#Pregnancy after Menopause | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deesseshesca · 25 days ago

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PAC : Letter from your pregnant self. (18+)

Mama said it was ok ... mama said it was quite alright .

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✨ Down to My Core ✨

This Christmas, gift yourself clarity—a soulful journey to uncover your truth and step into the new year ready to rise. 🌙

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PILE 1

It was supposed to be you pregnant but you came through in the hospital the evening after giving birth. You are actually talking to your baby girl.

‘’ Damn I thought it was early menopause. You should have seen my face when the doctor came back in the room after putting way too much finger in my hole. Honestly I should have guessed it when the nurse and the medical tech looked at each other with smirk while my husband and I were going crazy over my future illness. I hope you don’t hate me as I am holding you in my arms. I can’t help but admire you. I gave up on the idea of having my dream baby girl a long time ago. I know it is not fair I should have fought for you but I could not let the emptiness get to me. You know I have to be a mother to your big brothers. LOL! I remember their disgusted and concerned faces when I told them I was pregnant again. ‘’ Mama you are still doing the nasty’’ that’s what (the name of your second boy) said. Honestly I am not sure what I was expecting from anyone. The first thought that came to my mind is the fact that I am only in my mid 30. What the heck, for sure I love riding it. Actually been loving riding it. Since forever. He is the first man I ever trusted … the only I ever gave my heart. It was my first time after a very awful experience but I probably will never tell you about it but I will forever protect you against all thoses abusers out here. Ain’t no way they are touching my daughter but your dad … he’s different. I am so happy I chose the right man to have my babies with. The way he looks at me with so much longing in eyes, the soft touch, waking me up everyday by getting your siblings ready and making my coffee so I can have some time for myself. The way he literally dedicated a whole wall in our house for pictures of our wedding like he doesn't already have 3 pictures of me and the kids on his desk at work, like he doesn't have a picture of us in his wallet and in his car. Sometimes I pinch myself when I cook and I look at my husband playing with my kids, being affectionate and their safe place because it was never like that. I never grew up like that. I used to wish on my lucky stars that I make it out of my abusive household and now I am thriving in an overabundant and loving household. Is not always easy because your dad has a demanding job but he will NEVER but none of y’all second. It doesn't matter if he is busy in a meeting or overseas, he always calls, answers texts, sends gifts, even writes letters. He always fixes his schedule to be at your siblings' competition. Honestly I am scared of the length he is ready to go for you. Actually all of them are ready to go to crazy length for you. Nah I am serious he organized the baby shower in a luxurious resort. The gender reveal happened on a helicopter ride before taking me to a 5 star hotel and showering me with gifts. Your siblings are always telling me to sit down, that they can do it, that I need to keep my energy and that they need to protect me . Damm… last time I checked I am the parent but I didn't talk back. Because miss girl you were not an easy pregnancy. High blood pressure, back pain, extreme moodiness and early labor. Like girls we get it … you were in a hurry to come to your palace but you did not have to do my body like that. Or maybe you punish me because I decided that I was infertile after a couple years with no success. I let you go. Stop fighting for you. You and your little button noise, smooth forehead, full head of hair and pouty lips are more than worth it. This pregnancy did not feel real at first. I did not want to believe it. I was sure that it was a mistake or my blessing was going to be taken from me. Yeah… you trigger my old survival instinct. Thank God for you dad, holding my hand, telling me that everything is going to be ok and allowing me to take my time accepting my truth. Validating how I feel because by the second semester I was more than overjoyed and confident. You are mine, my blessings and worth every ounce of goodness coming ... my precious miraculous babygirl.

XOXO

Your mama’’

So many nasty messages came through but y'all … I know you would never talk like that to your baby.

The baby was created a random day after a cuddle fuck (for many anal cuddle fuck). After putting the kids to sleep, doing your night routine with your husband and cleaning the room (you don’t joke about that re-start routine because otherwise the mornings are way too chaotic in the morning) you bring yourself to the bed and decide to seduce your man with kisses and caress. Honestly it does not take a lot for your husband to be seduced by you. He and I love the fact that you still try to make marriage feel sexy with the booty shorts, sometimes having your makeup done, other times you go all out and have lunch at his work to tease him. You are litteraly his sexual fantasy like even when y’all are going to be more mature he's not going to look at younger girls (some people in this pile are scared that their husband will entertain younger girls. Never babe they are HOOK on you. Not just love or respect for the mother of their child. You have the pusy power over that mind. All he sees is you!). After a sweaty, loving but still rough session little miss finally came to you.

You guys are going to have an amazing sex life with your husband don’t worry your kids are never going to know (y’all get down. Y’all don’t mind calling the nanny to have ‘’sex weekend’’). In the adult world the way y’all look at each other, joke with each … you guys chemistry (y’all just look the fuck good together) people know you fucking fucking.

Also if you read : PAC : Your dream reality, there's also glimpse of the same future channeled.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

PILE 2

‘’ Bitch WTF ! You know what life got me fucked up in all type of way. Almost like God wanting to make a joke out of me. As I am speaking, I am sitting in this comfy couch in my living living in my house, fat as fuck, mean mugging my husband. You heard me right. HUSBAND ! I don’t even know when that shit happens. Like when did I fell in love. I mean I was never against love but think about it. Living in your dream house, enjoying yourself and you are waking up turning to your side and you see a big fat head. Let me tell you, it is not between your thighs. Nah is cuddling and calling you ‘’honey’’. EW GET THE FUCK OFF ME. It was supposed to be only a FWB but you know how men move when they have a taste of this punani. They be hearing colors, seeing starts and talking in tongues , thinking I can heal their attachment issues. Ok let me give credit where it is due … he was actually different. He made me do things I don’t usually do like talking about my feelings, eating 3 times a day and being affectionate. I swear I never gave as many hug as I did with him. LOL ! From all the billion penises on this planet I had to fall in love with the clingy one. He loves hugging me, kissing me … just being stuck on me. Before I knew it I had a ring on my finger. I even kissed him in front of my damm family. Like I am a bad bitch, a cold ass bitch, a cool hoe not basic lucy that’s all love and light. Guess he was so good to me that I said ‘’Yes I do’’. That I could forgive. I could understand the house, the ring, the love and partnership but the baby … the baby. THE DAMM FUCKING BABY. You know what is going to do to my dream body and my mom is talking about a second one. Babe hell nah to the nah nah. This hourglass figure is not going to waste. Somewhere I guess it is my fault … Ok … So what shoot me … I LOVE SEX. I LOVE WHEN HE HITS RAW. Is that so wrong? I hate birth control… bitch my opp frl. ALways trying to give me acne or making me fat. What about him and his breeding kink ? Don’t look at me like that. I always liked it rough and nasty but … the consequence. I did not think … Bitch I am only a girl. I am a teeneager in her late twenties. Like somebody called Dr.Phil … I am losing it ! I guess I would have been more careful but there’s something about having my hair pulled, my body bound, my pussy being overstimulated and having his big dick pounding into me while we are listening to chase the Atlantic that’s going to do it every time. Let me tell you something … this man is obsessed with my body. I was scared … you know, we always had body dysmorphia but I think my husband healed me. He can’t take his hand off me. LIKE CAN’T ! I can’t not be in a room with only him (funny since y’all living together …) always slapping my fat ass. Sneaky his hand in my full breast. That one time I was in bikini waddle around I genuinely think he was going to fuck me in the pool while the neighbor were in their backyard. We all know how vocal I am and how rough he is. Confession I still like it fucking rough ... Actually I like it rougher. I am officially insane. There must be something wrong with me. One minute I am like ‘’aww my baby is going to be an awesome dad’’ and the very next fucking though be like ‘’ I want him choke me and force himself into me’’ and it be a front of people. Fucking embarrassing. This pregnancy hormone made me waddle around like a horny sick teenager. Anyway let me go … I was teasing him earlier. You know how bratty I can get. But now I want it ! Bye babe … I need to hop on my ride.

XOXO

Your homegirl''

I swear pile 2, y’all so fucking cute. Y’all may be the youngest of your family or friend group. Like nobody even though you would get married or even have kids. Like you don’t hate kids but you love scaring them and every time one cries you laugh. Second, y'all love to yell at men. Every time you see a man, attitude is 100%. You are so spoiled and you don’t want to share. So the thought of having to share even a spoon with even your fav muncher is weird. You guys are the personification of the sound: ‘’ WHY WOULD A MEN BE HERE ? WHY WOULD A MEN BE HERE ?’’. You guys are also the personification of women dominating male fields. You be hating on men but still fuck them because that’s all they worth (LOL GO QUEEN !). You look the fuck good and don’t play abut your beauty regiment and sleep.

You love your husband and you are in love with your baby but affection is not something that comes easy to you. That doesn't mean you are mean, you just show love in different ways. You more an act of service (I can’t with y’all… I just heard ‘’ Good head should be enough to show I care … Don’t be greedy. Beggar cannot be choosy’’ No because PERIDOT) like cleaning, cooking, organizing, showing support, being dependable or gift giving. You always find him the best gift.

All this to say you play though but there is a big teddy bear inside of you that is sooo happy by the way your life took a twist but fucking confuse at the same time. Sometimes you wake confused like the girl in 17 turning 30 movie. Not that you hate your life actually you love it but WTF.

I am hearing ‘’ Rue… when was this ?’’.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

PILE 3

‘’ LOL…Let’s thank God for the bathroom at the restaurant. Honestly I don't even know how we sneak in together and nobody said anything. I lowkey think the server had our back because when I finally came back after sending my husband out before me to act as normal as possible. The server brought the bill with a smirk and my baby tipped him big. Honestly I don’t regret it. He could not resist the sight of me since my makeup was perfectly done, hair blown out in perfect curls, smelling Bararat Rouge, short black dress tight on my snatch body (thank God for the workout routine I follow religiously). Honestly I am surprised he waited that long … I kind of did need to push him the fuck off me, multiple time while we were getting ready. Now I understand Bella and Edward because honeymoon energy makes you want to do it EVERY TIME AND ANYTIME. Like how am I supposed to ignore my man when he looks all good in his suits after he paid for the whole trip and booked this exclusive restaurant in Paris just a front of the Eiffel tower and he gave me red bottoms earlier this evening. Fuck even when we are together he keeps tricking on me. Now here we are, gel on my stomach, belly round and big and my hand in his. Swear I never saw such a big and tall guy, literally a giant being so excited like a literal kid on Christmas morning over the new addition in the family. I told him to wait before he got the name of the baby tatted because you never know what could happen (God forbid …). I never saw him in such distress when I said this. His eyes floated with tears, he hugged me tighter, kissed my neck and whispered: ‘’ You don’t think we deserve this happiness ? or maybe you regret having this with me’’. I hug him and cry. That is my self doubt … God does my self doubt and his abandonment issue always makes us cry in each other's arms in the most gut wrenching way. Fuck self doubt … I am prepared , my doctor got our back, my baby is healthy and I am going have my fucking happy ending. I want it all, I deserve it all and I am having it all.

XOXO

Your Fav Sugar Mama''

You guys have moneyyyy. Like yes your man has money but babe you are very much giving boss babe. You probably have or are working towards having a very demanding degree. Let me tell you something … whatever field you try to get into (I think it's very competitive) you are/will be dominating.

Also this letter was completely off intuition … I did not pull any cards but don’t worry let’s get to the extra messages.

Funny enough y’all may be fucking like beast in mating season before pregnancy but after that everything is going to die down. I think both of y'all have a soft exhibition kink because y’all really don’t care who hears you or sees you. While you are pregnant he is still very loving and he still think you are stunning but y’all prefer missionary, love making, cuddle fuck, being in the bed, doing it on the couch. I see a lot of loving gaze coming from them. Like they look at you like you are the walking definition of love. So much tenderness and longing just by the way they look at you. Also they change the tone of their voice when speaking to you. Is never loud even when they are mad. When they know they are about to get mad, they sit down, take a breath and speak. Is like a routine . NEVER NEVER want to scare you or hurt you. He really is a gentle giant. When it comes to YOU. Only for you. Also if I stick to my vision, you are definitely the one that decorated the apartment. I am getting a condo, penthouse or luxurious apartment in a busy city for your house.

They are going to be even more possessive when you are pregnant. Babe that pregnancy glow is going to do wonders for your skin. You look the fuck good. Hair is long and healthy plus is shiny. Breast sitting pretty and is full. Hips wider and the way you walk is having everyone hooked. Some of y’all have a heel addiction and you are not going to give up heels just because of a baby and that is going to make you look extra sexy. Every time you are going to try to film yourself for fun or to post, they are going to make their presence known. Also every time y’all outside, they always have a hand on your stomach. Damn y’all already pregnant with his seed… what more does he want from you. Like sir … your territory is already marked. You're going to love every moment of it. Cheesy like a kid because your man is even more obsessed with you.

You are going to leave work much earlier. Not because of any health issue. From what I am understanding, y’all never took a break. Always school, work, internship, engagement, big girl job, moving in and marriage. Like is time for you to take moment and just live for the fuck of it.

