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‘Welcome home, Martha Melissa!’ Mulder carries the car seat triumphantly inside. Dagoo immediately flies at Scully, yapping his urgent affection. She bends as much as her c-section wound allows to greet him.
‘Hello! I know, I missed you too,’ she coos, submitting to his incessant licks. Mulder rests the car seat on the coffee table, and the dog immediately jumps up to sniff the new family member.
‘Gently,’ Mulder grips his collar just in case. ‘Who’s this, then? Who’s this? Your new sister?’
Scully walks tenderly to the couch. Their baby, not yet a week old, is oblivious to the inspection carried out by the dog.
‘Dagoo, leave it,’ she commands, and he immediately jumps off the table to sit at her feet.
Scully takes in the sight of her daughter in the living room. Her tiny fingers flex and bend, adjusting to the outside world. She stirs, her brow furrowing as she puckers her lips, working up to a tiny cry. Finding her power, the cry gets stronger.
‘Mulder, can I have a water please?’ Scully carefully picks up the baby, still unsure if her fingers are really supporting the neck properly or not. Strips her to her diaper and unbuttons her own plaid shirt. She holds Martha against her exposed tummy for skin-to-skin contact. By now, Martha’s cries echo around the room.
Scully takes her breast and guides it into the baby’s mouth. As she was taught in the hospital, she gently pushes Martha’s head against it and the vacuum signals success. Scully exhales in relief as her child eats, and the pressure in her breast abates. Martha’s skin is downy velvet. Scully runs a finger down the rings of her tiny neck. Martha curls her little fists into her chest.
Mulder returns with her water. ‘Like a pro,’ he says with admiration.
‘Not quite. Every time is different.’ Scully says, drinking half of her water. ‘It’s unnerving, actually.’
Since newborns with Down syndrome can find it tricky to latch, the lactation specialist is visiting them tomorrow. Scully’s confidence has taken a dip without the encouragement of the midwives at the hospital. This first time seems to be going well, but there are at least six more feeds before the specialist arrives. That’s a lot of latching to navigate, and a lot of uncertainty for someone who loves nothing more than an operating plan.
‘One step at a time, right?’ Mulder says, leaning to kiss his daughter before kissing Scully’s forehead. ‘For now, she’s eating like a champ. You’re doing great.’
He carries the diaper bag to the kitchen. It catches the tin of emergency formula, which crashes to the floor. Powder explodes everywhere. Barking, Dagoo runs over and starts licking it. The baby startles and immediately scrunches her face to express her shrill indignation.
‘Oh Mulder! Here, let me help.’ Scully starts to pull her shirt back on, her breathing quickening.
‘Don’t move! Don’t move, Scully. Just keep doing what you’re doing. That’s the best help right now.’
She concedes, and tries to guide Martha back to eat, but the child is excited and angry. Scully persists, pretending that panic isn’t creeping up her neck. It takes five attempts before Scully sees her little jaw sucking furiously, and by that time, Scully’s forehead is glistening with sweat. Mulder is on his knees with a dustpan and brush, still battling the dog away from the spilled formula.
‘Are we stupid to even think we can do all this?’ She laughs uncertainly. The tension of the last five minutes makes it hard to think.
‘Stupider people than us have done this.’
‘Mulder! There are so many things wrong with that statement. But it’s strangely comforting. A reminder that people have done this for centuries.’
‘For millennia.’ Mulder finishes up and joins Scully on the couch where Martha has dozed off. ‘You’ve done it yourself.’
‘Yeah, but I was twenty years younger then. Come on, little one,’ she coaxes, tickling Martha’s feet. ‘Eat up. You can do it.’
Once sated, Mulder sits Martha on his knee. Her little head is the same size as his fist. He balances it in the crux of his thumb and forefinger as he rubs her back gently to encourage the gas to pass. With each burp, her eyes - still adjusting to the light – widen with surprise, and Scully’s chest aches with gratitude.
‘Well now, Martha, not every mealtime is going to be as exciting as that,’ Mulder says, cradling her. ‘Mom and Dad just don’t know what they’re doing yet. You gotta be patient.’
