Getting It
Dec. 31st, 2011 02:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intheheartTitle: Getting It
Rating: PG.
Summary: When Ivy first found out that she was going to be a big sister, her reaction was mostly flat disbelief.
Date: January 1999 - July 1999
Notes: Someday I will write the story of Ivy's multiple plans to give her sister back. That day is not today.
When Ivy first found out that she was going to be a big sister, her reaction was mostly flat disbelief.
"But you're old," she told her mother. "You can't have babies after you're thirty. Kiki said so."
Her mother got an absolutely indescribable expression on her face, that turned to irritation when her father started laughing in the next room. "That's quite enough out of you, Nathan," she called, snappishly, and then turned back to Ivy. "Well, obviously, Kiki is wrong."
Kiki was almost never wrong, but Ivy decided to bow to her mother's experience in matters like these. "So... I'm going to be a big sister?"
"That's right," her mother said, eyes warm.
Ivy had never had to share her mother before. She didn't think she would like it. She said so.
"You share your father," her mother pointed out. "You didn't seem to mind Aaron when you were adopted."
"That's different," Ivy said, because it was. "That's Aaron. I knew him. I don't know the baby at all."
"It's going to be a little girl," her mother said, her hand drifting to her abdomen. "A little sister."
"Fine," Ivy said. "I don't know the little sister at all."
"She'll be wonderful, Ivy," her mother said. "Just like you." And then she hugged Ivy tightly, and kissed her forehead, and promised to brush and braid her hair that night.
She couldn't help the sneaking feeling that she was being bribed, but she agreed anyway, and went to do homework, thinking hard. Aaron, who always did his homework across the kitchen table for her in case one of them needed help, saw her expression and grinned.
"Don't worry, pipsqueak," he told her. "We can always give her back."
Give her back?
Hmm.
---
Ivy's first active encounter with what would be her new sister occured when the lump in her mother's stomach kicked her in the head.
"Ow," she said, though it did not hurt very much, and sat up.
Her mother glanced down at her over the tops of her glasses. "Felt that one too, did you?"
"It hurt," Ivy said. "I didn't kick that much, did I?"
Her mother laughed, and put down the papers she was holding so she could ruffle Ivy's hair. "No, you were worse."
Ivy considered the possible responses, selected one, and stuck out her tongue.
"Manners," her mother said, mildly, and picked up the papers again.
"Is the baby going to be like that when she's born?" Ivy asked, before her mother could get too into the papers. Her mother had been bringing more and more work home lately, as she grew less and less mobile. She was often home by noon, now, when she went to work at all. Ivy quite liked having her mother around this much, even if she was working all the time, but she was less certain about this baby thing.
She liked being a little sister. She wasn't sure how she'd feel about being a big sister.
"Probably not," her mother said, and smiled at her. "It's hard to predict. All babies are different."
"Okay," Ivy said, slowly. "Is she going to kick again?"
Her mother shrugged. "If you lean on her, she probably will. She doesn't like having her space invaded any more than you do."
Oh. Well, then.
She sat up for the rest of the evening, feeling deeply dissatisfied, and wondering if she really could give the baby back.
---
It wasn't until she saw her little sister that Ivy started to figure it out.
She had decided that she wouldn't like the baby, and it wasn't like it was hard. The baby meant that she couldn't sit on her mother's lap or get a proper hug anymore, and it would only get worse when there was an actual baby instead of just a bump in her mother's stomach. And having a baby took forever. Winter blew through, spring sprang, summer made the city hot and sticky and her mother huge and cranky and still there was no baby.
Then her brother woke her up in the middle of the night and informed her, between yawns, that she should pack some clothes and her homework because they had to go over to his mother's house for the day, right now, even though it wasn't even properly light out yet. Ivy, crankily, packed up her things, forgetting half her books for school and her toothbrush. She trailed after Aaron into a taxi and out at Aunt Melanie's, where she complained until Aunt Melanie yelled at her, and then fell asleep on the couch. Then she overslept and was late for school, where she was cross and petulant all day.
Her father came to get her at lunch, and not even getting out of school early could cheer her up. She grouched all the way to the hospital, slouching in her seat and scowling. Aaron was bouncing in his seat cheerfully, looking for all the world as if he was the eleven-year-old and not a whole sixteen, her father had a silly stupid beaming grin on his face, and Ivy pretty much hated the world.