At some point y’all may not have sex. Because your man does not want to hurt you. You may actually take it well because you feel like it is going to build a big sexual anticipation for next time. So y’all are having your own version of No Nut November.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

PILE 4

‘’ Damm I never felt so powerful. Maybe people are gatekeeping pregnancy because they don’t want you to feel this good. Nah I am kidding. First trimester dragged me around and snatched my wig. I spend more time hugging the toilet bowl than my Baby. The headache and extremely sensitive tits, let’s not forget the hair thinning. Anyways the power I have over my Baby is insane. I am not talking about ‘’yeah is for the baby’’. Nah is like the man is hypnotized by my every move. I could tell him to jump off the roof and I am convinced with enough flirting tactics he will do it. He does it all for me before I even ask sometime before I even think about it, he already did it. He is serious about our baby's future, opening a savings account. For the baby shower, when everyone left he told me he brought our baby investment stocking. He already put money away for his car and university loan. He already looked at a private elementary school and we might hire a cook. I have never been much of a chef but he wants our kid to have it all. The tutor, the chef, the trust fund … oh my baby boy is about to be born on a diamond plate. The way I am treated is almost like I am carrying the next world prophet. I can't wear leggings, my heels need to be a certain inch, camera are on, all time because my Baby needs to be checking that I am always safe. Don’t want me to fall down the stairs or faint in the shower which actually happened . That’s why I can’t get mad at him when his crazy protective side comes out because the end of our journey almost came too quickly. I have a chauffeur and 24/7 maid. Fuck I am birthing the next royalty. What’s wilder is I feel fucking sexy pregnant ? I can spend hours looking at myself in intricate lingerie. Everything is right and the weight gain looks the fucking good on me. I look womanly. Idk … all my life I've been quite petite. Always looking younger than my age. I always wanted to put on some weight but people around always told me to embrace since so many try to be skinny but sitting down in my black lace robe while getting ready in the morning reinforced my need for weight. My tits are firmer and fuller, hips are wider and my butt has a gorgeous hump to it. I love the feeling of having my thigh touching. What’s even more insane is my crazy dom husband love when I am taking charge in the bedroom. He loves it when I wake him with a handjob while speaking of my rule in my soft voice. I always knew my voice had power over him, the man almost bust a nut in his sweat the first time I called him. Now he worships me, he can spend hours eating on my clit, sucking on my thighs and playing on my tits. The other day he was heavily leaking precum while giving clit orgasm after orgasm while I was getting ready for my day. Begging me to put the tip in and sometimes I say ‘’no’’ just to see his reaction and the man whimpered and begged. LOL ! What’s less funny is that my mom decided to become more of hater than she already is. I took my distance from her, my husband hates when I talk to her because I always end up crying but she found out that I had a baby shower. She burst screaming in my house. Everything got handle and my husband did take legal charge but fuck … I just want my mother rn. Once again she let me down.

XOXO

Yours Truly''

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

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blorbocedes · 3 months ago

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For the trope mash-up: didnt mean to turn you on + innocent physical touch for franco 'milf-hunter' colapinto and checo/lewis

okay hear me out. what if checo was a woman instead 🤭🫣

Checo's had a fucking year.

The car is shit. She's been saying for so long but now they finally believe it as even Redbull’s wunderkind Max struggles in it. Every other interview, news cycle is about her retiring, her being unceremoniously kicked out as drivers salivate for her seat, her middling performance due to early pre-menopausal hormones? Just 2 years ago, she was the Mexican Queen of Defense, and now it's 'is she Redbull’s DEI hire?' The stories have become outlandish, announcing her second pregnancy and retirement at Mexican Grand Prix. That's why after Daniel, who had very clearly been brought in to replace her, was switched mid season she posted the Wolf of Wall Street clip on her instagram to make it clear: I’m not fucking leaving.

So forgive her if she's been seeking a little respite elsewhere.

There's a hot, young Argentine at Williams that's been eyeing her. Checo’s a woman on the F1 grid, she's been eyed like that thousands of times, most of it unwanted. Although, it fell off after she birthed the twins and her tits never returned to their glory days. So it's a little flattering reminder she's still got it. Being able to speak in the same language also helps, not having to translate everything for doublespeak. They have rapport.

“How old are you?” Checo asks at the club. She's not there to celebrate, she just needs a drink. Franco’s at the stage where finishing a race is cause for celebration.

“Twenty five.” Franco replies in her ear entirely too quickly, with a grin.

Checo raised an eyebrow. She didn't keep track of the rookies but she sure as hell knew they weren't doing twenty five year old rookies anymore.

A group of tourists seem to recognize her, probably fans and she's in no autographing mood so she pulls Franco in closer in front of her, to block her five foot four self from the world. He misreads the signal, but is all too happy to step in closer; personal space be damned.

“Okay. I lied. I didn't want to freak you out.” Franco confesses sheepishly.

Checo drinks her whiskey, assessing it. “I was winning karting races while you were in diapers, yes?”

It makes her feel old just saying it. She doesn't know how Fernando does it.

Franco nods, pupils going dark.

“And…” she raises her left hand, eyes pointing to her wedding ring.

Franco smirks. “I don't mind if you don't.” He leans in for the kiss, and Checo leans back denying him. Too public. She's learned from that mistake. She does put her left hand on his nape, stroking it and praising the boldness. It's dangerous, sleeping with another driver. When you're a woman, it gives them too much power. That's why Checo never acted on Max's obvious interest. But Franco doesn't have a seat next year yet... as temporary and harmless to her prospects as it gets.

“Come on,” Franco’s voice betrays the frustration underneath the trying hard to be suave, “I know you're thinking it too. You'd rather be on a boat with me than this totally lame club. And what I might lack in experience, I can make up for in stamina.” He practically purrs in her ear.

“A boat? Williams is not paying you that much.” Checo laughs, even as she entertains the line about stamina. James is a penny pincher to a fault. And Franco might get F1 groupies impressed with that line, but as the primary breadwinner she knows a little better.

Franco’s undeterred. “Your boat then. I can be your yacht boy.”

Now wouldn't Checo love to be sunning on a boat, no kids running around, being waited on hand and foot by an eager, younger man who can go for round two in ten minutes. God, she hasn't been filled up in a satisfying way in so long, her cunt throbs at the fantasy, aided by the tall, warm body in front of her.

Checo bites her lower lip, and looks around. Nobody around them in paying attention to the dark corner they're in anymore. She takes Franco’s hand and places it over her breast, holding his gaze. For all his smooth-talking, Franco seems momentarily stunned, mouth parting in surprise. He has naturally red lips, Checo wants to bite on it. He tentatively squeezes her breast, and after seeing her nod, starts kneading it, thumb trying to find her nipple through the layers of her polo shirt and sports bra.

“Can I please eat you?” Franco’s voice is husky as he begs.

#Franco/checo #ok but what if she's a woman and lowkey a deadbeat mom. hashtag representation #f1 rpf #my fics #blorbocedes ask

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phoenixyfriend · 1 month ago

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Omegaverse but it's life cycle-y.

Everyone has All The Bits but only one set active at a time. I can't decide what makes the most sense, but...

Neutral in childhood, presenting as alpha, insemination-capable for a short period (several years), and then a transition into being capable of pregnancy and such? And then beta is like. Menopause? Alternately you get like One Rut and then the rest of your life is Pregnancy Mode.

Or present as omega, pregnancy through the Most Fertile years, and then the body shifts to insemination as the fertility goes down? This one has more in common with IRL fertility periods but I find it the most boring.

Or it's cyclical like two or three years in each mode and then back to the beginning.

(Not like Left Hand of Darkness, that's been done.)

The first two would be very Systemic Age Difference, which I think is really interesting. But also imagine if you could only impregnate for like. Up to age 25. And after that… pregnancy.

You get five years to fuck as many older women as will have you, and then you get to be the older woman.

This would lead to some radically different norms for maternity care and child welfare. NGL it's giving Hentai Universe.

Most people probably only ever choose to go through one, MAYBE two pregnancies. If every single person can get pregnant, the reproduction rate for a steady population is 1.05.

(Also, a friend informed me that this is Shrimp Gender.)

I like to think of the social dynamics.

Like. All the young dudes know that most "girls" have had sex before in their alpha period, yeah? So you probably have "omega virginity," and "true virginity."

And it's not THAT highly valued since almost everyone ends up an omega eventually, so Age = Authority means that few cultures prize "true" virginity unless it's a Religion Thing. But "true" virgins are definitely a kink, while the culturally normalized kink is trying to get the oldest omega you can because she DEFINITELY won't be impressed by you and most have their own thing going on

Marriage... may or may not be a thing?

Senpai shifts to omega early so there's a two year overlap where you can get her pregnant so you do it! Thrice! And then you're an omega too and it's time to be happily married for the rest of time I guess.

Beta/Alpha is considered the most cringe, in terms of age difference stuff.

#omegaverse #age differences #shipping #phoenix talks #reproduction #xenobiology

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justagalwhowrites · 8 months ago

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Gurll, lavender is my go-to reread everytime. Ig u are taking requests (😂🫶🏻), I would really like to see how Joel found out Doc was pregnant of Sylvie and those sweet pregnancy exchanges - like him being worried (‘cause in the original we skip the whole pregnancy). 😎

OMG Hi Bestie!!!

So you'll see some of this in Girl Dad, a canon one shot I did for Doc's birthday back in October. You see some of Doc panicking about Sylvie on her birthday because she's never made it further in a pregnancy and her birthday has just such an awful personal history for her and Joel loves her through it. We also see Joel being just a precious father to his newest baby girl.

BUT... here's some more of the pregnancy for you ❤️

Expecting

20 years after your first pregnancy, you find yourself expecting again. Things are a bit different this time. A Lavender Drabble.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender

Warnings: Pregnancy. Smut adjacent. No use of y/n. 18+ only Minors DNI

Length: 2k

September 2, 2024

The first time you threw up, Joel was on patrol.

It's not like you'd gotten your period since the two of you had started trying but you didn't put much stock in that. You'd never been regular and you were nearing menopause now. Missing a period or two was hardly monumental.

But the nausea the morning you woke up alone was.

You rocketed to the bathroom, doubling over the toilet, everything left in you from the night before coming up.

"Shit," you whispered, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand as your stomach still churned.

You knew this feeling. It had been a long time but you knew it.

And you knew you should be happy about it. It wasn't like last time. You and Joel were together now. Not just together, you were married. Things were secure - as secure as they could be in the apocalypse, anyway - and you were trying for this.

But it was still the apocalypse.

It was no small part of you that thought this wasn't going to happen. That you were going to try and try and then menopause would kick in and you'd never have a child you made with Joel. You'd resigned yourself to that a long time ago, that you'd never be a mother to someone that grew inside of you, never raise someone that you'd brought into being through love. You had Ellie who was your child in every way that mattered and that was more than enough.

But you were pregnant. You were sure of it. And you should have been happy about that - thrilled, in fact. Part of you was. The rest of you was terrified.

What had you been thinking? Bringing a child into this destroyed world? Would Joel even still want this now that it was real and not some imagined, idealized thing on the distant horizon? How were you supposed to protect a baby from the horrors of this reality? Even here in Jackson there was fear and risk and you'd gone and done this on purpose.

You didn't tell anyone, though the nurses at the clinic could tell you were off all day. You assured them that you were fine while trying not to panic. What if Joel changed his mind? What if, when faced with the reality of it, he didn't want to bring a baby into this world?

You threw up again that afternoon, the sickening feeling hanging around after everything came back up and you tried not to cry.

Joel got home after Ellie was already in bed that night, his patrol keeping him out late. You were pacing the kitchen when you heard the front door open and close quietly, the squeak of the floorboards under his heavy boots.

"Baby?" He frowned poking his head into the kitchen. "What're you still doin' up, it's late..."

"I know," you smiled a little, looking him up and down and taking stock to make sure he was still in one piece. "I'm glad you're back."

He smiled back, coming all the way into the kitchen to take you in his arms and kiss you, gentle and deep.

"You and me both," he said. "Gettin' too old to be sleeping rough like that, feel like I did my time with that shit getting out here..."

You laughed a little and nuzzled into him, breathing in the sweaty, woodsy scent of him.

"What's wrong, baby," he whispered, his arms enveloping you totally, holding you against him. "Can tell you got somethin' on that big brain of yours."

You pulled back from him just enough to see his face, his arms still holding you loosely. His face was smeared with dirt, the grime of the trail and sweat on his skin and his eyes were soft and warm and like home.

"I'm pregnant," you said softly. Those eyes got wider. "I know we've been trying but... It's real now and..."

"You're pregnant?" He breathed, stepping back from you, his hands going to your shoulders. You nodded, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. "Oh Baby..."

He took your face in his hands and kissed you again, so hard you could taste the passion on his tongue.

"Really?" He asked, his eyes searching yours as he pulled back from you and taking your shoulders again. You just nodded again, your heart pounding. "Fuck, that's... that's amazing, we're gonna... Baby, you're pregnant!"

"Yeah," you laughed a little. "Yeah, I am... You're happy?"

"Happy?" He laughed back. "Baby, I'm... I'm so far beyond fuckin' happy that word don't even begin to cover it."

He got to his knees in front of you, his hands on your hips, sliding around to cradle the small of your back as he looked lovingly at your stomach.

"You're pregnant," he said, awed, almost to himself. He pressed a kiss to you, over your womb, before one of his hands came to hold you reverently there. "Our baby is in you, right now."

"Yeah," you smiled, voice wet. "Yeah, they are."

"That's amazing," he whispered before looking up at you. "You're amazing, you're the most amazing thing I've ever seen..."

