⇾ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 | 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐈

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙁𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙮-𝙏𝙬𝙤 ➪ 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙏𝙬𝙤 𝙍𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙨

ꕥ December 24, 1966 ꕥ
35 weeks

Overall, it was a good day. Arabella had brought presents for the baby, and Amelia had even picked one out for Martha.

Amelia had been out in the yard playing with Martha all the way until the sun went down, and as soon as she had opened up her presents, she had passed out, her head laying on Martha's belly as she sprawled out across the floor.

I was exhausted and my joints were aching. I was ready to make it home and fall into bed, but for now, we were in the car. Martha was sprawled in the backseat chewing on a bone that she'd received from Amelia, and I was leaning against the window, watching the unexciting scenery roll by and listening to the radio. Every now and then, a Beatles song would come on and a look over at Paul would tell me that he was embarrassed to hear his own music playing, so I would smile and turn it up just a bit louder. As soon as something else came on, though, I would turn it back down. I could only handle so much of the chaotic music.

When we finally pulled into the driveway, it was nearly 8:30.

Paul put the car into park and turned to me. "We're home," he said with a grin.

I looked at him tiredly. "I'm ready to go to sleep," I said.

"Am I going to need to help you upstairs?"

I nodded warily. "Probably."

He chuckled. "Alright. I'll let Martha out and come to help you."

I nodded. It was becoming harder and harder to think straight as my exhaustion began to take over. After a few moments, the door next to me opened and I felt Paul take ahold of my hand to help me to my feet. He led me inside the house and towards the stairs, but I shook my head. "I don't want to go upstairs," I whined.

"You've got this," he encouraged me.

"I dunno," replied. "There's a lot of stairs," I said, not even realizing that I was being guided up the stairs as I was speaking.

"It's okay," Paul told me as he continued to lead me up. "There aren't as many as you'd think."

"You sure?" I asked.

Paul stopped me and turned me around. We were already at the top. "I'm sure."

I turned back around and went to the bedroom. "Thanks, Paul," I said, going over to the dresser to find something to sleep in. I found a loose nightgown and struggled out of my clothes and into it before collapsing in bed, curling up under the covers immediately. Paul, who had gone downstairs to let Martha back into the house, returned to the room. 

He came over and knelt down to place a kiss on my forehead. "You've got a little friend over here," he said, undoing his tie.

"Who?"

Paul reached down and lifted up Thisbe from next to the bed. "She wants to lay with you. That alright?"

I nodded, reaching out for the kitten. "That's alright," I assured him. "Lay her down."

Paul laid Thisbe down next to me, then leaned over to place a kiss on my lips. "Goodnight, my love."

"Goodnight, Paul," I murmured, running my hands through the cat's fur and closing my eyes.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Paulie," I teased.

I heard him chuckle just as I gave into my exhaustion.

ꕥ December 25, 1966 ꕥ
36 weeks

I woke up to a quiet house and an empty bed. I could smell coffee brewing downstairs, and I smiled to myself. I felt significantly better this morning than I had last night. I glanced over at the clock on the nightstand next to me and saw that it was only eight, so I decided it was alright if I laid here for a few more minutes before I went downstairs to greet Paul.