She would not, she knew, like this baby. At all. She knew it as hard as she could, all the way through the long antiseptic-smelling hallways and past the hard scrubbing she needed to get her hands clean enough to go see the baby.
She would not like the baby.
And then all of a sudden she was in the room and there she was, the baby, bundled up in her mother's arms. Their mother. Ivy would have to get used to that; she'd long since surrendered the idea of trying to give the baby back.
She was tiny, more like a doll than a baby, with eyes tight shut and hands all balled up in fists. She didn't have any hair, and her eyelashes were transparant. And she had the tiniest snub nose.
Ivy saw that nose every day in the mirror. That nose, and the oddly dark eyebrows the baby had, Ivy had those too, and the same sharp chin. It was weird, seeing her own features on a whole other human being. A brand new person. She hadn't quite realized that, before.
Suddenly shy, she hung back. Aaron, who had no such compunctions, was already stroking a tiny fist. Her father, sitting next to her mother with a silly sort of grin on his face, was saying something to Aaron. And her mother... her mother was watching her.
"Come here, Ivy," she said, gently. "Come meet Summer."
Ivy went slowly up to the bed, absently elbowed Aaron out of the way, and looked down at the baby, who opened her eyes and stared back.
Summer's eyes were blue. Like Ivy's.
"Hi," she whispered. "I'm your big sister."
---
It wasn't easy. It was never easy.
There were days when everyone fawned over Summer and ignored Ivy completely, and nights when Summer cried until she hiccuped herself to sleep. There were definitely times when Ivy felt she would have been quite happy had Summer never been born, and times when she didn't go quite that far, but still wished Summer would go away. Babies were difficult and noisy and angry, and Ivy swore privately that she would never ever have one herself.
But all in all, she loved her little sister. She liked dangling shiny things over Summer's crib for her to play with, and counting each tiny finger and toe, and sometimes she was even allowed to hold Summer, to smell her soft baby scent and stroke the faint dusting of red hair that she had grown. Ivy was sure that Summer was the loveliest little sister anyone could ever want, apart from herself, of course.
She loved her little sister.
Even if she did sometimes want to give her back.
Rating: PG.
Summary: When Ivy first found out that she was going to be a big sister, her reaction was mostly flat disbelief.
Date: January 1999 - July 1999
Notes: Someday I will write the story of Ivy's multiple plans to give her sister back. That day is not today.
When Ivy first found out that she was going to be a big sister, her reaction was mostly flat disbelief.
"But you're old," she told her mother. "You can't have babies after you're thirty. Kiki said so."
Her mother got an absolutely indescribable expression on her face, that turned to irritation when her father started laughing in the next room. "That's quite enough out of you, Nathan," she called, snappishly, and then turned back to Ivy. "Well, obviously, Kiki is wrong."
Kiki was almost never wrong, but Ivy decided to bow to her mother's experience in matters like these. "So... I'm going to be a big sister?"
"That's right," her mother said, eyes warm.
Ivy had never had to share her mother before. She didn't think she would like it. She said so.
"You share your father," her mother pointed out. "You didn't seem to mind Aaron when you were adopted."
"That's different," Ivy said, because it was. "That's Aaron. I knew him. I don't know the baby at all."
"It's going to be a little girl," her mother said, her hand drifting to her abdomen. "A little sister."
"Fine," Ivy said. "I don't know the little sister at all."
"She'll be wonderful, Ivy," her mother said. "Just like you." And then she hugged Ivy tightly, and kissed her forehead, and promised to brush and braid her hair that night.
She couldn't help the sneaking feeling that she was being bribed, but she agreed anyway, and went to do homework, thinking hard. Aaron, who always did his homework across the kitchen table for her in case one of them needed help, saw her expression and grinned.
"Don't worry, pipsqueak," he told her. "We can always give her back."
Give her back?
Hmm.
---
Ivy's first active encounter with what would be her new sister occured when the lump in her mother's stomach kicked her in the head.
"Ow," she said, though it did not hurt very much, and sat up.
Her mother glanced down at her over the tops of her glasses. "Felt that one too, did you?"
"It hurt," Ivy said. "I didn't kick that much, did I?"
Her mother laughed, and put down the papers she was holding so she could ruffle Ivy's hair. "No, you were worse."