You ran your fingers through his curls before cupping his cheek.

"Thank you," you said, your whole being feeling lighter now, knowing that he was really in this with you.

"For what?" He asked, getting to his feet and pulling you against him again. "You're the one doin' all the work."

You smiled a little.

"For wanting this with me," you said quietly. "I was afraid... I'm still afraid. But we can do this."

"We can do this," he echoed you, kissing your temple. "You, me, Ellie, this baby. We're a family. We can do this."

You put a palm over your womb again, cradling where the child you'd made with Joel was growing inside you.

He was right. You could do this.

But things were different after that.

Joel hovered. It reminded you a bit of when he first came to the QZ, back when he thought his fear was something he could push past if he just got close enough. You’d be working at the clinic, turn around to pick something up and then Joel would be there. You’d be relaxing on the couch and decide you needed a cup of water and, the second you started to move, he was up instead asking what you needed.

“I’m perfectly capable of getting my own drink, you know,” you said a two months after you’d told him you were pregnant and Joel had damn near held you down instead of letting you go to the kitchen. “Also capable of walking to the mess hall on my own, making my own lunches…”

“All the work you’re doin’ growing my baby, I should do something,” he replied, bringing you a glass of water. “Seems like this is the least of it.”

You might have believed him if it wasn’t for the other things, too.

You’d become insatiable during pregnancy, all but demanding sex at least once if not twice a day. You couldn’t get enough of Joel but he seemed to be able to get enough of you.

It was close to Christmas when you finally brought it up, Joel’s hands more gently roaming over your skin rather than with any desire or need.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not interested, you know,” you said, hoping you didn’t sound too desperate.

Joel frowned, looking over your face for a moment.

“What?” He sounded completely puzzled. “Why would I not be interested?”

“I know I look different now,” you ran a hand over your growing bump and took a deep breath. “It’s OK if you’re not as attracted to me at the moment…”

“In what fuckin’ universe am I not attracted to you?” He asked, his eyebrows knitting together. “Baby, if I could spend the rest of my damn life inside you, I’d be a happy man.”

Your confusion must have shown because he brushed your hair back before adjusting your face to look at him.

“What’s goin’ on,” he asked gently. “Why are you saying this stuff.”

“You don’t touch me like you used to,” you said quietly, hoping you didn’t sound too wounded by it. “And it’s OK if you don’t want me like that right now, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t really want and…”

“Baby,” he cut you off. “I’m gonna stop you right there. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted you more than I do right now. Not when I first met you and you were some hot young thing, not when you first got off the plane to come visit, not when I first saw you again in the QZ. Seeing you grow our baby is the most beautiful, most sexy thing in the damn world, don’t go thinking otherwise.”

“Oh,” you frowned. “Then… I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

“I just…” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before looking at you again, a pained look on his face. “I’m scared, baby. I’m scared in a way I ain’t been since we came to Jackson.”

“Joel,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. “We’re OK here, we’re safe here…”

“I know,” he said. “You’re safe from infected and you’re safe from raiders but… baby, what if you get hurt? You’re the doctor here, what if something happens to you or the baby? What if there isn’t someone who knows how to save you? What if I do somethin’ to you on accident, what if I’m too rough because I’m caught up in touching you the way I want? I can’t risk that, baby, I can’t.”

“Oh Joel,” you breathed, pressing yourself closer. “You’re not going to hurt us. I promise, you’ve never been too rough with me. If something doesn’t feel right I’ll tell you but it’s OK. We’re safe. You’re safe.” You guided his hand to your breast, his large palm curving around the soft flesh. “And I want you to touch me, really touch me. Please.”

He was cautious at first, hesitant. Now that you knew he was afraid, it was easier to see it on his face and feel it in his touch. But you guided him through it, holding his hand, reassuring him, until he was lost in you and things felt right for the first time in months.

You learned how to head things off after that. When he would appear in the clinic, you would give him a kiss and tell him how you were feeling. If the baby was moving, you’d guide his hand to your stomach to let him feel them alive inside you. When you needed something at home and could see that he was restless and distracted by worry, you’d ask him for help. You started meeting him at the gates after patrol so he could see you and touch you as soon as he was back, feeling how he relaxed when his hands were on you.

When you went into labor, though, you were worried. You knew he was afraid but then, so were you. You were afraid not just of what could happen, of how it would hurt under the best of circumstances, but of how to help Joel through it, too.

But he sensed what you were doing right away, so in tune with you now. He climbed into the bed behind you, pulling you back so your head was resting on his chest.

“Don’t you dare worry about me,” he said, kissing the crown of your head. “I’ve got you, baby. Got both of you.”

You smiled a little as the contraction eased and he held you a little tighter.

“I know you do,” you relaxed into the firm, strong body of your husband. “I know.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #kit answers #send asks #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #lavender #lavenderversary

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dancingtotuyo · 9 months ago

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9. the fear of what's to come

Woman | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You and Joel navigate life changing news.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, mentions of potential pregnancy complications including but not limited to miscarriage and stillbirth, single reference to a fetus being a child (not intended in a pro life way), angst, grief, complicated feelings surrounding pregnancy.

Notes: A huge thanks to my amazing beta readers and friends @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin & @janaispunk

If you have not checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!

Words: 3088

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

You know three weeks after your missed period what is happening. It’s not hard to figure out. It’s just like last time. Menopause crosses your mind briefly, but the symptoms don’t line up. You’re sensitive to the same foods, nausea rolls in and out like the ocean tides throughout the day. The insatiable craving for a tomato sandwich cements it two days later. Tears run down your cheeks as you quickly finish off the sandwich and prepare another.

You don’t get excited. You don’t make plans, and most importantly, you don’t tell Joel. You’re 45. Joel is in his late 50s. You know the statistics, the pre-end-of-the-world ones. You can’t imagine they’ve improved.

Instead, you just hope that when it happens, nothing goes wrong. There’s no DNC, no pills to make sure everything passes properly or ensure no infection sets in. You’ve aided many women through this, many much younger than yourself. Some make it just fine, others have complications with nothing but prayer, poultices, and 20-year-old antibiotics to help. You’re not sure what actually does it when the women make it through. Some of them you've buried. Their faces flicker through your mind. You cannot be one of them. You cannot leave Carter without either of his parents in this world.

You tell Maria. You tell her everything she needs to know. What to do step by step when it happens. Since Adam’s injury, Dr. Pooley refuses to practice anything more than simple first aid. You’re both certain it’s dementia. You spend most mornings listening to him talk through different lectures he attended. On the mornings his brain won’t cooperate, you sip tea together. He’s writing down what he remembers, but you have to fact-check it. He’s already taught you most of it anyway.

“You have to tell Joel,” Maria says when you tell her.

You refuse. You won’t do it. You won’t bring him into this. You have this silent agreement that you’re partners in this world, but he still lives in the house across the street with Ellie. There’s never been discussions about moving in together or anything past that. You don’t call him your boyfriend. He doesn’t call you his girlfriend. Making those commitments, those plans, it will hurt too much when the world takes him away.

Carter calls him “Daddy.” It makes Joel smile every time. He’s accepted that commitment. It makes you smile too, but there’s still a little ache in your heart each time. Carter knows about Gabe. You tell him stories all the time. If you ask him, he says he has two daddies. One here and one in heaven.

But you won’t tell Joel about this child. He’s lost one. He doesn’t need to lose another.

Maria fights you on it. She looks at her son pointing out that she was 2 years older than you are now when he was born healthy. You don’t remind her she almost died, but she sees it in your eyes. You still have nightmares about that night.

You’re firm. You’re not going to tell Joel. Neither will she, and she damn sure won’t tell Tommy either.

You wait for the cramps and the blood, but they never come. You hit the 3-month mark, your 2nd trimester at the beginning of October. You don’t cry in the bathroom. You square your shoulders. Second-trimester miscarriages happen. Stillbirths happen, but hope gathers in the depths of your soul, growing with each day. You push it away with logic and reasoning.

Two sides of you war against each other. You can’t bring another life into this world. At one point you were okay with it. You felt safe here, and while you still do, it doesn’t feel okay anymore. The world still digs its ugly claws into this community. Yet, the hopes you used to hold in your mind, the ones you had with Gabe, and the ones you had before the outbreak still linger. In a perfect, uncomplicated world, this is what you would choose.

You hide the sickness from Joel with relative ease. He’s often awake and out of bed before you for patrol shifts, early morning chores, or waking up with Carter so you can sleep in.

You deliver the Crosby twins a week later without complications. Melissa is only a couple of years younger than you, but at your age, you know how crucial those few years are. When you finally reach your front porch, you sit in the darkness of Wyoming and finally let the tears fall because fate seems to be telling you that this is happening, or just sending you another person to lose. The realization hits you like a freight train. Time is up. You have to tell Joel.

You crack open the door to Carter’s bedroom. He’s sound asleep and it relieves you to know he's here. You’re less on edge when he’s close, and It means Joel picked him up from Maria and Tommy’s. It means Joel is in your bed.

Sure enough, he’s there when you creep in. He sleeps on his side curled up over your pillow. You roll your eyes. Yes, it's endearing, but it’s also a pain in the ass to get your pillow back.

The bathroom light is blinding at first, but your eyes slowly adjust as you turn on the shower and steam fills the space. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you undress, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. You’ve noticed the subtle changes in your body over these past couple of months, but they’re becoming more noticeable. Your breasts have grown, they’re so sensitive, and your sports bra pulls at the seams. Joel commented on it last week. You joked you were packing on extra weight for winter acting like it was nothing.

Your favorite pair of jeans no longer fit. You’ve mostly stuck to leggings since. You’re starting to clock the subtle changes in your body. They’re happening faster than with your last pregnancy. The past week, you’ve shut Joel down sexually, scared he would catch on despite your sex drive skyrocketing. It’s been difficult.

The shower washes away everything: the sweat and grime of the day, your tears, the tension in your muscles. You stand under the water until it runs cold, slipping on Joel’s worn soft t-shirt.

Your pillow is back on your side of the bed, Joel still on his side. A smile creeps onto your face. He keeps his eyes closed, but you know he’s awake. You don’t say anything as you slide into bed, but your anxiety spikes, your heart fluttering in your chest. You have to tell him.

You’re staring at the ceiling when he breaks the silence. “What happened?”

You suck in a breath. He thinks something went wrong tonight. He’s probably preparing to dig a grave. “Nothing, mom and babies are fine.”

“So it was twins?”

“Yeah.” You had suspected as much, but the ultrasound machine doesn’t work, try as you might to get it operational. You hadn’t been able to find a second heartbeat with the Doppler.

“So what’s buggin you?” His drawl is deeper, soaked with sleep.

He scoots a little closer, hot breath tickling your ear. You can’t move. You should look him in the eye when you tell him, but you can’t. The words are at the back of your throat surging forward toward your lips. The anxiety in your chest feels like a herd of buffalo stomping across the countryside. You squeeze your eyes shut to try and stop it.

“Sweetheart?” His hand reaches toward you, eyes trained on your profile as concern laces his brow.

“I’m pregnant.”

His hand stops over your arm. You feel its warmth so close, and then it goes away. You dare to look at him. You expect him to get out of bed and bolt. You don’t know why. He’s only shown you otherwise the entirety of your relationship, but this is more than either of you signed up for. Instead, you watch as it sinks in. He connects the dots, all the symptoms and signs that were right in front of his face, his subconscious absorbing them, but refusing to put it all together.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

You look back toward the ceiling, tears slipping from your eyes.

His hand covers your abdomen, forehead pressing against your temple. He starts to feel the changes to your body for what they are. You shudder.

“How long have you known?”

There’s not a trace of judgment or fear in his voice, but it does little to assure you. You’re scared. It doesn’t matter what Joel says or does, the fear is overwhelming.

“Beginning of August.”

“Shit, baby.” He pulls you into him, cradling your head against his chest. “You didn’t have to carry this alone.”

“I didn’t think it would last.” After months of holding the tears back, you finally let them out, a mix of relief and fear. “I didn’t- I didn’t want you to-”

You can’t finish it. You can’t say it out loud, but Joel knows what you’re trying to say. You didn’t want him to lose another child, and it wrecks him. His grip on you is crushing, but it soothes your shaking frame. Just as you come down, his sobs greet your ear because he’s scared too. Every single fear and anxiety that has come over you the past months, he feels too. Maria’s labor and delivery flash through his mind. If that happens to you, who’s going to save you?

You reach up to cradle his face. He presses into your neck. Your skin is sticky and salty again, but you don’t even think about it as the man you love and can’t tell cries in your arms. You’re unable to return his soothing squeeze, but you lay there to provide any comfort you can. The two of you fall asleep tangled in each other.

You feel Joel’s fingers dancing across your abdomen before you’re fully conscious. There’s no rhyme or reason to his movements. His other hand brushes over your temple and through your hair. Every once in a while you feel his breath and lips across your neck, up and down your arm, over your collarbone. It feels like he’s memorizing you, fear present in all of his movements even now.

You finally open your eyes. His movements still as you look at him. There are tears in his eyes as his head falls forward, resting against yours. “I’m scared.”

“Me too.” You reach out, nails raking across his arm.

He shudders under your touch. “I wish you told me sooner.”

You bit your lips. “I’m sorry.”

He lets out a deep sigh, kissing your forehead. His hand drifts to your abdomen again. You watch his eyes, so expressive filled with fear and anxiety and maybe a little bit of awe and guilt?

