If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction

Chapter 70 - 21.June.1966

Chapter 70

June 21, 1966

John wasn't beside me when I snapped out of my sleepless haze. I jolted up, the scar from my C-section still sore when I made sudden movements, and looked at the clock. Maggie was crying again, and I'd been in bed for less than half an hour—tossing and turning, chasing sleep that wouldn't come.

My hands shook from utter exhaustion as I pushed the light blanket from my body and hurried to Maggie's room. With tight shoulders and my mind racing with worried thoughts that I knew didn't even make sense, I opened her door and let out a breath when I saw her. She was fine...of course she was bloody fine. It was silly, really, to let myself worry because it wasn't exactly abnormal for babies to cry.

And Maggie, in particular, was a crier. Especially when the sun went down.

"Who's awake and shouldn't be?" I whispered as I walked into her room. "It's you, my little one. You're supposed to be sleepin', and here you are bloody awake."

I lifted Maggie from the crib and pulled her into my arms, rocking her as I tried like hell to get her to settle down. Over the last two months, I'd tried anything and everything to soothe her. Some days I thought I was beginning to understand her, and other days I still wondered what in the bloody hell the doctors had been thinking allowing us to take a baby home.

It was only after we brought Maggie to Weybridge, almost a full week after her birth, that it really hit me how little I knew about babies. Whenever I had a question—which was practically every day—and yearned to speak with my mother, I went through yet another reminder that I didn't have her to rely on. I didn't even know what kind of baby I'd been...had I wailed at night, too? Had I been an awful sleeper? Had I driven my mother beyond batty? 

So without my mother to lean on for support, I tried to trust my instincts, and I made the occasional phone call to Mo who had a few months' more experience than I did. But mostly, I had to rely on trial and error. And there was a lot of error, especially when it came to figuring out how to get her to sleep anywhere but in my arms.

With half-closed eyes and hair that I hadn't washed in days, Maggie and I made our way to the kitchen. Dot hadn't arrived yet; it was still too early. She was a helping hand through the whirlwind that had become my life since Maggie made her eventful arrival into our world. Dot was calm, gentle, and so loving with our daughter. She constantly reassured me that I was doing proper well as a new mother, and for that, I was infinitely thankful.

Things after Maggie's birth had been a bit mad. People were in and out of the house, popping by for a visit to meet the baby. Mimi came for a few days, and she instantly fell in love with Maggie and seemed touched by the name we chose. The boys had also come round. Paul loved holding her, and Ringo was already setting up playdates with Zak. George and Pattie were both in awe of how small she was and how loudly she could wail. And Brian showered her with gifts. Even more presents came from fans sending their well wishes.

But after the first month, things quieted down around the house. People came by less frequently, and John was awfully busy as the boys worked hard to crank out their newest album.

I warmed a bottle for Maggie and offered it to her as I carried her back up the stairs in search of John. I had a feeling I knew where he was. Maggie's crying stopped as she sucked on the bottle, and she settled down as I held her. My arms were the one place she was usually content and could always snooze...but when she was in my arms, there was no rest for me.

In an exhausted daze, I walked up to the attic where John usually went when he had song ideas. His composing never followed any kind of pattern, at least not one I could figure out. He created mainly in the attic, leaping out of bed sometimes in the middle of the night to write lyrics or try out a line for a song on the piano.