Bone-deep exhaustion settles within her. Time had melted at the hospital as Scully found herself in an incessant cycle of feeding, burping, changing diapers, eating, and starting the whole routine again. Doctors came and went, taking Martha for an echocardiogram, measuring Scully’s blood sugar, administering rounds of antibiotics for their girl to rid some fluid on her lungs. The stillness at home dulls her senses. Her baby is safe in Mulder’s arms, and there are no more needles for either of them. With a heavy sigh, Scully closes her eyes and drifts to Martha’s newborn squeaks and coos.
The light has changed when she wakes. The living room glows red with the last of the Winter sun. It’s Scully’s favourite time of the day. She straightens up, grimacing as the sharp sting in her belly reminds her that she had major abdominal surgery merely days ago.
‘Hey,’ Mulder whispers. Martha is asleep on his chest, and Dagoo sits loyally at their feet. ‘You ok?’
‘Yeah. I just sat up too fast…..How long was I out?’
‘About an hour and a half.
‘Oh god, I needed that.’ Scully stretches her arms and circles her ankles. ‘I feel so much better.’
She leans over and loops Martha’s fat little caterpillar fingers around her own. Runs her thumb over them like a tiny xylophone.
‘I can’t believe she’s here. She’s perfect.’
‘Isn’t she?’ Mulder grins.
‘What did you two get up to?’
‘Oh, nothing much. One of us needed a diaper change, and the other one put it on back to front. But I won’t tell you who, because I don’t want to embarrass Martha. And then we just … got to know each other a little more on the couch here.’
‘Mmmh. She’ll be ready for another feed soon.’
‘I put a lasagna in the oven. I thought we’d try to eat before she wakes.’
‘A lasagna?’
‘Yeah. Tara dropped off about a week’s worth of food yesterday. It’s all in the deep freeze.’
‘Oh, isn’t she good.’ As younger women, Scully and Tara felt like the choices of the other were a judgement on their own. In reality, they were both fighting the same challenges: for acceptance, for success. It just looked different to each woman. Age brought acceptance, and through the messiness of family life, they forged a bond which has only strengthened in recent years.
‘There’s time for a shower if you want. I’d say we have about thirty minutes.’
Scully climbs the stairs gingerly. Dagoo follows her and sits in the bathroom with her as she prepares.
‘I know, buddy.’ She scratches his head. ‘I won’t leave you again, I promise.’
The hot shower massages her shoulders. The hospital slides off her and escapes down the drain. She lathers her hair twice – a small luxury – with her fancy shampoo and moisturises her legs before wrapping herself up in a freshly washed robe.
Downstairs, Mulder passes her the baby. It gets less awkward each time, though there’s still a definite check that she has Martha before Mulder withdraws. Her arms are content with Martha’s tiny weight once again, and she eats her lasagne with one hand.
‘This is amazing. I must call Tara to thank her.’
‘She said don’t even think about calling until you’ve been home for two weeks. No visitors, no tasks. She won’t even answer you.’
Scully chuckles.
‘There’s something else, too.’ Mulder puts a package on the table, and she stills as she recognises the scrawling, rushed penmanship of youth. ‘It arrived yesterday.’
‘Can you open it, Mulder?’
Anticipation bubbles as he finds the scissors and cuts into the package, pulling out a weather-beaten teddy bear. One ear is threadbare, and he’s missing an eye. Mulder hands her the card to read.
Congratulations! I’m glad she got here safely and I’m glad you’re doing ok. I’ll see you soon. Can’t wait to meet my little sister. Jackson
Ps. This is Mr Bow Tie. He was my favorite when I was a kid. Still is, but I figure Martha could use him more than me now.
She looks up, eyes welling with tears, and passes Mulder the card. In all the time after she gave William away, she never thought she could be this lucky. Rather than falling, their delicate house of cards they build with him continues to fortify.
‘When you were first assigned to the X-Files, would you have ever guessed that we’d end up here?’ Mulder asks.
‘Not in a million years.’
‘You know, I tried pretty much everything to stop your assignment. I even asked the Gunmen to redirect you somewhere else.’
‘Of course you did.’ It feels good to giggle.
‘But, my god, look where we’ve landed.’
Not wanting to be left out of the conversation, Martha wriggles in Scully’s arm, testing out her limbs with a scrunched face. Scully takes her gently to the couch and begins once more the process of nourishing their daughter.