“I should’ve been more careful.”

You press your head to his, inhaling softly. “We.”

Joel’s fingers scrape along your jaw, his beard rough against your chin. “I like being a we.”

“Me too.”

Silence settles between the two of you. The wind knocks against the window, but it’s warm next to Joel. His arm snakes around you, tugging you closer to him.

“I suppose you’ve told Maria?”

You can’t hide the guilty smile on your lips. “If it makes a difference, she told me I needed to tell you right away. Pretty sure she was gonna tell you herself if I didn’t do it soon.” You mess with the collar of his shirt.

“How long do we have?”

“Figure it’ll be May. If we get that far.” You say. Joel nods and something clenches around your heart, a need to protect him, warn him of the danger. “You know there’s a lot of risks. No guarantee…”

“One day at a time.” He kisses your cheek but you see all the fear he’s pushing away plastered to his face like a movie poster.

Joel asks you how you are, but other than that, you don’t talk about it. You feel like a weight has lifted off your shoulders but there’s an anvil hanging above your head, waiting to drop at a moment’s notice.

You’ve outgrown your last pair of jeans. When you manage to trade with someone, they give you a look, like they know what’s going on inside your body.

You take more naps, sometimes at the clinic, sometimes on the couch. You’re constantly tired. Maria brings dinner to the house every few days. She never asked, but you don’t complain.

One evening you open your eyes to find Ellie staring down at you, worry etched in her features. It startles you at first.

“You’ve been sleeping a lot lately,” She says.

“You’ve noticed?” You pull yourself into a seated position. It feels like someone shoved a bunch of cotton into your mouth. You reach for the now room-temperature water on your end table.

“You only take naps when you’re sick or depressed.” You raise an eyebrow at her. She crosses her arms as if to say she knows you’re neither right now. “What’s going on?”

You finish off the water. Despite its temperature, it helps. “I’m fine.” You reach out, placing a hand on her shoulder, but it does nothing. At 17 years old, Ellie is turning into a woman before your very eyes. At times, you’re convinced any semblance of childhood has been replaced with adulthood, but there are other times you still see the slivers of the girl you met two and a half years ago. Right now, she’s the one sitting in front of you.

“Bullshit. What’s going on? You and Joel have been acting weird.”

Had things really been that different in the past couple of weeks? You open your mouth to speak, unsure of what to say. You and Joel hadn’t talked about telling anyone, which seemed silly. You can’t hide this forever.

The door opens and Carter bursts in with Joel on his heels. A smile instantly finds your lips.

“Mommy! Look!” He holds up a package of seemingly new Crayola crayons.

Your eyes widen with exaggeration. “Wow, buddy. That’s awesome.”

“John Lacy found a bunch of them on patrol. They handed them out today,” Joel smiles. “Grabbed you some colored pencils.” He hands a set of non-crayola pencils to Ellie.

“Thanks.” She smiles but is still distracted by her worry over you.

Carter crawls up beside you, eagerly pulling out the surprisingly intact crayons one by one. Joel leans over to kiss your cheek and tousles Ellie’s hair. She makes a face of displeasure but doesn’t fight him on it.

“You two look like you were talkin about somethin serious.”

“I was trying to figure out why the two of you have been acting weird,” Ellie says.

Joel’s drops to unreadable. He looks at you and you shrug in response. “We have to tell them eventually.”

Worry makes its home on Ellie’s face. “So something is wrong with you.with you.”

“Nothing is wrong with me.” You sigh deeply. You run your fingers over Carter’s head, kissing it.

“You’re sure acting like there is,” She says impatiently.

“Ellie,” Joel reprimands, traces of his asshole voice laced into it.

Ellie bites her lip. It looks like she might be fighting off tears as she looks directly at you. “I’m worried about you.”

You force a smile, leaning forward. Your forearms rest on your knees. One would think it would get easier to say each time. Instead, it’s like picking at a scab that’s not healed. You’re forcing yourself to say something, your brain isn’t ready to accept. “I’m pregnant.”

Ellie sits up straighter, her eyes widen with shock. “Oh wow…”

You wonder if the pictures fill her mind too. She saw Maria the night Elias was born. She saw the blood that covered you. Joel’s fingers brush over your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before they run over the back of your neck. You lean against him. “I’m sorry we worried you. We’re still getting used to the idea,” You say.

She nods and then her arms around your neck. She basically knocks you backward with the force of it. “I’m glad you’re not dying.”

You squeeze her tightly, a faint lilt of humor in your voice. “Me too.”

Then her voice drops to a whisper right at your ear. “You’ll be okay. I know you will.”

Your head rests on Joel’s bare chest that night. The full moon sends light drifting through your window, casting the room in a cool glow. You play absentmindedly with the hair on his chest. His heart beats under your ear. The room is otherwise silent.

“I told Tommy today.”

You nod.

“He wanted to know why I was so quiet. Told him I was always quiet.”

That pulls a smile across your lips. “Surprised he shut up long enough to notice.”

Joel chuckles. His arm around you tightens. His lips find your forehead. “I know we’re not ready to think too much about it.”

“Don’t think it’s something we can really ignore.” You nuzzle further into him.

“Baby steps.” He kisses your nose this time.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Baby steps? Really?” You flip onto your stomach while you still can.

He chuckles. “Poor word choice.”

You kiss his bicep and then his shoulder. He looks at you like your entire world and your stomach erupts in butterflies and twists in knots all at the same time. You still won’t let him say it, but you feel it every time he looks at you like that.

You rest your chin on his shoulder. “What are these steps you had in mind?”

His thumb traces over your jaw and cheek. “Don’t bolt on me, okay?”

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

He chuckles and then inhales deeply. “I think we should probably share a house. I figured you’d prefer to stay here, but it’s up to you.” He searches your eyes for any signs of panic or signs that you might shut down but finds nothing. In fact, you’re so calm that it’s hard to read.

“It would be nice to have you officially living here,” you say. It feels right to say, to think about. “And Ellie if she wants.”

“That was easier than I’d thought it would be.”

“You pretty much live here as is.” You turn on your side, nuzzling back into him. “I’ll miss your fireplace though.”

Joel smiles. “Guess I'll just have to keep you warm instead.”

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #hbo tlou #woman (joel miller)#woman (joel’s version)#woman #pedro stories #pedrostories #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu #pedro pascal characters

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 8 months ago

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Obligation [Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader who is 52.

Tags/warnings: Throwing up, unplanned pregnancy, angst, Joel doesn't take it well but is soft, implied abortion.

Summary: You've been fucking Joel Miller for a couple of months when you realize that you're pregnant - which you didn't think possible because you thought you were post-menopausal. How does one get an abortion in Jackson - and how are you going to tell Joel?

Words: 4,267

A/N: For all my old gals out there, as well as those who don't want kids.

My masterlist

I think I may be pregnant.

The realization reverberates through you, bringing with it another wave of nausea. You barely have time to stick your head down the toilet before you throw up. The acrid taste of bile fills your mouth and nose, and tears stream down your cheeks. You grip the toilet seat as you continue retching, your stomach hellbent on emptying itself.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit. No. No, no, no, no, no, how can this be?

What an idiot question. You almost laugh at yourself in the midst of this misery. How does one become pregnant? Well, fucking someone like Joel Miller on a regular basis is a good start. He fucks you deep and good, the bed and his body creaking in unison as he has you pinned underneath him, his broad, heavy body a welcome weight on you, his cock balls deep inside your wet cunt when he finishes and leaves you full even after he's pulled out. His thick, creamy cum dripping out of you when you fall into blissful sleep, sometimes with him staying over.

You know how babies are made, for God's sake. You just didn't count on you still being able to make them. You're past 50, and your period stopped years ago. This is new to you, you’ve never been pregnant before or even had an interest in trying, but you’re not stupid. You’ve been feeling tired lately, out of sorts, a dull nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach like just before your period, and last night when Joel grabbed your breasts, you almost punched him. Even now they’re so sore even the weight of them hurts.

And now this. Morning sickness. You haven’t eaten anything strange, you were okay last night, and paired up with everything else that has been going on… you must be pregnant.

Thank God Joel isn’t here, you think dimly. He didn't stay over last night, quoting an early morning today to go on patrol. You didn't mind. What you have together is casual, and you're not the one who needs to be cuddled – or coddled, for that matter. You like it when he stays over, but don’t care if he doesn’t. It has worked out well for a few months now.

And now this. You draw a quivering breath, and slump against the wall. It seems like your stomach has settled, so after a couple of minutes, you carefully stand up and bend over the sink, rinsing out your mouth with cold water before splashing some in your face. Straightening your back, you meet your tired gaze in the small mirror above the sink. There is nothing different there, except a lack of energy, but nothing that could reveal the fact that you are carrying a growing clump of cells in your belly.

The thought makes you nauseous again, and you step back to the toilet, expecting to be sick, but there is nothing else to expel, so you flush the toilet, and slowly make your way to the kitchen. Despite being sick, or because of it, you’re hungry, so you take out what provisions you have, and sit down at the table. You usually take your meals in the dining hall, but you don’t want to show yourself right now. God knows what will happen if anyone asks you how you are. And what if you eat, and then throw up again?

Slowly, you gnaw away at a slice of bread with cheese on it, while trying to get yourself together and think over your options. But no matter how you try to think about it, there are no options except one: you have to get rid of it. The reasons are many, but the two most pressing ones are the simple fact that you have never wanted children, and this is not a world into which children should be born, as far as you’re concerned. The more you think about it, the more certain you are. But how in the hell are you going to get an abortion? And while you may not be shy, how the actual fuck are you going to tell the doc that you, a 52-year-old woman, didn’t think to protect yourself? Or that you know your own body so badly that you didn’t even know that you’re, in fact, not post-menopausal?

You stopped crying years ago because tears have no function in this world, but now your humiliation makes your tears well up. You sniffle wetly, put down the piece of bread, and angrily wipe at your eyes.

“Fuck,” you mutter, but there is no stopping the tears. When the first one runs down your cheek, you bang your fist to the table and scream.

“FUCK!”

You let the tears fall, confident that there won’t be too many. When you’re done crying, you finish your meagre breakfast, wipe your face, and get dressed. A day of work awaits you, and maybe if you work hard enough…

You shudder at the thought. You may not have any experience in this department, but you know that your age is a liability. Things could go wrong, and you could die. You don’t want to die. You didn’t survive for all these years just to get taken out by a goddamn unwanted pregnancy.

Fortified by your sheer will to live, you open the front door, and get to work.

During your lunch break, you slip into the Jackson library, which is only just one room in the schoolhouse. The collection consists of whatever has been found during raids, as well as works that the residents have brought with them. The stacks are neat, though, thanks to the teacher who also doubles as a librarian. The collection is divided into main classes, and you quickly find the small section for Biology. There is a middle school book with a chapter on human reproduction, but that’s just the basics. You check the Medicine section, finding nothing. You leave the library, mentally chiding yourself for thinking that you’d find anything there to help you deal with the fact that you’re geriatric, pregnant, and in need of an abortion, with no hope of having one because there are no hospitals, only one doctor who operates out of a simple cabin with barely any equipment or drugs.

Anxiety rises in you again, bringing bile with it. You slink in behind the nearest house and bend over. What little breakfast you had lands before your feet, and you spit away the taste.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck am I going to do?

You take a steadying breath before reappearing back on the street, aiming for your house. So purposeful are you to get away from people, that you don’t notice the tall man next to you before he puts his hand on your arm.

“Hey.”

You start, jerking back before you recognize Joel’s frowning face.

“Sorry,” he apologizes immediately. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, casting your eyes down as you continue your walk. “Just didn’t see you there.”

“Going to lunch?”

“I already ate.”

“All right.” His hand is on your arm again, now effectively stopping you in the middle of the street. He stands in front of you, broad, tall, and smelling of horses.

“You sure you’re okay?” His voice is lower now, so as to not have anyone overhear him. “You look a little pale.”

Joel Miller has been nothing but good to you. He doesn’t talk much, and what little he talks, happens in the darkness after you’ve fucked, when there are no barriers left between the two of you. He keeps to himself, to the girl who was with him when he arrived, to his brother. To you, now. You may not be able to make him laugh as Ellie does, but he saves soft smiles for you. He’s loyal, kind, and helpful. And despite all that, you’re going to lie to him.

“I didn’t sleep well.” You look into his eyes, even giving him the ghost of a smile. “You wore me out, but I still couldn’t sleep.”

His face softens visibly, a smile playing in the corner of his mouth as he leans in and whispers: “I’m sorry, darling. Just have to try harder next time.”

Something flutters in the pit of your stomach, but it doesn’t translate to the usual heaviness between your legs. Instead, you just feel sick for having lied to him.

Joel’s hand travels down your arm to your hand, thick fingers quickly squeezing years before letting go.

“See you later?”

You hear the question, know what it means.

“I think I better get a good night’s sleep?”

Joel flashes a sympathetic grin. “Good idea. See you around.”

You watch him stride towards the dining hall, broad back squared, head held high in constant vigilance, even here within the walls of Jackson.

He’ll figure it out eventually. He’s smart. He’ll know something’s up.

You shake your head to get rid of those unwanted thoughts, and then you return to work.