Ivy considered the possible responses, selected one, and stuck out her tongue.
"Manners," her mother said, mildly, and picked up the papers again.
"Is the baby going to be like that when she's born?" Ivy asked, before her mother could get too into the papers. Her mother had been bringing more and more work home lately, as she grew less and less mobile. She was often home by noon, now, when she went to work at all. Ivy quite liked having her mother around this much, even if she was working all the time, but she was less certain about this baby thing.
She liked being a little sister. She wasn't sure how she'd feel about being a big sister.
"Probably not," her mother said, and smiled at her. "It's hard to predict. All babies are different."
"Okay," Ivy said, slowly. "Is she going to kick again?"
Her mother shrugged. "If you lean on her, she probably will. She doesn't like having her space invaded any more than you do."
Oh. Well, then.
She sat up for the rest of the evening, feeling deeply dissatisfied, and wondering if she really could give the baby back.
---
It wasn't until she saw her little sister that Ivy started to figure it out.
She had decided that she wouldn't like the baby, and it wasn't like it was hard. The baby meant that she couldn't sit on her mother's lap or get a proper hug anymore, and it would only get worse when there was an actual baby instead of just a bump in her mother's stomach. And having a baby took forever. Winter blew through, spring sprang, summer made the city hot and sticky and her mother huge and cranky and still there was no baby.
Then her brother woke her up in the middle of the night and informed her, between yawns, that she should pack some clothes and her homework because they had to go over to his mother's house for the day, right now, even though it wasn't even properly light out yet. Ivy, crankily, packed up her things, forgetting half her books for school and her toothbrush. She trailed after Aaron into a taxi and out at Aunt Melanie's, where she complained until Aunt Melanie yelled at her, and then fell asleep on the couch. Then she overslept and was late for school, where she was cross and petulant all day.
Her father came to get her at lunch, and not even getting out of school early could cheer her up. She grouched all the way to the hospital, slouching in her seat and scowling. Aaron was bouncing in his seat cheerfully, looking for all the world as if he was the eleven-year-old and not a whole sixteen, her father had a silly stupid beaming grin on his face, and Ivy pretty much hated the world.
She would not, she knew, like this baby. At all. She knew it as hard as she could, all the way through the long antiseptic-smelling hallways and past the hard scrubbing she needed to get her hands clean enough to go see the baby.
She would not like the baby.
And then all of a sudden she was in the room and there she was, the baby, bundled up in her mother's arms. Their mother. Ivy would have to get used to that; she'd long since surrendered the idea of trying to give the baby back.
She was tiny, more like a doll than a baby, with eyes tight shut and hands all balled up in fists. She didn't have any hair, and her eyelashes were transparant. And she had the tiniest snub nose.
Ivy saw that nose every day in the mirror. That nose, and the oddly dark eyebrows the baby had, Ivy had those too, and the same sharp chin. It was weird, seeing her own features on a whole other human being. A brand new person. She hadn't quite realized that, before.
Suddenly shy, she hung back. Aaron, who had no such compunctions, was already stroking a tiny fist. Her father, sitting next to her mother with a silly sort of grin on his face, was saying something to Aaron. And her mother... her mother was watching her.
"Come here, Ivy," she said, gently. "Come meet Summer."
Ivy went slowly up to the bed, absently elbowed Aaron out of the way, and looked down at the baby, who opened her eyes and stared back.
Summer's eyes were blue. Like Ivy's.
"Hi," she whispered. "I'm your big sister."
---
It wasn't easy. It was never easy.
There were days when everyone fawned over Summer and ignored Ivy completely, and nights when Summer cried until she hiccuped herself to sleep. There were definitely times when Ivy felt she would have been quite happy had Summer never been born, and times when she didn't go quite that far, but still wished Summer would go away. Babies were difficult and noisy and angry, and Ivy swore privately that she would never ever have one herself.
But all in all, she loved her little sister. She liked dangling shiny things over Summer's crib for her to play with, and counting each tiny finger and toe, and sometimes she was even allowed to hold Summer, to smell her soft baby scent and stroke the faint dusting of red hair that she had grown. Ivy was sure that Summer was the loveliest little sister anyone could ever want, apart from herself, of course.
She loved her little sister.
Even if she did sometimes want to give her back.
