fic: everything with you
Title: Everything With You
Fandom: Private Practice
Author: just_drifting_6
Pairings/Characters: Addison Montgomery
Rating: PG
Spoilers: 5x09
Disclaimer: Private Practice does not belong to me.
Summary: Addison gets her baby.
"I need you to push," Jake is saying, and holy shit, this is actually, seriously happening. "Addison. Push."
So she does, and then feels as if she's almost going to pass out from the crushing pain of it all. How did she ever think pushing a baby out through her vagina would be a good idea? And yes, she's an obstetrician, she knows the mechanics of giving birth, it's just she's never been on this side of it before, and my god does it hurt. To be honest, Addison's never really understood women who refuse drugs during childbirth. She's kinda always thought, "You know this is going to hurt like hell; why wouldn't you want to make it just a little bit less so?"
But now? Now, she gets it. Because this, this baby that she is currently preparing to introduce to the new world purely though the strength of her body's sheer will...this baby is kind of a miracle. Her miracle. And as much as it might hurt (and it really, really does), she wants to remember every single second of it.
She has not prepared at all for this child, though she'd known almost immediately that it would be a girl. There are no freshly painted walls or cans of yellow and pink and blue paint lying around. The spare room is still full of clothes and books, and there is no half-assembled cot anywhere to be found. She hadn't wanted to jinx it. To count her chickens before they hatched or whatever. This baby was too important, too precious to risk. Her very last chance, one that she really shouldn't have been given in the first place, but that was now growing inside her, this tiny little life, and all she could do was wait and hope.
"Almost there, Addie." Jake runs his hands up and down her calves soothingly, and she's suddenly so extremely glad he's there. So glad for Amelia holding one of her hands, for Violet holding the other, for Nae who flew back just to rub her shoulder.
And she's shaking and crying and feeling entirely like she's being torn apart at the seams, but then everything comes back together again the moment the screaming bundle of life is placed into her arms.
Her daughter.
And it doesn't matter that she still hasn't quite figured out Sam, or Jake, or where either of them fit in this whole situation. And it doesn't matter that before there was Ella, who could have been her daughter, or Lucas, who was never her son, because right now there is just this: her baby, with crystal blue eyes, cradled to her chest.
She hasn't quite decided on a name yet. She's almost tempted to call her Miracle, because, really, she can't think of any other way to describe this child, though she's not sure she could ever forgive herself if she did. On the counter at home is a baby names book, the one groundwork she'd allowed herself. She can easily picture the pages, worn from the countless times she'd turned them and run her fingers over the words in abject wonder at the life and hope contained within, with handwritten notes scrawled in the margins and a multitude of coloured post-its throughout.
Though she'd tried not to, reading that book, sometimes she'd let herself imagine the person her daughter would turn out to be. Would she be an Eva, quite and kind, who liked cuddling and reading in bed; or a Caroline, headstrong, determined, someone who got into trouble too often but defended those she cared about with a fiery passion; or a Saskia, a little odd, a little different, but lovely and beautiful nonetheless. Pouring over those pages, the infinite number of possibilities had stretched out before her, overwhelming almost in their scale. Her daughter can be anyone. She can go anywhere with this baby. With this baby, they can be anything.
In her arms, the tiny child quietens. She looks up at her with Addison's own blue eyes, and she can tell, instantly, that she recognises her mother. It's clear in the way she gazes at her, in the way she latches onto her gown with one hand and her finger with the other. This is her daughter. Her daughter. Her daughter. This is everything she's ever wanted. And she's never really been happy with her life; always had something to complain about, be it her absent parents, or Mark, or Derek, or Sam, or any of her other failed relationships, but right now this is enough. This is a relationship she will not screw up, at least not completely. This relationship, this child, this baby girl who is all hers, who she will nurture and love and help mould into an outstanding human being; right now, this is more than enough. Right now, this is everything.
Fandom: Private Practice
Author: just_drifting_6
Pairings/Characters: Addison Montgomery
Rating: PG
Spoilers: 5x09
Disclaimer: Private Practice does not belong to me.
Summary: Addison gets her baby.
"I need you to push," Jake is saying, and holy shit, this is actually, seriously happening. "Addison. Push."
So she does, and then feels as if she's almost going to pass out from the crushing pain of it all. How did she ever think pushing a baby out through her vagina would be a good idea? And yes, she's an obstetrician, she knows the mechanics of giving birth, it's just she's never been on this side of it before, and my god does it hurt. To be honest, Addison's never really understood women who refuse drugs during childbirth. She's kinda always thought, "You know this is going to hurt like hell; why wouldn't you want to make it just a little bit less so?"
But now? Now, she gets it. Because this, this baby that she is currently preparing to introduce to the new world purely though the strength of her body's sheer will...this baby is kind of a miracle. Her miracle. And as much as it might hurt (and it really, really does), she wants to remember every single second of it.
She has not prepared at all for this child, though she'd known almost immediately that it would be a girl. There are no freshly painted walls or cans of yellow and pink and blue paint lying around. The spare room is still full of clothes and books, and there is no half-assembled cot anywhere to be found. She hadn't wanted to jinx it. To count her chickens before they hatched or whatever. This baby was too important, too precious to risk. Her very last chance, one that she really shouldn't have been given in the first place, but that was now growing inside her, this tiny little life, and all she could do was wait and hope.
"Almost there, Addie." Jake runs his hands up and down her calves soothingly, and she's suddenly so extremely glad he's there. So glad for Amelia holding one of her hands, for Violet holding the other, for Nae who flew back just to rub her shoulder.
And she's shaking and crying and feeling entirely like she's being torn apart at the seams, but then everything comes back together again the moment the screaming bundle of life is placed into her arms.
Her daughter.
And it doesn't matter that she still hasn't quite figured out Sam, or Jake, or where either of them fit in this whole situation. And it doesn't matter that before there was Ella, who could have been her daughter, or Lucas, who was never her son, because right now there is just this: her baby, with crystal blue eyes, cradled to her chest.
She hasn't quite decided on a name yet. She's almost tempted to call her Miracle, because, really, she can't think of any other way to describe this child, though she's not sure she could ever forgive herself if she did. On the counter at home is a baby names book, the one groundwork she'd allowed herself. She can easily picture the pages, worn from the countless times she'd turned them and run her fingers over the words in abject wonder at the life and hope contained within, with handwritten notes scrawled in the margins and a multitude of coloured post-its throughout.
Though she'd tried not to, reading that book, sometimes she'd let herself imagine the person her daughter would turn out to be. Would she be an Eva, quite and kind, who liked cuddling and reading in bed; or a Caroline, headstrong, determined, someone who got into trouble too often but defended those she cared about with a fiery passion; or a Saskia, a little odd, a little different, but lovely and beautiful nonetheless. Pouring over those pages, the infinite number of possibilities had stretched out before her, overwhelming almost in their scale. Her daughter can be anyone. She can go anywhere with this baby. With this baby, they can be anything.
In her arms, the tiny child quietens. She looks up at her with Addison's own blue eyes, and she can tell, instantly, that she recognises her mother. It's clear in the way she gazes at her, in the way she latches onto her gown with one hand and her finger with the other. This is her daughter. Her daughter. Her daughter. This is everything she's ever wanted. And she's never really been happy with her life; always had something to complain about, be it her absent parents, or Mark, or Derek, or Sam, or any of her other failed relationships, but right now this is enough. This is a relationship she will not screw up, at least not completely. This relationship, this child, this baby girl who is all hers, who she will nurture and love and help mould into an outstanding human being; right now, this is more than enough. Right now, this is everything.