The next morning starts the same way the previous one did: with your head down the toilet bowl. This time you feel even more sick because you didn’t get much sleep, and when you finally emerge out of your house, you run into Joel, who’s halfway up your porch.

“Morning,” he greets you, then stops as he sees your ashen face. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m coming down with something,” you shrug, stacking another lie upon the previous one.

“Maybe you should stay home, get some rest,” he suggests, and even if he’s wearing his customary frown, you can hear how his voice is laced with concern. Managing a smile, you brush your arm against his.

“I’ll just get antsy. I’ll take it easy today, I promise.”

He’s happy with that and doesn’t question you when you don’t go to communal breakfast.

For the next few days, you do what you can to avoid Joel. You don’t want him to know that you’re sick in the mornings, don’t want him to touch you and find out how tender your breasts are, don’t want to talk to him or even see him because it only reminds you of the solution you inevitably have to find soon. You’re going to have to come clean to the doc at the very least – unless you try to deal with the situation by yourself somehow. But you have no idea how to do that without hurting yourself, and that’s the last thing you want to do.

Finally, it’s Joel who takes the first step. You have declined his visits for a week when he surprises you by knocking on your door one night. His face is backlit by the porch light that creates a halo around his ragged, curl-prone hair.

“Can I come in?”

“I’m tired,” you mumble, but he speaks your name, and you realize that there is no running away anymore. So, you step to the side to let him in.

He stands before you, arms crossed over his broad chest as he stares at the floor between the two of you. You can’t look at him, so you stare at the same spot. There’s dirt from his boots there, but you don’t care.

“Listen, I…” he starts, clearing his throat. “I know nothing’s been explicitly said here. About us, I mean. It is what it is. But I thought we had a good thing going, and now it seems like you don’t want anything to do with me anymore?”

Your stomach drops, and for a moment you fear that you’ll throw up your dinner as well as you did your breakfast.

“Joel…”

“I just want to know if I did something wrong, so that I can apologize and then leave you be.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you tell him quietly, wrapping your arms around yourself to prevent the slight trembling that’s starting to travel through your body. Your nerves are shot, and you press your lips together to keep your teeth from chattering.

“Then what is it?” Now he’s looking at you. You can feel his eyes burn into you.

Does he have to sound so fucking gentle? It would be easier if he yelled at you, or stormed out, or hadn’t come at all, but you should have known that Joel Miller would be so fucking gentle about it.

You take a deep breath, then finally look up into his eyes.

“I’m pregnant.”

Joel stares at you, his face blank. There is just nothing there for several breaths before his brows rise and his arms fall to his sides.

“You’re what?”

“You heard me.”

He still looks at you like he doesn’t understand.

“But… how is that possible?”

You lean your head to one side and give him a come on kind of look. Joel scoffs, scratches his head, then shakes it.

“Aren’t you too old?”

“That’s what I thought.”

“You didn’t know?”

You don’t like the hint of accusation in his voice.

“I’m sorry I haven’t seen my healthcare provider in a while!” you snap, now irritated. The change in tone causes in a change in Joel as well.

“If you weren’t sure, then why the hell weren’t you more careful?”

“So it’s my fault?” Your voice is now raised, and your hands come to your hips. “You took one look at me and thought, ‘Oh, this old hag surely has no eggs left’, and then you happily stuck your dick in me, to hell with any other consequences?”

“You should’ve said something!” he growls, now visibly upset. If you weren’t so intimately familiar with just how soft he could be, you’d be afraid of his dark storm cloud demeanor. But you’re not afraid: you’re pissed off.

“I didn’t know,” you articulate. “I haven’t had my period in years, and I’m over fifty! How the fuck could I have known that I could get fucking pregnant!”

“Is it even mine?” Joel retorts, and for some reason, that’s what makes you snap. Before you know it, your palm has connected with his cheek, and you’re pointing at the door.

“Get out. Get the fuck out, now!”

You don’t need to tell him twice: the door slams only a moment after. You’re no longer feeling nauseous, or trembling. You’re just empty inside.

He's back the next morning. You did not expect that, and eye him with apprehension where he stands in the doorway, shame etched into his features.

"Can I please come in?" he asks quietly. You're nauseous again, but you don't want to be a bitch. He's a good one, you know that, despite everything. He deserves a chance.

You let him in, gesture for him to go on through to the kitchen. Following him, you swallow down the nausea, and hope that you won't have to throw up. It would be so humiliating.

Sitting down, you nod to him to do the same. He perches uncomfortably on the edge of his seat, sincere gaze searching for eye contact.

"I'm really sorry," he finally says, his voice low but earnest. "I handled myself poorly."

You give him a Ya think? look but say nothing. He gets the message.

"I didn't expect... or think..." He falls silent, looks down at the scratched surface of the table. You stare him down relentlessly, waiting for him to speak on. He's slowly rubbing the knuckles of his right hand, like they're itchy or in pain.

"I had a daughter, a long time ago. She... I lost her on the first day."

Your heart could break from the choked agony of his voice. Swallowing hard, this time to fight the lump in your throat, not nausea, you reach across the table to put your hand over his.

"Joel..."

He looks up at you, now with a new fire in his eyes.

"It was a long time ago, but I've lived in that pain every day, until Ellie took me out of it. And now... this feels like a second chance."

He raises your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your palm. You stare at him, suddenly wary.

"What do you mean, second chance?"

"To have a child with you."

You stare at him in bewilderment, barely even sure you heard him right. He hurries to elaborate.

"I'll take my responsibility. I'll help you raise the child. You won't have to do it all alone."

You quickly pull your hand out of his, like you burned yourself.

"Joel... I'm not going to keep it?"

Before Joel can say anything, your stomach revolts, and you shoot out of your chair, only just making it to the sink before you throw up. Spitting and turning on the water to wash away the vomit, you cup your hand under the stream of cold water, and drink to eradicate the sour taste in your mouth. Barely having swallowed the water, you throw up again.

Joel's warm body pushes gently against you, and his hand is on the small of your back.

"That's it," he murmurs, "deep breath, you're okay."

"I'm fine," you gasp, trying to breathe through your mouth to avoid the smell that seems to penetrate everything.

"I know," he replies calmly, reaching for a glass and filling it with water before handing it to you. "Here."

You drink carefully, hoping it'll stay down. The cold water chills your entire stomach, but you do feel better.

"Thanks." You glance up at him, hand holding the glass shaking a little. Joel notices, and takes it from you.

"You're welcome. Wanna sit down?"

You nod mutely, and he leads you back to the kitchen table. You can walk by yourself, but it's comforting to have his hand on your back. You're no longer alone in this, and it's a bigger relief than you thought.

You bow your head and hide your face in your hands for a moment, steadying yourself. Hearing the other chair scrape against the floor, you finally look up at Joel.

He looks sad but resigned.

"How far along are you?" he asks quietly. You shrug.

"No idea."

"Probably over six weeks."

You shrug again and draw your hand through your hair.

"I meant what I said, Joel." You try to sound gentler. "I'm not keeping it. I can't. I don't want it."

He casts his eyes down, and for a second you think you see a tremble in his lower lip. Then he sniffles with a grimace and looks up again.

"Okay."

You raise your brows. "Is that all you're going to say?"

"It's not my decision, sweetheart." This term of endearment is new, and you're not sure what to make of it.

"You're not going to try to convince me to keep it?" you dare him, but without vehemence. You're just tired.

Joel shakes his head, but you can see that he has something on his mind.

"Joel?" you prompt, and he finally sighs deeply.

"Are you sure you won't regret it?" His voice is eerily toneless, like he's trying his best not to sound accusatory. You rub your forehead with both palms in an attempt to suppress the headache that you can feel building up behind your frontal lobe.

"I've never wanted kids," you tell him in the same, dispassionate voice. "Not when I was younger, and surely not now. Not in this world, not at my age. Not at all."

He flinches, like your words hurt him, but then he nods solemnly.

"Okay. What are you going to do?"

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, because the question faced you with the fact that you have absolutely no idea how to deal with this.

"I don't know."

Your voice breaks, and the first tears well up in your eyes.

"Fuck." The tears spill down your cheeks, and you hide your face from Joel, embarrassed by this sudden display of desperation.

"Hey..."

He's around the table in a heartbeat, crouching by your chair and collecting you into his arms.

"It's okay, sweetheart, we'll figure it out. We'll talk to the doc."

The tears multiply, and you sob audibly from sheer relief of having someone else take charge. You haven't lived with the knowledge of your condition for barely a week, but it has weighed you down more than you knew. And now Joel knows, and he is telling you that it's going to be all right.

"I - just - feel - so - stupid!" you whimper between the sobbing, and Joel strokes his hand down your back.

"Not as stupid as I feel. It's okay, I promise you it'll be okay."

You draw a deep, quivering breath, and square your shoulders. They feel lighter, and you wipe your eyes and cheeks before smiling weakly at Joel.

"Thank you."

"I got you," he smiles back, a dimple appearing in his cheek. You haven't seen it before. It feels like a promise.

Carl, Jackson's doctor, is a GP, but has had to deal with a variety of emergencies over the years. He doesn't bat an eye when you, seated next to Joel, tell him of your predicament, and that you want a termination. He asks for a urine sample, handing you a cup that you, frowning, take with you into the bathroom, do your business, and leave it on the counter, as per Carl's instructions. Coming out of the bathroom, Carl asks you to come back in the afternoon. You agree on a time before you and Joel step out. He squeezes your hand before you part to go to work.

Returning later to Carl's office, you find out that you are, with a seventy percent accuracy, indeed pregnant.

"It's the best test I have," Carl explains. "If a thin film forms over the urine, pregnancy is likely. If not, there is no pregnancy."

"And it couldn't be anything else?" Joel asks, surprising you. Carl looks pained for a moment, and you realize what a difficult question that is. Your hand moves on top of Joel's on the arm rest.

"Given the symptoms; breast tenderness, morning sickness, light cramping... I can't think of anything else to explore."

"How do we stop it?" you want to know. "Can we even?"

"A surgical abortion is technically possible," Carl nods, and you feel your shoulders relax. "I've done it a couple of times before I came to Jackson, even."

"Well, good."

"Is it safe?" Joel's voice seems tight. "Is it doable here, in these conditions?"

Carl hesitates for a moment before leaning forward to rest his forearms on his desk.

"The procedure itself doesn't take longer than fifteen minutes, but our conditions are, as you probably understand, not ideal. I can sterilize the equipment, but our biggest concern, apart from post-surgical infections, is pain relief."

He lets the information sink in before he adds: "I simply do not have the means to sedate you or give you the pain relief that you are going to need. I wish I could tell you this in any other way, but I can't: It's going to hurt a lot."

You swallow tightly. Joel's thumb passes over the back of your hand.

"Okay," you tell him in a small voice. "I don't have a choice. I'm not going to have a kid in this world. There's no way. We have to do it."

Later, after an extensive talk with the doc, you step out onto the main street of Jackson, Joel right behind you. Without words, the two of you slowly walk towards your house. Not until reaching it, do you sit down on the porch steps. Joel sits down next to you, shoulder to shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

"That's a hard question to answer," you sigh, rubbing your forehead. Joel sighs as well.

"Yeah."

You sit in silence and watch people go by. Ellie passes further away together with a friend, waving hello to you but not coming over to chat. You and Joel wave back.

"What does she know about us?" you ask quietly. Joel grunts.

"She knows we hang out, that I like your company, but I haven’t told her that we… you know.”

"I’m sure she knows. She's a smart girl."

"That she is."

You wet your lips. "Listen, Joel... I just want to say... thank you, I guess. For being there for me."

"Of course," he replies softly. "And I really am sorry for how I reacted."

"I'm sorry for slapping you."

"I deserved it."

"Kind of." You shoot a quick grin at him, and he grins back.

"Don't think about that," you shake your head. "And I want you to know that you don't have to be involved in what comes next."

"I'm not going to - "

"You wouldn't mind having a baby," you cut him off, "so I'm not going to have you watch me take one away."

"It's not a baby yet," he reminds you pragmatically. "And I said we'd figure this out together. I'll be there, every step of the way. I'll make sure you get through this."

He speaks with a quiet, gentle confidence that makes you want to cry again. You never knew how much you have longed for someone like him.

"You don't have an obligation," you try one last time. Joel turns towards you and cups the back of your head with one large hand.

"I want to be obliged to you, sweetheart."

He leans forward to let his lips brush over yours.

"Let me," he whispers, and you wrap your arms around him, accepting both his offer and his kiss.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x mature!reader

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best-ivf-center-in-india · 1 year ago

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While menopause signifies the end of natural fertility, many women still desire to conceive or preserve their fertility for various reasons. Advances in medical technology have opened up new possibilities for women seeking fertility treatments after menopause.

#pregnancy after menopause

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covid-safer-hotties · 2 months ago

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Also preserved in our archive

by Lydia Wilkins

“Come back to me when you start wanting children,” my gynecologist said. I had asked about the implications on fertility, thanks to my Poly-Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) diagnosis — and was dismissed once again. It enveloped me with such despair.

For over two years I was shunted between varying medical offices, from primary care to an STI clinic. Among many disabling symptoms, I was experiencing hair loss and excessive hair growth along my jawline since my SARS-C0V-2 infection. After developing Long COVID in March 2022, doctors considered me a “medical curiosity” and tested me endlessly, leading to wrong diagnosis after wrong diagnosis. I was prescribed medication after medication, but nothing seemed to help.

