dad!matt, a concept.
best read in dark mode ⏾
🧸 part i — the pregnancy. . .
ᡣ𐭩 when you and your boyfriend of two years find out you’re pregnant, you’re both scared, naturally; young and only freshly moved into your first apartment together, this big step in life is not one you’re prepared to take.
but, when matt cradles your stomach from the second he saw that lethal second line on the pregnancy test, soft eyebrows and tears pricking his waterline, you start to consider the possibility of raising a kid with him. maybe he’ll be a good father, nurturing your child with his whole heart. it’s only something you can picture, but at the image, something within you lights up with sunshine. so you decide to keep the baby.
you want this with matt; in fact, as you share happy tears with the boy pressing you into his chest in a hug, you realise that you don’t think you’d want to do it with anybody else.
ᡣ𐭩 you announce it to your family first, more accepting than you thought about the situation, and your mom, despite her strict parenting style growing up and her imprinted frown lines across her forehead, even pulls you aside to tell you that you have her full support and availability if anything was to go wrong. which makes you cry. obviously; you’re fucking pregnant.
matt’s family are also just as accepting, but that’s no surprise; his parents have always loved you, certain that you’re made for each other, and his triplet brothers are simply pumped to be uncles. especially nick, who, ever the sensitive person, bursts into tears at the announcement.
chris elbows him in the side. “you big crybaby. this is meant to be something to celebrate.”
“i am happy. just have dust in my eye, that’s all.” nick shoots back, and you giggle. you can’t wait for the fun uncle this pregnancy is going to bring out in both brothers.
ᡣ𐭩 the first few weeks are rocky, the toilet bowl your best friend as morning sickness lines your stomach. but, with matt’s constant presence by your side, a reassuring hand pressed into the small of your back, it feels manageable. his lips, softer than you ever remember are forever attached to yours, whispering praise into your mouth. you swear the love for your boyfriend has doubled since you fell pregnant with his baby.
then, suddenly, it’s your first scan, and the sonogram has made you cry for the umpteenth time in the past week. the picture is a simple white blob against a black background, but it’s still the prettiest you’ve ever seen. you want to hang it up on every wall in your apartment, tattoo it on your heart. it suddenly feels overwhelmingly real, but still manageable. after all, matt is clasping your hand by your side, silently sobbing.
“it’s tiny.” he whispers, pointing to what is the assumed baby’s head.
you smile, squeezing his hand as you meet his watery gaze. “it’s ours.”
and the love triples.
ᡣ𐭩 you find out the gender at the next scan, and decide to surprise matt with one of those cake reveals you’ve been seeing all over your tiktok. it’s just you and him in the house, an all white, three tiered cake sat between you on the kitchen counter. matt’s nervous, his hands shaking as he moves to cut a slice out, but you’re over the moon. you can already anticipate his excitement over the pink inside.
although it is orange when matt pulls the slice out, and you both look at one another, bursting out laughing. “it’s meant to be pink.” you say with a smile, and matt nods, pulling you into his side.
“yeah i gathered.” then it sinks in for the boy, his eyes widening. “holy shit. we’re having a baby girl.”
you laugh and then cry. it’s all you seem to be able to do recently. “we’re having a fucking girl.”
and as you sob even harder, matt kisses your temple in a soothing manner, smiling. “you’re gonna be the best mom ever, baby.”
ᡣ𐭩 the morning sickness wears off after your first trimester, but brings with it bouts of tiredness and a showing bump. the latter you don’t mind in the slightest, even convincing matt to do a soft launch of the pregnancy on your instagram story. the feedback on the mirror selfie, matt positioned behind you, arms gently caressing your bump, is insane, and suddenly you find yourself in one of the car videos he films for his youtube, talking about the pregnancy to the camera on the dashboard.
“HOW BIG?!” nick is shouting, shocked when you tell him you have to be dilated the size of a ben and jerry’s ice cream tub lid before you can push your daughter out.
“10 centimetres, nick. i might die.”
“oh my god, don’t say that.” matt suddenly looks worried, reaching back to grab your hand. “i’ll have a panic attack.”
you roll your eyes and squeeze his hand, your special way of grounding him. “i’ll try and not die for you, babe.”
“‘preciate it.”
chris interrupts, brow furrowed. “but you’re gonna have painkillers whilst you do it, right? so it shouldn’t hurt that much…”
“actually, i want to try and do it without any medication. completely natural.”
all three boys look shocked. “WHAT?!”
ᡣ𐭩 your second trimester is uneventful, and your bump is growing bigger by the day. by the time you’re 30 weeks along, you’re sick and tired, wanting nothing more than the baby to just free itself. matt is working harder than ever, on his brand and with his brothers on his youtube channel, and there are days where you don’t see him until the late evening, when you’re so wiped out you can barely keep your eyes open for more than 20 seconds.
so, to make it up to you, matt comes home every night with a new piece of clothing for your daughter. the other night was one of your favourites, the eeyore fleece he’d found in the thrift so small and so adorable that you bolted wide awake and insisted on putting it in the nursery.
you’d already painted and built the furniture for the baby’s room, completed a few weeks back, so now it was simply the case of organising everything into closets and mounting pictures onto walls, including that first ultrasound.
ᡣ𐭩 at 35 weeks, you feel a pain like you’re never felt before, excruciating, and you’re sure your in labour. matt rushes to get the remnants of your hospital bag ready, panicking when you double over in the kitchen, hand against the counter to steady yourself.
the car ride there is scarier than the prospect of you having your baby earlier than planned, however, matt screeching round the corners and getting at least 3 tickets for speeding just to make sure that you get to the hospital in time.
for nothing, by the way. the labour is false, your baby just moving her head so that its downwards. which is a good thing, you know, but you’re not quite sure the pain was worth it. matt faces the consequences of two fines, and you’re back home within five hours, deciding to pack your hospital bag.
who knows when you might go into actual labour?
ᡣ𐭩 but, four weeks later, you’re still fucking pregnant. you’re due in exactly 7 days, and now you’re just restless, all your clothes too small and every sensation overwhelming. even matt burrowing his face into your neck when watching a movie, as he always does, sets you on edge, and you push him away, frowning.
“i’m too warm for cuddles, matt.”
“oh, sorry.” matt throws you an apologetic smile, and scoots closer. he rubs your belly, which always calms you down, moving his hands down to lift your bump up, bringing you instant relief.
“fuck, that feels really good. thank you.”
“anything for my girl.” matt mumbles, and presses a kiss to your neck. you suddenly don’t detest his closeness anymore.
ᡣ𐭩 one week later, on october 22nd, at exactly 6am in the morning, you feel a gush of liquid between your legs and sit bolt upright in bed. your waters have just broken; you’re having the fucking baby.
( author’s note. . . omfg i forgot to tag oops)
this is for my babygirls @mattslolita, @middlepartmatt and @chrissturniolossidehoe 😛🔥
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