pamela cry? My own wife? Oh God... I did. And I was never going to forgive myself for it, either. As upset as I was, I certainly did not want Pamela to cry. "Pamela!" I called out and began to go after her, wanting to apologize and talk things over, but then a new series of screams broke out from elsewhere in the bedroom. I turned toward Ariel's crib and, without her seeing me, threw a split-second temper tantrum. No matter how much I wanted to find and correct whatever went wrong with Pamela, I could not leave an upset and crying Ariel here all by her lonesome. Thus, I put on my _happy Dad face_ and went over to the crib. "Oh, Ariel! What's wrong, sweetie? Did all that noise wake you up? Oh... Daddy is here now. It's okay. Yeah, I know. I know, honey, and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. That Piper can be a loud one when she's upset." Suddenly, I was holding a crying, pink pajama-wearing Ariel in my arms. Eventually, I was able to get her to settle down. She looked warm and cozy in my arms while I, still fretting about Pamela, felt disturbed and exhausted... <<<- End of Chapter 11 ->>> ==---- -- -- -- - --- -- -- - - --- -- -- --- - -- - - - - --- -- ----== "Island Fever 5: Family" (c) 2016 JeremyDCP - JeremyDCP@hotmail.com Feedback is always appreciated!