Eventually, I added another diagnosis to my chart when I was diagnosed with PCOS by a gynecologist. The hormonal condition is lifelong, presenting with symptoms such as excessive hair, hair loss, fatigue, and irregular periods. The World Health Organization recognizes PCOS as a leading cause of infertility; you are also at risk of other conditions such as diabetes. The gynecologist additionally said there was a possibility that I have endometriosis, in which tissue from the uterus grows in places where it should not be. Endometriosis is recognized for extreme levels of life-impacting pain and is also associated with infertility.

The impact of Long COVID on sexual health is still not fully known, but there are serious signs of sexual and reproductive health being impacted. To be a disabled woman who has to advocate for herself, with the research, in the face of medical indifference is beyond exhausting. At every stage, I have correctly diagnosed myself, while specialists would play “catch-up.”

Why are medical experts and public health officials not sounding the alarm, to warn the public about the impact of Long COVID on fertility?

Like COVID-19 which leaves inflammation in its wake, PCOS is also thought to be an inflammation-related condition. PCOS is primarily a hormonal condition that impacts an estimated one in ten women and may put you at higher risk of severe COVID-19, according to research. PCOS can also make it more difficult to get pregnant, or, like endometriosis, increase complications during pregnancy.

I still have so many questions, such as if there is anything I could do now to mitigate the chronic nature of PCOS. Yet, doctors continually fob off these questions, shrouding me in a patronizing expectation of “having to wait until you start having children,” as if once I am interested in children, I will gain admission to an elite secret club of better care.

The UK campaigning group Long COVID Kids has documented the wider impact of Long COVID on reproductive health — such as changes to menstruation and triggering menopause. The same post also points to a study of the negative impact on ovarian function, along with other triggered conditions such as ovarian cysts.

A Patient-Led Research Collaborative review also found that women with Long Covid had increased rates of reproductive health issues — including, but not limited to, endometriosis, infertility, ovarian cysts, and other conditions. The review also mentioned another condition I am waiting to be tested for, after two years of misdiagnosis — POTS (postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome). Why are these conditions not considered in tandem with each other, to save time and needless testing that causes nothing but distress?

We also know that COVID-19 tends to disrupt menstruation, as well as “fertility potential.” COVID-19 impacts male fertility, too, reducing sperm counts even after mild infections and causing erectile dysfunction. Some people with Long COVID are opting out of having children altogether, because of the strain of delivery and childbearing to the body, or because of the inability to raise or financially support a child.

Before catching COVID-19, I was bouncy, energetic, and socially confident. I had never had any notable health issues; now, my hair falls out in clumps, enough that my hairdresser has adapted to hide the thinning hairline. Excessive hair growth dominates my jawline and eyebrows. There’s also acne, dark spots of skin, and tense bloating warranting “she’s pregnant!” commentary from friends, family, and colleagues. There are few resources on how to cope with such an overwhelming diagnosis and aftermath.

I have been disabled from birth — but attempting to access reproductive healthcare with Long COVID has been a rough learning experience. Thanks to a litany of traumatic experiences when seeking relief from Long COVID, I am now obliged to take a chaperone with me to all medical appointments. Medical professionals speak to my chaperone as if they are the patient — “what can I do to help?”

We are told we have to trust medical professionals — but that trust is a privilege not afforded to disabled people in healthcare settings.

I, in turn, am the “sweetheart” spoken at with “the voice.” Disabled people everywhere know it — slow and childlike, patronizing and loud. I am not afforded dignity or privacy as a result. Other professionals have asked for free disability education instead of discussing my symptoms; it’s an inappropriate presumption, as well as beyond bitterly distressing.

My care was also marked by desexualization, or being reduced to the presumed state of a child. Doctors assumed, “she’s disabled — so she won’t be interested in any of that,” as Lucy Webster documented in her book, The View From Down Here.

Disabled women learn to suppress our anger to achieve any kind of diagnostic result, never “speaking to” the weighted horror. We have dreams, too — but they are tempered by societal commentary, both inside and outside a medical setting. I used to dream of an ordinary life, maybe a life of growing old with a partner, a house, a family in some way. Now, I realize it would be a privilege to not be questioned about these wants or to not be subject to constant commentary.

Women have long been advocating for better reproductive healthcare in the Western world; PCOS has long been misunderstood, with treatment often merely consisting of being told, “just lose weight.” A lack of curiosity has written off reproductive healthcare as only “a woman’s issue” for far too long.

More research on the emerging connection between reproductive health and Long COVID is needed, as is a deliberate culture shift in any caring profession. That can only start with education aimed at ending ingrained stigma. Health is a collective concept — and if we forget that, the pandemic has taught us nothing.

#long covid #covid is airborne #mask up #covid #public health #wear a mask #pandemic #covid 19 #wear a respirator #still coviding #coronavirus #sars cov 2

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oonajaeadira · 10 days ago

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So question. Do pro-life couples just stop having sex when they turn 35? Are the dudes really okay with that?

I'm just sayin'. Any pregnancy after 35 is a "high-risk pregnancy." After 40? "Geriatric." You know there are women who don't go through menopause until after 50? After 60? Did you know a woman can go through menopause and still get pregnant (it's rare, but does happen, look it up).

And you're telling me that they're all just....willing to

Stop having sex

Risk the mother's life if she gets pregnant, or

Roll the dice on a baby that may have health issues for the rest of its life?

With the price of medical treatments in this country???

Did you know that the chance of twins or triplets also increases after age 50? So now you're risking 2 or 3 times the medical bills too.

Oh. That's right. Vasectomies. If you can afford it.

But for the poors? Fk it. Make 'em poorer.

I mean....if the pro-lifers really wanted to stop abortions, maybe they should try to mandate vasectomies.

*laughs hysterically* Can you imagine? Trying to exert that much control over someone's body????

*deathly quiet*

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chiefbeifongcanrailme · 3 months ago

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Hello!! I would like to request a Linzin fic, when tenzin broke up with lin ofc she is mad but then suddenly starts bleeding, thats when they realize she has been pregnant but it was just a cryptic pregnancyy and her losing her period weren't her going into menopause.

The story basically is just Tenzin trying to get her forgiveness, and lin being "Would you be here knealing if I wasn't pregnant?" I want it to hurt ok🥰

Hello! Here is my attempt at a painful cryptic pregnancy Linzin. I hope this is what you were looking for.

It was that damned healer. That waterbending, icy bitch of a woman- who told her that she was done for couldn't have been more wrong. Lin should've gone to Katara. Spirits, she should have seen Kya instead.

Because now there she was, dismembered in a way she never thought her crime-fighting days could land her. Thankfully, every part of her body was still intact. What she was losing now was nothing she was born with.

The bathroom floor was bright red. Her vision kept shifting from black to red and back.

She only allowed herself to give in to the darkness when she felt the door to her house fling open from under her feet. Someone had entered her home. Someone was looking for her. Someone was going to find her. Someone was going to save both of them.

For the first time, Lin felt pain in her body like never before. This hurt far more than breaking a rib or getting stabbed in the thigh. Her emotions were unfathomable. To think she felt grief for something she never knew she had.

Her entire life would've been upside down had she known this whole time.

"What? A cryptic pregnancy...,"

"Will she be- will they both be—"

"Lin didn't know! She couldn't have known!"

"If you would please just let me see her..."

Lin was in an out of consciousness for what felt like days. Really, it had only been a few hours but it felt like a whole lifetime went by. She couldn't work out whose voices they were. It all felt like she had voices inside her head.

Sleep took over once again. This time it was quiet, dark and numb, like in a vacuum.

The first thing Lin realized was that she could feel her eyelids on her eyes. Her hand twitched, reminding herself that her body was whole. She was still very much there. Her toes wiggled in response. Slowly her fingers contracted, and she forced her eyes open.

She saw more red. This time accompanied with yellow.

What was he doing here? Who let him in? Don't people know better? She didn't destroy Air Temple Island for nothing after all, did she? Some destruction her meltdown had caused. That was the only time she lost control of her bending. Her emotions were volcanic- they had consumed her being, soul and body, and exploded all over the Island.

How was Tenzin both the only and the last person she wanted to see?

“Lin!” He cried, almost to himself.

Lin stirred slowly. She suddenly remembered why her body wasn’t moving earlier. Everything hurt.

“Hey, hey slow down,”

He had leapt off his seat to stand beside her, one hand on her shoulder to stay her movements.

“What are you doing here?” She asked through gritted teeth, pushing all the pain to the back of her mind.

“We almost lost you. I couldn’t—”

“As far as you’re concerned, consider me lost.”

“Lin, she’s alive,” he whispered over her. His shaky hands captured her palm and brought it up to kiss her knuckles.

Lin lost her voice too. There was a lump in her throat now. There was no admission needed, a wave of acceptance came over her.

Motherhood.

Tenzin’s kisses were wet on her hand. When her eyes shifted to him, she saw tears rolling down his face.

“Where- where is—” she managed to croak out.

“In the other room,” he replied, gesturing to the left. “The chief healer is there, caring for both of you. The baby is healthy and happy. And she looks just like you. Just as beautiful. She’s got jet black hair and your eyes and-and—”

“Tenzin, stop.”

The airbender gaped at her.

“You don’t get to be a part of this. You don’t get to just walk in here and take what you want. That’s my child.”

“That’s our child.”

“There is no our because there is no us, Tenzin. That’s my child and—”

“And that’s also my child.”

“How do you know she’s yours?”

He was spellbound. The most joyous moment of his life had reduced to a pit in his stomach. But he knew better. She was saying that just to hurt him. When he peered into that child's eyes, he knew she was his.

“Lin, come on. Please don’t say that.”

But she continued to glare daggers at him.

Just then, hearing the voices, the very chief healer entered the room. She was an old woman, one of the few who were trained by Katara personally. Where was she when she stopped bleeding all those months go? “Oh, look. Mom is awake.”

Lin offered her a weak smile.

“Your little girl is a fighter,” she said, walking over to Lin's bed. “She's a stubborn one- the girl was determined to live.”

Lin audibly masked a sniffle, but Tenzin caught it.

“She gets that from her mother,” he said with a smile.

“Oh, we’re well aware. Captain Beifong, you fought through too. Valiantly, so. If it were up to me, this ordeal alone should make you Chief.”

“Can I see my baby?” Lin asked.

The woman nodded happily, pushing Lin's hair behind her ear affectionately before stepping out of the room.

They swiftly turned to look at each other. “I’m sorry, Lin. I’m so sorry.”

Lin bit back tears by biting her cheek.

“You don’t- you don’t get to…” she whispered, shaking her head in denial.

“We can work this out. We never should’ve ended things.”

“You’re not even in love with me…” Her voice was hoarse.

“Lin, I’m crazy about you. You and only you. And now that mini-you you just brought into this world.”

“What about your soulmate?”

Tenzin slapped his forehead. “The acolyte? She’s so far driven from reality, she wouldn’t know a soul from a chair.”

Lin almost let herself chuckle with relief. But she didn't. She couldn't just laugh off the thing that Tenzin allowed to weaponize against their relationship.

“No,” she said. “No, you can’t- I’m vulnerable right now. You can’t snake your way back into my life. If it wasn’t for my pregnancy- if it wasn’t for nearly losing your child, you wouldn’t have even been here. You would be with your soulless chair mate on your cold, lifeless Island. You’re dead to me, Tenzin.”

“Lin, of course, I would. I would always be there for you. Please—”

“You value your legacy far more than you’ve ever loved me. I kept putting your first and you kept making me fight for footnotes in your life.”

“That is not true!”

“Oh, but it is!”

“Lin, I have always been in love with you. I can't remember a time in my life when I haven't loved you, truly.”

“Then why would you leave me for her? Why when I had just found out that I couldn't bear you the airbenders you so wanted. The unborn children you put before me, a whole person you claim to be so in love with.”

“I was wrong. I was so very wrong," he cried, head in his hands. "I didn't know you couldn't have children. You pushed me into Pema's arms—”

“Don't you utter her name!”

Tenzin sighed. “You told me to be with her. That she would give me my airbenders. I only did that to free you from my burdens. You didn't deserve to—”

The door creaked open again, the same healer returning with their child in her arms. The two of them fell silent immediately.

“Here, Lin. Do you want to hold her?” The healer asked.

Lin’s sniffle was enough of a response.

As she cradled her arms- as best as she knew anyway- the healer slowly placed the baby in her mother's embrace. She was so little- so much smaller than Lin imagined. She could no longer hold back her tears.

She felt Tenzin’s hand on her shoulder.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered.

“She is,” Lin replied, feeling placated like never before. She eased up. Her mind was no longer clouded- clarity had taken over. “I can’t believe we created that.”

“I can,” he replied, kissing her head.

“Don’t make me ask you to leave,” she said, curtly.

“I’m never leaving, Lin.”

She huffed, side eyeing him as she prepared herself for what she was about to say. She felt certain about her decision.

“You’re leaving, Tenzin. I will allow you to be a part of my daughter’s life so long as you vow to stay out of mine.”

Tenzin watched her, heart beating faster in his chest, as she glared at him with storms in her eyes. He didn’t have the words to respond.

“You stay on your Island and I stay in my city. We only have our exchanges on the ferry. I will not step foot onto Air Temple Island and if you so much as even breathe Republic City’s air, I will arrest you and have you sent to the Dai Li’s prison in Ba Sing Se.”

