I'd Be Happy to Die (Post Bloodline, no spoilers)

[Natalie]

Post-Bloodline. Knowledge of s12 is definitely helpful. Told from Abby's POV.

I press the little button on Luka’s phone for what seems like the millionth time, and the figure on the screen begins the familiar motions once again. This little alien can’t possibly be my baby…I’m still pregnant. I reach down to touch my bump, when the same realization that has been hitting me over and over hits again. I’m not still pregnant. That thing is my baby.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It all happened too soon. I was so careful…we had that meningocoxcemia scare, and I didn’t take the Cipro. I stopped drinking coffee. I, Abby Lockhart, eliminated caffeine from my diet, because it was bad for the baby. I even lightened my patient load to prevent undue stress. Everything I did was for this baby, and thanks to Sam’s ex, none of it even matters anymore. All of that planning, all of the precautions, it all fell to crap, thanks to one moment.
What am I supposed to do now? My baby is in there fighting for his life. It’s not fair. He didn’t even have a chance. What did he do to deserve this? What did I do to deserve this? What did we do to deserve this?
I think I hate my baby. I hate all of the worry he’s caused. I hate all of the grief stemming from his birth. I hate that I’ve lost my ability to have any more children because of him. I hate that he is in the NICU dying. I hate that my whole life has been turned upside down because he came too early.
Luka left so long ago…has he given up on me, too? My baby is dying, and part of me is dying because of it. Why can’t Luka understand that I need him? I know he’s upset. He thinks he can hide it but I know him too well. The thing is, I’m upset too. I can’t do this alone. I grew up basically alone. I can’t raise the baby by myself. I’m not strong enough to do it on my own. At this point, I doubt that I can do it at all.
I take Luka’s phone and drop it on the nightstand. The screen goes black, just like my baby’s future.

[xbostonxbabyx]

Wow.... ;D

That's a different prospective on how she feels about her baby. Yet, somehow I can't look away... I think it's a brilliant start!!! Update again soon!

[hollygirl]

great start!!! update sooooooon!

[<3 LubyII <3]

Great start!

[Maité]

That was definitely a great start!

[Melimelo]

I am speechless! Poor Abby seems so depressed ..I hope she cheers up soon.

[erfan228]

Great fic! I love how you described Abby's feelings. Can't wait for more!

[steffi1986]

wow, this is really great please update soon

[Natalie]

Chapter 2 is up...I'm still not sure about this fic, so any and ALL feedback is appreciated.

I haven’t slept. The hours have slowly crept by, each one lasting a lifetime. My life was turned upside down nearly 24 hours ago and I still haven’t met the reason why. Luka’s been distant, both physically and mentally. He’s been in the NICU with the baby. I know I told him to go, that it was okay, he should leave me alone so the baby wouldn’t be, but I don’t think I meant it. For 22 hours and 17 minutes, I have been sitting here, waiting. People from the ER stop up here to visit as shifts start and end. No one brings up the baby. They all care, but it’s like they’re walking on eggshells, choosing their words carefully, so as not to hurt me.
They can’t hurt me, though. I am numb. The autonomous response I give when they ask how I’m doing is just that; autonomous. I don’t think about it any more. I want it all to end.
In less than two hours I will meet my baby. I close me eyes, almost dreading what is to come. This still cannot be happening. Things like this do not happen to people like me. I am a doctor, and so is Luka. Why is it that my baby, our baby, is the one to suffer? I tell every other parent not to worry, that their child will be fine, but this time it’s not true.
My baby came 10 weeks early. At 30 weeks survival is almost definite, but not without its costs. Permanent brain damage, respiratory issues, the works. And the events that caused my baby’s early arrival don’t help either. This is going to be more than I can take. What do I do? Who do I turn to? Normally people turn to me or Luka for support, but this time we’re the ones that need help. The tables have turned, and everything’s falling apart.

[steffi1986]

OMG so intensive, Luka should be with her and support her please update really soon

[xbostonxbabyx]

Poor Abby seems so depressed. Hope Luka visits with her soon and they work thigns out! Great update!

[<3 LubyII <3]

How sad... . Great update though. Update again soon!

[debsxx2006xx]

Hi Natalie

This is strange but my sort of strange i like it keep up the good work x

[LiLM]

hey it's a great fic different from the others
Update sOon

[Natalie]

Here's Chapter 3. It's going up here before it goes up on fanfiction.net or on the ERHQ because TDWD people are better at commenting!

It’s been 24 hours since my baby was so abruptly pulled from my womb. Luka’s finally back, even if only to take me to the NICU. The transition from my bed to the wheelchair was excruciating. It feels as though my insides have been torn out. Oh, that’s right. They were.
The NICU is eerily quiet. When I arrive, one of the nurses says to the other, “Take them back to the Lockhart baby.”
“Kovac,” I find myself saying. “My baby’s last name is supposed to be Kovac.” I almost add that the birth certificate should be changed before I take my baby home, but deep down I know that there will be plenty of time between now and then. Right now, it’s not important. Right now, all I want is for them to take me to my baby.
Luka pushes my wheelchair through the NICU and I see incubator after incubator, hoping that the one with the least tubes running out of it holds my baby, and the one with the most is someone else’s child. I know that this is something that I can’t wish upon anyone, but I still have to ask myself, why me?
My worst fears are realized when Luka brings my wheelchair to a halt in front of a tube-filled incubator. I can barely see the baby in the midst of all the tubes.
“Mongo,” I murmur as I put a hand on the side of the incubator.
“What?” Luka whispers. “I was joking about that…”
“They give all of the NICU babies ‘strong’ nicknames. Our baby’s is Mongo,” I explain.
“Can’t he just be Joe? Short for Joseph?” Luka asks.
“No,” I respond curtly, recalling the baby I’d renamed “Jake” from “Jacob” during my NICU rotation. Losing him had been hard, and it wasn’t a fate I wanted for my baby. “Mongo.” My baby’s name is the one thing still have control over, and I’m not about to give it up.