Band Member Oneshots

She's a Barakat, She'll Make It

As yours and Jack's daughter, May Joyce, is about to take her first steps, you reflect on the events that lead up to this moment.

 The thought hits him like a freight train, hard and unexpected.

He's never been happier, never prouder and in awe of you, and especially never more honored that in a short while, you'll officially be his Mrs. Barakat.

This thought, which guides his illuminated brown eyes and pure grin to your position on the left side of the stage, he realizes, comes as he watches you coaxing 10-month-old May Joyce Barakat into taking her first steps.

In fact, watching the both of you, her, clad in a "My Daddy's the Guitarist" t-shirt (a gift from the band) and blue jeans and standing a short distance away from your legs, and you, a very proud mother and holding her up by her fingers, taking small steps together to teach her the motions, melts his heart.

Because, in all honesty, it's a sight he'd never thought he'd get to see, not after what he, you and little M.J. had been through.

                                                                                                   ____

You admitted it.

Dragging Jack to your OB-GYN appointment disguised as a routine physical was not the best way of giving him the news. Then again, what other choice did you have, given that in your relationship, you'd but barely breached the topic at hand?

"Congratulations Ms. (Y/N) and Mr. Barakat! You're going to be parents!"

The 5-word dreaded announcement which Dr. Klambert had said with great enthusiasm was met with an adverse reaction, that is, shame from your part and complete inexpression from Jack.

Having sensed the grim and uncomfortable atmosphere reining in the room, she had quickly swiveled back in her chair to her desk, hurriedly gathered up a collection of prenatal brochures ranging from the best vitamins and diets to choose from to classes before handing them to you and saying, "(Y/N), your vitals and the baby's are good. Before your first ultrasound in about 12 weeks, start on the vitamins and if there's anything, just call the clinic." Then, as she stuffed her briefcase and was exiting the threshold of the examination room, offered politely, "I'll leave you guys alone. I'll be three doors down if you need anything."

The fact that you had placed your hands on your not-yet existing bump in protection and that Jack, sitting in the chair next to the examination bench, where you lay, had his back rounded and his eyes staring absently at his hands folded over his lap, was evidence enough that a frightening talk was much needed.

"Jack," you had started calmly, maneuvering your body so that you were sitting up and facing him but he didn't do as much as flinch. At this, you repeated his name once more, in a sterner manner, hoping that your self-assurance would have broken his trance. To not avail, you became desperate, letting out all your apologies and fears in one long aching plea:

"Jack, I'm sorry, okay? I just didn't know how else to tell you. I know that we didn't talk about this and that it's unexpected and that it's interfering with your career but don't think for a second that I'm not scared! I'm absolutely terrified! There's too much to wrap my head around, too many ifs! What food to eat, what activities to do, what to buy, what will my parents, your parents think, not to mention that there might be pregnancy complications, like miscarriage or birth defects. If you really, really want, we can abort, which I don't want because I'll never be forgiven, but even that comes with complications, like physical pain, emo-"

"-If it's a girl, we're naming her May Joyce after my mom and my sister."

"What?" You had responded in a baffled manner, that is, with furrowed eyebrows and confused eyes, the result of him having unexpectedly interrupted you with his confident, yet, sly statement, sudden upward head and eye tilt and sudden body moving into vertical position.