“Lin, that can’t be sustainable—”

“I don’t care what you think.”

Lin pressed her baby into her bosom. Nothing mattered anymore. Her entire life would be dedicated to protecting this baby.

Tenzin would do the same, she trusted him that much. He would be a good father to her. She would have to find a way to be okay with that acolyte being a part of her daughter's life. But perhaps, that would happen with time.

“I love you. And I respect your wishes. But can you grant me just this one thing?”

“What is it?”

“Can we have one moment? Just a single moment where we, as her parents, hold her together with love. If I am to leave you alone, I just need a glimpse of what might’ve been to keep me going.”

Lin sighed.

“Let’s- let’s name her,” he suggested, realizing that he was babbling. “Together. Right now. That’s all.”

“Sure,” she gave out a low huff of defeat.

Lin shifted on the bed as Tenzin took a seat beside her. He placed one hand under Lin’s, supporting their daughter’s head while his other arm ran around her waist. He squeezed her into his embrace and as much as she wanted to fight it, she gave in and rested her head against his chest. It felt right. As if the entire universe conspired to allow her just this one moment. Even if it wasn't made to last.

“How do you like the name Dalha?”

Lin scrunched her nose in disgust. She kissed her daughter’s head, making her coo in a way that made Lin’s heart flutter.

“What about Meng?”

“No,” Lin replied with a gasp. A yawn escaped her mouth urging Tenzin to pull her tighter.

“Jin?”

Lin gave her baby a cheeky a smile and said, “Don’t worry, kid. I won’t let your daddy name you anything as unsavory like that.”

“Well, daddy is trying. Mommy hasn’t made a single contribution.”

Lin huffed. “How about Lila?”

“I love that name. Lila Beifong. We could call her Lili too!” Tenzin glanced over at Lin only to find her looking straight at him. There was a softness in her eyes. He cupped her face with one hand and drew her in. His lips slowly met hers. It had been far too long since he had kissed her. Lin melted against his touch- she was exhausted. She just needed to be held, to feel loved- if only for a moment.

Tenzin continued kissing her, smiling, making the most of the moment with the mother of his child- the only woman he wanted to kiss for the rest of his life.

When they pulled apart, Lin passed Lila on to Tenzin to hold. He delicately held her as Lin wiped her dried up tears with her palms.

“Say your goodbyes.”

Tenzin bit his bottom lip. “Thanks.” He admired his daughter, he couldn’t help but smile. A joy so unfathomable, he couldn't wrap his head around the grief that was yet to set in. “I love you so much,” he whispered to Lila. “You’re my world, Lili. You and your mother, you're my earth, my air, my everything.” He kissed the top of Lila's head before handing her back to Lin.

He stood up, and knowing she wouldn’t stop him, he planted a kiss on Lin’s forehead one last time. “I love you. And I always will.”

“I'll be sure to thank Saikhan for letting you know of my whereabouts. If it weren't for him, you never would've found us."

"Lin, I would've found you with or without my intel. Who, by the way, wasn't Saikhan."

"Who was it then?" she asked.

Tenzin chanced another kiss to her cheek and replied. "I'll save that story for the ferry when I pick Lila up next week."

“Fine,” she said softly, but there was a hint of a smile in her voice.

Tenzin beamed, making his way over to the door. “I’m going to win you back, Beifong. Just you wait. I look forward to those thirty minutes on Yue Bay.”

Before Lin could conjure up the metal tray beside her into mini spheres to throw in his direction, the airbender was gone.

#lin beifong #chief beifong #linzin #merkittty answers #Lila “lili” Beifong #introducing linzin baby number 1

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sequinsmile-x · 1 month ago

Text

What A Valiant Roar

It’s easier to tell herself that it’s the grief, that everything else - her missed period, her irritability, her exhaustion - are all signs that she’s about to start the menopause. That this part of her life, the part that had been over for her before it had truly begun, was on its way to its final curtain.

A Sequel to Our Field of Dreams, Engulfed in Fire

-x-

Hi besties,

I got this anon asking for a follow up to Our Field of Dreams, Engulfed in Fire:

literally haven't been able to stop thinking about Our Field of Dreams, Engulfed in Fire since you wrote it...any chance you could do a sequel where they get pregnant again by accident? I can't stop thinking about the possibilities (although I'm hoping you go for a happy ending <3)

This was something I'd been toying with doing anyway, but I never know if people are interested in sequels.

Please note the tags/respect your own boundaries with them if you need to <3

As always please let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: Pregnancy. Mentions/discussions of miscarriage and stillbirth throughout.

Words: 5.2k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

At first, Emily tells herself the ever-present nausea is just a physical reaction to seeing her friend with her new baby.

It isn’t something that makes her proud, but it’s what she’s convinced it is. Her stomach rolls with grief every time she sees JJ with Michael, every time she sees Henry proudly hold his little brother with a wide smile on his face - an expression she’d never had the chance to see on Jack’s face and one she would never see.

JJ had been nothing short of supportive since she’d told her about Elliot, any disappointment she may have at her best friend being unable to be involved with her pregnancy pushed to the side. She’d spoken to her privately before she let Penelope announce the baby shower she was throwing her, giving Emily a heads up on the date so she could make an excuse for why she couldn't be there. She’d tried to say she could go, that she could grin and bear it for a few hours, as if the mere sight of JJ’s bump wasn’t enough to make tears well in her eyes, but JJ had squeezed her hand and told her that she didn’t mind. That she’d rather she was okay, and she did a good job of distracting Penelope from asking too many questions when Emily acted as if the date was a surprise a couple of hours later when she claimed she and Aaron already had a weekend away booked.

Emily loved Michael, just like she loved Henry, but she couldn’t deny that every time she looked at him it hurt. When she held him for the first time - the weight of him in her arms so much heavier than Elliot had been when she was able to hold him - Aaron had taken him from her after a couple of minutes, his hand on her back before he took the baby, able to feel the tension spreading through her by the second. Seeing him hold Michael hadn’t been much easier on her, everything that she considered her own failures, her inability to keep her babies safe when they were still inside of her, lingering just beneath her skin as she watched him smile down at a baby that wasn’t theirs, a shake to his lips that only she could see. She’d excused herself to the bathroom in an attempt to gather herself. He’d found her a few minutes later, the two of them gathered in JJ and Will’s downstairs bathroom, Emily’s head on Aaron’s chest and her fingers gripping the E pendant on her necklace as he ran a hand up and down her back.

The alternative was too much to think about, too ridiculous to even consider, so when her doctor tells her she’s pregnant, her smile achingly kind and understanding, Emily laughs. It catches in her throat, makes her choke on the sadness that had lived there since she’d lost Elliot, and she shakes her head, wondering why her doctor who knew everything would even try to make a joke like that during what she thought was an appointment where she’d get menopause advice.

It’s only when the doctor does an ultrasound, when she shows her the tiny dot on the screen and tells her she’s about 8 weeks along, that Emily believes her. She doesn’t get the rush of joy she did the last two times she was pregnant, moments of happiness that may as well have happened to another woman. Instead, dread fills her gut. Preemptive grief floods her lungs until she can’t breathe and all she can think about is how she’s going to tell Aaron.

If he thinks she’s acting strangely when she gets home, he doesn’t say anything. They had no secrets, not usually - which makes the ultrasound picture feel heavy in her pocket - so he knew why she’d gone to the doctor. He’d been supportive, just like he always was, and had even offered to go with her. Part of her wishes he had, so he’d been there when she got the news that had shocked her to her very core, but she’s grateful that they could have this conversation in their home. The place she felt safest in the whole world. Love and sorrow and joy painted across every wall, the space that they had cultivated for them and Jack something that was beautifully theirs.

She waits until Jack is in bed, the almost 10-year-old arguing the entire way about how long he could play his game until he had to turn off his light, because she knows it won’t be an easy conversation even if it was supposed to be.

She’s in the kitchen putting away dishes, the glass of wine Aaron had poured her for dinner still untouched on the counter, when he walks in, his familiar footfall both a blessing and a curse as his steps towards her create a strange kind of countdown.

“He talked me into 10 extra minutes,” he says, smiling at her when she looks at him over her shoulder, “I don’t remember him being this good at negotiation before you were his mom.”

She chuckles, the sound caught in her throat as she slips the last plate into its place in the cabinet, “What can I say, I’m a great influence.”

He smiles, but it fades, everything she isn’t saying thick in the air around them, and he steps towards her, worry etched into the lines on his face as he shoves his hands into his pockets as if he’s unsure if he should reach out for her, “Are you okay, Em? You’ve been…quiet all evening.”

She huffs out a sound between a laugh and sob and she crosses her arms over her chest, turning so her back is leaning against the kitchen counter, the smell of the glass of red wine next to her making her stomach roll, “I don’t know how to answer that question.”

He furrows his brow and takes another step towards her, “What did the doctor say, is everything okay?”

She presses her lips together and shakes her head, blowing out a slow breath as she holds herself together, pieces that she’d glued back together bit by bit over the last few years starting to come unstuck, “I…I don’t know.”

Any worry he’d had about her all evening, any concern he’d tried to tamper down, ignites in an instant as he stands frozen in place, worst-case scenarios flooding through him, “Sweetheart-”

“I’m pregnant,” she blurts out, the words escaping before she can capture them, any attempt she’d made at practising easing into the conversation wasted. He stands there and stares at her, clearly as in shock as she is, and for a moment guilt supersedes everything else, every other emotion she’d felt in the last few hours gone for a moment as she thinks she should have at least let them sit down in the living room first, “I…what I thought were menopause symptoms were actually pregnancy symptoms. A lot of the early signs are very similar which…” she fades off into a bitter laugh and shakes her head, “Feels like a cruel trick from mother nature to say the very fucking least.”

“You’re…” he fades off, his shock not fading with it, their agreement to never go down this road again rattling around in his head. The sadness she’d had in her eyes when she told him she didn’t want to do this again clear in his memory when he blinks, two versions of her with similar expressions on their faces replacing each other every time he opens and closes his eyes.

“I’m 8 weeks along,” she says, digging through her pocket to pull out the ultrasound picture, the edges of it slightly creased as she hands it to him, “She said everything looks good. So far.”

He didn’t have to be at the appointment to know those two last words were Emily’s, not the doctors. That she would have already started to prepare herself for what she felt was inevitable. He looks at the picture in his hands, treacherous hope sparking in his chest, and he looks back up at her.

“This is…” he clears his throat, “How do you feel?”

She laughs bitterly and shakes her head, “How do you think I feel, Aaron?” She shakes her head again and starts to pace back and forth, her arms still crossed over her chest, sure that if she looked at him for too long she’d burst into the tears she’d been trying to avoid for hours, “I am 45 in three weeks. That makes this high risk anyway. Then you take into account everything else…” she clenches her jaw, “We weren’t even trying. We haven’t been in years. It would be kind of funny that I’m apparently the most fertile fucking woman on the planet if it didn’t always end with my heart being broken.”

Her almost hysterical laugh breaks his heart and he puts the picture down, stepping towards her again but making sure he still keeps his hands to himself, knowing his touch could tip her over the edge either way, “If you don’t want to do this-”

“Of course I want to do this,” she half shouts as she turns to look at him, her jaw tight as tears finally slip past her lashline when she takes a calming breath as she desperately tries to remind herself Jack is upstairs, “I want this so much it hurts, Aaron. It physically hurts. But…I can’t go through it all again. I can’t. Losing Elliot almost destroyed me.” She grabs her necklace when she says his name, a habit she isn’t conscious of as she traces the E, the only tangible evidence she had of her son’s existence other than the box of keepsakes the hospital had given her that was in their safe along with all their important documents. “I can’t do that again.”

He knew she didn’t remember much about that time, that she’d been lost in her grief in amongst soft sheets in hotels across continental Europe as they tried to escape normal life whilst they came to terms with how it had changed forever, but he remembered all of it. It had been easy to push his own grief away at the time - all of his energy focused on looking after her whilst she was unable to look after herself - but it had come back to haunt him later. The acknowledgement of what they’d lost still prone to nip at his heels whenever he saw someone with a toddler who looked to be around the age Elliot would be.

“I know,” he says, stepping closer to her so they are practically chest-to-chest, their breath skipping across each other's faces as they both still hesitate to reach out for each other, both of them aware it would open the flood gates of everything they were feeling, “Whatever…” he clears his throat, an attempt to push down emotions just pushing them to the back of his eyes instead, “Whatever you decide, sweetheart. I’ll hold your hand the entire time.”

She chokes on a sob and nods, her chin trembling as she finally leans forward, her face pressed against his neck as she clings to him, her arms hooking under his as she grips at his shoulders, unsure she’d ever be able to let go now she was anchored to him, “I can’t…I don’t want to have an abortion, Aaron,” she says, finally addressing what they were talking around, “I want to have a baby with you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He tries to soothe her, as if she can’t feel his tears hitting the top of her head, and he kisses whatever part of her that he can reach, his lips catching dark hair as he rubs firm circles on her back, “I know, Em. I know.”

“I just don’t know how much I believe that this will end with us having a baby we get to keep.”

He holds her close, squeezing her tighter before he pulls back just enough to look at her, one of his hands on her cheek, her smudged makeup catching on the callouses of his thumb as he swipes them under her eyes, “We’ll take it one day, one hour, one minute at a time okay?” He promises, smiling sadly when she nods, his forehead against hers as he catches the agreement between them, “Whatever you need.”

“You,” she replies, swallowing thickly, something that feels dangerously close to hope sparking in her blood, “I…always just need you.”

___

It’s as hard as she thought it was going to be.

Every twinge, every feeling that didn’t feel quite right threatens to tip her over the edge. Panic wrapping its hand around her throat as she spends what feels like more time in her doctor's office than she does anywhere else. Her doctor is endlessly patient with her, and ends up offering her weekly appointments - both justified by her history and her age - and it goes some way to making her feel better. The few minutes a week when she can see her baby wiggling around on the screen the calmest she feels until the next time.

When she hits 17 weeks and 6 days, the same amount of time she was pregnant with Elliot, she can’t get out of bed. Convinced that if she did something would happen. She half expects Aaron to try and tell her that she was okay, that the baby was too during their last appointment, but his usual assurances are nowhere to be found. Instead, he calls in sick for both of them and as soon as Jack is at school he climbs back into bed with her. They spend all day there, only leaving when Aaron makes them food, and when the clock ticks past midnight, when she officially makes it to 18 weeks - the longest she’d ever been pregnant - they wipe away each other’s tears. A milestone they didn’t need to mention the importance of easing something in both of their chests.

They don’t tell anyone until she’s 24 weeks pregnant, her doctor’s assurances that she’d hit viability the last thing she’d needed before she was happy to tell people. She knew even if she went into labour now, if her body decided to fight against her again after so many weeks of working with her, that they’d have a long road ahead of them still. But her baby had a chance. And that was all she wanted.

They tell Jack first. And then Jess. And then Elizabeth, who mercifully doesn’t question any further about how long they’d waited to tell her when Emily explains they just wanted to be sure everything was okay. A look in her eyes that makes Emily wonder if she and her mother had more in common than she might realise.

They decide to tell the team at Dave’s house, one of his regular pasta nights well timed as it fell on the same day as Emily’s 24-week appointment. She spends the entire evening either plucking at her baggy sweater, hoping that it doesn’t cling to her bump like she thinks it does, or with her hand pressed against it when hidden by the dining table, the roll of the baby in her stomach a feeling she’d never grow tired of.

Aaron reaches for her hand once dinner is done and squeezes, his smile soft when she turns to look at him, a look in his eyes she knows means ‘it’s up to you,’ and she isn’t sure she’s ever loved him more. She nods and squeezes his hand back, her heart thumping in her chest as she shares the news she thought she’d never get a chance to share.

“We have something to tell you,” she says loudly enough to be heard by everyone, her teeth sinking into her lower lip when everyone turns to look at her, their other conversations dying off as she has their attention. She looks back up at Aaron, her throat tight as she suddenly finds herself unable to speak and he nods, happy as ever to take over for her when she needs him too.

“Emily’s pregnant,” he says, smiling when the others gasp, joy and genuine surprise written across their faces, “We’re having a baby.”

There’s a moment of silence before the room descends into what he can only call chaos. Happiness filling the air in a way that was almost suffocating. Penelope is out of her seat in a flash and has her arms wrapped tightly around both of them, standing between them as she plants kisses on both of their cheeks in her excitement.

“I’m so happy for you,” she says, turning her attention to Emily entirely, holding her so tightly she has no choice but to lean into it, “I had given up hope that you two would ever give me a gorgeous niece or nephew.”

Emily squeezes Aaron’s hand a little tighter at her friend's well-meaning, but unknowingly hurtful, comment, but she laughs it off, the sound only empty to Aaron and JJ who was sitting across from them, her eyes shining at them both.

“Well, if you keep hugging me like that you might just squeeze her out of me.”

There’s another pause before Penelope squeals again, “Her?”

Emily wasn’t well known for her patience, so finding out what they were having was a given from the start anyway, but she wanted to know so she could prepare herself either way. She knew she would have been just as happy with another boy as she was about having a girl, but the grief would have been different. Sharp in a whole new way as she tried to get her head around it all.

“Yeah,” she says, looking over at Aaron, “We’re having a girl.”

The team throw endless, loving, questions at them for what feels like hours, especially once they find out just how far along she is, but they accept their answers about her age and the complications it brought with no further prodding. Emily steps away eventually, assuring Aaron that she is fine, that she just needed a minute, with a smile and a small nod as she disappears towards the bathroom down the hallway from Dave’s dining room.

She almost walks into JJ, her focus on how the baby kicks against her hand, the sugar from the dessert Dave had insisted she had a second slice of making her more active than normal, and the only reason she doesn’t is because her friend clears her throat. Emily feels tears press at the back of her eyes the moment they meet JJ’s, a similar expression on her face that she’s sure is on hers.

“I am…” JJ starts, choking on a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh, “I am so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she replies, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just-”

“Em, no,” she says, reaching for her hand and squeezing it, pressing all the love that they’d missed out on in recent weeks and months into her skin, the distance that had been created between them through no fault of their own finally starting to close, “Please don’t apologise. I get it. I promise.”

She nods and sniffs, laughing at herself when a tear slips past her lashline, “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and that this isn’t real. That it’s some kind of cruel joke my mind has come up with,” she shakes her head and puts JJ’s hand on her bump where the baby is moving, “But then she kicks me like that and I know it’s real. Because…well he never moved like that. He never got big enough.”

JJ smiles and then pulls her into a hug, holding her tightly as she runs a hand up and down her back before she pulls back to look at her, “You do know that being happy about her doesn’t take away from how much you love Elliot, right?”

She blows out a breath and wipes away another tear, her hand drifting down to her necklace, gripping the pendant at the foreign sound of someone other than her and Aaron saying their son’s name. “I know,” she says, “I have to remind myself of that a lot. But I know.”

“Good,” JJ says, wiping one of Emily’s tears away for her, “And I hope you also know that Penelope is probably planning the pinkest, most unicorn-filled baby shower that has ever happened as we speak.”

Emily laughs, a real, hearty laugh that she forgot she was capable of as she nods, “Oh God,” she says, shaking her head as she looks down the hallway to the dining room, “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

___

She’s exhausted. Her body aching in a way she didn’t know was possible as she’s pushed to her very limit, another contraction rolling through her before she’s even had a chance to recover from the last one.

“I can’t do it,” she says, unable to find the energy to be mad at herself for the whine she hears in her voice, “I can’t.”

“You can Emily,” her doctor says, smiling up at her from between her legs, “I’m holding her head in my hands, okay? You’re so close.”

She whimpers, another sound she’d file away to berate herself for later, and she turns to look at Aaron. He looks exhausted too, worn down in a different way than she was. Torn open by seeing the woman he loves in pain and the emotions that were thick in the air around them, her chest tight with everything they had lost and everything they were about to gain.

He smiles at her, one hand tight around hers and the other holding a cold compress to her forehead, and he nods, “You can do this sweetheart, you can do it.”

Whether she thinks she can or not, her body takes over, instinct forcing her to push where her brain was stopping her. She feels as her little girl slips into the world, a feeling she’d associated with silence and heartbreak for years now, but then she’s on her chest, screaming loudly and insistently as she protests being born, her skin pressed up against hers.

Emily lets out a sob as she looks at her daughter, her skin red and her hair plastered to her head with god knows what as she wails, and she barely registers it as a nurse places a blanket over the baby to keep her warm. She’s locked in the moment between the two of them, the first meeting of their dark eyes and for a moment it’s just them. Just her and the little girl she’d spent months convinced she’d never get to meet. She tries to memorise everything about her, takes in the colour of her eyes and the slope of her nose. Her tiny cupid bow lips and the dimples she can already see in her cheeks.

“Hi sweet girl,” she chokes out, not recognising her own voice, “Hi. Mommy and Daddy love you so much.”

Aaron leans in to kiss them - the baby’s temple first and then hers - and it’s the press of his lips against her skin that brings her back into the room, her focus on the doctor as she smiles up at her.

“Is she okay?” She asks, the words torn from her throat as she holds her baby against her, unwilling to give her up yet, desperate to have as much of this as she could. Aaron kisses her again when her words, and the meaning behind them, register with him. He holds them both close, his tears slipping down onto her cheeks from his, the joy they were sharing now as much both of theirs as the grief that lay underneath it.

“She’s perfect,” the doctor replies, squeezing Emily’s knee, “Dad can clamp the cord when you’re ready for him to, and then we’ll clean her up and get her weighed and measured whilst you and I sort out the placenta,” she smiles when Emily holds the baby a little tighter at the mention of someone taking her from her, “She’s yours, Emily. And she’s safe. You’re both okay.”

Emily nods and laughs, the sound catching in her throat as she looks up at Aaron, one of her hands unhooking from around their daughter to cup his cheek, “She’s okay.”

“She’s perfect,” he says, repeating the doctor’s words as he leans in to kiss her, his lips briefly against hers, “Just like her mom.”

“Do we have a name for her?” one of the nurses asks, two matching wristbands - one for Emily and one for the baby - in her hands, “Or shall I put Baby Girl Hotchner for now?”

Emily’s eyes meet Aaron’s and he nods, a quiet agreement passing between them that the name they’d decided on weeks ago was perfect, and she looks back at the nurse, “She’s called Eleanor Clara Hotchner.”

The first few hours of Eleanor’s life slip by in a haze. Both she and Emily are checked over by the doctor, and once they are given clean bills of health all the medical staff leave the room, giving them their first moments together alone with their little girl. Eventually, Aaron convinces Emily to shower, promising he’d be just outside the door with Eleanor the whole time, and she almost hates him for being right about the fact she felt better for showering the moment she steps out of the bathroom.

The only time he leaves their side is to go meet Jack out in the hallway. He was the only visitor Emily wanted in the hospital other than Aaron, something that everyone understood - although she’s sure Penelope’s understanding came from JJ forcing her to understand - and it’s a decision she stands by as she gets to watch Jack meet his little sister with no interruptions, the expression on his face as he looks up at her and Aaron and announces that he loves his little sister enough to make Emily cry again.

When he goes home, reluctant but willing once Aaron and Emily promise him he can visit again tomorrow if she and Eleanor don’t get to go home yet, Aaron takes him back out to meet Jess. Emily takes the opportunity to look down at her little girl in her arms. She fusses over her, and adjusts the blankets around her and the little hat on her head.

“You look so much like your brother,” she says, her lips pressed together as she contains a sob, so fed up with crying even though she knows she won’t stop any time soon, “Both of them.” She lifts Eleanor to kiss the top of her head and she breathes her in, taking in the sweet newborn smell that she knows will fade before she wants it to, “You are so loved, sweet girl. And I’m so glad you’re here.”

She looks up as the door opens and smiles as her husband walks in, his smile soft and full of love and everything they never needed to say.

“How are my girls doing?”

“We’re okay,” she says, shifting in the bed to make room for him, not wanting him to be anywhere but right next to her, “Aren’t we Nora?” She strokes her cheek again and then looks at Aaron, turning her head so her cheek can rest on his shoulder, “I was just telling her that she looks like her brothers.”

He nods, his breath catching in his chest as he kisses the top of her head, his arms looped around them both, “She really does.”

Emily kisses him and then settles against him, tucking herself into his chest in the best way she can whilst she still looks at Eleanor, unable to tear her gaze from the baby for any longer than a few seconds at a time, “Thank you.”

“For what, sweetheart?” He asks, his fingers trailing up and down her arm, “You did all of the work. Thanking me feels like thanking the guy who just shows up for the group project on the day it’s due.”

She laughs, “As much as I appreciate you saying that, it’s not true,” she kisses his shoulder, “You held me together when I couldn’t do it myself. I don’t think I’d have made it through this pregnancy if it wasn’t for you.”

“You underestimate yourself, sweetheart. You can do anything.”

She playfully rolls her eyes at him and directs her next comment at a still-sleeping Eleanor, “Daddy sucks at taking a compliment, baby. You’ll get used to it,” she looks up at Aaron, “I mean it, honey. I know none of this has been easy on either of us,” she makes sure she has a good hold on Eleanor before she unhooks one arm from around her to cup his cheek, “Thank you for loving me, and her, and Jack…and Elliot,” she says, a tear slipping down her cheek, her hold on Eleanor tightening for a moment. Aaron reaches out and adjusts her necklace for her, aware of her habit of doing so whenever she mentioned their little boy they’d only had a couple of hours with. His thumb is briefly pressed against the single letter that now held even more meaning, the choice behind their daughter’s name purposeful in more ways than one, “I just hope you know that we all love you back just as much,” she smiles at him, “If not more.”

He smiles and kisses her, “I don’t think it’s possible for you to love me more than I love you.”

She shakes her head and stamps a kiss against his lips before she looks down at the baby in her arms, “I guess we’ll just have to spend the rest of our lives proving Daddy wrong, huh Nora?”

He rests his cheek on top of her head, a sense of peace he hadn’t known existed washing over him as he watches her watch Eleanor. Their family would always have a piece missing. There would always be what ifs and what could have beens that would roll around. There would always be moments of sadness that would linger between him and his wife when they saw little boys who got to grow up when theirs didn’t, but they still had pieces of their son with them. Not only in a piece of jewellery Emily never took off, or a box of footprints and handprints nestled between their marriage certificate and their social security documents, but in the smiles of his older brother and his little sister.

“I guess I can live with that.”

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